Prologue, Chapters 1 - 3, and a little bit of 4

Prologue

 

“You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could've, would've happened... or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the f**k on.” 
― Tupac Shakur

 

I

 can only move forward with my name, Kenzie Lisa Carmichael. No matter how much I may want to, however, I can never forget my past. I can bury it in the recesses of my mind, but I can never forget it. You see, my past still links me to my grandmother and my biological mother and father. To forget my past would be to forget them and I just can’t do that, regardless of the fact that I don’t have any memories of my mother and father. I have wonderful memories of my grandmother; I only wish she would have told me she was my maternal grandmother. I also wish she would have taken me from Bonnie and Bill, my pathetic excuse for adoptive parents.

Don’t get me wrong, I have known from the time I was five that I was adopted. Bonnie made sure to remind me every day that there was no way she could’ve given birth to such a f**k up like me. Seems only fitting that she couldn’t have kids then because I’m sure all of them would have been fucked up one way or the other. Bill also made sure that I knew his distaste and obvious hatred towards me. I guess I just always assumed that Ana was Bonnie’s mother and hadn’t been given a lot to work with when Bonnie grew up. I could certainly understand that. A freezer was warmer and more maternal than Bonnie! I never questioned why they adopted me, funny enough, I never thought of it.

I just wish Ana, my grandmother, was still around to explain everything to me so I would be less confused. Instead, I found out from having to sign paper work for her attorney, Tom Garrety. It didn’t take me long to put two and two together, I’m an exceptionally smart girl. I also had some help from the letter my grandmother left explaining a little bit of my life’s back story. Tell me what you think of this letter:

My Dearest Kenzie,

If you’re reading this, then the worst has happened and I am no longer with you. (Pretty cliché, right?) If you’ve gotten to this letter, then I know you’ve already signed several papers to claim what I have left for you. I’m sure you’ve noticed my last name and yours are the same, whereas Bill’s and Bonnie’s differ. (What. The. F**k?) I can assure you that I never wanted you to find out this way, but I didn’t know how to explain it to you yet. That’s why I’ve written this letter though, so I can explain it to you as best I can. (Well, let’s get on with it then! Geeze Ana, you know I’ve never been patient!) I know patience isn’t you’re best virtue, (See? Told you so!) but I need you to be patient and bear with me as I try my best to explain this. This will be as hard for you to hear as it is for me to write. (Slightly ominous Ana, well played. You’ve got my attention.) I am indeed your maternal grandmother. Your mother, Lisa, was such a beautiful woman. You actually remind me quite a bit of her. Your beauty, your personality, your intelligence; your mother would be proud. Of course, I can’t forget your father, Bryan. (I was about to say!) He would probably have locked you in your room away from boys. He was a bit over-protective. (I’ll say! Not that I’m a w***e or even go around flirting with boys and all, but it still doesn’t mean I can’t look! I may still be a virgin, but I like looking at Channing Tatum’s delicious body as much as the next girl!) Your mother was so happy during her pregnancy. You were her miracle child; doctors told her she would never be able to conceive a child. (Shows how smart those doctors were!) She immediately chose the name Kenzie, even after people asked her about a boy’s name. Lisa was absolutely adamant that she was having a girl and she wouldn’t even consider a boy’s name. (A mother’s intuition is always right, I guess.)

I wish I could go back and change so many things, but I can’t. I’m just grateful you were still here to help ease my pain. (Okay Ana, seriously. I love you, but you take so damn long to tell a story! I’m dying here!) Everything went well with the pregnancy, you were developing quite nicely, and your mother had no complications. Bryan and Lisa were the happiest they had ever been. Labor came and went; Lisa had a really easy time giving birth to you. About a week after though, there was a complication that was missed during delivery and it resulted in your mother’s death. (Wow, now I see why you took your time writing this.) It was a double tragedy that day, really, because we also lost your father in a car accident on his way to the hospital to be with your mother. (Double f*****g whammy! My chest actually hurts right now. Maybe I was destined to have a fucked up life. I mean, seriously, who loses both parents like that? Wait a minute, don’t answer that. I’m just having my moment of grief.) After having identified the body of your father and confirming I was the mother of Lisa, I was told guardianship of you would be left to me until I found a suitable couple to adopt you. The agency said I was in no condition to raise you myself. I had to search for the right family to adopt you and let me remain a part of your life. I needed to be with you when you grew up and I needed to watch over you.

Bill and Bonnie Fields were a random choice, but they required money for it. I actually had to pay them to adopt you and let me be in your life. (Greedy f*****g b******s!) I also had to pay them to keep our shared blood a secret from you until I was ready to tell you. They were not allowed to change your name or your last name. (Thank God because I heard Bonnie once say that she didn’t understand why I couldn’t be named Bambi and I probably would have died from embarrassment!) I’m sorry it has taken you this long to find out and I’m sorry about the way you found out. Just remember that no matter what Kenzie, we all loved you very much. I’m sorry for the way I let Bill and Bonnie treat you, but I have given you more than enough ways to take revenge if you wish to do so. I will always be around for guidance and you will always be able to talk to me about anything. Continue to make me proud and do well at your new school. I have no doubts about your acceptance.

Love Eternally,

Ana

 

That letter had so many questions racing through my head. I know that wasn’t the whole story. I have a feeling she left a lot out. I can’t explain it, but I have a feeling I’ll find out what she left out soon enough. I just can’t tell you if I think it will be good or bad when I do find out. For now though, I’m going to be optimistic about it. I just don’t understand why she left me with Bonnie and Bill when she knew how horrible they were, regardless of her thoughts of the revenge I could take. I guess that will just be another mystery of the world. I know I said I was moving forward, but I’m going to give you a more recent memory so that you can understand what I am talking about when it comes to Bonnie and Bill. You’ll see just how spectacular these people are, and then maybe you can sympathize with me a little bit.

 

“I’m leaving. Lucy and I are going to New Hampshire to go to Franklin Pierce University; I got my acceptance letter yesterday. I won’t be coming back here ever…” I kept practicing this in the mirror over and over again until I was sure that I could pull off the cold indifference the situation surely called for. I know I’m getting closer because my voice hasn’t cracked the last two times and everyone knows you need to appear strong in front of Bill or he’ll rip you apart before you get a word out. I mean, he’ll rip you apart regardless, but you’ll at least be able to get a sentence out before he starts in on you. I’m nervous as hell and my hands are so clammy that I’m afraid to pick up my glass of water for fear of dropping it.

I turned and looked wistfully at my light blue, beach themed room. This room has been my sanctuary for the last five years of my life as Bonnie and Bill became increasingly monstrous. Ana even had my walls sound proofed so I could crank up my music without fear of repercussion from Bill. The only downside was that I could never tell when he was on a war path and headed for my room. I’ll be the first person to admit that Bill scared the s**t out of me. He had a nasty temper and liked to throw and break things when he was extremely pissed at me. Sometimes I found his anger comical despite my fear though. Bill had an “over-active” saliva gland which basically meant that he practically drooled when he got angry. A sharp pounding on my door startles me out of my little day dream and before I can even retain a semblance of calm, Bill bursts through the white oak door.

“Why the f**k is there luggage blocking my garage door?!?” He’s practically red with rage and I completely forgot about putting my hot pink, zebra print suitcases there.

“I…I…I’m leaving tonight. Lucy and I are headed to New Hamp-“ I can’t even finish my sentence before he starts his tirade and I curse my stupid nervous stammer. I let him catch me off guard and now he’ll still see me as weak, even when I tell him I’m not coming back.

“I don’t f*****g care about the details! I can’t get in my damn garage because of some stupid, frilly suitcases. Move the s**t!” Bill is so damn loud that a picture on my wall actually vibrates from it! He’d definitely have enough room to park in the garage if the fat a*s actually knew how to drive.

“I am packing it into my car and leaving in an hour. I’m not coming back here again.” This time I manage to get it out without the stammer or my voice cracking. Bill just looks shocked, but he recovers after a moment and gives a hearty laugh.

“Good! Was that supposed to be a f*****g threat? You’re just a stupid as you’re damn grandmother.” He really thinks he’s funny. I even shock myself with what I say next.

“Watch it, Bill. Remember that I own this house now. I can very easily throw you out on the street because I owe you nothing. You’re lucky that I don’t want this house because of all the bad memories from it. I can play nice, but do not ever, ever say another ill word of my grandmother. Goodbye Bill.” Oh. My. God! I don’t even know where that came from. That wasn’t at all what I planned to say. At least it shut him up for a minute though.

“Get your s**t and get out.” And with that, he walked out of the room and slammed the door so hard, the picture next to it crashed to the ground. My hands were shaking and my knees felt a little weak, but I was immensely proud of myself. After fourteen years, I finally put Bill in his place.

 

Now, don’t think that just because Bonnie wasn’t in this particular memory, that she must not seem so bad. Mommy dearest happened to be at the spa that evening, lamenting over the fact that Ana only left them fifty thousand dollars from her will and I basically got enough money to buy and run my own small country. Hah! Take that b***h! Bonnie could be just as cold and heartless as Bill, I didn’t pity either of them. One day when I’m a stronger person, I think I will take my house back. I just can’t bring myself to do it right now.

Just because I don’t want to forget about my past, doesn’t mean I have time for it though. I am Kenzie Lisa Carmichael. I am an orphan. My grandmother is gone. But I am not alone. I have my best friend, Lucy Partridge, with me. Lucy and her mother, Marlene, have been more of my family than Bonnie and Bill ever were. They’ve seen me at my worst and they’ve seen me at my best. They’ve never judged me for any of it, only offered a hug and comfort when I needed it. My life will be different from here on out. I can feel it. Something great is going to happen at Franklin Pierce University, I just know it. I’ve told Lucy my thoughts a million times in the last twenty four hours on the road and she always says the same thing. “You’re damn straight and I’ll be right there with you.” I know we’re in this together and I also know that she will never let me try to forget my past either, she’ll only help me fill in the time so I don’t have to think about it. I know it will get easier eventually, but for now, I am more grateful to Lucy than she’ll ever know.

You, readers, should feel very privileged that I am going to share my present and future with you. I don’t even know you, but I feel like I can trust you enough not to judge me and scream at me when I make mistakes. I know I can trust you to give me encouragement when I need it. I can also trust to laugh when I say something witty because I’m pretty f*****g hilarious when I finally break out of my shyness around people. I also trust that you won’t judge me too harshly for my potty mouth. I’m sorry, but I really can’t help it. So, I seriously hope you enjoy this and remember: I am Kenzie Lisa Carmichael and I can only move forward without trying to forget about my past.

 

Chapter 1

 

B

lackness. I’m surrounded by it. It’s suffocating me, I can’t breathe. Shouting and breaking glass are like whispers in the wind, you don’t know who or which direction it came from. It’s just a distant memory, a fleeting thought. I can’t quite grasp it no matter how hard I try. I can literally feel it slipping through my fingers. I feel like I need to remember this, to figure this out. If only I could get out of this damn world without color. The blackness is unrelenting, not even a shimmer of light. It wants me to be scared, to fear it. I am deathly afraid, but I continue to put one foot in front of the other. I’m trembling, I can feel it. It’s strange how all of your other senses become more alert when one of them is taken away. It’s almost like they’re defending the lost one.

The vicious and insistent blaring of the alarm clock jolts me out of my terrible nightmare. It’s the same nightmare I’ve had since leaving Bonnie and Bill’s house to go to Franklin Pierce with Lucy. The first time I had it, Lucy was in the driver’s seat and I had fallen asleep in the passenger seat of my cherry red and chrome 2013 Ford Fusion, of which I affectionately named Lola. Thank God I had my seatbelt on because I scared the s**t of Lucy and she almost drove Lola into a ditch! Apparently I wasn’t only screaming in my dream.

I look over at the obnoxious red numbers on my alarm clock, 7:13, and abruptly throw my comforter off of me. Lucy decided to leave the window open again last night, so our room is freezing and I’m only wearing my panties and a tank top. Well played Lucy, well played. As I’m scrambling around this tiny excuse for a room, the door bangs open and Lucy’s chirpy voice immediately follows.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty! Since I am the most amazing best friend ever, I have taken the liberty of getting you a latte and a doughnut. I know how much of a monster you are without one.” She has this s**t-eating grin on her face that I just want to smack right off. It should be illegal to be that happy this early in the morning.

“Yeah, the world’s best friend wouldn’t leave the damn window open all night so her best friend would freeze her a*s off as soon as she got out of bed!” I’m shouting, but it’s not an angry shout. If you’ve ever had a best friend, then I’m sure you all talk to each other the same way. It can be classified as a happy shout.

“Not my fault you go to bed practically naked. Plus, I thought it would help you wake up faster.” Again with that damn grin!

“Not cool Luce, not cool. Thanks for the latte though, you’re forgiven.” I can’t help but flash a grin of my own.

“Hey! What about the doughnut?!? And DO NOT call me Luce, Kenz!” Lucy actually looks like she might be seething right now. Now we are on an even score card.

“Can’t eat right now, gotta go take a shower. And don’t leave the window open anymore, b***h.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” My thoughts exactly, best friend mind-reading power!

By this time, I’ve managed to grab all my shower stuff and figure I’ll just dash to the bathroom because I can’t find my robe anywhere and we live in a co-ed building. At least the bathrooms aren’t co-ed. I have a mountain of hair that will take me at least twenty minutes to shampoo and condition, I’m lucky my class doesn’t start until nine. Of course Lucy left the door open when she came in (again!) and as I’m turning around to chew her out about it, I smack my head straight into a wall and my shower stuff scatters everywhere.

“What the-“

“Geeze, you got a hard head.” As I’m rubbing my temple, I practically jump out of my skin. Guess I didn’t walk into a wall, walking into a sexy guy is so much better. Relief and mortification are battling it out at the moment. I take a minute to watch him rub his chest and wince as if I actually hurt him. He’s clearly mocking me, but I’m a little mesmerized over the muscles rippling under his sleeve until he coughs and lets out a light chuckle. Jerk! I’ve also just made the mistake of making eye contact with him and getting lost in those dark grey-blue eyes of his. I swear I always feel like I’m looking at the dark clouds that form before a storm hits whenever I look in his eyes.

I quickly shake my head and avert my eyes to the floor where my shower stuff is. “Uhh..sorry Deacon, wasn’t watching where I was going.” Deacon Smith told me when I first met him, that I was the only one who got away with calling him Deacon. I just shook my head and stuck to Deacon when he tried to get me to call him “Deek”.

“I hope you’re not going to class like that, although I don’t think the guys would mind very much.” Mortification quickly slams relief into the ground and kicks it a few times to ensure that it stays down. My cheeks are on fire and I’m sure the rest of my pale skin is blushing as well. I forgot to mention that my panties are hot pink and say BITE ME on the back and my tank is white and lacy.

“Yeah…no. I’m on my way to go shower and I couldn’t find my robe. Please tell me you are the only guy awake right now?” I don’t think I could stand any more humiliation if any other guy were to see me like this. I also don’t even realize I’m bending over to pick up my stuff until Deacon gives me a little smirk and raises his black eyebrow at my choice of underwear. My palm is just itching to slap his perfect, strong jaw.

“Here, take my robe before someone decides to actually bite you. I was heading to the showers too, I’ll walk with you.” He is f*****g winking at me! I know I’m the color of a tomato right now, so I hastily take his robe and, angrily, stuff my arms into it.

“Thanks, but what are you gonna-“

“I’ll just walk up in my boxers, doesn’t matter to me.” His voice has taken on an amused tone and I am struggling to maintain eye contact. I refuse to look at his boxers, I absolutely refuse.

The walk to the showers is a little quiet, but it’s not awkward. I got a brief glimpse of his lightly tanned back and saw the faintest scars sporadically lining it. Deacon is incredibly tall, and I’m not just saying that because I’m short. I’ve noticed he has to duck to fit in some doorways; I also barely come up to his chest. The first day I met him he told me I could fit in his pocket and I was so offended that he offered to help carry mine and Lucy’s boxes up for us. It wasn’t that I was actually offended; I just didn’t want to think about fitting in his pocket, let alone anyone else’s. He then proceeded to tell me that my temper made up for my tiny frame more than enough. I slapped his shoulder in response and felt like I dislocated a knuckle. Deacon is pure, solid muscle and I found out the hard way.

I clear my throat as we approach the adjoining-but-separate bathrooms and turn to face him. He’s crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, as if in anticipation of what I’m going to say.

“Uhh…I take kinda long showers because I got all this damn hair and I’m sure you’ll be done before I get out, but uhhh…do you…do you uhhh…” I’m stammering like a damn idiot and he has the nerve to smirk at me!

“Hold on to the robe, I’ll get it sometime. See ya later.”

“Yeah, okay. See ya later.” Neither of us were turning to move though. Some type of emotion passed through his stormy eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came and left me no time to process what it could’ve been. With an abrupt shake of his head and slight muttering, Deacon turned into his respective bathroom. I also notice he’s casting his hand through his barely-there raven black hair. Heaving a sigh, I went just as quickly into my bathroom and turned the water on as hot I could stand it before stripping down and getting in. The hot water beat down on my pale skin, quickly turning it pink, and rinsing away the remnants of last night’s nightmare. While dealing with Deacon and my mortification, I’d pushed the nightmare to the back of my mind and almost forgotten it.

I’m not typically scared of the dark, but it was more than that in the nightmare. I can tell by the lingering chill when I woke up that it wasn’t just “innocent” darkness. The place in my nightmare was like a void, like falling into the rabbit hole and never quite making it out. It gave me shivers just thinking about it. I quickly went to washing my hair and body to help me forget about the dream and also to keep from running out of hot water. My hair is such a long process to wash, blow dry, and style. It comes down to my hips and is a natural light brown, with natural highlights that everyone swears is store bought. I’ve left my hair partially damp so that it’s easier to twist into a bun at the nape of my neck. Despite the chilliness of the morning, it’s supposed to be an uncharacteristically warm, fall day and I’ll suffer later if I leave it hanging down my back. I’m already asking for punishment by wearing a black, fitted t-shirt. My low-rise light blue Levi’s show off just a hint of my stomach and my black, low-top Converses complete my ensemble. Make-up is minimal; I only wear a little bit of eyeliner and mascara to bring out my blue eyes. Deciding that this is as good as it’s going to get, I gather up all my stuff, including Deacon’s black robe, and head back to my room.

I tried to linger a little bit, walking slowly on my way back to see if Deacon would magically appear so I could give him his robe, but no such luck for me. It couldn’t be easy to give back. Now I’ll probably end up losing it to the monkey who lives in my room, named Fred, whom likes to rip my clothes out of my closet. That damn monkey stole my own robe too. To distract myself from thoughts of robes and room-destroying monkeys, I mentally prepare myself for my English Lit class. Apparently reading To Kill A Mockingbird in high school wasn’t enough, I have to read it again and write a twenty page paper on the character dynamics of Scout, Jeb, Atticus, and Boo Radley. Lucky for me, I actually like the book. I also have to remind myself to bring my old copy of the book for my only other female friend, Megan Lucas, because that girl almost never has anything with her. I’ll be sure to grab an extra notebook and pen, as well. After that, I have Glassblowing with Mr. Richter (yes, readers, that is an actual class that counts towards my Fine Arts credit). At least this class is an easy A and fills, even though I suck at it. My last project unfortunately (but comically) ended turning into a deformed balls-and-penis-blow-fish disaster. It’s not really my fault that Lucy decided to make a dirty innuendo while I was mid-blow and make me laugh. The rest of the day is free so I plan on catching up on some serious studying for my Psychology class and meeting up with some kid, Luke, to help tutor him in College Algebra. There’s some type of program that pays students for tutoring other students, but I’m just doing it for free since I already have way more money than I’ll ever know what to do with.

While I’m gathering up all the books I’ll need for the day, my phone starts vibrating out of control on my desk. I glance over and see that it’s a text from a number not saved in my phone. I think about ignoring it, but decide against and click on the annoying beeping text icon.

221-555-8696: We still on 4 l8r?

Me: Uhm…who is this?

221-555-8696: Luke Melbourne. Got ur # frm student directory.

I quickly save his number in my phone and continue my text conversation. I really didn’t think about getting his number from the Student Directory to confirm our study plans.

Me: Oh, hey. Yeah. I’ll be in the library around 3:30 if that’s alright?

Luke: Was actually thinkn we culd go 2 starbucks? I’ll need caffeine. Latte on me?

Me: Sure, but I can get my own drink. I’ll see you at 3:30.

Luke: K, but I’m still gettn u coffee.

I don’t understand why people don’t text you with their name to begin with, it saves so much confusion. I’m also surprised he doesn’t need help in English. I hate Ebonics. Hopefully he doesn’t actually talk like that. I suppose Starbucks will be a good place since my latte is now too cold to drink anyway. On my way out the door, I scoop up my keys and lock the door behind me and make my way over to DiGregorio Hall which holds my English Lit class in it. It’s about a half mile walk, but I enjoy the exercise and beautiful scenery. Ravencroft Theater is about half a block away, so it’s a short distance to my second class. There’s a beautiful lake close by that I like to jog around sometimes when I have stuff to work out in my head, and the trees are beautiful this time of year. It’s a truly remarkable campus, especially with the marble-and-stone buildings. My building, Granite Hall, is one of the newer buildings incorporated within the last couple years and it still managed to have a matching structure and design like the rest of buildings.

There are a couple of guys playing football on a grassy field not far from where I’m walking. One of the guys overestimates their throw and launches it into my shoulder, making me drop all my books and bite my tongue to keep from crying out in pain. Two of the culprits that appear to be twins, both with dark hair and tanned skin, jog a little ways toward me. One of them is leering at me in a way that makes my skin crawl while the other one actually looks concerned. Another jock, whom looks entirely too pretty and owner of the offending ball, starts jogging over to me and I quickly raise my hand, halting him right where he is. I pick up the beat up, brown leather football and throw it with a perfect arc and spiral back over to Pretty Boy. He catches it with ease and makes his way over to me while I’m trying to gather my books. Pretty Boy stops a couple feet from me and starts to stoop down to grab my pens before I snatch them away. I may be proud of my throwing skills, but I’m absolutely livid that my shoulder nearly got dislocated in the process. My semi-hostile demeanor makes Pretty Boy back up a little bit with hands up in a surrendering position. Serves him right, the jerk!

Without looking up at him, I toss a snarky comment at him. “Looks like you can catch better than you throw.” It appears to have made him uncomfortable, as it should. My shoulder is f*****g throbbing!

“Sorry, Ryan didn’t run as fast as he was supposed to, or else it wouldn’t have hit you.” Now I just detect amusement and it pisses me off.

“Of course, Pretty Boy can’t take the blame for his own fucked up coordination. You have to blame someone else. Well, the ball left your hands, not this Ryan person, so therefore I am blaming you.” A*****e.

“Pretty Boy? I don’t know if I should feel insulted or take that as a compliment. I’m leaning more toward compliment though since it came from a beautiful girl.” I glance up into his brown eyes and narrow my blue ones. No way will this bullshit flattery work on me.

“I meant it as an insult. Obviously you’re just too stupid to pick up on it. I have to go.” I’ve picked up the last of my books and look at him once more. His jaw is clenched and there’s a flare of anger in his eyes that intimidate me  just a little bit, causing me to drop my eyes and shoulder past him (with my good one).

“Hmm, I think I will take it as a compliment. Have a good day!” He’s so sarcastic about it that I can’t help but turn around and flip him the bird. I hate a*****e jocks who think they can just do and say whatever they want and everyone will just love and accept them.

I make it to class with five minutes to spare and I can also feel the mark on my shoulder turning into an angry bruise. I already know it’s going to hurt when I take shower tonight and I feel it starting to stiffen slightly. Great! I glance around and notice Megan Lucas’s fiery red hair, before I actually see her, in our usual seats and let my eyes scan over the sandy-blonde haired b***h, named Keegan Melbourne, who is sitting a couple of seats away. Keegan is pretty much the only person here who I’ve had a bad encounter with, except for Pretty Boy just now. She actually kind of reminds me of Pretty Boy. Weird coincidence? As I’m walking passed the rows of seats to get to my section with Megan, Keegan conveniently sticks out her ugly, patent-leather black heel and trips me. Usually I can manage to avoid it, but today just really isn’t my day and I end up falling flat on my stomach. I’m sure that will be another lovely bruise on my body. I hear Keegan’s snicker and try to manage the best f**k-you glare I can while having my face on the floor when I see another pair black patent leather heels. Only these are not ugly and actually make themselves into thigh-high boots worn over dark skinny jeans. I already know who the owner of these shoes are and I know that my day is about to get a whole lot better. Megan hates Keegan just as much as I do.

“Don’t worry about those knock-off Michael Kors. I’m sure your scuff mark from tripping over them will only make them look better.” Megan bends down to help me up and reveals the rest of her ensemble, along with her ample cleavage. Her tight, black baby-doll tee only emphasizes it more, especially with her bright red hair spilling over shoulder and along the curve of her bust line.

“I. Do. Not. Wear. Knock. Offs! Kenzie is just a clumsy idiot.” Oohh, good one Keegan. Not! How many brain cells did it take to come up with that come back?

“Hmm, they’re ugly enough to be. How about you stop f*****g with Kenzie before I make it so you can never wear heels again?” I am seriously glad Megan is on my side because this chick scares me.

“Is that a threat, Lucas?” Keegan is raising her overly-arched brow like it’s supposed to mean something.

“Hah! Didn’t you learn your lesson at my brother’s pool party a few weeks ago?” We have everyone’s attention by now, but at least I’ve managed to make it off the floor and make my f**k-you glare more intimidating. Megan’s emerald green eyes are flashing with intended violence.

“Whatever. Go take your little charity case and sit down.” Keegan’s face has actually blanched a little bit so I’m guessing she remembers that event all too well. Apparently, the way Megan told me, Keegan thought it would be acceptable to flirt with one of Megan’s older brothers, Ashton Lucas. Megan had warned her previously to not even try to stick her claws in him and Keegan just isn’t very smart. Megan had to remind her by fisting up a handful of her shoulder-length sandy-blonde hair and tossing her in the pool �" fully clothed. Let’s just say that Christian Dior does not make chlorine-proof outfits.

“B***h.” Megan links arms with me, flips her hair over her other shoulder, and walks us to our seats.

“Thanks, Meggy.” I lean over and whisper with a smirk on my face, knowing full well that Megan despises my little nickname for her.

“No problem, Kenny. What’s up with your shoulder, looked like you were struggling with your books.” I, also, absolutely despise my chosen nickname from Megan. I see the humor dancing in her eyes though, so I let her have that one.

“Stupid jock overthrew his football and practically detached my shoulder from my body. It’s been an all-around bad morning for me.” I explain to her about my encounter with Deacon this morning and she nearly falls out of her chair laughing. Her lightly tanned skin is flushed by the time she calms down, but it only adds to her beauty. I swear I’ve never met another natural red-head with a tan like Megan’s.

“Oh I bet Deek just loved that. I wish I lived in your dorm. Are you blaming your missing robe on Fred again?” I have already explained to her about the unwelcome monkey in my room when she came over last week to borrow some notes for our History class.

“Fred is always the guilty party. That’s why he hides, he’s always guilty.” I give her a deadpan look because she enjoys playing this game just as much as I do. There’s an elephant named Ted in her room who has a fetish with her shoes, they’re always strewn throughout her room and he never picks them up. It drives her boyfriend, Derrick, nuts whenever we talk about Fred and Ted in front of him.

“Derrick might have mentioned to me that Deek may be seeing some girl he met at a party a couple weeks ago. Have you seen her?” Her tone is no longer playful and I know she is trying to avoid looking at me.

“Nope, can’t say that I have. But it doesn’t bother me. I’m not into him. Yeah, he’s hot, like ridiculously hot, but I’m just not interested.” She lets out a silent breath and I do too. I don’t know why Derrick and Megan are always throwing out little hints about Deacon not being interested in me, I know I’m not his type and I also know he wouldn’t ever be interested in me that way. I understand that as his brother, Derrick just wants to make sure I don’t turn into some crazy-lunatic-stalker girl, but we’re just friends. I’m like 5’2, how scary do they think I am anyway?

“Okay. Derrick just wanted me to give you a heads-up about it. Did you bring your extra copy of this stupid a*s book?” And just like that, we are back on steadier ground.

Mrs. Kingston finally shows up to begin class as I take out my extra supplies for Megan. I hand her the book, notebook, and pen before she can even ask for the other things and focus on what the professor is saying. She still uses a chalkboard and almost always has yellow and white dusty handprint smudges on her uniform black slacks from wiping her hands on them constantly. She never uses the same piece of chalk twice and the front of her classroom usually has a light dusting of yellow and white chalk dust in front of the board. Her unruly, curly black hair is always clipped high on top her head and she has thick-framed, black glasses that sit perched on her nose, making her near-black almond-shaped eyes look huge. Mrs. Kingston usually sports a scowl on her lightly wrinkled face, but today her chapped beige lips are pursed as if in deep thought. She starts to write something on the board, but then thinks better of it and wipes it away with the side of her fist and tells us to just read our book or talk amongst ourselves in her high-pitched nasally voice. Megan and I both glance over at each other and hold up the book at the same time as if to say “I’m just gonna read” and go about opening our books.

That was the longest hour and a half of my life. I finished the book and started outlining my thoughts and ideas for my paper due next week. Megan hands me back all the stuff I loaned her and meets Derrick over by the door. I nod for her to go on without me; I plan on running over to the vending machine to grab a Red Bull to help me get through the next few hours of the day. I’m regretting not making time for my latte this morning. As I’m walking out of class, my phone pings in my back pocket and proceeds to vibrate for thirty seconds to signal I have a new text message.

Luke: Think u can meet a lil earlier @ starbucks?

Me: Actually, that would be great for me. Had a rough morning so I want to get this day over with as quickly as possible. What time?

Luke: How abt 1? My last class is canceled so I jus want the extra study time.

Me: Okay, see ya then.

Luke: K, remember I’m still buyn the latte ;)

Me: Whatever.

Just because he gave me a wink-y face does not mean that he is buying my drink. I have more than enough money of my own and I hate doing that to people. It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything, it just makes me feel bad for some reason. I almost always buy the meals for Lucy and myself, even Megan when she joins us occasionally. I could do this for ten years straight and it wouldn’t even make a dent in a quarter of the money Ana left me. I bet if Keegan knew how much money I really had the b***h would want to be my best friend. I swipe my main bank card through the new credit card slot on the vending machine and choose the selection for Red Bull. The can barely has a chance to hit the bottom before I pop the top and chug almost all of it down in one gulp. I toss the can in the nearby blue recycling bin and swipe my card for another Red Bull, knowing Lucy will probably need one as well. Finally feeling a kick start in my veins, I practically skip to the Ravencroft Theater for Glassblowing class. Lucy is waiting at the door for me, shaking her head which causes her pixie-style black hair to swish under her ears gently.

“Hey Lucy. How was your first class?” She holds up her hand and snatches the proffered Red Bull from my hand. Yep, Lucy definitely needed it. I can tell by the way she chugged it the same as I did.

“Don’t even wanna talk about it. You?” I tell her the story of my morning and scold her for leaving the door open again.

“Glad you put Pretty Boy in his place and screw Keegan. She’s a self-entitled b***h. And no matter how many times you yell at me, I’m still going to leave the door open so you should just save your breath.” We both roll our eyes at each other and turn to go in the class. There are only ten people in the class, including Lucy and I, so it’s usually pretty quiet in here. The notes pinned to our station tell us how we are going to incorporate different colored glass together for one piece. Goody, maybe this project won’t turn out to be a disaster.

I’m thankful for the peace and quiet Lucy gives me when we go to our stations and see the step-by-step instructions Mr. Richter has left for us. Those instructions mean he won’t be in class today and everyone needs to sign underneath them so he can account for attendance. Mr. Richter usually has these out at least one class period per week, and we only meet twice a week. Mr. Richter is six feet tall, lanky, and is geek/Napoleon Dynamite personified. He has wire-y, brillo�"pad-type orange hair atop his unevenly-shaped head; along with a forehead high enough to be considered a mirror, beady hazel eyes behind a pair brown coke-bottle glasses, and sunk-in cheeks. The glasses sit perched on a narrow, pointy nose. There are usually deep splotches of purple under his eyes that only add to his sickly pale and pimply complexion. When Mr. Richter does manage to make an appearance in class, his khaki pants are always wrinkled and his button down shirt always looks like he wore it to bed the night before. I wonder why he’s always missing and quickly rule out a secret rendezvous with one of his co-workers. Eww! Definitely a mental picture I didn’t need now or ever.

 He never really expects anyone to do anything when he’s not here, so I just scribble my name on the paper and put my head down. I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep until Lucy shakes me slightly and I see her backpack over her shoulder. Stretching and working out the kinks in my injured shoulder, I slowly grab my bag and make my way to the door. I remind Lucy that I have tutoring today and won’t be back to the room until later and she tells me that she’s going to do a little bit of studying and a lot of shopping. Yeah, something is really bugging her today and I’m going to have to figure it out when we are both back in the dorm. I make my way back over to the dorm so I can drop off my books and exchange them for my Algebra textbook and also pick up my car. I toss my book on the passenger seat and slide into the smooth black leather of the driver’s seat. My car has a push-to-start ignition so I don’t have to dig in my pocket for the key and set my cd player to Survive by Rise Against. It’s my mantra for when I’m having a bad day. I pull out of my reserved parking spot and head for the school’s entrance. The security officer checks the sticker on my windshield and waves me through. Starbucks is only five minutes away from the campus and I see a couple of people, students and teachers alike, strolling down the sidewalk and enjoying the warm day. I probably should have walked, but I’m feeling a little lazy today. Besides, I love driving my car.

I pull in between a sleek black Lexus and an outdated Toyota Corolla and check my clock, 12:55. I grab my book and make my way inside to the line. It’s unusually empty inside, with maybe five patrons milling about. I’m getting in line as a customer turns around and run into none other than Pretty Boy. I notice a drink in each hand, which he almost spills on me.

“We just keep running into each other today.” He quips with an amused tone. I think I see a flash of that damn smirk.

“Yeah and each time you attempt bodily harm.” I seethe. My day just keeps getting better and better.

“The first time was an accident and this time I didn’t even do anything. I am sorry about earlier.”

“Whatever. Just let me order my latte. Have a nice day, Pretty Boy.” I throw his own parting line back at him while he just shakes his head and steps out of line. I’m just finished placing my order when my phone chimes.

Luke: Here

Me: Me too, I’m in line.

I slip my phone back in my pocket to collect my French vanilla latte and turn around and nearly collide into Pretty Boy again. My drink spills all over the floor and I hear shuffling behind the counter, presumably someone coming around to clean up my mess. I’d really like rub Pretty Boy’s face in it.

“What the-“

“Are you the tutor, Kenzie?” He has an unreadable expression on his face and it takes me a second to put it together.

“You have got to be f*****g kidding me!” I wish I could start this day over. He at least has enough decency to look sheepish.

“Well, I guess you can stop calling me Pretty Boy. And I still have your latte.” Luke is wearing this smile that he obviously thinks is going to charm me or something, it won’t work. I’ll still take the latte though.

“Thanks.” I mutter and motion for him to follow me.

 

Chapter 2

I

 choose a brown weathered table that is pushed against another table with four chairs near the back of the shop that is less likely to have people wandering by, I don’t want those innocent people subjected to Luke’s clumsiness. It seems I’ve already gotten the brunt of it though today. My textbook lands on the table with a loud THUMP and I set my latte down next to it. Luke starts to walk to the same side of the table as me and I shoot him a death glare, there is no way that I am risking his arm knocking my latte into my lap. He heeds my glare and wisely chooses the seat diagonally from me, letting his textbook and spiral notebook drop with the same THUMP. I’m casually sipping my latte waiting for him to get this little session started. Luke reached out to me for help so he can get it underway. He opens his mouth and closes it a few times, eyeing me warily in the process. It’s not like I have three heads or bite, well I might bite him depending on what comes out of his mouth.

“Look, I know I haven’t made the greatest impression. I truly am sorry for nailing you in the shoulder with the football. I’m sorry if I made you think I was blaming my…’fucked up coordination’, I believe that’s how you phrased it, on my friend. I’m sorry for nearly spilling the latte on you and for also contributing to the one you dropped.” He’s eyeing me expectantly; I don’t like how his dark brown eyes are slowly roving over my face and upper half of my body.

“Okay Pretty…I…uh…I mean, Luke. Apology, or should I say apologies, accepted. However, I reserve the right to reserve the right to revoke my forgiveness at any time should you attempt bodily harm again.” I crack a smile because I want him to know I’m joking, even though my eyes are still narrowed at him.

Luke chuckles deeply, then sighs before shaking his head and continuing. “Okay you have a deal. Would you like to inflict bodily harm on me so our score is even?” There’s humor that sparkles in his eyes.

“Nahh, I wouldn’t want to mess your pretty face up. Plus, I’m not really a fighter. But I can still poke you if necessary.” I’m trying really hard to keep the laughter out of my voice, but it’s not working and it only causes us both to laugh harder.

“In all seriousness though, how is your shoulder? I did throw that ball pretty hard.”

“Yeah, what was up with that? It felt like a f*****g cinderblock hit me. And it’s actually pretty sore. I haven’t really looked at it yet.”

“Ryan, the guy I was throwing too, and I do that to each other sometimes. We just see who can throw it harder.”

“Typical males and their pissing contests. Well, I’m guessing you win that game a lot.”

“He actually throws a lot harder than I do. You’re lucky it was me throwing it and not him. Do you mind if I take a look at your shoulder?” Luke’s already up and behind my seat before I can even say anything. I can feel his breath on my neck as he stoops down behind me and his fingers lightly trace the collar of my shirt. This situation makes me a little uncomfortable, but I don’t want to say anything about it. He clears his throat, as if waiting for permission to pull my shirt collar over my shoulder. My fingers skim over his and hear him suck in a sharp breath as I slowly pull the opening over my shoulder. From what I can see there is a deep purple and black bruise that starts almost on top of my shoulder and extends down. Luke’s fingers trace it lightly and it feels like his fingers stop about mid-way down. I suppress a little shiver as I pull my shirt back right and straighten my back. Luke gets up and walks back over to his seat. Shame, guilt, and something I can’t quite make out…suspicion maybe?..are all shining in his eyes as he looks at me and it almost makes me feel bad for him. I shake my head almost imperceptibly though. I’m the one who got hit with the damn ball, why am I feeling bad for him?

“I know I already said this, but I’m really sorry. I feel like such an a*s now.” His tone is too serious and there’s a tension in the atmosphere that I don’t like. Tension brings up too many memories from my past and I don’t want to remember it right now.

“As well you should be! Maybe next time you won’t target unsuspecting females who are just minding their own damn business.” I smirk at him to show him I’m joking and Luke’s demeanor visibly lightens.

“I don’t suppose I can make it up to you by taking you to a party with me this weekend? It’s actually at Ryan’s house. Maybe I can also get a do-over too?”

“Uhh…I don’t know. I mean…” I don’t know what to say, this is unfamiliar territory for me. I have literally never been on a date of any kind in my life.

“You don’t have to come, it’s cool.” His expression falls and for some odd reason I want to see him smile again.

“If we have a productive tutoring session, then fine, I’ll go with you.” I quickly blurt out and I am rewarded with one of his best smiles yet. His whole face lights up and his eyes even appear a lighter shade of brown.

“Alright, well let’s get crackin’. You’re supposed to be tutoring me, not distracting me.”

I let out an indignant huff and let him open my book to one of the sections that are troubling him. Factors in Your Equations. Goody. I’m good at math, but I still don’t understand who thought it was a good idea to incorporate the alphabet with a bunch of numbers. I don’t need a kindergarten review of my ABC’s while I’m trying to add two and two.

 

 

After a little over two hours of explaining and showing examples of various “x + 9 �" 3 = y” problems, Luke has finally gotten the hang of it. He seemed a little embarrassed at first, but he started to mellow out once I told him my thoughts on the whole chapter. We actually shared a couple laughs over it. I also found out that Luke is the quarterback for our team, the Ravens. He’s held a football as soon as he could walk and never put it down. And his new favorite color is blue. I wonder why it’s his new favorite? I shared with him that I was born and raised in Seattle, but refused to go into any details about Bonnie and Bill. I’ve never had a boyfriend. And my favorite color isn’t just any old red, but a specific red: Cherry Red. He correctly guessed that the beautiful Fusion parked out front is mine. An obnoxious vibrating startles the quiet around us and I realize it’s my phone demanding attention. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see that I have a text message from another unknown number.

431-555-6732: Wanna grab burgers with my bro and Meg?

Seriously, why can’t people ever announce who they are!

Me: Would be tempting if I actually knew who this was…

431-555-6732: Haha, sorry. It’s Deacon. Got your number from S.D

If this keeps up, I may just have to unlist my number. I don’t mind that Deacon is texting me though. I quickly save his number before replying.

Me: Hey! Sure. What time?

Deacon: In about 30 mins?

I check the time and realize it’s almost three o’clock now. A little early to be getting dinner, but I don’t have anything else to do tonight.

Me: Okay. I just have to finish up with this tutoring thing and I’ll be back at the dorms in like 20 minutes.

Deacon: Cool, see ya then.

When I glance up, Luke has this weird look on his face that makes me a little uneasy. We are both silent for a few moments before he shakes his head and flashes me a dazzling smile. Can this guy be any more mercurial?

“Well, I think I’ve got the hang of this stuff now. Thanks again. I guess I’d better head on out. I have practice in a little while.”

“That’s great, I’m glad I could help.” We both get up and gather our stuff and make our way over to the door. I glance around again and notice that Starbucks is still surprisingly quiet. Must be a bad day for business for them. Luke walks ahead of me to open the door for me and starts following me to my car.

“Coming over to admire Lola?” I smirk at him.

“Lola?” He has the cutest puzzled expression on his face that I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes Lola! She’s my car.” I’m grinning from ear to ear like an idiot and I’m sure if there was anyone nearby they’d be laughing at me too.

“Oh, I thought only guys named their cars? And no. The Lexus is mine.” He’s pointing to over the Black Beauty and smiling proudly.

“Well, girls do too. And I hope you don’t already have a name for yours because I just named her Black Beauty.” Why the hell did I just say that out loud? What is wrong with me right now? Am I doing a botched attempt at flirting? I don’t even know.

“Then her name will stay Black Beauty. Have a good night Kenzie.” Luke smiles affectionately at me before we both get in our cars. We both fiddle with our radios for a minute. I settle on Alive by Krewella and he has something playing with a lot of bass. Luke motions for me to go first and I pull out, waving goodbye. He honks his horn and pulls out behind me.

I’m just pulling back into the dorm parking lot when I see Deacon walking over to me, phone cradled in his shoulder against his ear. He opens my passenger door and grabs my textbook for me and meets me at the driver’s side, opening my door for me. As I’m getting out, his hand brushes along my thigh accidentally and leaves a lingering heat in its wake.

“Megan is picking up Five Guys and we are just going to eat in my room. Is that okay?” I stifle a giggle while nodding and hold my hand out for his phone, tapping my shoe and looking at him expectantly. He shrugs and hands it over.

“Really Megan? Five Guys? Won’t Derrick be a little bit jealous?” I can’t even hold in my laughter anymore.

“I told Deek not to say it like that to you. You’re a dirty w***e!” I think I can hear Derrick’s muffled laughter and an “oomph” in the background, presumably Megan slapping him upside his head.

“I had to do it, you would’ve done the same.” Deacon and I start walking back up to our rooms and he nudges me playful.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. What do you want?”

“Double bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato, grilled onions, and mayo please? Oh and a large fry with a large Coke!” I practically squeal into the phone. I know I’ll have to hide money in her car somewhere later before she leaves.

“You sure you can eat all that? You’re so damn tiny!”

“Yes b***h, now hurry up!” I hang up the phone and toss it back toward Deacon. He nudges my shoulder again, this time my bad one, and I suck in a painful breath.

“What’s wrong?” Deacon’s eyes appear to have taken on a darker grey with the concern evident in them. He’s eyeing me rubbing my shoulder lightly and before I can protest, he pulls the side of my collar over my shoulder. I brush his hand away and pull my shirt back to normal before he can actually see the worst of it. I look up and notice that his eyes have widened slightly as he took in the lingering redness and swelling from the laces on the football. I wonder how he would’ve looked if he’d seen the whole bruise.

“What the f**k happened? Did you walk into an actual wall this time?” He’s trying to mask his concern with amusement, but it’s really not working out for him. Suddenly I’m a little nervous and apprehensive about telling him. I haven’t really seen this side of Deacon yet.

“Well, I didn’t walk into anyone or anything. A football comes flying through the air and nails me in the shoulder. At first I thought someone chucked a brick at me.” I’m trying to lighten the situation, but Deacon isn’t taking the bait. Maybe I need to brush up on my humor.

“Okay…I know there’s more to it than that. So start talking.” His tone causes me to bristle. If I was a cat right now, my tail would be fluffed to the max �" that’s how irritated I am with him.

I look up and down the long, narrow hallway and see a few girls and guys outside of their rooms or with their doors open. The walls are an off-white with the tell-tale scuff marks of people moving in and out and the carpet is a bleak grey. I don’t like all the commotion  in the hallway, it’s a cacophony of noise in my head and it’s a little overwhelming while I’m looking into Deacon’s eyes. The grey in his eyes are holding me captive and I suddenly want to escape his scrutinizing stare.

“Uhm, can we go sit down or something at least? I don’t really wanna talk about this in the middle of the hallway.”

“Yeah, might as well go in my room.” He turns toward his room, holding my textbook hostage like it’s the only thing that would cause me to follow him. He sets it neatly on the edge of his desk and motions for me to sit on his unmade bed, while he pulls up his desk chair. I’m looking around the room to avoid looking directly at him and take everything in. It’s a mirror image of mine, except he has a single bed in his room. Four white walls. The same bleak grey carpet. One window in the wall directly across from his door. A standard sized twin bed, located against the wall to the left of the door, with his own choice of a dark blue comforter and two pillows with matching cases. A small oak wood desk sits directly under the window with the black rolling chair, which he is now occupying. His dresser sits in front of the wall across from his bed; it’s made from the same oak wood that the desk is made from. His closet in the corner is open and I can see all his jeans hung up neatly on the rack along with two pairs of motorcycle boots, black Nike running shoes, and a few black and grey button down shirts. His leather jacket is tossed haphazardly near the top of the bed and his laundry basket is overflowing with clothes. It’s still surprisingly neat for a guy’s room though.

“Are you finished with studying my room?” His tone isn’t unkind, but it doesn’t give me the warm fuzzies either.

“No, I think I have to check your drawers first. You can tell a lot about a person by the underwear they choose.” I look at him completely deadpan and start to shuffle off the bed. His smile has returned and I feel accomplished, but I also know I’ve completely left myself open for attack. As I walk by him, he snags my hand and bites my wrist gently.

“HEY!” I screech indignantly.

“Well, you like to be bit. I figured I’d take your wise wisdom about the underwear thing.” Deacon is outright laughing now and I can’t help but join in. I let him pull me down into his lap because I know he wants me to finish telling him what happened to my shoulder. My feet are dangling about six inches from the floor and I’m kicking them back and forth softly. I feel so tiny and vulnerable like this. I take a deep breath to blow out the fluttery feeling in my stomach.

“Okay, so, I was walking to English Lit and these three huge jocks were outside playing football. They weren’t as giant as you though.” I add the last part about him under my breath and I can feel the smile rather than see it as he leans his chin on my good shoulder. “I’m minding my own business when BOOM! Out of nowhere something hits me hard and knocks my stuff out of hands. I see these two dark haired guys start jogging toward me and when they stop, I notice the guy who threw it is getting closer to me. My shoulder is f*****g killing me by this point and I just aim my awesome death glare and hold up my hand for him to stay where he is. I pick up his stupid ball and throw it back to him. I really didn’t want him anywhere near me.”

“I’m trying to finish picking my books up when I see him bend down, trying to pick up my pens. I mean, he seriously thought I wanted his f*****g help. I think I might have growled at him and he let me snatch my pens away when he stood up and held up his hands like he was fending off a beast. That just pissed me off. Seriously, he had the nerve to look agitated. You know how I get.” I turn my head to look at him and notice he’s playing with a few strands of my hair that came loose from my bun. Again with these strange flutters in my stomach. It’s like someone set a bunch of crazy butterflies loose inside of me.

“You’re pretty feisty when you get like that. I thought you were going to chew my head off when I said I wanted to put you in my pocket because you were so tiny.” I’m glad he still thinks that is funny.

“I am not a dog, I do not chew. And I didn’t even know you! I barely looked at your face for five seconds before you winked at me and told me the pocket thing. Then you tried to flash your dimple at me like that would make it better!” I don’t let on to the fact that his dimple secretly thrilled me.

“Whatever, it’s all part of my charm. It’s why we’re bffs now!” Deacon raised his voice into a high pitch squeak towards the end, trying to mimic a dumb blonde.

“Shush, I’m telling a story and it’s rude to interrupt!” He wriggles his legs under my lap and I start to squirm. I slap his thigh trying to make him stop, but I only end up with my making my palm sting from the sharp slap. I’m shaking it out when Deacon breathes a low chuckle in my ear and I desperately try to suppress a shudder. I clear my throat so I can continue.

“Anyway, I end up snapping at him because he tries to blame it on the other guy for hitting me and I call him pretty boy and blame him because it was his fucked up coordination. He tries to call me beautiful and I brush him off and end up flipping him the middle finger when he tells me to have a nice day.” I turn around and look at Deacon. He has this bright smile on his face.

“That’s my little firecracker. Let’s see your shoulder.” He stands up so I’m forced to scoot off his lap and join him. He slides my shirt to the side and I’d almost forgotten how bad Luke said it looked when Deacon sucks in his breath harshly. I turn around to face him, fixing my shirt and wincing in the process. His jaw is tightly clenched and I’m almost scared to look into his eyes. They’re so dark they almost look black. I see his throat swallow and I notice the flutters in my stomach have vanished.

“Jesus Christ Kenzie! You made it sound like it wasn’t that bad!”

“I told you it f*****g hurt! Did you want me to say it felt like he almost ripped my shoulder out?”

“Well, yeah! Your shoulder is black and f*****g purple! Yet you joke around like it’s not serious!”

“It’s NOT! Luke apologized already three times!”

“How do you know his name? You told me you called him Pretty Boy?”

“He ended up being the guy I had to tutor.”

“You still f*****g helped him? God Kenz, you should’ve punched him and-“ We are both shouting so loud that neither of us heard or saw Megan come in until she wedges herself between us and starts pushing us both away from each other.

“What the hell is going on?” Megan’s voice immediately fills the now quiet room except for our audible breathing.

“Mind your business Megan.” Deacon’s voice has taken on a dark quality that I hadn’t even heard him use during our argument.

“Calm the f**k down Deek. And back up.” I glance towards the door and notice Derrick is filling the frame with his broad body, his large fist making our bags of food appear extra small.

“I’m f*****g calm.” Deacon backs up anyway and looks over apologetically at Megan. He doesn’t look at me; he literally turns his head to avoid looking at me and for some reason, it stings. Seeing the slight stubble along his jaw hurts me more than I want to acknowledge. Megan puts her hand on my bad shoulder to guide me back a few steps and it’s like déjà vu with the whole sucking-in-a-painful-breath thing. Megan narrows her vibrant green eyes at me, but then they widen in understanding. She remembered me telling her the tale of my epic battle this morning.

“Are you really all bent out of shape because she got hit with a damn football?” There’s nothing but silence and the sounds of Deacon’s ragged breaths.

“Answer me d****t!” Megan’s voice is like a command that Deacon can’t ignore. It’s a little funny watching this play of power and knowing Megan will be the victor. She never loses. I sneak a glance at her to see she’s pulled her long red hair into a sleek ponytail, which somehow makes her outfit look even sexier. I’d kill for a pair of those thigh-high leather boots, even though I’d never have the confidence to pull them off. She looks over at me and sees me coveting her boots with my eyes and winks at me.

“Did you see the f*****g bruise it left?” His voice was controlled, but still angry and startles us both.

“It was an accident, God, Deacon. Just drop it! Luke apologized, I told him he had s****y quarterback skills, and he apologized again. He didn’t do it intentionally.” Deacon just narrows his eyes at me like he wished I’d stop speaking. I happily oblige.

“Turn around.” Megan commands me and I unwillingly submit to her ministrations. She carefully pulls my sleeve aside to reveal my shoulder and gasps. I mean, I know it’s ugly, but they don’t have to keep making such a big deal out of it. She leaves my sleeve and collar pulled over my shoulder and turns me so my back is facing Derrick, leaving Deacon directly in my path. I feel Derrick come up behind, but don’t even so much as flinch when his fingers brush along my shoulder because I’m once again held captive by Deacon’s stormy eyes.

“F**k.” It’s the only syllable Derrick utters, but it makes me feel uneasy. It’s like they’re privy to something I’m not and it’s my own damn body. I must have a funny look on my face because Deacon quirks his brow up at me. Derrick puts my shirt back where it’s supposed to be on my shoulder, but it feels loose and bulky on my shoulder now. Great. Now my shirt is stretched out from being pulled at all day.

“Hey Megs, why don’t you and Kenz go through the food and divvy it out? I’m gonna have a quick talk with my brother.” He steps around me to kiss Megan soundly on the lips and pulls a reluctant Deacon by his forearm. They step outside and as soon as we hear the door latch click, Megan and I both release a shaky breath. She smiles uneasily at me and scoops up the greasy bags Derrick left on the desk, wiping up the grease stain with a napkin set off to the side.

 

 

Deacon

 

As soon as Derrick shuts the door and we are out in the safety of the hallway, I jerk my arm from his grasp. I’m not a damn kid and he doesn’t have to drag me around like one. I probably would have gone more willingly if he’d just asked me nicely…maybe. Something in me just didn’t want to leave Kenzie unprotected.

“That bruise…it couldn’t have happened from just a football.” Derrick is pacing with his hands scrubbing back and forth through his dark hair, giving it a slightly disheveled look.

“You know Megan would have called her out on it and it seems like she knew the story already.” I start pacing too because my mind is trying to grasp something but it’s just out of reach. It’s f*****g frustrating.

“Yeah, I believe Kenzie is telling the truth about the situation from what she witnessed on her end, but a regular quarterback couldn’t have done that.”

“What are you getting at Der, just spit it the f**k out already.” I hate it when he talks in riddles. He abruptly stops pacing and gives me a sharp look, like that s**t is supposed to scare me. I’ve been through the same training as him and beat all of his old records. He knows I’d be a damn good match against him, I don’t know why he keeps playing up the intimidation look.

“You know we can’t talk about it here. We need to go to the mansion sometime this week with my girl and discuss it with Jerad. If it’s because of what I think it is, then maybe it would be best to back off of Kenzie for a little while. Her close friendship with you could be what’s causing this.” He gives me another sharp look, like he’s trying to tell me he’s really serious this time. We’ve had a lot of discussions this week about my friendship with Kenzie. I know it’s for the best, but whenever I think about putting distance between us…it just doesn’t feel right.

“Okay, my Thursday afternoon is free. Is that good for you guys?” I’m not really ready to agree with Derrick’s assessment of my friendship with Kenzie until I know more of what’s going on.

“It’s good with me, I’ll talk to Megs. Don’t think that you’re off the hook with what else I said.”

“Look, Der, I know how you feel and I understand, but…it’s just…there’s something about her. I can’t help it.” He gets right up in my face and straightens his 6’5 frame out against my 6’6. He may be broader than me, but I still have the height advantage and I know it pisses him off to have to look up that extra inch at me.

“You. Need. To. Help. It.” He’s jabbing my chest to emphasize each word. “You know it’s not safe for her if you continue this.”

“Look, you need to-“ We both stiffen at the sound of the knob turning and Megan poking her head. She glares at both of us and sweetens her voice in Derrick’s direction.

“Baby, the food’s gonna get cold. Come on in and eat.” That was her basically telling us to shut the hell up and get over it. They’re gazing at each other and I know they are silently communicating. I clear my throat because that s**t makes uncomfortable as hell. Derrick claps me on the back and motions for us to go in after he cuts me a look that says “We’re not finished this conversation”. I just shrug my shoulders because as far as I’m concerned, the part about my friendship with Kenzie is done.

 

Kenzie

 

Megan and I finished sorting the food in silence. I could hear their muffled voices through the door and Megan just looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. One of them started raising their voice and Megan decided that would be a good time to call them back in for food. Derrick and Megan walked over holding hands and he grabbed both their burgers in his other hand. Megan’s height complimented Derrick’s well, he didn’t have to lean down too far to show her any sort of affection and she only had to raise on her tip toes just the slightest amount  to receive it. His hair was a lighter shade of black than Deacon’s and slightly longer. Where Deacon appeared to only have scars on his back, Derrick had one along the top of his left eyebrow, forearms, and along the side of his next. I asked him about the vicious-looking scar on his neck the second time I saw him and he only said “s**t happens”. Both guys had strong jaws, angular cheek bones, and near-perfect physiques. The only contrast in their facial features was their eyes. Derrick had honey-colored eyes compared to Deacon’s grey-blue. They both wore the same type of outfit: dark jeans that narrowed at the hips, form-fitting dark t-shirts, boots, and leather jackets when the weather called for it. I had to admit to myself that Derrick and Megan made a gorgeous couple. Everything about each other offset the other nicely. Although the brothers could pass for twins, their personalities differed vastly. Where Derrick was quiet and thoughtful, Deacon was a flirt and could handle his own in conversation.

When Deacon saunters in, I imagined how I would measure up next to him when people saw us together. I just barely came up to his chest which might make intimate things a little awkward. Next to Megan, I felt just down-right frumpy. I must not do a good job of keeping my emotions off my face because Deacon gently pulls me up from his bed by my hand and tucks me in close to his body. He bends his head down toward my ear and whispers in it, causing the loose hairs tucked behind my ear to tickle it.

“You’re still perfect just the way you are.” He presses a quick kiss to my temple and pulls the tie of my bun, letting my hair cascade down my back in waves. My eyes start to glaze over as he runs his fingers softly through my hair, untangling it, when Derrick clears his throats and startles us both out of our reveries, shooting Deacon a severe look. He eyes Deacon the entire time until a takes he step back from me and lets his hand drop to his side. I’m suddenly left feeling bereft and for some reason, I don’t like it. I scoop up my own burger and flop down on the bed, unraveling it in my lap.

Megan breaks the tension by clicking on the flat screen TV mounted to the wall above the dresser. A music video from Bad Girlfriend by Theory of a Deadman fills the room and Megan starts swaying her hips seductively towards Derrick. He puts his hand on her hip, pulling her against him while Deacon bops his head to the upbeat tempo of the guitar and takes a monstrous bite of his burger. The silence amongst us is broken when mayonnaise slides down Deacon’s chin and Megan laughs loudly at him. Derrick looks over at him, his gaze on his girlfriend’s hips broken by the intoxicating sound of her light laughter. He lets out a chuckle of his own and tosses a napkin at Deacon’s face.

“Geeze man, can’t take you out in public at all, can we?”

“Well I’m in the privacy of my bedroom so I can eat however I want.” Their easy banter completely erases all of the tension and now we’re all laughing. Megan quirks her brow up in my direction.

“Kenz, I thought you wanted onions on your burger?”

“It’s not my fault they’re falling out. Worry about your own food.” I growl at her as I take a big bite of my own burger. Deacon pretends to moves his hand toward it and I chomp my teeth down in his direction. “Hands off buddy!” He reaches in the bag and tosses a fry at me that I catch in my mouth and moan loudly around. They all start laughing again and we finish our food with light conversation about classes.

I pick up everyone’s empty wrappers and fry containers and toss them in the trash can to the side of Deacon’s desk. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and check the time, 5:36. I know we are going to be over here for a while hanging out because the boys have pulled out the PS3 and started rifling through the games and movies. My jeans are starting to feel a little stiff and my stretched shirt is annoying the crap out of me, plus I want to go put my keys and textbook up before I end up losing them.

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go put my s**t away and change real quick. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” I start to grab my book when Deacon’s hand lands on top of mine, causing me to look up at him.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? I’ll walk over with you.” I shrug and let him carry my book across the hall. I try the door, but remember it’s locked because Lucy had some stuff to do this afternoon. I dig out my keys and unlock the door, pushing it wide open so Deacon can go around me. As he brushes by me and into my room, I can feel his body heat seep through my clothes. I turn my back to him and shut the door; I don’t why I feel so nervous with him in my room. I guess it’s the unknown topic of the situation. I really don’t want to argue with him anymore today.

 

Chapter 3

I

 quietly lock the door behind me and turn around. My hands are slightly trembling and my thoughts are running a mile per minute. I don’t know why Deacon wants to talk to me; I just know that I am done arguing. I stood up for myself and Luke apologized. End. Of. Story. Well, I haven’t yet told Deacon about my little date with Luke or the fact that it will be my first party pretty much ever. The last and only party I went to was in my sophomore year of high school and it was disastrous. Deacon’s abrupt laughter pulls me out of my mind and my past and brings me back to room.

“Why are you giggling like a little school girl? Surely you’ve been in a girl’s room before.” I snap at him, figuring he’ll probably just make some remark about my room being messier than a boy’s.

“Well, usually there aren’t bras hanging from the lamp or thongs scattered over the desk. And you just locked the door. It f***s with a guy’s mind a little bit.” Deacon’s calloused, tanned hands pick up and fling my black strapless lacy bra at my face. I can feel the heated blush creep even further up my face as he picks up the matching black lace thong and twirls it around his middle finger. “I guess Victoria doesn’t have a secret anymore.” He murmurs as he inspects the pale pink tag. Thank God those are clean!

“Deacon! Seriously! Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s not polite to raid through a woman’s underwear drawer?!?” Definitely awkward and he just keeps twirling my panties around, with that damn Cheshire cat grin plastered to his face. I want that grin off his face, so I throw something I have balled up in my hand at his head. I gasp when I realize too late that it was my bra and he catches it with ease right before it hits my target. He flings it over his shoulder and lets out a loud snort.

“My mother never lectured me about a woman’s underwear chilling on her desk. Besides that, a pretty smart girl once told me that you can tell a lot about a person by the type of underwear they wear and I’m inclined to agree.” I don’t know what to do with this conversation. It’s quickly going into unfamiliar territory. Besides not knowing how to flirt, Derrick’s and Megan’s incessant warnings about staying away from Deacon are ringing loud and clear in the back of my mind. I’m obviously attracted to him and knowing he’ll never see me that way, I have to try and steer the conversation back into safe territory. Fast.

“A*****e! So…uh…what did you…uh…wanna talk to me about?” Man, real smooth Kenz. Real f*****g smooth. It must have worked though because there is a slight change in Deacon’s posture.

“Uhm…I wanted to apologize for freaking out like that.” Oh. He doesn’t owe me an apology for that because I would react the same way if the situation were reversed. I won’t tell him that though, the b*****d is already smug and cocky enough as it is.

“Thanks Deacon. Apology accepted.” I beam a bright smile in his direction, but the storm in his eyes doesn’t lessen any. I don’t know how long we’ve been staring at each other; seconds, minutes, hours. The trance is broken when my phone chimes and I’ve never been so grateful for the annoying ping in my life. Even though I don’t have any experience with boys, I know it’s not a good idea to lose sense of time around them and that always happens between Deacon and me. I pull my phone out, breaking eye contact, and glance down at the text message opened on the screen.

Lucy: Be home in a couple hours. Found a fab top for you and you ARE NOT paying me back for it.

Me: Thank you and I’ll just return the favor.

Lucy: Love you b***h J

Me: Love you too b***h J

My grin is wide as I toss my phone onto my messy, unmade bed. Fred is seriously a pain in the a*s. I love my little text conversations with Lucy, she gets why I feel a certain way about people buying stuff for me. She does it anyway, but I always return the favor for her and she doesn’t grumble too badly about it.

“Hmm. I hope a guy doesn’t have you smiling like that. I may have to break his face.” He winks at me while I roll my eyes at him. That damn wink! It’s going to be the death of me.

“It was Lucy. Bff stuff.” I stick my tongue out at him like my inner two year old demands.

He gasps and puts a hand over his mock wounded heart. “I thought we were bffs?”

“Hah! We are, poor baby. However, you’re a particular bff I can’t change in front of so…OUT!” I point my finger toward the door to emphasize my point and the jerk just laughs at me.

“Well fine. I, however, am not the one who locked the door behind us. But, I’m just gonna leave it alone.” Deacon saunters toward me and stops just behind my back. His fingers lightly brush my hair out of the way and gingerly pull my sleeve down. I am absolutely frozen in place and can barely breathe as he presses a light kiss to my injured shoulder. He brings his lips to my ear and whispers softly against it. “By the way, if I ever find another mark on you like this, I will not hesitate to break the responsible person’s face.”

He stands up from leaning down to my level and fixes my shirt. Deacon continues his trek through the obstacle course that is my room over to my door, making a show of unlocking the handle and opening it. “Two things. One: wear a tank top and I’ll rub some Icy Hot on your shoulder. Two: I think you need to evict Fred.” He calls over his shoulder to me as he steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him. His chuckle is muffled after the door is closed, but I know it’s a deep, throaty chuckle. He loved my story of Fred when I first complained to him about the unbearable mammal.

I turn away from the door with a slight smirk on my face, secretly giddy that he remembers Fred. That damn monkey. I rummage around in my drawers, pulling out a pair of grey and blue plaid boxers that I stole from Deacon and a grey camisole. I gingerly remove my t-shirt and throw it in the trash can, knowing I’ll never get it to fit normally again. I pull the camisole over my head and fix my hair into a quick ponytail. Kicking off my Converses and socks, I shimmy out of my jeans and yank my boxers on. I also throw on a fresh pair of lime green socks and put on a fresh coating of deodorant. Grabbing my phone from my bed, I tuck it into my bra and make my way back over to Deacon’s room.

I stop for a minute and listen to the muffled laughter of my three friends. They are talking about watching Paranormal Activity 4 and even though I am anything but thrilled by their movie choice, I am still happy they are in my life. Opening the door, I can’t help but look in Deacon’s direction first. His quirks his brows at the boxers I’m wearing, clearly remembering the day I barged in and stole them because all of my girly ones were dirty. Stepping fully into the room, I roll the waistband down slightly so the boxers won’t be as long on me and send a smug smile in his direction. Yeah, we both know that he’s never getting these boxers back.

“Hey Kenz. We’re gonna watch Paranormal Activity 4. You in?” Megan raises an eyebrow at me in challenge. This b***h knows damn well that me and scary movies do not get along.

“Whatever. Just know how much I hate you.” I throw back at her, watching her auburn eyebrows creep up her forehead in surprise.

“Calm down killer. You know love us.” Derrick interjects in an innocent voice, the kind you reserve for timid f*****g puppies. I hate that damn tone.

“Pfft! She loves me, you guys are just unwanted spectators.” Deacon quips while Derrick narrows his eyes at him, pressing his lips into a thin line that can only spell trouble later.

Sensing a change between the brothers starting to unfurl, I pull out my most charming smile  and aim it in Deacon’s direction. “Yeah right boys, don’t think to highly of yourselves. The only person I love in this room is my Meggy.” And just like that, the tension is broken and Megan’s shoulders slump in a silent relief.

“I love you too, Kenny.” She beams a bright smile in my direction.

I clamber onto the bed with Deacon upon seeing the blue and white container of Icy Hot in his hand. Megan and Derrick are both sprawled on the floor with one of Deacon’s pillows underneath their heads. While waiting for the opening credits to start, Deacon motions me between his legs. He opens the container and the minty, medicinal smell immediately hits my nostrils while slowly permeating the air. I wrinkle my nose in protest, as if that alone could save my poor sense of smell. That stuff seriously stunk and the odor would probably be lingering on my clothing and in my hair even after being washed. Yuck!

“F**k Deek, that s**t stinks!” Derrick starts coughing loudly.

“Don’t be such a p***y Der. It’s for Kenz’s shoulder.” After tugging my camisole and bra straps closer to my neck, Deacon gets a scoopful on his index and middle fingers and gently applies it to my exposed shoulder.

I suck a quick breath. “F**k, that’s cold!”

“Duh! That’s the point of it being called Icy Hot genius. Haven’t you ever heard the commercial ‘Icy to dull the pain, Hot to relax it away’?” Megan deepens her voice towards the end to sound like the creepy infomercial guy.

“Keep it up and we’ll see how well it works lodged in your eye.” I mutter.

“Ha. Ha. Smart a*s!” Megan replies.

“Rather be a smart a*s then a dumb a*s.” I call back in a sing-song voice. My next thoughts are lost as Deacon’s skilled fingers deftly massage the gel into my shoulders. The heat seeps in and I slowly release a shuddering breath, wondering if it’s from his touch or the gel. It’s over all too quickly and I go to move when Deacon lowers his mouth to my ear.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’m gonna close the curtains and shut off the light.” His whisper is feather light against the sensitive spot my ear and a cage of ninja butterflies are released in my stomach. I feel like I just got karate chopped and round house kicked in the ribs about thirty different times. Twisting the blue cap back on the white bottle, he tosses it on the desk and gets up to move around the room. I feel like these damn butterflies are about to take about a rib or puncture a lung or something.

The room becomes submerged in semi-darkness, due to Deacon owning black-out curtains, as I start to scoot back against the pillow. When Deacon returns, he’s sporting an adorable little frown on his lips while motioning me with his finger to move forward. I’m sure my face displays the confusion I’m feeling as I reluctantly crawl out of my comfortable spot. Deacon breathes out a low chuckle while climbing into my previously claimed spot. I’m about to start a protest when he guides me back between his legs, with my chest resting against his solid, smooth chest. I let out a strangled gasp as I feel the hard planes of chest come in contact with my back and Derrick whips his head around in our direction.

“Didn’t realize friends sat between each other’s legs and laid their heads on the other’s shoulder, Kenz.” Derrick sneers at me. The only sound in that moment is a sharp clap of hand against skin as Megan slaps him upside his head. It sounded like it might have hurt a little, but Derrick didn’t even wince.

“Knock it off, baby. I believe we used to sit like that too when we were friends.” Megan attempts to soothe it over in a placating voice, one reserved for trying to convince a child that a grocery store is not the appropriate place to throw a temper tantrum.

“Not a good point, doll, considering where we’re at now.” He replies in a biting tone. He’s still eyeing me with contempt. Megan’s face screws up in anger, but I jump in before she can unleash it.

“We ARE just friends, Derrick. I don’t understand what the big deal is!?!” I throw my hands up in exasperation.

“Of course you don’t fuc-” Derrick is immediately cut off by the steel in Deacon’s voice.

“Knock it off, Der. My bed is too small to sit next to each other and God knows what kind of fornicating you two will be doing on my damn floor. So. Shut. The. F**k. Up.” Agitation and something else I’m unfamiliar with vibrate from Deacon’s chest.

“Bet your sweet a*s it will only be the good kind of fornicating we’ll be doing.” Megan quips with a wink and blows a kiss at Derrick.

Derrick grumbles out something that resembles an apology as Deacon guides me back flush against his chest. Deacon checks to make sure everyone is ready before hitting the play button on the PS3 controller. The movie begins to play as he scoots the blanket out from underneath us and pulls it over our legs. Nestled between his muscular thighs and cushioned by his broad chest with his arms wrapped delicately around me, I lean my head in the crook of his shoulder feeling the safest and most secure I have ever felt in my life. Feeling the deep vibrations of his breathing against me, I snuggle in deeper and feel his arms wrap tighter around me.

Ten minutes into the movie and I started to regret watching it. Sorry, but possession and demon movies just aren’t my thing. Now, it’s an hour into and I am scared out of my mind. I wish Megan would have picked out Magic Mike; I’d much rather see Channing Tatum’s naked chest instead of watching some demon from Hell throw a little girl around by her hair. I’ve just inched Deacon’s hand slowly from my eyes, which has been plastered there for the last thirty minutes, when a loud BOOM erupts through the room and a door gets kicked in by the demon in the movie. F**k. That. An ear-shattering scream, which starts in my gut, erupts from my lungs at the same time Megan shrieks nearly as loudly. Deacon’s door creeks open slowly as Megan and I continue our onslaught against the boys’ ears, when Lucy pops her head in whilst covering her own ears. The boys burst out laughing while my blood is still thundering in my ears and my heart is actively trying to seek an escape route through my ribs.

“Someone’s a little scared.” Lucy bubbly voice floats through the room. It sounds suspiciously like it’s coated in amusement and I instantly narrow my eyes at her. She walks in the rest of the way, turns on the light switch, and closes the door behind her.

“That would be an understatement.” Deacon’s breath causes the hair behind my ear to stir slightly.

“Leave Kenz alone!” Megan comes quickly to my defense. Banshee screamers have to stick together after all.

“Babe, you screamed almost as loud as Kenzie did.” Derrick deadpans while Megan narrows her emerald eyes in his direction.

“Babe, I don’t hear you complaining about my screaming any other time.” She says in this sickly sweet voice that I know is used to get under Derrick’s skin. Their exchanges are just so amusing to watch. Megan has a very expressive face and some of the looks she gives…well, I’m sure you’re familiar with the expression.

“F**k. That. Movie!” I cut in before this conversation reveals too many details that no one needs to know. As amusing as it is to watch the exchanges, I don’t care to hear about bed-breaking-mirror-shattering-wall-denting-awesome sex details between the two. And yes, Megan has used those words to describe their sex life to me the second day after meeting her.

“Deek, I distinctly remember my bff telling you that she loathes scary movies almost as much as she loathes giggling blondes and starting her say without caffeine. You’re not a true bff if you don’t remember that detail.” Lucy wags a scolding finger in Deacon’s direction.

“It definitely looked like she was comfortable though.” Megan pipes out, earning a glare from Derrick and chuckles from Lucy and Derrick.

Loud chiming and audible vibrations start going crazy in my bra, startling me slightly because I forgot I put my phone there. Hey, don’t judge! I don’t have any pockets in my boxers. I can feel Deacon’s jaw drop against my shoulder blade as I reach in quickly to pull it out. The slightly ragged breathing coming from him tickle the hair behind my ear and unlock the cage of lethal butterflies perpetually trapped in my stomach. With a slight tremble to my fingers, I slide the lock on my phone to see a text icon appear on the screen. Luke’s name is visible underneath the icon, letting me know that he was the one who made my bra go all crazy. I feel a light swish of air by my cheek as Deacon shakes his and breaks himself out of whatever thoughts had him trapped inside his own head for the last minute or two. Part of me desperately wants to know what had him so seemingly shaken up, but the other part of me, the logical part, knows it doesn’t have anything to do with me. Lucy engages him a conversation that I block out while I finally open the message from Luke.

Luke: Hey ;)

Well this is bound to be a stimulating conversation. Monosyllable texts and wink-y faces always make me want to engage someone in conversation…NOT!

Me: Hello

Luke: Sup?

Me: Hanging out with some friends in another friend’s room. You?

Luke: Nuthn much jus chillen

Me: Okay?

I can feel Lucy’s eyes boring a hole into my forehead, either because I missed an important part of their conversation that they thought I should actively participate in or I’m wearing my annoyed face �" lips pursed, eyes narrowed, and brows furrowed. I’m assuming it’s the latter.

“Who ya textin’ over there chica?” She has this mischievous I’m-up-to-something-and-you-won’t-figure-it-out-util-it’s-too-late grin on her face, the grin I absolutely abhor with my whole being because it usually means she’s trying to stir something up.

“Uhmm…a friend?” I really want to know what this girl is plotting so I can avoid it at all costs.

“Uh huh, sure. Except all of your friends are right here in this room. Since I don’t see anyone, but you with a phone out, I am going to assume it’s either a guy you want to keep a secret or a guy you just met. So spill it chickadee.” Lucy retorts with a smug look in her onyx eyes, her blue-black ahri swishing softly under her ears.

“That’s totally not true and you know it. I’m friends with that girl, Stevie, in Environmental Science and Blake from Psychology and…and whatever, I don’t have to list my friends’ names for you!” I seethe.

Lucy raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow, but keeps a neutral expression on her face and in her tone. “Kenzie, someone asking to see your notes real quick does not qualify them as friends.” My cheeks slightly burn as the rest of our audience attempts and fails to hold in their laughter.

“It could very well be Kingsley or the twins.” Yes, I’m still trying to save face because I know what kind of reaction I’ll get if I say I’m texting Luke.

“Sweetie, if one of my brothers are texting you eight o’clock at night, then it’s either about homework or trying to get into your pants.” Megan deadpans, blowing my save-face-and-not-tell-them-about-Luke operation. I would totally suck as an undercover detective because I always forget the finer details. Like the fact that Kingsley Lucas and the twins, Ashton and Asher Lucas, are all undoubtedly man-w****s.

“Meg, I love you like a sister and all, but if that s**t happens, I’m breaking some vital body parts for your brothers.” Deacon growls.

“What s**t, Deek?” Megan shoots back innocently. And now, it’s beyond embarrassing. I imagine I’m as red as a tomato at this point and that is so not a cute look for me. Luckily I’m saved by the chime of my text alert and no longer have to pay attention to the conversation.

Luke: So the party starts @10 Fri nite. U still dwn?

“Oh. S**t.” I immediately cover my mouth as four sets of eyes abruptly swing in my direction, realizing I just said that out loud. Now I’ll definitely have to tell everyone and not to mention, I totally forgot that I agreed to go to the party with him.

Me: Yes. Where’s it at?

Luke: I can pik u up. Parkn will b crazy

Me: How will I get home?

Luke: Uhh me…

Me: Will there be alcohol?

Luke: Srsly? Yea…

I know it was a stupid question, but he’s more stupid if he thinks I am letting him drive me anywhere while he’s drunk. Nope, no thank you.

“Earth to Kenzie! Who the hell is it and why did you just say ‘oh s**t’ like you found OJ Simpson hiding in your closet?” Lucy barks at me, while flailing around like a damn octopus that just lost one of their precious tentacles.

“It’s Luke.” I mutter, hoping no one caught that.  A flicker of emotion passes through Lucy’s eyes. It’s gone so fast that I can’t even decipher it, but I know whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Who is this Luke person? What are his intentions? Is he trying to steal your virtue? I swear I’ll chop off-” I abruptly stop Lucy from finishing that sentence.

“First: you know him as Pretty Boy. He ended up being the guy I had to go tutor today. Second: He wants me to go to a party with him Friday night as a peace offering to make up for what happened. And third: my virtue is no one’s damn business!”

“Oh, well okay then. We gotta find you something hot to wear then!” Lucy starts jabbering in excitement.

“Yes! I have the perfect hooker boots, as you call them Kenz, for you to wear!” Megan pitches in, just as excited.

“Whoa…wait a minute! You’re actually gonna go to a party by yourself with this d****e when you don’t even know him? And Megan, she definitely doesn’t need your skank gear.” Deacon throws out, like I’m an idiot and don’t know what I’m doing. Megan glares at him and Deacon looks back at her with a sheepish apology grin on his face.

“Deacon, no one asked you what I should or shouldn’t wear, thank you very much!” I leave the rest of his statement unanswered deliberately. I need to send a text to Luke first before I can even ask them to come with me.

Luke: ???

Me: I’d feel more comfortable driving myself. We have another session this week, so I’ll get the address then.

Luke: K

Me: Uhmm is it okay if I bring a few friends?

Luke: Idc, open party

Me: Thanks

Luke: NP

Me: Well goodnight then.

Luke: ;)

“Why do you look like you wanna spin kick someone in the face right now?” Derrick looks over at me questioningly.

“I don’t necessarily wanna spin kick-”

“Dude, she’s too short to spin kick someone in the face!” Deacon abruptly cuts me off. A*****e. I turn my body slightly and punch him in the upper arm, hurting my own knuckles more than him. Deacon just grins at me as I shake my hand out.

“Shut the f**k up, jerk. Anyway, I was wondering if you guys wanna come to this party with me? I’ve never really been to a party before and I barely know Luke and he wants to drive me, but I told him no and it seemed like he got mad and…” Even I know I’m rambling at this point.

“Slow down chickadee, that’s like the longest sentence ever. I can’t go to the party, I wish I could. I’m going back home until Monday night.” Lucy informs me. We’ve been here for three weeks. I wonder why she wants to go home so soon.

As soon as I feel my face drop, Deacon speaks up. “I’ll drive you to and from the party. You’re not getting in that tool’s car.”

“Derrick and I can take my car or his and you and Kenz can take hers, unless she wants to brave your motorcycle.” Megan helpfully points out. I don’t think I’d mind riding on Deacon’s bike actually.

“Kenz, you wanna take my bike?” Deacon lifts a questioning eyebrow in my direction.

“Uhmm, sure that’s f…fine.” I manage to stammer out.

“I don’t have to leave for my flight until nine thirty, so me and Megsters can help you get ready.” Lucy states with a huge grin on her face. She has wanted to turn me into her own personal Barbie doll for years and now, apparently, Megan is in on it too. I feel like I should be scaredy

“We will have you sexed-up better than a Victoria’s Secret model!” Megan adds, excitement evident in her voice.

“Just remember she has to get on my bike ladies.” Deacon drawls.

“Like you have any say in this matter Deek, really. Just shush.”

“Well, as fun an evening as this has been, I need to go get some work done and sleep. See y’all tomorrow.” I announce to everyone as I’m yawning and stretching up from the bed. Deacon softly tugs on my wrist to get my attention.

“Good night, Kenz.” He whispers softly.

“Good night, Deacon.” I reply back just as softly.

Scooping up my cell phone and fixing my camisole, I make my way out the door and across the hall to my own room. I sneak a quick glance at my alarm clock and see that it’s already flashing the numbers 9:45. Mentally reviewing what I need to do for classes, I realize I have nothing pertinent due in the next few days and decide it’s most definitely time for bed. I know Lucy will be across the hall for a while, probably discussing the many ways her and Megan are going to ‘sex me up’ for the party Friday night. Folding back my zebra-print comforter, I climb happily into bed and snuggle down until I find my comfy spot. I’m asleep by the time my eyelashes barely make contact with my cheeks.

 

Chapter 4

 

T

He darkness was there to greet me when my eyelids drifted closed. Your body is supposed to relax in its dream-state, but mine tensed for its fight-or-flight response. This dream was changing though. It was evident in the way the pitch black void lightened to a foggy grey. It was also evident in the way sounds became more distinguished. Metal crunching against metal. Glass shattering. Voices screaming. Snarls floated through the screams and something heavy beat through the air. My feet moved of their own accord. Mentally, I was screaming at myself to run away. I didn’t want to experience a new version of the same dream. The black void may have been creepy, but it was almost soothing at this point now. I knew what to expect. Now, now I feel like things will never be the same again. Physically, I push against my mental demands. My body knows I need to figure this out, scared to or not.

The closer I get, the more the snarls and screaming make my skin crawl. The screams are almost deafening. The snarls are so vicious, I picture a rabid dog on the attack. Amidst the chaos of noise and destruction, I can just barely make out an angry conversation.

“Lisa, just give her up. You cannot defeat me. You are foolish if you even consider yourself capable of it.” The cold, hard voice demanded.

“You will never get your hands on my daughter. I will die first!” A female voice blared with confidence and finality.

The man chuckled, but not out of amusement. More like irritation. “You will die regardless. I will make it less painful, however, should you hand your daughter over to me.”

“Go back to Hell!” The female screamed back. There was a crushing sound and a deafening BOOM that followed.

Smoky black wisps started to invade the fog, trying to grab me. I twisted and dodged the wisps, trying to get closer to the sound that was fading every second. I needed to know more. The monstrosity blaring in my real life started to trickle in, effectively pulling me from the dream. Taking me from what I need to know, what I need to figure out. I couldn’t fight it any longer and slowly my eyelids peeled open.