“Would you do it?”
I blink. “Do what?” I’m in Mallory’s room. No movie for me this Friday night. Not only is it Halloween, but I’ve been given permission to spend the night at Mallory’s house. I’m not sure how she did it, but after telling her I wasn’t going to be able to spend the night at her house like we’d first planned two weeks ago, she had me call Tim and took the phone from me to talk to him. It took her less than two minutes to get him to agree for me to have a sleepover at her house.
“Let Maddox Moore fuck you on camera.”
My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. If I’d been drinking something right now, I would’ve spit it out all over myself. Giving her a bemused look, I try to figure out exactly when and how we got into this conversation. “What?”
She turns to look at me from where she stands in her walking closet and rolls her eyes. “Don’t play stupid with me. That whole ‘I’m so innocent act’ is only going to get you so far. I saw you with him the other day, you know. And Danielle and Alecia said they saw you at his apartment the day you totally ditched me. So I want to know, are you going to let Maddox fuck you for his website?”
I’m concentrating so hard on the screen of my phone that I’m sure it’s going to go up in flames any second now. That, or it’ll just be me who spontaneously combusts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mal.”
“Fucking spare me, Aylee. Why are you keeping stuff from me? I thought we were supposed to be best friends.”
I look at her. “We are,” I insist.
“Then why the hell didn’t you tell me you’re fucking Maddox?”
God. This conversation is spinning out of control. “I’m not! I’m not doing anything with him. I just wanted to ask if he would pose for me. I told you I needed three new and different pieces for my portfolio.”
“So what, you’re going to just…paint him?” Despite the skepticism in her voice, she sounds utterly confused. Like the thought of doing anything other than ‘fucking’ Maddox Moore was inconceivable. She wouldn’t be wrong. The idea of being intimate with Maddox didn’t just cross my mind, it lingered there. It brought baggage and made a nice, comfortable home inside my brain and in the inferno-hot place directly south of my stomach.
With a shrug, I shift from side to side on her bed before bringing my legs to my chest. “I don’t think he’s going to do it.” I’m referring to the drawing. Resting my head on my upraised knees, I’m grateful my hair is able to cover my hot face. She saw the bruise, briefly asked me about it, and bought the ‘I walked into an open cupboard’ excuse I gave her.
She takes out a black skater skirt and holds it in front of her while keeping her eyes glued to the mirror. “Well yeah, no shit. The guy fucks and sells drugs for a living. I don’t think he has time for your little art project. And no offense, but he’s kind of out of your league. I just figured he wanted to fuck you on camera, is all. Because that’s his little project. How about this one?” She turns to me for an opinion I’m sure she doesn’t really need.
Choosing to ignore her comments, I answer, “It’s nice, you should wear the thigh-high stockings with it.”
Turning back to the mirror, she scrunches her nose before tossing the skirt on top of the mountain of clothes on the foot of her bed. “Not hot enough. Damn it, I hate that we can’t wear a Halloween costume to a fucking Halloween party! It would’ve been so much easier!”
“What did the text say?”
“Just the address of the party and ‘no costumes.’ Masks will be provided at the door.”
“Then just wear one of your party dresses. Lord knows your closet is full of them.”
She disappears inside her closet and says something I don’t quite catch.
“What? I didn’t hear you.”
She comes back out. “I said, ‘I’d do it with you.’”
I frown. “Do what with me?”
“Fuck Maddox.” Her response is casual. This isn’t a big deal for her. So it’s understandable she doesn’t even realize the impact her answer has on me just now. “I heard he’s really into having a ménage à trois. I’d let him fuck me if you came along.”
No. No, I do not want that. I don’t want any of that. I don’t want her near him. I don’t want her to even look at him! And I especially don’t want her nasty, old man-touching hands on him.
I’m completely shocked at how vehement I become. The very thought of Mallory with Maddox not only makes me ill, but it conjures a thick, black cloud of such menacing fury that I can taste my own jealousy. I want to tackle her to the ground and repeatedly claw at her face. “He doesn’t want you,” I murmur darkly.
Her laughter rings out loud and it’s sharp enough to distract from the tension. “Oh my god, Aylee, you like him!” she says, in between breaths, still laughing like I just told her the funniest joke in the entire history of jokes. “Aw. You’re so cute. I wish you could see your face right now. You look like a kitten who got its favorite toy taken away. God, sweetheart, relax. It’s not even that serious. Yes, I’ll give you that he’s gorgeous as hell, and people tell me he can fuck until you can’t see straight. But honestly, Aylee, at the end of the day he’s just a glorified asshole who wouldn’t give you the time of day. He’s into experienced girls, like me. I mean, do you ever even go out? And therapy doesn’t count,” she adds, giving me a patronizing smile. “He’ll come, probably all over your pretty little face, and he’ll go. If anything, it’s best to just enjoy all of his fuckable qualities, ride his cock, and then put him out of your mind when you’re done. Sweetie… Girls like you don’t date boys like Maddox Moore.” She has the audacity to look at me with synthetic concern. It’s sickening how much of a bitch she’s being right now. “I personally don’t bother with his kind,besides, even if he did want me, he’s not really my type.”
“Yeah, he’s actually age appropriate.” I want to say those words so badly they burn at the tip of my tongue. But in typical Aylee fashion, I say nothing. I fume silently, calling her every bad word that comes to mind. Wishing her the worse venereal disease known to man.
“Stop pouting, Aylee,” she orders with a sigh, like she’s talking to a toddler. Walking around to the right side of the bed, the queen-sized mattress dips when she takes a seat next to me. Taking my hand, she says with a smile, “You know I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just want you to be careful. We’ve been best friends for five years now, if I don’t look out for you some asshole is going to come along and think it’s okay to mess with you. You need me to look out for you. And that’s all I’m doing with the whole Maddox thing. If he wants you, we can both have him.” She touches my cheek, the one without the fading bruise. “I bet you wouldn’t even know what to do with yourself if he pulled out his dick and told you to suck it. That’s why you need me, Aylee. I’ll show you all my best tricks.” She says all this like it’s supposed to be the most reassuring thing in the world when really it’s just Mallory being her typical manipulative self.