“Got my ways.” At his flippant reply, my eyes travel back to the sky. From my peripheral I see him recline backward as he raises his arms to pillow his head.
I sigh. “I wish I had our project package and a camera. This would’ve been a great image to capture.”
“It’s not like we can’t come back.”
“We?” I can’t help the dose of happiness. “So, you’re doing the project with me? I thought you said it’s a waste of time?”
He has his phone in front of him so he doesn’t immediately answer as he furiously types away. It’s illogical that I should become jealous of a phone and even more absurd for me to be jealous of whoever it is that has stolen his attention. Looking back up at the stars, it’s difficult finding any sort of beauty there when my thoughts are so preoccupied with such ugly feelings. Silently, I work myself into an unnecessary mess and only notice he’s come to his feet when I feel the weight of his hand on my shoulder. He removes that hand and holds it out for me to take. In one swift move, he pulls me to my feet.
“You haven’t bored me so far.” He reaches out for a tendril of my hair and mindlessly toys with it between his fingers. “So I’m guessing for now you’re worth my time.”
He’s hot and cold. And I shouldn’t find his arrogance so sexy. I shouldn’t find myself doting on his every word. I shouldn’t be so eager to pant at his feet for a morsel of his affection. I shouldn’t want anything to do with him. And yet, here I am reveling in his attention, while silently, fiendishly waiting, wanting for an opportunity to experience a little bit of his sin.
“You should wear your hair down more often. I like it.”
Swallowing hard, I say, “I will, but only if you pose for me.”
His mouth twitches. “I’m a bad influence on you. But all right, I’ll pose for you.”
I can’t help it. I beam at him. “Really? You’ll do it?”
He lances me with silver eyes as a roguish grin draws both corners of his sensual mouth upward. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
Chapter 18
Aylee
He keeps his word. Monday after school he’s waiting for me. I revel at the sight of him casually leaning against the row of lockers talking to his brother. At my approach, our gazes meet and I’m sure I only imagine the slight glint of pleasure in his eyes at my arrival.
“Sup, Aylee?”
Though I acknowledge Noah with a quiet, “Hey,” I have eyes only for his tattooed brother, who doesn’t seem incline to stop looking at me either.
“Hi,” I greet with a shy smile and heated cheeks.
He grins. “I’m ready for my close-up.”
I hear Noah snort. “I’m still amazed you’ve convinced this idiot to pose for you. Do you have any idea how unreliable he is, Aylee?”
With a shrug, I reply, “I have faith in him.”
Maddox gives a deprecating smile. “I think you’re the only one.”
“That’s all it takes sometimes,” I murmur. Standing in between these two, I’m suddenly confronted with my height deficiency and it’s no more obvious than when I go up on my toes to reach the dial on my locker.
“What’s your combination?” he asks, with an arm up while standing directly behind me now.
“It’s 53-12-9.” I give out the numbers in a whisper but do so without hesitation. He dials it in, left first, and twice to the right, and back again on the last digit. He lifts the latch a second later and my locker door comes open.
“Thank you.”
I grab the necessary books for homework for tonight and leave behind what I don’t need. “I’m ready,” I say, when I’m done closing the door. “Are you coming with us, Noah?”
“No.” Maddox doesn’t give Noah the chance to reply. “He’s got things to do.”
Noah scowls but it quickly turns to a smile at the sight of the guy headed our way. “Actually, you’re right, Max, I do have something better to do,” he says, cheerfully, excitement at the other guy’s arrival written all over his beautiful face.
I know the guy instantly because he’s of the popular set, he plays on Brigham High’s football team and hangs around Mallory’s crowd. Riley Felton. He’s not entirely handsome in the conventional sense, with his aquiline nose, deep-set brown eyes, and wide mouth, but the way he carries himself is enough to make people notice. When he comes to a stop next to Noah, I immediately know that they’re together. They make a striking pair.
I watch Maddox’s expression as he looks between his brother and Riley who’s standing so close to him their arms and the backs of their hands touch. With furrowed brows, he doesn’t look away from Riley when he says, “Don’t you mean someone, little brother?” There’s no emotion in his voice.
A sad, reflective look passes over Noah’s pretty features before he sighs and takes Riley’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “You’re going to understand one day that everything isn’t just about sex, Max. It may have started that way, but we’re worth so much more than that.” His cryptic words immediately sets off a shift in Maddox. The invisible cowl of anger he seems to know so well drapes across his broad shoulders, weighing him down with heavy tension.
“Don’t.” Fists clenched, and with his jaw tight, his handsome face contorts in a mask cruel enough to commit murder. Maddox looks ready to kill his brother.
With another long and heavy sigh, Noah says, “Look at you, he’s been dead all these years and he’s still controlling you. You’re letting him control you, Maddox.”
“Shut up.”
“If you keep holding on to what happened…”
There’s an incredible roar. “Shut the fuck up!” And then Maddox hurls forward, smashing his fist into Noah’s face.
It happens too fast. But the end result is still devastating. With Noah splayed out on the ground with a bleeding nose and bruised jaw, Maddox hovers over him like an ominous force ready to pummel his brother into the overly-waxed floors.
Noah slowly wipes at his nose. “If even an ounce of you cares about her at all, you’re going to have to get rid of that anger. Because you’re only going to hurt her…just like he hurt Mom. Don’t turn into him.” That last words sound like the lowest blow, and sure enough, it has the desired effect.
Maddox reels like he’s been struck, his expression going from complete desolation to utter horror before reining it all in. The only indication of how badly he’s affected by his brother’s words is him nearly stumbling twice as he takes steps back.
“Fuck you, Noah.” He turns and walks away, and I don’t waver for a second in taking off after him.
It’s only Noah’s call that stops me mid-run, “He’s…he’s got a lot of broken pieces, Aylee. Maybe too many to put back together. Just be careful. He might cut.”
Without much thought, I answer back, “I hope he does.” And I hope it’s deep enough to scar. I want him so deep mending the wound will be impossible. He’ll bring the shards and I’ll provide the flesh, and we’ll bleed the stains slicking our souls.
***
I find him raging in the stairwell between the first and second floor. He’s striking the gray brick concrete wall with everything he has. There’s a wet, cracking noise that sounds awful to the ears. He doesn’t seem to care as he throws his entire body behind every bare-knuckle punch, stripping flesh and smearing blood all over the wall in front of him. His punches are brutal and relentless. Mindlessly he keeps at it, falling further into the trance of self-mutilation, grappling with demons that blind him to everything but how good it feels to hurt himself. I don’t know his turmoil, but I understand his agony.