“Aw, Beckett,” she says, her words drowning in sympathy, “that’s weak sauce, right there. Did you find that on an X-rated Valentine’s Day card or something? You should ask for your money back.”
I have to bite my lip to stifle my laugh. Goddamn, if she doesn’t make this difficult.
“We’re sticking to a last name basis now?” I say, arching an eyebrow. “I’m truly touched.”
She rolls her eyes so hard I think they’ll get lost in her skull. “You don’t even use my real name.”
I smile despite myself, and I know she sees it, because she’s looking at me like she just can’t quite figure me out. I dip my head lower, trying to shield my mouth from the watchful glares of Aurora’s minions.
“You really think that was weak?” I ask.
“If you were a wrestler, your name would be Wuss Wogan, Sucky Savage, Stone Cold Steve Awful.”
It is a fucking miracle I keep it together. This time I bite my lip so hard I taste blood and when I look at her, I know it stains my lower lip sanguine. She doesn’t back away, her blue eyes meeting my steel ones.
“Fine,” I say, when I have my shit locked down enough to say the word without laughing. “How about this one? I want to lick your pussy like I’m trying to find the center of a Tootsie Roll pop.”
Her face flames, a red blush blossoming on her cheeks. Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead, and I swear I see the moment when her heart skips a beat and her lungs forget their only purpose.
Whatever she tries to say comes out like a wheeze, and there my hand is again, playing with her hair. Luckily, I don’t think Ivy can see me through the passing throng of students.
Stormy stares at me, and she looks so innocent my cock automatically volunteers to rid her of it.
“Doesn’t…” she begins, licking her lips as though she needs the words to slide out of her mouth. “Doesn’t the owl just like, lick the lollipop three times and then bite off the rest?”
“So?”
Her eyes go wide. I am going to laugh until I cry and then kiss her until I can’t breathe.
I push off the wall when her expression can be mistaken for fear rather than what I see there—excitement. I duck my head into the boys’ locker room and laugh until I fall to the floor, my knees folded below me.
10
Ian
I am lost at sea and about to capsize. I can still feel Aurora’s lips on my neck, her fingers tracing the line of my spine over my shirt. Before Stormy, Aurora was a pain in the ass I had to deal with. She handled the girls, and I handled the boys. Being civil, friendly even, made our families happy.
Since Stormy’s arrival, Aurora has become insufferable. I thought I could go through with it and buy some time to figure out what I would do next. I wouldn’t fuck her, but I had planned on making her think I would. Instead, like the pussy I am, I claimed I had a headache and bolted from my own dorm room. No doubt Aurora saw right through my shit.
Here I am now, wandering around campus. I don’t want to go back to my dorm because Aurora is probably still there, naked and waiting. If I go to the track and run a few laps around the field, her coven will no doubt find me. There’s zero percent chance she hasn’t already texted them and told them to figure out where I went.
I could go see Archie and ask him to buy me some time through his off-again girlfriend, Ivy. He’s with Chase and Everett playing Xbox in Chase’s dorm room, but Ivy’s probably already with them, busy trying to suck a hole in Archie’s throat. No way will she let me anywhere near Archie without throwing a hissy fit. I’m in no mood to hear her shrieking.
I don’t know why he puts up with her. He doesn’t even like her. But I guess I’ve put up with Aurora for a long time too.
I go where they won’t find me—a place only Everett knows I like to visit and normally, I only go there when it’s late at night and empty, when my fingers itch to hit something and the best I can manage is the piano. No one is there late at night, but the head of the Artistic Endeavors Department, Mrs. Isabellan, insists that the Academy leave it open. She is adamant you never know when the artist inside you might take control.
The halls are empty as I head to the performing arts building. It’s newer than the old monolithic structures of the rest of campus, but built to match with stone walls and arched doorways. The heels of my loafers click on the marble tile as I enter the building and begin down the dimly lit hall. I don’t look at the Rembrandts or the Da Vincis that hang on the walls behind Plexiglass cases because we are teenagers, after all.
I’m almost to the exhibition hall, which holds the grand piano, when I hear music. It’s faint, a string instrument, maybe a cello? I can’t be sure.
I should stop, turn around, and find somewhere to hole up until Aurora loses interest, but I let curiosity get the better of me. I continue forward and open the heavy wooden door to the hall, peeking inside the room and looking past the stairs that lead down to the amphitheater and then up to the stage.
Stormy.
My name for her echoes in the caverns of my mind, only it never truly fades, not like a true echo would. The door closes softly behind me.
She has left the lights off, except for the one singular bulb that shines above her. It bleaches the blonde from her hair, leaving it completely and utterly white. She looks like
