Penelope Douglas - Until You

She had grabbed all of her hair and swept it up into a long ponytail, the wavy length cascading down her back like a waterfall, or a ….leash.

I clenched my fists.

Jesus.

I couldn’t see my dick, but I swear it swelled up to twice the size it normally did when I was horny.

Her army green Five Finger Death Punch T-shirt wasn’t too tight, but it draped slimly over her slender back and complimented her sun-kissed skin. I was nearly bleeding to kiss the patch of skin on her shoulder, at the curve of her neck where the collar rubbed.

That would be a good place for a little tattoo, I thought.

The hair, the outfit, it was the perfect blend of good girl and bad girl, of salvation and danger.

There was no point in lying to myself. As much as I hated her, I wanted a taste of her.

Angry sex is pretty good from what I hear.

“Go!” the teacher shouted, and I snapped my head up, blinking away the fantasy I’d gotten caught up in.

Oh, shit. Everyone rose from their seats and started walking around the room, carrying their papers and pens.

Was I supposed to get up? Dread gripped my heart as I glanced down at my jeans and then closed my eyes. Yeah, that’s not happening.

And—fuck!—I couldn’t stop the damn images of Tate—in my car, in the janitor’s closet, in my bed…

There was no way I could stand up right now, so I took some deep breaths and tried thinking about boring shit, like British period pieces and Ferris wheels.

Luckily, Ivy Donner strode up and wrote her name on my paper under ‘East’ and then my name on her paper. Good thing, because I had no idea what we were supposed to be doing, and my blood was coursing like lava. I was pissed.

Tate was a good distraction from my father, but I didn’t need her arousing me so hard and fast that I couldn’t even walk out of the room in a fire drill without embarrassing myself.

Concentrating on keeping a scowl on my face and my breathing even, I let two more girls fill in blanks on my paper as I tried to calm myself down. I guess we were supposed to find partners on a compass and switch names for each of the cardinal directions or something. Whatever.

“Mrs. Penley, I’m missing a North. Is it alright if I make a threesome with two others?” I heard Tate ask from the front of the room.

People snorted, while others laughed. I didn’t do either. I just tried not to look at her or picture her in a threesome, so I could lose this fucking hard-on.

“Hey, Tate,” Nate Dietrich called out, his tone husky. “I’ll do a threesome with you. My compass always points North.”

“Thanks, but I think your right hand will get jealous,” she shot back, and the entire class laughed for her and not at her this time.

“Does anyone need a North?” Mrs. Penley shouted out, interrupting the banter.

I looked down to my paper to see I had that space blank, too. But I said nothing. The last thing I wanted to do was help her out.

But then I saw Ben, two seats ahead of me on the left, erasing his North, and I shook my head, determined to be an idiot, I guess.

“She can be my North,” I said as calmly as possible.

I had to hand it to Ben. He’d made a dick move, but he wanted Tate, and he was going after her.

Why couldn’t I just let it go?

“Well, Tate. Go ahead then,” Mrs. Penley held out her hand, motioning for Tate to sit down.

She didn’t look at me, only slammed down in her seat and hovered over her paper, clearly plotting my death. I grinned, basking in her hatred and feeling in control again.

Now… I was ready for round two.

“Oh, look. It’s The Dog…and Madman.”

I jerked my head up off the grass, spying K.C. walking up Tate’s walkway next door. Madman and I had just finished a walk and then collapsed on my front lawn after some man-to-man combat involving his teeth and my gloved hand.

“You know I can’t decide which one of you has the better manners.” She carried plastic bags filled with what looked like food but stopped before she reached Tate’s front steps. “At least he doesn’t shit on people.” She jerked her chin at Madman.

K.C. reminded me of that blonde chick on The Vampire Diaries that runs around acting like every problem in the entire universe has something to do with her.

Yeah, don’t judge. Madoc likes the show, not me.

The point is some people think they have a leading role when, really, they’re just supporting cast.

“K.C.?” I leaned back on my elbows and shot her a lazy and confident grin. “You know what’s worse than seeing how mean I can be?”

She sighed and jutted her hip out like I was wasting her time. “What?”

“Seeing how nice I can be.” My voice floated like silk across the lawn and straight between her legs.

Her sassy expression fell, and she looked a little lost. She was probably trying to figure out if I was flirting, or maybe she was just trying to remember her own fucking name.

I laughed to myself.

Yeah, that shut her up.

I didn’t have much tolerance for…well, most people, but I really hated cattiness. If a girl had to scrunch up her nose and pinch her eyebrows together at the same time just to talk, then she was perfect for the kind of activities that didn’t require any talking.

K.C. bolted up the stairs to Tate’s house and rang the doorbell like a legion of zombies was after her.

My chest shook with the mental image as I crashed back to the ground and closed my eyes.

The afternoon sun was waning, and the peaceful lull between the nine-to-fivers getting home and eating dinner had commenced. I loved this time of day.

The light to the west created a kaleidoscope of oranges and greens behind my eyelids, and I absorbed the delusion of this neighborhood that I existed around but not in.

Madman licked my hand, and I returned the gesture with a scratch behind his ears. Tate opened her front door, muffled voices. Lawn mower sounded down the street. Cars passed by. Kids called into dinner.

And I let myself be a part of it for a few moments.

I loved our street and always would. Every little house had its secrets and that’s what made it so perfect. I could laugh at Mr. Vanderloo across the street, because he snuck out to his garage every night and smoked pot after his family went to sleep. Mrs. Watson, three houses down, liked her husband to dress up as a UPS man and deliver things to her door. And then he’d deliver her to the bedroom.

Even Tate’s dad had a secret.

Over the time we spent together while she was gone, I discovered that he still ate at Mario’s every Thursday night by himself. I remembered Tate saying that the Italian restaurant was where her parents had had their first date. I didn’t know if she knew that he still did that.

My leg vibrated, interrupting my musings, and I reached into my pocket to grab my phone.

Narrowing my eyes in irritation, I touched the screen and answered.

“Yes?” No need to be polite. I knew who it was.

“Hello. I have a collect call for you from an inmate at Stateville Prison. Will you accept?”

No.

“Yes.”

I waited for the operator to switch over, feeling like I had been pulled out of Neverland and was now surrounded by a dozen soldiers trapping me in at gunpoint.

I knew why my father was calling. He’d only called once before, and it was the same fucking reason this time.

“When you come up tomorrow…put money in my account,” he told, not asked.

I took a deep breath. “And why would I do that?”

“You know why,” he growled. “Don’t act like you have a choice.”

I didn’t have the money to give him. I may not have a choice, but I had a problem.

“Then I’ll need to earn it, and I can’t do that until tomorrow night.” It was too late to get in on a race tonight. “I’ll be up on Sunday instead.”

And he hung up.

I closed my eyes and squeezed the phone, wanting it to be his face, his heart, and his power.

The money I gave him—to stop calling Jax—was supposed to be a one-time thing. But it hadn’t been.

He’d give Jax a break, but he always called again.

And I kept paying, just so Jax could have that break.

Don’t act like you have a choice. His words pierced my ears as if I could still feel the pain of that day. They were the same words he said to me before he shoved me down the basement stairs.

Right before I’d found Jax with them.

Sitting up, I looked around my street.

Goddamn him.

Trying to bring back the calm, I focused on the neighborhood view again. The square, green lawns looked jagged around the edges now, the green less vibrant. All of the houses seemed dead, and my breathing started scaring me.

And then I looked up.

Tate’s feet, propped up on the railing outside her French doors, sat angled, and I focused on her. The rest of her was hidden, but I watched her anyway. Knowing she was there. Feeling the energy that always rolled off of her. Call it hate. Call it lust. It wasn’t love, though.

But if was enough, and I needed it.

The breath leaving my body got quieter and quieter. It started pouring in and out like water instead of syrup, and I finally stood up and headed back into the house.

Dialing up Zack Hager, who organized the races at the Loop, I clenched and unclenched my fist, trying to get the needles out.

“Hey, can I race tomorrow night?”

“Well,” he paused, “I’ve got three races going already. But Jones just backed out, so Diaz needs an opponent.”

“Put me on the roster then.” I’d need the money. After I bought the car with the money from my grandfather’s house, my mother had made good on her promise to tie up the rest of the money in a college account. The only cash I had was what I made from my job, and that wasn’t enough to keep Thomas Trent in his cigarettes and extra snacks.

After I hung up with Zack, I texted Madoc to get a party together at my house for that night and pulled my car out of the garage to double-check the oil.

Since I didn’t have anything else to distract me until the party started, I drove out to Weston to get my brother. His new foster parents were pretty cool about letting him spend time overnight at my house, so I brought him up for parties and races sometimes.

“Look at baby Jared!” Madoc shouted as we climbed out of the car. Madoc had arrived at my place early to set up, and from the looks of it, the party had already started.

Jax rammed his shoulder into Madoc’s chest, laughing. “Yeah, I hear you like young boys.”

“Only if they’re as pretty as you, princess.”

And I rolled my eyes as Madoc wrapped his arms around my brother and dry humped him from behind.

I had no idea why Madoc called Jax “baby Jared”. It had nothing to do with our looks. Our eyes were different, our hair styles were different, and we both had different personalities. Jax was wild, never afraid to smile and seize the moment.

We were almost the same height, though. He was a little leaner, but he was still only sixteen.

I’d better enjoy the female attention while I could, because, next to him, women weren’t going to even notice me in the room in a few years.

Not that I cared. I wanted Jax to have everything, because he deserved it.

I scanned the neighborhood as I walked up the driveway and took in the glow of life and noise around me. When my father had called earlier, the pulse of the street had decayed before my eyes. Everything looked sick.

But now, looking up at Tate’s window, seeing her light on, the thump in my chest carried me higher.

“Hey, think we’ll see some action tonight?” Madoc wrapped his arm around my neck and jerked his chin over to Tate’s house.

He was referring to the last time she broke up my party.

I smiled, looking up at her window. “I think she’s out of tricks.”

And we strode into the loud frenzy of underage disorder known as my house.

* * *

“Oh, man you know how to kiss,” she gasped out as I left her mouth and kissed a trail to her neck.

This girl—she’d said her name was Sarah—seemed sweet but completely corruptible. Thankfully, no one had invited Piper, so I was left alone tonight to enjoy everything the party had to offer.

I pressed her up against the back of the bathroom door, and I was feeding like I wouldn’t ever be satisfied.