Текст книги "Devious Minds"

Автор книги: K. F. Germaine

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

After two hours on a single-lane highway, we made our way to a tiny coastal town. It was quiet and filled with old cabins built in the 1940s, set by the ocean. Multimillion-dollar homes precariously perched on cliffs above, competed for their views of the Pacific Ocean. The town had one small grocery store with an attached coffee shop. Everything you needed.

Gray parked the car in front of a tiny cabin with worn cedar siding. As I stepped from the car, I tried to tame my hair. Beach wind and humidity is never a woman’s friend.

“Stop it,” Gray said, pulling his art supplies from the trunk. “You look gorgeous.”

“Whose cabin is this?”

“My grandpa’s. Well, it’s the family cabin now, but no one’s been here since he passed, except for Mom.”

I followed him to the side of the cabin, and he stopped in front of an open firewood shed. Like a thick, white bridal veil, a mass of spider webs covered the entrance.

“The keys are in a jar,” he said, pointing blankly to the opening. “In there.”

“Okay,” I said, watching his hands clench into tight fists. “Then go get them.”

“Yuuup.” Rubbing his hands down his pants, he leaned against the side of the cabin. “Nope. Can’t do it.” Two hundred pounds of solid muscle, and he was afraid of spiders?

Rolling my eyes, I entered the shed, wiping the delicate webs away from my face. I grabbed a jar sitting behind an old stack of dried wood and smiled.

“FUCK,” I yelled, rushing outside with the jar. “I ripped open a spider egg sack.”

Gray remained petrified against the house.

“They’re in my hair!” I threw my hat off and ran up to Gray. He released a high-pitched squeal and lifted a leg to block me with a kick. “I can feel them crawling all over my scalp!”

Red-faced and screaming, Gray ran around the back of the cabin. I followed him, trying hard to suppress my laugh, but as I turned the corner, I was met with a blast of water in my face.

“What the hell?”

“Put your head down,” Gray yelled. He kept a wide distance from me but raised a hose above him, thumb covering the nozzle for added blasting pressure. “Sydney, put your head down!”

“No dryer here, but I put your clothes on the deck rail,” Gray said, opening the bathroom door. “Are you warming up yet?”

I was standing in the tiniest shower invented by man, trying to regain the feeling in my toes. “Trying to,” I answered, smoothing my hands over my goose-bumped shoulders. “I can’t believe you hosed me!”

“Never, ever joke about spiders with me, Sinister,” he warned.

“Or what?” I said, grabbing an old bar of soap from the wire shower caddy.

I heard the toilet flush and then glacial water spewed from the showerhead. Letting out a loud scream, I tossed the bar of soap over the edge, hoping I’d hit Gray.

“Or that,” he said on a laugh.

A few seconds later, the shower door opened and a naked Gray squeezed inside, holding the bar of soap. I wanted to be mad, I really did, but once his chest smashed against me, I was instantly warm. Before I said something snarky, he leaned down and kissed me. Soft and perfect.

“Let me wash those spiders outta your hair.” He lathered the soap in his hands and raked them through my hair. “I love your wild hair.” Lowering his hand, he stopped between my legs. “All of it.”

I swatted him on the arm, and he laughed. Then he began running his fingers between my legs.

Mumbling something incoherent, I leaned against the back of the stall.

Gray grinned and slipped a finger inside me, working me at an angle. “Are you still mad at me?” He slid his other hand down my hip.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m pissed.”

Lowering to his knees, Gray spread my legs open, and soon his head was buried between my thighs. I let out a long groan and grabbed the back of his head as he worked his mouth along with those magic QB fingers. My knees were beginning to weaken, which Gray must have noticed, because he pulled a hand to my hip, holding me steady.

“You still mad?” he said, pulling back his head to look up at me.

“Getting closer to forgiving you,” I said, pushing his head back to me.

He laughed and lifted a leg over his shoulder, sinking back between my thighs. It didn’t take long. Soon, I was yelling my forgiveness through the rooftop.

“A little to the left,” Gray said, jerking his head to the right.

A crisp pop from our beach fire delivered a sprinkling of sparks into the night sky.

“You mean my right?” I moved a few inches to my right, digging my toes deeper in the damp sand.

“No. I mean my right. Your left.”

I moved a few inches back, settling just behind the fire. The licking flames pulled heat across my face, and I moved my fingertips along my skin, cooling it down.

“Keep your hands down.” He shifted his sketchpad higher on his lap and dug through his box of pastels. “If you keep touching your face, it’s going to change the outcome.”

“I thought you were drawing my soul,” I teased, flashing him a flirtatious smile from across the fire.

“There’s not enough black pastel under the sun to capture your soul, Sinister.” Gray chuckled under his breath. He peeked up just long enough to catch my smile falter. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” I rolled my neck, letting the insult fall from my shoulders.

It wasn’t the first time I’d been accused of lacking anything precious and holy in my body, especially from Gray. He was right back at the diner. I was guarded. Walls are protection. Walls ensure your heart doesn’t get broken. I’d lived most of my life surrounded by walls, and the first time I let them fall was with Gray. I knew he was joking, but his words stung.

He kept a careful watch on me as he made long strokes across his paper. “If I did draw your soul, Sydney, it would be too much for this little piece of paper. I would never use black. Your spirit is radiant. It’s full of life. Stop being so hard on yourself.”

I rolled my eyes and pulled my knees tighter against my chest.

“You don’t believe me?” Gray said, setting down his notebook. He crawled around the fire pit, leaving a deep trench in the sand. “Sydney, you’re magnificent.”

He stopped behind my back and wrapped his arms around my waist. When he moved his legs just outside of mine, I leaned back into his chest.

“I’m rude, Gray. No one thinks I’m magnificent. They think I’m mean. I’m scary. That I don’t give a shit about people’s feelings. They’re right, you know.”

“That’s bullshit, Porter.” Gray squeezed me tightly and kissed the top of my head. “People just don’t know you. They don’t know you’d go to the ends of the earth to protect your brother. How much you care for your space case roommate.” He laughed next to my ear, and I smiled. “How truly alive you are when you’re up on that stage, creating beautiful music.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink through me. “Beautiful music?”

Gray said my music was beautiful.

“Yes, beautiful music,” he whispered low and into my ear. “Your music connects people. I’ve witnessed it firsthand… But if you tell Chance and Fernando I said that you’ll pay. They’ll think I’ve gone soft and they’ll tell the other guys. Then I’ll be assaulted in the shower with rave kid glow sticks and baby pacifiers.”

I chuckled and pulled an elbow into his hard chest. “Your secret’s safe with me, QB. Wouldn’t dream of blowing your cover. It’s good to know at least someone likes my music.”

“A lot of people like it. Shut up, Sinister.”

“I meant people I care about.”

Mom, for one. She’d never been proud of anything I’d done.

“Oh shit.” He craned his neck to look at me. “You care about me?” he teased. “You love me, Sydney? My boyish good looks and natural charm have made you see the light? I knew I was wearing you down. You did make me work for it, though.”

I stiffened a bit, surprised he’d popped love into his sentence, but it was a good surprise.

Did I love the way he smiled and his lame jokes? Did I love his little mysteries? His gentle and bone-melting bedroom tactics? His love for art and his playfulness with his students?

He’d saved Jack and Allison. He’d saved my awful birthday and gave me perhaps the best night of my life. So did I love Gray Peters?

“Yes,” I answered, drawing in a deep breath. “Yes, I care about you… a lot.”

“That’s good,” he whispered, pulling my chin to meet his. “Because I’d hate to be in this alone.” Delivering a chaste kiss to my lips, he pulled up my arm. “Let’s get back to the cabin.” He began to kick sand over the fire. “I’m tired. How ‘bout you?” He gave me a smile and grabbed his art supplies.

“Yeah, that shower really took it out of me,” I said, swallowing a yawn. “I could sleep for days.”

Gray frowned playfully and grabbed my hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I led Sydney through the small cabin. The furniture hadn’t changed since the sixties, when my grandparents bought it. I loved that. Everything, even the worn-out tartan couch, smelled like family. I had some of my best memories in this place, and I was glad to share it with Sydney.

At the end of the creaky, wooden hallway, I opened a bedroom door.

Sydney’s eyes lit up and she squealed. “Bunk beds!” Dropping my hand, she ran for the pine ladder leading to the top bunk. When she pulled back the covers, she gasped. “Star Wars sheets!”

I lay across the bottom bunk. “You sleeping solo tonight, Sydney?” I asked, pulling back my covers to reveal my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sheets. “That’s my brother Elliott’s bed. Watch out for crusty tube socks.”

“I’m sleeping with Hans Solo tonight,” she joked, and from the bottom bunk, I kicked the pine slats holding her mattress in place. I guess I set her up for that joke.

Turning on my side, I listened to her shifting around above me. Eventually, her hand dangled over the side of the mattress, and she wiggled her fingers toward my face. “Take my hand.”

Reaching up, I grabbed her fingers, gently stroking the tips.

“I’m not convinced people should sleep together in one bed,” she said.

Sydney dropped down her other hand, and I moved to the edge of my bunk, grabbing both. I admired how playful she was. A little kid in a woman’s body. This was what I loved most about Sydney. She was full of life. Everyone should be that free.

“I like to sleep diagonal, and I think a lot of people do. When I get married, I’ll have two king-sized beds in one room and I’ll sleep separately, except for Sundays.”

I grinned as her thin fingers frantically searched for more of my hand. “What’s on Sundays?”

“Conjugal visits, duh!”

“What happened to double-drills?” I asked and immediately regretted opening my mouth.

I’d inserted myself into Sydney’s marriage fantasy. If she wasn’t already scared, she was going to knock me out with Elliott’s crusty tube sock and take off right now. I closed my eyes, waiting for her reaction.

“Well, you keep that gut away and we’ll see what happens.” She hopped down from the bed.

I clung onto every word, hoping the ideas I planted in Sydney’s head would take root and grow. But looking into her smiling face, I knew there was one thing still left to do—crush her all over again.

“We can work on that gut right now,” she whispered, pulling off her shirt.

When she crawled into my bunk, I wrapped my arms around her.

“Whaddya say?” She began to unbuckle my jeans.

This wasn’t right.

I mean, everything about Sydney and me felt right. But this, Sydney not knowing the truth, was killing me. I thought if I could take her away from school, I’d make her forget. Really, I was the one trying to forget. Every soft touch. Every sweet thing she said made my stomach twist into knots.

I got swept up in the moment yesterday. Sydney did too. I wanted her so badly I didn’t think it through entirely. Not only was I her blackmailer, but I’d written a letter, giving her hope. Deep inside, I knew she might never recover from that. Could I blame her? That letter was full of empty promises making her feel special and talented. And she was. But it wouldn’t be enough that I thought she was special and talented. When she found out the truth, we were as good as over.

“You gonna help me or what?” She laid tiny kisses along my jawline as she fumbled with the button on my jeans. I moved my head away, and she sat back on my thighs, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

I wasn’t about to make love to Sydney again, then turn around and tell her I’d been messing with her for weeks. Sydney trusted me, and I fucked it all up.

“Nothing,” I said, feigning a yawn. I slid my palm down her arm and grabbed her hand at the end. “I just want to cuddle tonight, baby.” Sydney moved, and I pulled my jeans down. “We’ve been hot and heavy for the last two days. You need a break,” I teased.

She gave me scrutinizing look, but I pulled her into bed with me. “I just want you to lie in my arms tonight.”

At breakfast, I thought through my plan. Unfortunately, the outcome was always the same.

I was a dead man.

I couldn’t tell her here. Mom would be ticked if she visited an ashy patch along the beach because Sydney burned down her father’s cabin.

The country. That’s where I’d tell her. On the way back to campus.

I figured if I took her into some secluded woods, no one would hear her screaming.

Please, I wasn’t going to kill her!

I just knew if she couldn’t hail a cab or pick up the number 143 bus, she’d be forced to hear things out. Wait, trees… rocks… branches… Better take to her to an open field.

My guilt doubled by the time we left the coast. Sydney’s little hand never left mine for a second, and I could feel a dripping sweat, a clammy reminder that I was an asshole, multiplying on my palms.

Sydney, I’d say, let me first tell you I’m crazy in love with you. So crazy I plotted your demise for the last six weeks… I know, right? I’m such a goofball… Yes, I forgive you for trashing my car… I totally agree, baby. Let’s never speak of this again… Then we’d kiss and hug it out, right? Because any normal girl would be completely forgiving if her boyfriend admitted to a well thought-out strategy to ruin her life and make her suffer horrible embarrassment.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Sydney’s sweet voice cut through the inevitable bloodbath in my mind. She’d finally settled on a jazz station and opened the window to clear the guilt-ridden air.

“I really don’t think you do.” Shooting her a sidelong glance, I took an exit for a nearby state park.

“You were thinking about freshman year, right?” She turned toward me with the most adorable smile tucked on her face. “I was too.” Propping her feet on the dash, she sank in the leather passenger seat. “I feel stupid that I lied to you. I didn’t tell you that you were my first because I didn’t want you to get all weird and back out.”

“Did you think I’d ditch you for someone else? I think you could tell I wasn’t going anywhere.”

We pulled up in the parking lot in the sparsely used state park. It was midway between the coast and campus, and I knew the terrain well. For fast getaways of course.

“This park has good trails,” I said, pulling my fleece from the backseat.

Sydney smiled and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Hold on,” she said, digging through her shirt. “Good, my Mace is on me. You never know in the woods. There could be bears.”

Gritting my teeth, I stepped out of car. How could I have forgotten the goddamn Mace?

“I should probably write a note.” I rummaged through my bag. “Park rangers want to know when people hike out here. You know, who they are and when they started.” And so they can locate my body when Sinister douses me with Mace and pushes me off a cliff.

Shit. This trail has a cliff edge—she could make it look like an accident. I wrote out a quick note, mentioning any cliff-related accidents were not in fact accidents and to investigate thoroughly, then folded it and tucked it under the windshield wiper.

“Here, let me add my cell number.” Sydney went for the note, and I shook my head.

“I put both of ours on there already, gorgeous. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Pretty little head?” Narrowing her eyes, she tilted her head, telling me she wasn’t amused. “I don’t like it when you start in with the compliments, Gray. It makes me nervous. Should I be nervous?”

“No, ‘course not.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the trailhead. “So tell me why you chose to lose it to Gray Peters?”

“Well, first off, I liked how you didn’t refer to yourself in third person like most jocks,” she said, shaking her head.

“Sorry, tell me why you chose me.”

“Because you were honest.”

I looked up at the tops of the conifers, expecting God to drop a branch on my thick skull.

I’m honest.

I was honestly two seconds from pissing my jeans. Sydney had it in her mind I was a good person, and she was going to hate me when the truth came out. Which it would, once we found a safe place, in a clearing where we could battle it out and I could wrestle her Mace from her first.

“That’s a Death Angel,” Sydney commented, pointing to a cluster of tall, white mushrooms sheltered along the trunk of a fir tree. “They’ll kill ya. Yep, death from liver failure six to ten days after ingestion.” She turned to face me, walking backward on the trail. “I know all the dangerous fungi in the forest. Dad taught Jack and me. Symptoms start with diarrhea and vomiting. Then delirium and seizures. Then you go into a coma and die,” she said with a high-beam grin plastered on her face.

I added fungi-free zone, to the fast-growing list of what should not be available when I broke the news to Sydney.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Gray hooked his finger through my belt loop and tugged me to him. Wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he whispered into my ear, “Sydney, I brought you out here to tell you something.”

Love.

He was going to tell me he loved me. What was even more unreal, I think I was prepared to say it back. My enemy but my comrade and now the only person I wanted next to me at night.

He made me laugh. He made me question everything I thought I knew about people—especially him. He was kind and funny and a horrible dancer, but he was real and I think I loved him. So much I might even attend a football game. No, not that much, but close.

I turned to face him, and he dropped his eyes to the dirt forest floor, kicking at an exposed tree root.

“The sign said the cliff edge is up ahead a half mile.” I hopped around, trying to quell my nerves. “Maybe we should wait and talk over there?”

“No,” Gray quickly replied, rubbing his palms over his jacket.

God, he was so nervous. I knew what was coming. He’d all but said it in the diner yesterday and on the beach last night. Hardly able to sleep, I’d thought it over all night—I loved Gray.

“I know, Gray.”

“You know?” His head shot up to mine, and a blanket of relief covered his face, bringing his cheeks back to their normal olive glow. “Oh, thank God, Sydney.”

He opened his arms, and I rushed inside them. “I love you, too,” I whispered into his chest, and he pulled me back to face him. His eyes were glistening, waterlogged with emotion. He was going to say it back.

“Sydney, I—”

“You kids need to leave.” A park ranger wearing fatigue green came from behind Gray, and we both jumped. “Trail’s closed for the season for maintenance. There’s a rockslide up ahead.” He pulled a piece of paper from his chest pocket. “I came out here to inspect the cliff side because this note says—”

Gray snatched the note from his hand and tucked it into his pocket. “We know what it says,” he hissed, grabbing my hand. “We’re leaving. Didn’t see a sign.”

“I did,” I admitted. “But following the rules has never been my thing.”

The ranger frowned and jerked his head toward the trail entrance. “Not following the rules gets you hurt.”

Gray barely spoke the whole way home. I was sure he felt the same way, but there was something wrong and I couldn’t put my finger on it. When I asked, he just lifted our intertwined hands and tucked them into his lap.

“What were you going to say back at the park?” I asked, trying not to sound like an insecure girl, but I totally was. I didn’t like this feeling. I felt vulnerable and exposed. Gray knew how I felt, and he’d said nothing in return. “Shit, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

Dropping his hand, I pulled mine back to my lap.

“No, Sydney,” he said as we entered campus. “What you said… was great. It was awesome. I just couldn’t say it ba—”

“Why?” I interrupted, intentionally cutting off his words.

They would be embarrassing and painful, and I felt immediate regret for putting myself out there. Even though we’d been tossed into one another’s lives for the last six weeks, it was too soon for feelings like love. What was I thinking?

He let out a heavy sigh. “Not because I don’t.” He stopped the car in front of my dorm. “I need to talk to you after whatever the hell you have to do tonight. Will you come by the house, please?”

“Gray, I don’t und—”

Gray grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a long, desperate kiss. It was romance-movie worthy, and I couldn’t tear myself away. Neither could he, but as he pulled me closer, I caught the time on the dash.

“Shit. It’s half past four. I’m going to be late.” Pulling away from his arms, I opened the passenger door. “I’ll be over at ten thirty,” I said, and he gave me a gloomy half smile. I would’ve loved to overanalyze that smile if I wasn’t going to be late for my Sunday Lane segment.

I skipped every other step, rushing into my dorm room. Upon entering and shutting the door, darkness flooded my small quarters, and I slid my hand across the wall, feeling for the light switch.

Wait… I know it’s here somewhere… All I could feel was something like duct tape holding the switch down.

“Hello,” a thin, disembodied voice came from the shadows, slamming my heart against my ribcage. “Nice of you to join us,” it said, followed by at least ten seconds of repetitive attempts to click something, then a string of, “Goddammit.”

After the last click, a dim glow flooded the room. A tall, ski-masked figure wearing a black leotard stood on my desk chair, lowering an arm from the light source.

Oddly, the light came from my short, squat, battery-powered desk lamp, which was now somehow hanging from the ceiling light. Allison’s curling iron cord was wrapped around the lamp’s base, and it swung from the ceiling like we were in a police interrogation room.

After taking a second to admire my intruder’s creativity, I grabbed my Mace.

“No.” Allison’s frantic shriek came from under the ski mask. “Don’t. I can’t have red eyes during my freshman yearbook photo.” She pulled the mask off her head, and her golden locks fell across her slim shoulders. Hopping down from the chair, she took a seat.

“Allison? Why didn’t you just use the ceiling light?” Glancing around the room, I could see she was the only one here. “Who’s us?”

“What?” Allison asked, crossing one slender leg over the other.

“You said, ‘Nice of you to join us.’”

“Oh.” She kicked an empty chair toward me. “They always say that in the movies.” Allison pointed her finger at the chair. “Sit.”

I knew what was coming. Let me have it.

Allison knew my secret, and I was about to get the shit kicked out of me by Ninja Barbie.

“I’m not like you,” she said, acid dripping from every word. “Unlike you, Sydney, I have a soul. I’m a good person.” She pointed a finger to her chest and leaned forward. “I was voted most likely to go to heaven in my preparatory school.”

“Allis—”

“Shut up,” she snapped, grabbing a stack of paper off my desk. “You’ve certainly dug yourself into a hole this time. I almost went through with it.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together, showing me a sliver of space. “I was this close,” she said with a hiss.

“This close to what?”

She tossed a paper toward me, and it dramatically swept up into the air and landed behind her. She did it again, and this time it gracefully landed under my bed. Finally, she leaned over and handed me a third one. “Here you go.”

SUNDAY LANE IS SYDNEY PORTER it read along the top. Hmmm, very straightforward and to the point. Then there was a picture of me lying by a pool, wearing sunglasses and a bikini, pretending to grab a cabana boy’s butt when he wasn’t looking.

“Where did you get this picture?” It was taken two years ago on a trip to the Dominican Republic with my friend Lucy.

“Facebook. No one hides from Facebook. It’s God’s naughty or nice list, and you, Sydney Porter, have been a very, very bad girl.”