Page 30 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
I join them just a short time later, putting my arms around Trev's neck and pressing my mouth to his, tasting him and trying my goddamn best not to compare him to Sin. To Grainger. Beast. Crown.
It's impossible.
Trevone's a good kisser, but holy shit, he's a boy and not a man.
That much is obvious right away.
Stop it, Gidge, I tell myself, pressing myself harder into him, ignoring Fem as he swims circles around us. Stop thinking about those assholes. What do I think could ever come of that? The best I could hope for is that one of them would take me as his old lady, marry me, and drag me into club life for the rest of my miserable existence.
I'd rather die.
I should just graduate and get out the fuck out of here, I tell myself, wrapping my legs around Trev and wondering if I should take it further, if I should have sex with him. I mean, why not? I've already gone to the edge of sin and watched the sun set on any last shred of innocence or guiltlessness I had left.
“You want to go back to the cabin?” Trev asks, moving his lips from my mouth to my neck and pressing hot warmth against my cold skin. It feels good, touching him like this, but only as good as a hug from a friend or a pat on the back.
His kisses don't incinerate my spirit, smother my logicality, smash my heart to splinters.
And I want that.
Some wicked, dirty part of me is addicted to that emotional pain.
I want to hurt.
No, I need to hurt.
“Fuck,” I gasp, pushing away from Trev and scrambling up on the beach, moving across the wide, flat surfaces of rocks slippery with mud. I almost fall twice, but manage to make it back down the dock to my cover-up.
“What the hell, Gidge?” he asks me, turning around in the water and folding his biceps on the surface of the dock. “What the fuck's the matter with you?”
“It's Gidget,” I tell him, snatching up my discarded beer and moving back down the deck, the warm evening air a balm against the coolness of my skin.
“You alright, sugar?” Reba asks me, but I just shake my head and trudge up the dirty riverbank to the dark stretch of green lawn that takes up the center of the campground.
I'm not alright.
I haven't been alright in years.
And it looks like this poison might just finish me off after all.The cabins are segregated based on gender (of course they are), and lined up on opposite sides of the lawn. The church and mess hall sit in the center, silent partners in the night. I see a couple of church volunteers with flashlights taking on the night guard, walking around and trying to prevent teenagers from doing what it is we do best: get into trouble.
“You're doing a real shitty job by the way,” I mumble as I walk up the ramp to my cabin and open the door, glancing over my shoulder and flipping off the guards who have yet to notice that there's a huge fucking party down by the river.
The entire cabin is dark, the bunks filled with peacefully sleeping girls. The pastor in all his infinite wisdom decided to grace me and Reba with separate sleeping assignments (not a surprise), so I'm here by myself.
Well, me and Fem.
“Come on, boy,” I say, tapping the top bunk and watching with amazement as he launches himself up with ease. Huskies are fucking boss, you know that? I crawl up after him and try to resist the urge to turn my phone on. The second I do, they'll find me here; I know they will.
Instead, I get to lie there on my back, staring up at the ceiling and doing my best not to notice the musty smell and the cobwebs collecting in the corners. Moonlight filters in the skylight above and turns the webs silver, these brilliant little clusters of light. The one directly above my bed has a spider in it, carefully rolling up its prey.
It's fucking fascinating, watching it happen like that, like I'm staring at my past written in silk. Some fucked-up Charlotte's Web where the spiders are the officers in my father's club … and I'm the moth, wings straining against their wicked threads, desperate to fly.
Sometimes I wonder if Cat will ever really let me leave, if he'll sit back and watch me go off to college, let me live my own life. Or if, like the moth above my head, I'll be trapped forever, just a silken mummy with broken wings.
Drifting off, I start to remember bits and pieces of that night, how some simple flirtations escalated into a moment I'll never be able to forget, no matter how hard I try.
