Page 106 of Devils' Day Party
My cheeks heat, and I run my tongue over my lower lip, trying to buy myself a moment to decide how to respond. Calix releases me, standing up straight and staring down at me with a face that could make angels cry. He's too pretty, too devilish, for his own good.
“I'm obsessed with you,” he corrects, before I get a chance to add anything to the conversation.
“Pretty sure the feeling's mutual,” I whisper back, my voice hoarse. “Couldn't you tell last year?”
“I could tell,” he assures me, lush mouth turning down into a deep frown. “That's why I hate that you like me back. You shouldn't. You deserve better.”
“What if I don't want better? What if you're just what I want?” I don't mention Raz or Barron. That part of the equation, I haven't figured out just yet. Three boys. Three shards of my heart. No easy answer. I mean, considering I can even break this time loop at all. I may not even have to worry about choosing between them if I can't escape this. I'll just spend each day spiraling deeper and deeper into hell until my mind shatters. A shiver overtakes me, and I shake my head to banish the awful thoughts.
“What if?” Calix repeats, and then he reaches down for my hand, pulling me close. His eyes are droopy with fatigue, but as beautiful as a moonless sky, smudged makeup and all. “What if everything I said to you was true, and I've loved you even harder since I let you go?”
“What if?” I choke out as he closes his eyes and presses his lips to my knuckles, reverently, longingly, desperately.
“That was my first time, too,” he says softly, opening his gaze with a rawness that steals my breath away. There are endless emotions buried in there, but instead of hiding them behind a mask, he's revealing them all for me to see. “I haven't touched another girl since.”
“You're kidding me,” I blurt, and his pretty eyes narrow, like two sharp blades of obsidian.
“You think I'd joke about that shit?” he snaps back, clearly wounded. I ignore what's very obviously a defense mechanism and slide my arms around Calix's neck, hugging him. It takes a moment before he finally wraps his arms around me and hugs me back. “I didn't mean for Pearl to die,” he whispers next, and then he's squeezing me so hard that I can't breathe, tears pricking the corners of my eyes as I listen to the deep regret in his words.
“I know you didn't,” I whisper back, hating the universe for this bullshit. Wishing I could just be here with Calix and have it all be real, that I could wake up tomorrow and start living.
But I can't.
So I'm going to enjoy every single fucking second that brings me happiness.
“Let's go.” I pull back and grab Calix's hand, leading him to our room and then sucking in a sharp breath when he reaches around me to unlock the door with his key. His body is draped over mine, shadowing me, his warm breath feathering against the back of my neck. Calix turns the knob and the door creaks open.
Our room is freshly made-up, the curtains parted to let in the sunshine.
That's the first thing that Calix does, storm over to that window and banish the sunlight. It seems more appropriate for our illicit tryst, like we were made for nightmares and shadows.
“Come in,” Calix tells me, speaking from the darkness.
With another shiver—a much different sort of shiver this time—I step into the room and lock the door behind me.
Calix is there in an instant, slamming his palms into the door on either side of me, his breathing suddenly ragged. He's clearly tired, upset, confused. But there's no doubt in my mind that what I'm seeing is real. This isn't some bullshit play he's putting on for the Knight Crew. No, it's no longer Devils' Day, and Calix Knight's mask is cracked and shattered to pieces.
What I'm witnessing is him coming unraveled.
“You've really only ever had sex with me?” I repeat, marveling at the novelty of it. As far as he's concerned, in this timeline, I've only ever had sex with him either. Barron and Raz, I think, desperately missing them and feeling guilty about how happy I am with Calix, all at the same time.
“Does that bother you?” he asks, like he isn't sure. “Nobody else knows. Not Raz or Barron or Sonja.” He exhales and I turn slowly, staying in the space between his arms. When Calix lifts his face, his lips are within kissing distance. “Sometimes I play with girls, let them suck on my neck or kiss me, sit on my lap. But nothing else. I never want anything else. I barely want that.”
“Stop it,” I tell him, suddenly uncomfortable with his shift in demeanor. The Calix at the café, who was biting and cruel but flecked with shimmering shards of humanity, I know how to handle him. This Calix is the exact opposite, and it's freaking me out. If I thought I liked him before, when he was little more than a taint-headed asshole, this is a whole new level.
