Page 118 of Chaos at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 2)
“My grandmother and I used to do that, every Sunday morning.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. It is. It’s huge. I focus on his blue eyes and try not to get lost in the vibrancy of them, but it’s impossible, like falling into the ocean during a storm and praying that you don’t drown. “When she could still get around well-enough to do it, that is.” He ponders on that for a moment. “I might go home in a bit to check on her.”
Obviously, I knew each of the boys had a family and a backstory and all that crap, but I guess I’m just as much a narcissist as the next asshole because I never really let myself think about that. To me, they were always just … mine. My boys. My property. I would piss on them if I could.
All of these revelations, though, they’re rocking me.
Vic has a socialite for a mother and a drunk for a father; Hael’s dad is a murderer and his mom is broken; Callum only has a grandmother to his name. Of course, I know all about Aaron, but when it comes to Oscar? He’s an enigma. I wouldn’t know if he lived with snakes in a wild tangle in the woods.
“Do you mind if I join you on the roof?” I ask, feeling my heart stutter a bit. The animal side of me says, Bernie, you fucked four of your boys; get that last one. But I need some time to process what happened with Oscar, what’s happening with me.
My sexuality is opening like a dark lotus inside of me, and I need to at least say hi to her before I test her limits again.
Callum smiles at me, tilting his head just slightly to the side. The diffused gray of early morning light colors his hair, but all it does is turn it silver. It can’t diminish the shine of it.
“Of course you can,” he tells me, his voice as rough and beautiful as always, a tumble of dead and dark things that makes the wicked part of me happy in ways I can’t explain. His scars are silver, too, shiny in the strange light, marks of his past stamped into his skin much like his tattoos. As usual, the ballerina on his arm crouches over her legs and weeps, eternally broken. Until Callum is dead and rotting, she will always cry.
Cal pushes up off of the sink and leads the way upstairs, taking me into the room with the bunk beds. Oscar and Hael are still sleeping. The latter looks cute with his red hair all mussed up, one arm thrown across his forehead. The former … I climb on his bed and kick him as hard as I can, slamming the heel of my foot down on his chest.
The piece of shit catches me before I can make contact, opening his eyes and throwing me into a vivid memory of last night. His inked body above me. Blood hot between my thighs. Gray eyes watching, always watching.
I jerk my foot away from him and stumble off the edge of the bed and into Cal. He catches me easily, his fingers making me ache in all the places they touch. He sets me upright, and I flip Oscar off. It’s not my most distinguished moment, but I can’t help it. I’m annoyed. I’ve never had sex on my period before, especially not without a cup in. It was an intimate moment; it smacked of vulnerability.
And I just had to take that plunge with Oscar Montauk of all people.
“Is there a problem, Bernadette?” he asks, turning toward the wall. I notice he gets the queen-sized bed while Callum and Hael share the bunks. It’d be easy to see whose bed was whose, even without their presence. Oscar has silken gray sheets, and a matching comforter. He has one pillow, and a cup of water on the nightstand beside his glasses. Hael, on the other hand, sleeps in a tangle of mismatched children’s sheets with cartoon patterns on them. He also has a single pillow, but it’s not all perfect like Oscar’s. Instead, it’s folded up and ratty at the edges. Callum’s bunk is the top one, decorated with a blue threadbare blanket, a sleeveless hoodie draped over the safety railing.
“A problem?” I ask, peering at him like the nutcase he is. “We just had sex, you half-wit fucker. You’re not going to write me out of my own story.” Oscar pretends not to hear me, but the muscles in his back tense up. That’s enough for me, knowing I’ve rankled him in some way.
I refocus on Callum, taking his hand as he helps me out the window and onto the gentle pitch of the roof. We’re still holding hands as he walks me around to face the east side of the house and the rising orange ball of the sun.
