Page 84 of Mayhem At Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 3)
Most definitely.
I fuck Bernadette into the dance floor of my studio until she’s screaming, clawing at me, drowning in my kisses. Until she is most definitely, assuredly mine.
For a while after, we lie there and listen to my playlist. It’s fairly dark, definitely damaged; it reflects me perfectly.
I stare at the ceiling with her wrapped up in my left arm, her head on my chest. Her breathing slows enough that I know she’s truly asleep. Even though my body aches like crazy lying on that hard floor, I don’t move. I’ll sacrifice whatever I have to in order to keep her happy.
Everyone needs a goal in life, don’t they? A dream? As ours were stripped from us, one by one, I think we all took this sweet, little girl who needed us and turned her into an obsession.
I almost feel sorry for Bernadette, being at the mercy of Havoc.
“Jesus,” she groans a little while later, sitting up and blinking sex and sleep from her eyes. “How long have I been out?”
I smile at her.
“Not long,” I reply, sitting up next to her. We’re both naked, but it doesn’t matter. Nobody would dare bother me in here while the door is locked. If they did, not even god could save them. My hands itch to spill blood, but I quell that need by stroking Bernie’s beautiful hair back from her face. “Do you want to try to actually dance some before we bail out?”
She looks back at me, blushing slightly and glancing away. As if the blush has angered her, she narrows her eyes on the floor, gaining control of her emotions before turning back to look at me again.
“Actually, I’d like that,” she says, shrugging her shoulders loosely and then forcing herself into a sitting position. “But maybe you could also teach me how to move in the shadows the way you do?”
I quirk a brow, sitting up beside her and smiling at the idea of any of the other instructors or students catching our flushed faces on the way to the bathroom to clean up. That should be fun.
“How to move in shadows, huh?” I ask, thinking on the subject for a minute. It never really occurred to me that that was a skill of any worth. It’s just something I’ve always done, tried to move without being seen or heard. It’s better that way, isn’t it? Other people rarely hold goodwill in their hearts in this part of town, so it’s just best to go at it assuming violence is on the roster. “Yeah, I could do that. You’ll have to bear with me though; this’ll be a learning experience for both of us.”
“Well, you are a teacher,” she says, giving me a stern look that quickly devolves into another smile. A pang hits my heart, making me exhale in surprise. I think … that Bernadette actually likes me. And I mean something beyond lust, or the fact that we go way back, or even our obsessive natures. No, she looks at me, and she makes me feel like a person, not just a disgraced dancer. Not just the C in Havoc. But Callum Acosta Park. A human. “A naughty one who likes to play with his students, apparently.”
“Oh, you have no idea what I want to do to you, Bernadette,” I say, still smiling, even as my voice darkens with lust. “Shall I teach you how to sneak a knife past security? That’s one of my favorite games, to see what sort of weapons I can get into Prescott.”
“Please, for the love of god, yes. I get the feeling that I’m going to need a weapon in those halls sometime soon. Things are about to amp up, aren’t they?” I nod at her words, but I hope she can see that I’m not afraid.
We will pull out of this victorious; I’m sure of it.
“Well, then, let’s get you cleaned up, and get started. The sneaking around, and the knife shit, I think you’ll be able to get no problem. The dancing … might devolve into more sex. I’m not sure that I can properly teach you without succumbing to every dark, dirty thing I want to do to you.”
“Get stuffed, Cal,” Bernie starts, but when she tries to get up, I grab her and drag her back down to the floor for another round.
If she’s too sore to practice after this, I won’t be able to blame her.
Not one bit.When Bernadette and I come out of the dance studio, we find Oscar waiting for us.
“You’re here alone?” I ask him, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, my body aching in all its broken places. The day I lost my dance career, I also lost the chance at a life without pain. Everything on me hurts, all the time. I have metal pins in my bones; I have parts that didn’t quite heal right. And I don’t just mean my heart. That healed in a very twisted, very strange sort of way.
