Page 43 of Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 5)
“I have no idea,” I say, my lips pressed against the side of her neck. There’s a hickey there. I stare at the shape of it and imagine that it feels familiar. I left that there. I lift my eyes up to the faucet as it drips into the tub. She’s finally put the plug in, and it’s filling with water that feels lukewarm in comparison to her skin. “This is all new to me. You seem to be okay with it though. Why don’t you tell me?”
She stays where she is for a minute and then leans back into me.
After a minute, I swear I can feel her smiling. I can certainly hear it when she speaks.
“And those eyes, the break of day,” she murmurs, the peach soap floating in the tub and bumping up against my hand as it stays banded across her belly. “Lights that do mislead the morn.”
My own mouth tilts into an uncomfortable sort of smile.
We should not be smiling.
Our school was shot up.
This girl is suffering.
We could very well die before we graduate.
It’s something that I’ve always feared. In that moment, I swear I can feel it, this pall that falls over us both like the shadow of something morbid creeping its way in. My eyes close and I squeeze her even tighter.
That’s why I’m smiling.
Because you’ll only know true regret when it’s too late. I want to smile now, just in case. Just in case one of us doesn’t make it out of this. Just in case neither of us does.
“Do you think broken people fit together just right sometimes?” she asks absently, her hair tickling my bare chest. My cock is rock-solid, but that’s mostly irritating to me. I can’t help the blood that rushes to it every time I see Bernadette, but now is definitely not the time. She needs rest and respect, not a man with so little self-control that he was afraid to fuck because he might kill. “Like, their jagged edges fit together so they don’t feel so broken anymore?”
I pause, listening to her swirl her finger in the water.
“At least when I’m with you, I don’t crave death the way I do when I’m alone.” I stroke my fingers gently down her belly, wondering absently what I would think if she were still pregnant. Mostly, I think, I would feel sorry for her. Because she doesn’t want a baby. She shouldn’t want any of us. But she’s got us. And I, I would be inappropriately thrilled, almost to the point of being obscene. It’s why I always ask about it. Because I want to know. Because I’m desperate to do something awful and embrace my selfishness. Only I don’t. Not to Bernadette. “You don’t deserve the burden, but there it is. I’ll try my best to lighten the load.”
“It doesn’t feel like a burden to me.” Bernadette lifts my hand to her lips and kisses my wet knuckles. I shudder, my skin prickling with goose bumps, but that delicious heat swirls through me and I close my eyes again, savoring the feel of it.
“Then you have stronger shoulders than most.” I lift my hand up and cup her chin, using the feel of her to see when my eyes can make out only the deepest shadows of the bathroom. My mouth finds hers easily, even in the pitch-black. It may as well be drawn there. I couldn’t be anymore enamored than if I’d been summoned, an awful demon from the ugliest depths of the world. And here I am, in all my hideous glory. “But my kisses bring again,” I whisper against her mouth, pushing her face back just a bit when she tries to kiss me. “Bring again—” I move our lips together but only enough to burn; there’s no relief in that kiss. It just turns our desperation for one another up to dangerous levels. “Seals of love, but seal’d in vain.” Another sweetly agonizing brush of lips. It almost hurts now. I’m trembling. “Seal’d in vain.”
I kiss her again, letting my tongue delve deep, my fingers tighten on her chin. She makes a noise that’s caught somewhere between pleasure and pain. I’m kissing her just right, but I’m holding her too hard. And I can’t seem to make myself stop.
After a moment, I pull back and simultaneously release her so roughly that she cries out. I stand up out of the bath and step onto the mat, dripping water everywhere. You’re being too subtle, Oscar. She can’t read your mind, remember? Be a fucking man and spell it out so that she’ll know, so that she’ll always understand the truth behind everything you do.
“All I mean to say, Bernadette,” I begin, and I know that if I hesitate too long in here, I won’t be able to control myself. The GMP beat the baby out of my mate. My jaw clenches and my hands curl into fists, nails digging bloody crescents into my palm. “Is that I’m in love with you.” I pause, finding that I’ve abruptly stopped breathing. It takes me a moment to remember how, and I let out a long, deep exhale. “Desperately so.”
