Page 72 of Knight

Addicted to the most deliciously dark poison and I don’t know if I’ll survive.

Sixteen

“I don’t like to be ignored.”

Damien doesn’t let up when we’re in class. It seems he came straight here after he picked himself up off the floor. His uniform is still crumpled, a bloodied bruise above his eye and a joint by his ear. I know he’s itching to smoke it but here he is, making my life a living hell instead.

“Is that what you’re doing to me, Rowland?” He scoots his desk closer until it hits the edge of mine, my body shaking with his force. “Ignoring me?” I can smell him. All of him. The crisp detergent in his clothes, that hint of peppermint on his breath. The addiction hits me again. He’s like heroin and I don’t know if I can handle withdrawal. Not with him dangling the needle in front of my face.

But I’m tough. I can fight this. Right?

Or is that what addicts say?

Mr. Hill looks up over the rim of his glasses from his desk. He spots us together and shakes his head. I’m sure he’s hoping for no interruptions. We’re supposed to be studying for finals, but the stress of senior exams isn’t the only topic making its way around the school.

Christian’s late. He looks at me with that charming smile on his face, but it drops when he sees Damien. He approaches his desk, dress shirt and blazer clinging to his frame. Christian takes a deep breath before he speaks. “Heard what you did to Isaac.”

Damien hardly looks at him when he answers, “What’s it to you, Perez?”

“Can’t keep hurting the people around you, King.” Christian grips the strap of his duffel, hockey stick in his other hand. “It’ll come back to haunt you.”

“Mr. Perez,” Mr. Hill’s bored drawl comes from the front of the room. “How nice of you to join us. Do you have something to share with the class?”

Christian glances at me before he turns around, dropping his duffel bag and stick to the floor. “Actually, I do.” He straightens the tie hanging off his neck. “But we already know that King is a selfish prick.”

“That’s …” Mr. Hill takes off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant. Sit down, Mr. Perez.”

“Yeah, Perez,” Damien sits up. “Sit the fuck down and stop talking about shit you don’t know.”

“You had your chance and you blew it,” Christian says. “You’re gonna have to live with that.”

Damien rises to his feet, the chair falling to the floor behind him. “You got somethin’ to say, Perez? Are you and Johnson on your fucking periods? You assholes in sync or something or did you forget who runs this place? This town?”

“Mr. King and Mr. Perez, this isn’t an HBO drama. Now please, sit down!” Mr. Hill yells, rising to his feet now too, hands splayed across the table.

Christian puts his hands in the air in surrender, sitting in the seat next to him. I’m surprised when Damien does the same. After a few seconds of silence, I realize why.

“You sure you don’t want to head to the red room?” Damien whispers.

“Fuck off,” my voice isn’t as firm as I want it to be when his hand comes to my thigh. It’s already halfway up my kilt and my body freezes, my heart racing. I’m reminded of our romp in the elevator at The Palace, and the knockout rounds we went for back in the hotel. His hand rises, slipping between my legs and I want to spread them but I’m forcing them closed.

Christian leans in. “Don’t take his shit, Jo. You don’t have to.”

Damien hears him and answers for me, “Yeah. She does. She likes it. She craves it. That’s why she always chooses me. Always will.” His words are smooth and tantalizing, and when he tugs at my panties I let out what sounds like … a squeak? “Why don’t you tell him what you said to me last night? When I was fucking you into a stammer?”

“Stop!” I snip at Damien, trying my best to keep my voice a whisper.

Chrisitan glances at Mr. Hill before his hand lands on my other thigh, “You okay?” He’s climbing his way up my leg too. This leaves me with a cold hand on one thigh, pulling at my panties and a warm hand on the other, moving up and down.

“She’s about to be,” Damien says, his breath landing on my ear.

“What?” Christian’s brows knit before his hand stops on my leg and before he looks under the desk, I rise to my feet.

Without another word, I make my way towards that empty desk in front of Mr. Hill.

“It’s only a matter of time, Medusa.” Damien doesn’t get the hint. Or chances are, he does and doesn’t give a fuck. “You’ll come back. Always do.”

Like a goddamn addict and chances are, he’s right.

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