Page 5 of Destroying Everleigh

When his lips came down on mine again, I parted them and kissed him back as promised. My head spun with the dizzying spell his warmth casted upon me and I had to hold him tighter in fear of tumbling to my knees. He applied more pressure, making it more aggressive and hungrier. A whimper slipped through my defenses, embarrassment snaking through me, but he seemed to like it because he groaned in response, removing his hands from the wall and cupping my face between them instead.

Something electric trickled through my body, and it felt like I couldn’t get close enough to him even though we were pressed against each other. I’d never felt like this before. His grip was firm around my face as he held me in place, devouring my mouth like he couldn’t stop. When his tongue slipped through my lips, tasting mine, I shuddered against him. I’d never even had a regular kiss, and definitely never French-kissed anyone.

After a few moments, he pulled away breathlessly, the moon shining down on the edge of his jaw as he did. His lips were swollen, his eyes dilated with hunger as he stared me down.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered.

I glanced around, the sound of screams echoing off in the distance. “Where?” I asked nervously.

He dropped his hands from around my face and reached out, placing his palm against the front of my leggings, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric, right where my private parts were. My heart hammered wildly in my chest. I wasn’t ready for that, but I was terrified that if I said no, he’d find someone who would let him.

Mom always said that if a boy truly wants you, he’ll be patient. But I didn’t care about that right now, because I knew that things didn’t always work out that way. As if sensing my panic, he removed his hand, returning it to the wall behind me.

“Or,” he began, taking his other hand. “I can touch you here instead.” He ran the pad of his thumb over my breast, sending another current of electricity spiraling through me.

I didn’t know why he wanted to touch me inappropriately. We barely knew each other. We joked around at school from time to time and flirted back and forth, but it had never been physical. It had honestly been some kind of game. Make the other lose it first with flirty innuendos and jokes. He usually always won. The things he said were…. intense.

He was so confident, and I had a feeling that had to do with experience. Which was an odd thought at our age. But most of my friends had already lost their virginity, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.

I peered up at him, my chest rising and falling as I attempted to catch my breath, to wrap my head around what he was asking me. Sinking my teeth into my lower lip, I nodded.

“Thank fuck,” he muttered, the curse word making my cheeks heat. A lot of my friends cussed, and I was a teenager, so even I did from time to time. But the way he said it was so sexual. “I’ve been wanting to touch you for a long time,” he admitted with a boyish grin that had my heart skipping a beat.

I didn’t say anything, too afraid of how my voice would come out if I tried. He closed his hand around my breast, squeezing it in his grip. A small gasp slipped from my lips, the foreign sensation feeling better than I would have expected. Even through the darkness, I could make out the shadow from his lashes drifting across his sharp cheekbones. His eyes were hooded with desire, something I’d only witnessed in movies I wasn’t allowed to watch.

“Do you like me, Everleigh?” he questioned, removing his hand and toying with the hem of my shirt before allowing it to slip beneath the fabric. His palm rested along my bare abdomen, the heat of his touch doing things to me I couldn’t explain.

I pretended to think about that for a moment, too petrified to admit it out loud and to him directly. “That depends.” I sighed. “Do you likeme?”

He laughed in response, but it wasn’t a mocking one or one full of amusement. It was hard to explain, but somehow, I knew he wasn’t making fun of me. His hand drifted up my stomach and continued to travel until it reached my bra, and then he slipped his fingers beneath the cup and started massaging my bare breast. My head fell back against the wall of the maze, everything around us ceasing to exist. “Yes,” he murmured. “I think I like you a lot.”

“I like you too,” I admitted in a breathy tone.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and he leaned in to kiss me again. It was softer, sweeter, and shorter than the last one. “Then be my girlfriend.” His thumb brushed over my nipple, hardening it beneath his soft touch. My back arched involuntarily, confused at how my body reacted to him of its own accord.

“Why me?” I couldn’t help but ask.

We hung out in different social groups, and there were girls at school who were much prettier than me. It didn’t make sense why he’d want to be with me when he could have anyone. The girls he considered friends made my life a living hell there. They often compared me to Samara from The Ring just because I had fair skin and dark hair. If I remembered correctly, Samara was an evil demon child with raggedy hair.

His lips tilted into a small smile; unlike the usual smirks he sent my way. This one was soft, nervous, maybe even vulnerable. “For starters, you’re really hot.” He pinched my nipple between two fingers causing a breathy whimper to flee my defenses. “The girls at school are desperate. If I flirt with them, they just giggle and then proposition me. You dish it back, and I like that. It’s more playful with us. You aren’t after one thing. If you were,I’d already be inside you.” He shot me a lazy grin, the moon highlighting it, making my pulse thunder in my neck.

I didn’t even want to think about how many girls he’d been with. He talked about it so casually, like he was used to it—like it meant nothing. To me, it meant everything. Allowing someone in my most intimate space was more to me than just some hookup. A lot of girls at my school gave up their virginity, just for the guy to either cheat on them or to leave them right after. I wouldn’t be that reckless.

“I’ve also seen you on the soccer field,” he added. “You’re good.”

I’ve been playing soccer since I was two and my parents put me in little kicks. It was my all-time favorite hobby. There was no feeling like it. The adrenaline rush when I scored was intense, or even when I went head-to-head with an opponent—even if I got knocked down. I loved it. Everything about it.

“You like me because I’m good at a sport?” I asked, challenging him.

He snorted. “Not at all. It’s just one of the many, many reasons.”

“If I agreed, how would it work? We’re in two different social groups.”

“I don’t give a shit about any of that. The only reason I’m even considered popular is because of the friends I made, and because of how I look. If they’re true friends, they’ll accept my choices.”

I mulled that over for a moment. He seemed more mature than I’d expected. At school, he just seemed like a flirty jock. It was fun and took my mind off things. Like my parents fighting for example and Briley acting out whenever she could. If he truly meant what he was saying, then fine. “My answer is yes,” I decided.

His smile widened. “You had me nervous there for a second.” He moved in to kiss me again, but a bright light fell over us, making us tense. My breath caught in my throat, and I was partially prepared for a monster to swoop in and lure him away. But the voice that rang out definitely didn’t belong to a person playing dress up.

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