Page 77 of Burn Bright
He stares at the logs for a second, then spins around while I meet him there. He has many inches on my height, and it forces me to crane my neck upward.
Charlie tilts his chin down to meet my eyes. “I’m not someone you want to make a deal with, Girl Genius.”
Ben.He’s all I can think about. How he’s been there for me before he ever really knew me. How he deserves the same effort in return. He deserves to be cared for with the same ferocity, and I know I’ve never had a friend to love and one that loved me back. I know I’ve never had anyone except my Aunt Helena give a shit about me, but Ben does.
And I give a shit about him.
Icare.
“I know what it’s like to live with people who put you on edge, and Ben doesn’t deserve that from hisown brother. Leave him alone, dude. No more snide comments. No more incitement. Just walk the fuck away if you feel the need to be a dick,Boy Genius.”
Charlie isn’t blinking. “You can think whatever you want about me.”
My unamused laugh sounds breathy. I can’t believe half the twelfth grade at my high school was obsessed with Charlie Cobalt. He’s the enigma. The one no one really has an accurate perception of, but the one they could place all their wild fantasies upon.
Would they even like him knowing he treats his little brother like absolute dirt? The answer is probablyyes, and that breaks my heart for Ben.
“What’s even your problem with him?” I ask.
Charlie leans an elbow on the mantel, his fingers to his jaw before he lets them fall. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, Ben and I haveverydiffering opinions on the world. I’m apathetic about humanity. He’s idealistic to the point ofannoyance. It fuckinggrates on me in ways you will never understand. Because nine times out of ten, the ruthless and self-serving always win, and he thinks he has a shot when he will be used and abused by them. You think I’m the fire? I’m more certain he will drown before he ever burns.”
“Then help him,” I shoot back.
“I can’t change the core of who he is, even if I wanted to.”
I wouldn’t want Ben to change, I realize. He’s the furthest thing from selfish. He so often thinks of others before saving himself. Hell, he just risked permanent hearing loss so I wouldn’t.
Where’s the self-preservation, Friend?I once asked him.
I’m not cowering away from Charlie. “Then the least you can do is back off Ben. Make his life easier. Take the deal.” I shrug off my oversized leather jacket, then toss it on the red velvet couch behind me.
Charlie looks me over. “And what do I get out of being a perfect angel to my little brother?”
I slip a black scrunchie off my wrist, and I feel him attentively watching as I tie my hair back into a pony. “I’ll blow you.” These three words flow off my tongue like wine. Nauseatingly sweet. A bottle I’ve chugged too many times to be sick from now.
Strangely, though, my stomach begins to churn.
Charlie tips his head at me, his gaze more intrusive as he studies my features. “And what makes you think I want you to suck my cock, Harriet?”
My pulse suddenly races, but I take a shallow breath to stay in control. “It’ll be worth it.” I regain some confidence. “I’ve never had a complaint before. You’ll probably want another one by the end of it.”Guys usually do.
Charlie is considering. I see the gears shifting rapidly in his head. I see his eyes drop over me. Then he nods his chin toward the floor in a silent instruction to get on my knees.
Help Ben.I lower, the cold hardwood digging into my kneecaps—along with something sharper. Fuck,fuck.The glass. I forgot about all the broken vials, but I don’t stand. I just let the pain flare as little jagged fragments rip through my pants. It’s okay.
It’s okay.I concentrate more on the searing of my skin than the sickness in my stomach. I’d rather feel pain than this jumbled, nauseous sensation. I’ve done this so fucking much, so I don’t know why tonight feels any different.
Be a good friend.My heart is a thunderous drumbeat in my ears, timed to my sudden panic.
Be someone he deserves.I look up at Charlie, and his yellow-green eyes, the hue of a snake, are void of emotion.
Soft tendrils of his golden-brown hair swoop over his forehead, and he just stares at me. Waiting. Watching. Seeing what I’ll do.
Unzip his pants, I try to command myself. I lick my dried lips. My pulse tries to run away from me. His eye contact is a magnetized intensity, and I can’t break it. I’m under the power of it, which scares me. And still, I reach for his zipper. As soon as my hand is midair—he drops to his knees in front of me.
He doesn’t touch me, but the impact of that movement knocks the wind out of my lungs. What the fuck is he doing? He makes no pained reaction as he kneels on glass too. Closer to eyelevel now, his gaze searches mine, excavating me like he’s unearthing every time I put myself in this position. Like he knows.
Like hesees.
