Page 31 of SummerTime Madness
My brows knit together. “What can she be up to?”
I place one of my hands on each of his shoulders and shake him.
“It’s a music festival, genius, not a fucking college campus. Just fuck her.”
My hand moves down from his shoulder, slithering down his taut stomach, and stopping right on his thick bulge.
“Fuck her.”
Tate snickers.
“Yeah, okay,” he says before pulling away and leaving.
Which is fine by me, I want to be alone right now. They’re the ones in need of reconnecting. I know where I stand. Leaning into the railing, I continue to watch the waves as the ferry cuts through the water. It’s funny how the world keeps spinning even when you’re about to die.
Tate thinks I got the tickets.
Cordy thinks I’m just an obedient knight.
Neither of them knows the truth. I built this moment–lied, sucked, traded, and sold myself to get us here.
They think it’s just a party, but little do they know, this is a fucking experiment. A controlled outbreak on a quarantined island. If only they knew what’s already inside their system–ours.
They will hate me for it–but there’s a chance that their curious and intelligent minds will see me as their equal, and see the beauty in the gift that I’m offering. Love doesn’t come without sacrifice. It is the ultimate test. But knowledge is power, like Tate likes to say, and they will thank me when the time comes.
We just have to survive first.
Chapter Nine
Arrival
Cordelia
I grab the chilled champagne bottle left in my room, and take a long drink from it. Looking down at the table, I watch the hive on the computer screen. So far, it all seems to be exactly how I left it. No new activity, but they are also not dead. It seems like the parasite is acting slower to consume the host, which is a start, but still not the result. I take another drink from the bottle and close my computer before stepping out of the room to find a pool to cool down in.
The boys are nowhere to be seen. It’s kind of nice that Chase rented out the ferry only for us, because I wouldn’t be comfortable walking around topless with only my black thong swim bottom on. I wanted a nice tan with no tan lines.
Swirling the bottle of champagne, I think about Tate’s thesis on connection; how all organisms crave belonging. How even chaos has structure if you look deep enough.
How we aren’t meant to be individuals at all, just cells waiting to connect. The thoughts are brilliant, but it goes against my own beliefs on the matters. I think it’s better for two already existing organisms to create something entirely magnificent. New.
It’s still connected. Yet, he sees the world as patterns, and I see potential.
Maybe he’s right…
I should view it more like he does. I let out a breath when Sean Paul, “I’m Still in Love” plays on the overheard speaker. My hips move, and suddenly it’s 2003 and I’m hiding in my room, learning to dance to the beat. Maybe it’s the champagne, but my body hums with life–it’s like every cell in my body craves touch–to feel.
My hips don’t stop moving.
The water sloshes around, champagne fizz still bubbling my blood; fuck, even my core. I press one hand on the edge of the pool and continue to roll my hips. I don’t hear him when he enters the pool.
My body senses him before I can see him.
His hands are on me, before I have a chance to turn around.
“Keep dancing,” he commands, and I do, easily falling into a rhythm grinding against him.
My brilliant boy.
