Page 30 of The Rowdy Ones
It’s like I’m obsessed with her all of the sudden.
I don’t fucking understand.
I’ve just promised no more alcohol, but I ache to go back to the RV and drown myself in numbing liquor. But what if she came to me again? Could I control myself? Would I accidentally fuck my sister while black-out drunk?
Then I’d be just like Jace.
A sick fucking rapist.
“Rowdy? You still in here?”
I creep out of the room, softly closing the door behind me. When I turn around, I nearly run over Aunt Eve. She narrows her eyes at me as though she can see inside my head.
“She’s talking to Weston,” I whisper. “Her feet had blisters. I bandaged her up.”
For some reason, I sound guilty as hell.
“Leave,” Aunt Eve says, pointing at the door. “Bye.”
I don’t have to be told twice. My feet feel two sizes too big and I stumble over them on my way out the door. I’m grateful for the icy cold wind to knock some sense into me. I’m halfway to the RV when I freeze mid-step. Unable to control myself, I look toward the window to the room Destiny is in. The shades are open and her bedside lamp illuminates her inside.
Go to bed, man.
I try to force my feet forward, but I end up turning and darting over to the shadowed side of the house where her window is. She can’t see me, so I don’t have to worry about getting caught. I step closer until my nose touches the cold glass, holding my breath so it doesn’t fog up the window, hiding her from me.
This is sick.
Not sick. I’m just protecting her. Making sure she’s okay.
Keep telling yourself that lie.
I stare, unmoving like a frozen stalker statue, eyes glued to my little sister in her bed. She’s so innocent and unaware of the monster lurking outside her window. Her mouth is so fucking pretty when she smiles. Weston must be the most hilarious fucking guy on the planet because she continually laughs while on the phone with him.
It reminds me of my own phone.
I pull it out and navigate to the camera. It’s not weird to take a picture of your sister. She’s family. That’s what family does.
I’m dizzy from trying to convince myself this is okay and not at all twisted.
Zooming in on her mouth is a bad idea and yet I do it anyway, taking several pictures of it. Finally, I force myself away, dragging through the snow and into the RV.
“Hey,” Wild greets, glancing up from his FaceTime call. “You good?”
“Yup.” I tear off my coat and kick off my snowy boots. “Night.”
I stalk into the bedroom, nearly taking the door off the rollers when I yank it aside. Once in the safety of my room, I strip down naked, phone in hand, and sprawl out on my back.
Don’t do it.
Don’t fucking do it.
I curl my hand around my throbbing dick and give it a punishing squeeze. The app Wild installed on my phone earlier today calls to me. It’s a porn app. I quickly navigate to it and do a search for men at first, anything to take my mind off my sister.
But then I find myself searching for petite blondes.
Sicko.
And when the gorgeous women on the app don’t do it for me, I switch back to my camera roll.
