Page 3 of Her Wicked Knights
"When the door opens," I whisper, cupping a hand against her ear so that whoever is on the other side of the closet can't hear, "run!"
She nods solemnly, all humor gone as she looks like she's readying herself for battle.
The closet door creaks just a little as it opens. I don't even look at who I throw myself at, driving them back against the empty wall opposite as Marley dashes out behind me, her laugh lingering in the air as she makes her escape.
"I'm not it." Jake laughs, throwing his hands up to show me he didn't get me.
Shit.
"You teamed up with Colton?"
"You teamed up with Marley." He shrugs. "We outsmarted you. Come on, we're about to be trapped in here."
He doesn't have to tell me twice. I sprint out of the room and down the steps, getting a glimpse of her just as her brown ponytail disappears around the corner. I'm guessing Colton hasn't got her yet, but he will soon. I want to call out to warn her, but it won't do her any good to distract her, so I sprint faster down the stairs, careful to stick to the wall since the builders haven't added the banister yet.
"We could hide in the woods." Jake calls out behind me. "She'll never follow us out there."
If he believes that, he doesn't know Marley at all. She would follow us anywhere, not because she's a lost puppy dog, but because she doesn't back down. He can call her a scaredy cat all he wants, but she's the bravest person I know... or maybe just the most stubborn.
I wake soaked in sweat and cum, and it takes me a minute to realize what just happened.
It was a dream.
No, not a dream. A memory.
My throat feels raw, and I wonder if I actually did scream, if I called out to her to warn her not to fall into their trap. The memory felt as real as it did when I lived it; I can smell her strawberry shampoo, feel her small body against mine, feel her chest move with the ripple of laughter. I didn't understand myfeelings for her back then, but I understand them now. They haven't changed; they're stronger now, more complicated. I'm waking up covered in my own cum just from a memory of holding her.
I don't know if this is love, but it's fucking terrifying.
Marley Lavigne consumes my every waking breath, and now she's stealing into my sleeping ones too. I can't escape her. I wouldn't want to. As much as it is torture to watch her from afar, knowing that the friendship we had has withered to this, I can't imagine not having her here at all. It's a terrifying possibility that seems to just grow more likely as time passes. Her sister ran off to the city at the end of her senior year, and she broke my brother's heart. He looks like he handled it well, as far as the world is concerned, but I heard him sobbing in the bathroom a time or two when he thought the sound of running water would cover it up. If that's what love does to you, I want no part of it, honestly. But I can't help the way I feel about her. I can't make it stop, no matter how hard I've tried. I don't have a single space that's safe from her... not my room that looks out on hers, not school where she walks the halls like a goddess who doesn't realize she's merely among mortals, and not in my own head.
I huff out a breath and trudge to the shower so I can wash my own cum off of me.
My reflection in the mirror shows me exactly why she never looked at me the way she looks at Jake. I may have her trust, her friendship, but I don't have her respect, her adoration. She fell victim to the stereotypes, choosing to fall for a guy that can fit into whatever box she needs him to. Jake is the all-American football hero. He's not the quarterback— that's Colton's position this year—but he's the captain of the team, and he's got the right looks for it. Brown hair that somehow looks tame even when he pulls his helmet off and runs his fingers through it, a tan from allthe time he's spent practicing in the sun, and if his shoe size is any indication, he has the one thing every teenage guy wants.
I'm not one for athleticism, partly because I'm built like a wet noodle. I could do track or something, basketball if I was interested, but I'm not built for any of that. I don't know what I am built for—sketching, maybe. I like to draw things, to make stuff come alive using just the right shading techniques. I wish it was so easy to make myself come alive. Unfortunately, only one person seems capable of doing that for me.
I step out of the shower no less than half an hour after I stepped into it, ready to fall back onto my bed again. I beat off twice in there to thoughts of Marley Lavigne, and I'm exhausted. Too bad my parents absolutely aren't going to let me skip school. Having a brother who is academically and physically perfect sure hasn't ever helped me a day in my life. Especially now that Axel has chosen to cope with his heartbreak by throwing himself into his work as the mayor's apprentice. They don't say it, but I can imagine what my parents are thinking.See, Axel is thriving! Look how good he's doing. It pays to work hard, Tripp.
I'm not scared of working hard for the right things, and they seem to at least respect that. We've got more than enough money to last a few more generations even if I never manage to make something of myself and being that neither my brother or I are careless or interested in spending our generational wealth, they seem content to let me figure it out in my own time. Even if they don't say things out loud, I'm sure they think them. How could they not? I'm seventeen. I'm supposed to have my life together better by now.
Instead, I'm going into my senior year the same way I left my junior year. Directionless, hopeless, and obsessed with a girl who will never look at me the way she does with Jake.
Or maybe she will, because when I get to the courtyard outside homeroom, she does a double-take, like she isn't sure who she'sseeing across the crowd of people scrolling through their phones or talking about their summer.
Seeing her is the same as it always is... electric.
"Tripp?" She laughs as she draws closer, confirming that it is indeed me. Just behind her, Jake is approaching with another girl, the two of them laughing as they catch up to Marley.
"Marley," I smile and try not to look how I feel, which is that I'm dying inside. "Long time…"
"Yeah," she laughs, a sound of disbelief as she takes me in. "Nice hat."
"Thank you." I touch my fingers to the snaps against my forehead, wondering if I look like I'm trying too hard. In truth, the hat was the best way to tame my unruly hair when I woke up from an unexpected nap after my shower this morning. I slipped it on backwards specifically because having it turned forward made me look like the Unabomber, but maybe that's better.
I freeze as her hand comes up between us and closes around a lock of my dark hair so that she can appraise it, her fingers brushing my ear. "It got so long." She says, sounding impressed. It's as good as a compliment where I'm concerned, and it makes me warm inside— particularly since she has to tilt her head back to look at me and I have a great view of her cleavage in that top.
I turn my eyes back to hers before licking my lips, which are suddenly dry from the sight of her. "You look good, Mars."
