Page 25 of F*ckboys

"Jesus Christ, Aksel," I scream, finally giving in to the depth of feelings that have haunted me since the moment I laid eyes on him. And as I do, something snaps within me, releasing a torrent of pleasure so intense that I barely have time to register it before I'm collapsing onto the man's chest, my body wracked with sobs and tremors that refuse to be silenced. Just as quickly, I stop myself and push myself up to sitting, lifting myself off the stranger's softening cock.

"Hey," the man says softly, his arms coming up to hold me even as I try to push him away. I'm done with him, and have no further use for his body or idle chit chat. "That was...intense. I haven't done some of that stuff before. Can I, uh, have your number? Maybe we could do this again sometime?"

"Get out," I snap, wrenching myself free of his embrace and scrambling off the bed. "Just get the fuck out."

"Alright, alright," he mutters, gathering his clothes and pulling them on with clumsy, trembling hands. "No need to get so pissy about it."

"Out!" I repeat, my voice rising to a shriek as I throw open the door and gesture for him to leave. He does, casting one last, bewildered glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.

As soon as he's gone, I slam the door shut and lean against it, my breath coming in ragged gasps as tears stream down my cheeks. It shouldn't have been Aksel—it should never have been him—who's able to get to me like this. But somehow, despite everything, he's wormed his way into my heart, and now there's no room left for anyone else. Even a sexy rendezvous with a hot stranger isn't enough to get him off my mind.

"Fuck you, Aksel King," I whisper, my voice choked with grief and rage. "You've ruined me, and I swear to God, I'll make you pay."

After gathering my things together, I stride away from the motel, my body still thrumming with a raw, base satisfaction. But it's my heart that feels like shattered glass, an empty void echoing through my chest.

"Damn you, Aksel," I mutter under my breath, hugging myself against the chill of the night air. The city streets are eerily quiet, and it only serves to amplify the turmoil raging inside me.

"Hey! Watch it!" A passerby in a bulky coat and wool hat snaps as I bump into him, my thoughts too wrapped up in my own misery to notice where I'm going. I mumble an insincere apology and keep moving, the frigid wind biting at my exposed skin.

"Maybe I should've given him my number," I think aloud, the words tasting sour in my mouth. It's a fleeting thought, one that dissipates as quickly as it came. I know that man wasn't what I truly wanted or needed—not even close.

"Fuck, what am I doing?" I ask myself, feeling utterly lost. Revenge burns within me, but now, so does this twisted obsession with Aksel. Can I carry out my plans when my heart is betraying me?

"Get your shit together, Fallon," I chide myself, gritting my teeth as I make my way along the dark streets. "You're on a mission here."

Chapter 13

Aksel

The ice clinks against the glass as I swirl my whiskey, a symphony of solace in my dimly lit apartment. As hard as I tried, work and the gym didn't drown out my feelings, so alcohol will have to do. The cityscape outside is a blur of lights and darkness, mirroring the turmoil within me. My memories pull at the edges of my mind, dragging me back to a time I both yearn for and despise. Yearn, because I had her. Despise, because I lost her.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, downing the last of the amber liquid before setting the glass on the sleek black coffee table. My eyelids are heavy, and I sink back into my comfortable couch.

--Freshman year--

Palm Falls High School looms before me, its colors and movement more vivid than any painting. I'm there again, smack dab in the center of it all—Aksel King, the guy everyone wants to be around. It's intoxicating, and I can't help but feel that addictive surge of power when people gravitate toward me. They don't see the cracks in my façade or understand the burden I carry beneath my leather jacket.

"Hey, Aksel!" someone calls out, snapping me from my thoughts. I plaster a smile on my face, nodding in response as I continue down the hallway. The laughter and chatter of my peers rings in my ears—a cacophony that somehow only intensifies the loneliness within me.

As I walk down the crowded corridor, I overhear snippets of conversations—whispers about my family's wealth, power, and the rumored mafia ties that cling to us like a dark cloud. The constant hum of gossip is both a source of pride and a reminder of the loneliness that grips me behind closed doors.

"Hey, King!" someone shouts in greeting, and I raise my hand in acknowledgment, plastering on another fake smile. My popularity and numerous friendships are a paradox. They provide a sense of belonging while simultaneously highlighting the emptiness I feel deep down.

"Hey, Aksel! Did you see that game last night?" one of my buddies asks, clapping me on the back.

I force a smirk. "Yeah, man. It was sick."

I have to build in extra time to get from class to class, and between my locker and practice. Everyone wants a piece of Aksel. Sometimes it's flattering, but other times it's an annoyance.

"Hey. Do you have a lighter?" I ask as I lean against the lockers, just another cool kid trying to fit in with another of my teammates. "I'm going to have a smoke out the back at recess."He nods and produces a lighter from his jeans pocket, handing it to me. But the truth eats away at me, gnawing at my insides like a parasite. I crave a connection, something real and honest, yet I keep everyone at arm's length. I'm trapped in this cage of popularity, and even though I long for escape, it's all I've ever known.

As I retrieve my practice gear from my locker, my eyes are drawn to a figure down the hall—Fallon Dempsey. Her red hair is a fiery beacon, and her spirit captivates me like a moth to a flame. My chest tightens as I watch her move through the crowd, turning heads with every step.

"Damn," I exhale, fighting the urge to follow her. "She's something else."

"Who, Fallon?" my friend snorts, stealing my gaze for a brief moment, and I realize I just spoke my thoughts out loud. "You've got a thing for her, don't you? She's a bit of a nerd, isn't she?"

"Shut up," I snap, my grip on the lighter tightening. The secret longing within me churns as I shove those feelings down, locking them away in the deepest, darkest part of my soul. There's no room for vulnerability here, not when I'm supposed to be untouchable.

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