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“Yeah.” I narrow my eyes. “You do. Ever since you’ve been here, you’ve purposely made it obvious that you try to stay away from me.”
She keeps her eyes trained on mine, her arms crossing in front of herself, only pushing up her tits and causing them to spill out of her little sports bra. Typical little dancer body on her, only this one has wide hips to grab onto and some jiggle to her round ass.
“So, which is it, Killian?” Her voice is gentle, but her words are jagged. “Am I ignoring you, or am I hostile toward you?”
“I don’t fucking know, baby, you tell me.”
She dismisses me, repeating her cute little sidestep, only I meet her again, and she slams into my chest again.
“What’d I fucking do?”
She scowls at me. “What’s the matter? Don’t like it when a girl doesn’t fall to her knees with your presence?”
I chuckle, allowing her through, but turning around to throw one more attack out. “I’ll have you on your knees soon enough.”
She stills and then continues to the stage.
“Do you have to antagonize her? Just put her in the basket of Girls Killian Can’t Fuck. I’m sure she’ll be happy being the only one in there.” Keaton nudges, handing me my bandana.
I tie it around my mouth, watching as she stretches and warms up her body. “Fuck that,” I answer. “It’s not even like that. Hell, she can hate me all she wants, but I want to fucking know why.”
“Maybe she doesn’t hate you?” Maya states, coming up behind Keaton. “Maybe she just doesn’t want you, Kill.”
I gape at her. “Everyone wants me.”
Maya snorts. “I don’t. Anymore.”
“Ouch!” I grasp my chest. “I’m hurt, boo. I’m hurt.”
“No one can hurt you…” Maya says. Her expression falls before she quickly recollects herself and squares her shoulders. I feel bad, and that’s saying something. I don’t feel anything—for anyone. I can’t help it, it’s who I am, how I was raised. My mom and dad only cared about one thing, and that was The Brotherhood. My mom didn’t care to raise me with giving a fuck about something so mundane and human like feelings, and my dad gave too much of a fuck about other shit. Civilian shit. As a result from the confusing parenting, I got my dick wet—and I did it often—and I let them go. That’s how it was and how it always will be. But Maya, Maya was different. She and I have been inseparable since we were born. Our parents used to put us into the same crib to sleep beside each other when one didn’t settle, and we would go to sleep right away. I’m a couple years older than her, so Maya always said that I was probably low-key strangling her to sleep. She’s evil as fuck for thinking that low of me. Maya means more to me than my pride, or any of that.
“Maya…” I whisper sadly. The last fucking thing I ever wanted to do was hurt her, but it was never something I felt toward her. I’d die for Maya in a heartbeat and kill anyone that crosses her, but those feelings ran through the same veins that the feelings I had toward my brothers did.
She shakes her head, her unruly curls falling over her shoulder and her green eyes coming up to meet mine. “It’s fine, Kill. Stop making a deal out of it.” She disappears, jumping onto the stage as if we didn’t just talk about the one thing she and I have basically been avoiding since the big blow up on New Year’s Eve…
New Year’s Eve
Two months ago
When I was sixteen, I lost my virginity to my best friend. Now, there are many reasons why you should never do this, one being the dynamic between you and said best friend will never be the same, but my main reason as to why this was a bad idea, is that when you’re friends with someone, you already have harnessed feelings for them. There are already seeds of friendship that are sowed inside of you, inside of them. You’re supposed to water those seeds with laughs and platonic banter, not with cum and sweat.
Anyway, I think you get my point.
When I was sixteen, I fucked Maya Patrova. It was a mutual decision, a mess really. We sort of decided, “Well, fuck it. Let’s get this over with so we can move on.” Move on I did, move on she did not.
I love Maya, but at the risk of sounding like a complete fucking cliché, I was not in love with her.
I tipped back my whiskey, the fire burning angry enough to match the rage inside of me and the flames licking through the dark opaque sky like a weapon of mass destruction.
My eyes stay on Maya, hers on me.
I’ve known about this crush for a while. It was hard to not know when I knew all too well the puppy dog eyes she gave on a regular.
“What’s the matter, May?” I hissed, my lips spreading around my teeth.
“Nothing, Kill. Why?” she snapped, mocking my tone.
I drag my focus away from her. If I had led her on, I would feel bad. But I hadn’t. Sure, I always took her side in everything, and yeah, fuck, okay, so she was my fifth in the triple wheel, but as far as I was concerned, it was mutual and completely platonic.
Only deep down I knew it wasn’t.
A laugh cackled out from over the music, a head tilting back. Callan was laughing with Sass, only Sass wasn’t laughing, she was the one talking.
Fucking weird.
I hadn’t spoken any words to Sass, but she comes off as a complete fucking recluse. Is she fu “Can we talk?” Maya cut into my thoughts, and I dragged my greedy eyes away from Sass and back to the girl of the moment—Maya. “Fine.” I stood, snatching the bottle of whiskey on my way. The beach was loaded with people from all over, celebrating New Year’s Eve. Fucking twenty-twenty. This better be the year I get some answers. I followed her until we hit a sand dune that was so high that I had to fight the urge to holler at Keats to go grab the boards to slide down it. “So, here’s the thing,” Maya interrupts my thoughts again, her hands on her hips. She’s wearing a neon green bikini with a little white skirt, a complete contrast against her beautiful brown skin. Fuck, but she was beautiful. I’ve always loved my girls a little fucking damaged, that way when I inflict more pain on them, they’d be used to it. They’re the only ones who can handle me. I was built for war, not for love. I don’t want to break people. I want them already broken. I don’t want to feel that way, but I can’t help it. “I’m pretty sure you know how I feel about you, Kill…” I flicked off the lid to my whiskey and brought it to my mouth. I take one hard gulp, relishing the smoothness of Teeling single malt whiskey, and how it slips down my throat easily. “I do, Maya.” “Okay, and?” Maya asked, and even though the dead midnight was hiding her green eyes, I’d still know the exact way she’d be looking up at me right now. The same way she looked up at me when I said we couldn’t take a stray cat home when she was five years old. I sighed, dropping down onto the sand. I gazed out to the ocean, momentarily fascinated, as I watched the angry waves crash against the sand. Florida was dope, but it wasn’t my vibe. “What do you want me to say?” There was a long stretch of silence before she scoffed. “That said it all.” She started walking back to where the party was, the bonfire now in full blaze.