Masquerade

When we get to the bike, I reach for the helmet but Maddox’s hand on my arm stops me. His eyes have transformed from the lightness they held at his last comment.

“What’s your real name, Bee?”

And that’s what does it—the fact that he used Bee when asking. It’s almost like he’s telling me it’s okay to be who I want. That to him I’m Bee, the pierced tattoo girl, and he’s okay with that.

Or maybe I’m going crazy and seeing things I want to see. Still, I open my mouth and let the words tumble out. “Leila… or Coral. I guess it depends on how you look at it.”

Questions swim through his eyes, but he doesn’t ask any of them.

“Grab the helmet, Bee. Let’s go.” Without another word, Maddox climbs onto the bike and waits. Words bubble in my throat. I can’t sort through them enough to let them free. I’m not sure what I want to say, so I settle on nothing.

After pushing the helmet onto my head, I climb onto the bike behind him. My arms go around his waist and he revs the engine before pulling away. We speed through the field and onto the road and I swear it feels like freedom. The wind is cold, but I revel in it. Love the feel of it as it rushes past me.

It’s then I realize I’m not really freaking out about having told him about the Professor. He knows my name and it’s kind of okay. It’s different than how it is with people like my family where I know on some level I’m hurting them but can’t seem to change it. He only knows Bee and he doesn’t expect Leila or Coral when he looks at me. I press my cheek to his back and relax.

Maddox leans to the side as we take a corner. My body goes along with his, hugging him as he controls the bike.

It’s not long until we’re pulling back into town. I’m buzzing, getting that same tingle under my skin like I’m getting a new tattoo.

When Maddox stops at a red light, more words start fumbling out of my mouth. “I don’t want to be alone tonight, Scratch.” Immediately I feel on display. Maddox tenses and I want the words back, but then the light changes, the motorcycle accelerates, and Maddox speeds off again.

What the hell is wrong with me? If he could hear me, I’d tell him to let me off the bike right now. We shouldn’t be out here together in the first place. We shouldn’t have done any of it.

The wind no longer feels right as it washes around me and my stomach is nauseous.

I pushed. I’m always the one who keeps the walls up but I pushed him.

But then… then he turns away from my house—away from Masquerade. My fist tightens in his shirt as we take another turn, then another one.

Maddox pulls into the driveway of a brown house. It’s a little run-down, some of the paint peeling. It’s his…

It’s a shock to my system when the bike suddenly shuts off under me. Maddox climbs off, then I do. He pulls off his helmet, then I do.

“It’s not much.” Maddox tucks the helmet under his arm.

“It’s yours, that’s what’s important.” We’re standing in his driveway, only a foot away from each other.

“I don’t do this.”

“I don’t either.”

He sighs. It’s like a breath being pulled from me too. Confusion mixes around inside me.

“What do you want, Bee?”

“Nothing.” And it’s true. “Just to hang out. I’m not here to sleep with you. I…” Feel like I can be myself with you.

“I’ve never really done the friends thing, Scratch, but…” I shrug and he nods toward the house before starting to walk away.

I don’t hesitate before following him.

Chapter Eighteen ~Maddox~

I’ve never taken a girl home with me. I’ve never gone home with a girl. I’ve never fucked a girl in a bed that I considered mine. She said she wasn’t sleeping with me again and my brain knows that’s smart. We’re somehow all tied up in each other when I’ve never been co

But then, we’ve also both always been on the same page. We don’t do attachments, so my head is all fucked up about why we’re going into my house together if it’s not for something physical.

Or maybe I think I should feel screwed up about it. Crazy, but I actually feel and that’s what has the fist squeezing my insides.

Shake it off, man. “Watch your step.” With my hand flat on the door, I push it open while stepping back so Bee can walk in.

Slowly, she goes inside. Bee stops when she gets far enough away from the door that I can close it behind us. Even though it’s dark outside by now, I can see inside because of the small lamp I left on this morning.

Automatically, my eyes scan the room, trying to see it the way she does. My couch is against the back wall. Fifty-buck special from a yard sale. Next to it, the little oak side table with the black lamp. A matching coffee table in front, pieces of paper scattered all over it: some flat, others balled up. Some blank, others filled with different drawings.

There’s a small TV, but I only have a few cha

“This is strange…” Her back is to me as she looks around the room. Yet, I know, somehow I know, she doesn’t mean my house. She’s talking about being in it.

“Yeah… You thirsty or anything?” Scratching the back of my head, I walk into the kitchen. My first instinct is to watch her, to see if she explores. It’s not that I really give a shit about anything I have, but it’s mine and bringing her here is showing her who I am.

“Sure, I’ll have some water.”

It’s a good thing because that’s all I have.

After pulling two water bottles from the fridge, I toss one to Bee. She catches it easily and then we both stand there drinking, not knowing what to do.

It’s not even a minute later she puts the lid on and turns. “I shouldn’t have asked to come here.”

Before she gets more than three feet away from me and toward the door, “You didn’t,” sort of tumbles out of my mouth. “You said you didn’t want to be alone. I brought you here. It was my choice.”

Slowly she looks my way and gives a small nod. My brain starts searching for words. I find none. I don’t know why I want to. She makes me itch under my skin. It’s not a

“How’s the piercing?”

“Don’t know. You’re the expert. Why don’t you check it for me.”

She rolls her eyes and grins, not at all taken aback by my words. Not that she would be. Not Bee.

She sets the water bottle down and steps toward me. My breath gets caught up in my lungs. Holy shit. I’m actually holding my breath as she pushes my jacket off my shoulder.

Neither of us reaches for it as it falls to the floor.

Bee looks at me and winks. Her voice is low and feisty when she says, “Sure thing. Just remember, you’re the one who asked. The torture we both feel for the rest of the night will be all your fault.”

Without pla

“Like I said, you asked for it.” And then she pulls her hand out of my grasp. Puts both hands flat on my stomach and starts to push my shirt up—slowly. So fucking slowly I feel like I could lose it.

“We agreed…,” she says. “No more sex, remember?”

“Shit,” I hiss. “Why did we say that?” Slower… higher, her hands warm and smooth against my skin.

“You know why.”

I can’t believe it when I close my eyes. It sounds fucked up but it makes me feel more vulnerable. Like she can do anything she wants to me and I wouldn’t know before she strikes. Still, I don’t open them, just keep letting her push my shirt up until my chest shows.