10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

" I 'm so sick of this shit," Wyatt groans, throwing a dart. It swoops high, bouncing off the backboard and missing the target. His shoulders sag with the weight of his sigh. I lift my hand to pat his back, but I don't follow through. I can't bring myself to comfort him right now. Instead, I step up for my turn. Acting casual is the best way forward, despite the crippling ache in my chest.

Similar feelings are rippling behind me. On a low sofa across the abandoned games room, Dax is incredibly quiet, nursing his drink and tapping his thumb on his knee. By the pool table, Garrett and Axel have turned into each other, taking comfort in stolen touches and muttered reassurances. The only one of us who doesn't care that there's a girl locked in the closet upstairs seems to be Wyatt.

His next dart sails aimlessly past the target and clatters against the wall behind it. The sound resonates through the silence in the room. Taking a shot of vodka straight, Wyatt sways on his feet, accidently bumping me aside. Garrett and Axel exchange a glance, but they don't dare say anything. We're all used to Wyatt's dark, withdrawn moods, but getting himself unstably drunk is new. Every aspect of Wyatt's life, of his personality, is about control. Strict, meticulous control.

I straighten my shoulders and take my turn at the dartboard, my mind hardly focused on the game. I nail a bullseye without trying to. The metallic thunk of the dart hitting home rings out, a harsh interruption to the tense quiet. For a moment, we're all staring at the dartboard, as if that lone dart has all the answers we're too afraid to speak. Finally, Dax drains his drink and shatters the silence.

"We can't just ignore her," He says gruffly, his tone laced with frustration and worry. His icy blue eyes are hard when they meet mine, but there's fear there too. Fear for the girl upstairs, fear for us, fear of what will happen if we don't calm Wyatt down soon.

Wyatt doesn't look at any of us, let alone respond, as he retrieves his darts from various corners of the room. His shoulders are rigid with tension and I have a gut feeling that anything we say won't sit well with him. Garrett's hand finds Axel's in silent solidarity as they brace themselves.

"Wyatt," I sigh, taking one for the team. This time, I do grab him by the shoulders, stilling his movements. "Maybe you should find someone to take your mind off...things?" I offer. My smile is weak, and he sees straight through it.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

He scoffs, shrugging me off and downing someone else's shot.

"Don't send me off for someone else to deal with." His green eyes are blurred but his scowl is in full force. My gut plummets to be on the receiving end of it for a change. Turning to face the three on the sofa, Wyatt accidentally stumbles into the table. Drinks topple and spill onto his plush carpet.

"I've been there for each one of you. I spent months cuddling Axel at night while Garrett was in the hospital. I memorized the entire medical physics textbook so I could push Dax through his entrance exams. And you of all people, Huxley, understand how it feels to be completely isolated while everyone else is watching."

"I know, I know. You're right," I attempt a different tactic. Ganging up on him isn't going to get us anywhere. I break through something as his fa?ade cracks. The fragile boy he keeps hidden deep, deep inside, makes a brief and rare appearance.

"It's my turn to be supported. You may not feel what I feel, but I expected you all to step up. I told you what her being nearby does to me. I can't...There's just…" Any trace of weakness is quickly shut down. Grabbing a bottle by the neck, Wyatt launches it across the room in a similar fashion to the one he shattered over Avery. "You know what, fuck the lot of you. I'll let someone else deal with my anger." I hang my head as he storms away. God help whichever cheerleader volunteers.

"And the girl?" Garrett asks tentatively. He's taken a protective step in front of Axel, as if such a question might cause another bottle to be thrown.

"Do what you want," Wyatt throws up his middle finger as he exits, taking the tension with him. We stand for a while, stewing in regret. I'd known Avery's presence on campus would affect him, but I should have been more active in making sure their paths didn't cross. Speaking of which, who fucking invited her?

"Dudes. We're shit friends," Dax groans, leaning his elbows on his knees. He's toying with a cigarette in his fingers.

"We're not shit friends," I roll my eyes. "I'll stand with Wyatt against the whole freaking world, but I'm not in the market of using someone's fears against them." My eyes drift to the hazel ones determined on staring at the floor. Out of the five of us, Axel had the hardest time reading Avery's transcripts. She's a survivor, that's for sure, making far more progress in opening up about her past than he ever has. Now it's being used as a weapon against her.

I throw the rest of the darts in my hand, all three hitting the board without trying. Then I finish my drink, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Right. I'll go get her," I announce. I don't trust Dax not to get ahead of himself, sporting his puppy dog eyes, and the torment twins won't be any good to anyone for the rest of the weekend now. Garrett smiles, hiding everything behind that simple gesture.

"I'll be on Axel-watch. This is the epitome of a triggering situation."

"I'm literally right here," Axel finally steps out of Garrett's shadow but leans on him anyway. Their fingers intertwine and they start to walk on by. I step into Axel's way, chasing the misery in his eyes.

"Come here," I open my arms and draw him in for a hug. His head lingers on my shoulder and if anyone were to happen upon us now, they'd get the wrong impression. The Shadowed Souls formed from a bunch of needy kids who wanted to feel included, but over the years, it became so much more than that. We separated, we suffered. Now back together, we're inseparable and some of us are still healing. For Axel, he relies on physical love in whatever form it comes in. I release him, letting the pair leave and give Dax a stiff warning to stay in his seat.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I enter the study. What strikes me first is the quiet. Just like with the trunk, she's so quiet and I spend a few moments assessing if she's managed to break out of the closet door. I'm sure if she had, the room would be as wrecked as the SUV in the garage. The keys are still on the desk beside her phone and a brown folder brandishing her name. Nothing is out of place. Deeply exhaling, I collect the keys and unlock the door, slowly turning the handle. Pulling it open, I wince at the mess I might find inside, when a blonde tornado launches herself at me.

"Holy fuck!" Glass shard in hand, I narrowly avoid losing my eye, gripping Avery's arms and holding her back. Her blue eyes are feral, and despite my steel grip, she continues to jerk and buck against me. "Hey, hey! I'm not going to hurt you! I came to let you out." Avery pauses, sizing me up like her next meal.

"Did you stand aside while he locked me in?" she asks and gives me a whole three seconds to hesitate on an answer. Gritting her teeth, she jumps for me again. Her wrists are so small in my hands, easy for her to twist and break free. Her clenched fist punches me in the jaw before the glass is pressed against my throat. I back up, hitting the wall and holding my hands where she can see them .

"Whoa! Let's just take a breath, try to-"

"If you tell me to calm down, it'll be the last thing you do." Avery's hand on the shard is unwavering. Her whole body, in fact, is completely steady. I'm careful not to swallow, or shudder against the knee she has pressing into my balls.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say tentatively. A drop of scarlet red rolls down Avery's arm. "You're bleeding. Let me help." Against my better judgment, I cup Avery's hand and gently pull it away from my throat. I pluck the thick shard from the whiskey bottle from her grip. She permits it, now that she's distracted by the open cut on her palm.

Keeping my hold loose, I manage to guide her through the hallway. A few people jump out of our way, the whispers already starting to circulate as I pull Avery into my bedroom. We head straight for the bathroom where I grab a first aid kit from the bottom drawer. When I turn back, Avery is sitting on the countertop, her hand under the faucet. I watch her in silence, thankful the wound isn't too deep.

"Would you really have cut me?" I need to know for future reference. I won't be the first to aid her next time if it's going to cost me. Avery gives me a half-shrug which is just as terrifying. She didn't even know. It takes a while for the bleeding to slow, after which I pat her palm dry and apply a dressing. Then, I wrap a bandage around her hand. All the while, my thumbs stroke the lingering bruising around her wrists at any chance they get. Does she have any idea how beautiful she was, restrained and wanting? How good she tasted? I push away the thought.

"I want to go home," Avery sighs, leaning back against my mirror. I look away from her raised chest, her slightly parted legs. Garrett isn't here to persuade me that the best kind of payback is oral.

"I'll walk you back to your dorm," I reply hastily. Getting her out of Wyatt's vicinity is what's best for both of them. Avery shakes her head, staring vacantly across the room.

"Not the dorm. I want to go home ." She bangs her head back against the mirror. "I miss Meg. I miss my mom and Nixon. I hate it here. I hate always being late. I hate having nowhere private to just be myself. Everyone is always watching. And every time I try to do what normal students do, Wyatt and his asshole friends are there to throw me into a spin."

I can't comment, being one of those asshole friends myself.

"I just…I can't keep…" Avery struggles to find the words, tears threatening to fall. I act on instinct. Pushing my way between her knees, I do what I'm best at. I wrap my arms around her back and force her into my chest.

"I get it," I try to reassure her. Avery laughs bitterly, refusing to hug me back. "No really. I've spent long enough around broken people to understand. You need something solid to hold onto."

She waits a beat, then tentatively winds her arms around me. The man she almost put in the hospital ten minutes ago, but I have a feeling nothing is straightforward when it comes to Avery. She hasn't lived in the real world. She doesn't have any point of reference for social situations, and has somehow found herself at the heart of the most fucked-up friendship group around. At least while she's hugging me, I know she isn't plotting my death. Avery's breath hitches, her head becoming heavy against my chest.

"I can't depend on you." I agree with her small voice, but I refuse to let her go just now. The music and laughter from the party simmers on the level below. Wyatt will have found someone to distract him by now. Axel has Garrett, Dax has his terrible smoking habit. What or who does Avery have?

When I can't handle my own train of thought any longer, knowing I've always been a soppy drunk, I release her. Bracing myself on either side of her legs on the counter, my head lowers.

"Okay, let's make a truce. Anytime any of us annoys you from now on, I'll let you beat me up. I volunteer as tribute and all that. You can restrain me if you like, but I need you to promise me one thing." Bringing my face up, her perfume mixed with the stench of whiskey hits me .

"What?" Avery's eyes return to mine, suspicious and curious.

"Lead with your left hand. We can't let anything come between you and your multicolored highlighters." A smirk hitches the corner of my mouth in an attempt to dissipate the thick atmosphere. Avery's brow rises.

"Dax?" she guesses.

"He may have mentioned it." I leave out that he didn't know who she was at the time. It was nice to see him giddy for a change, talking of a cute girl in his class. Then it all came crashing down.

Slowly sitting upright, Avery enters my personal space. Her eyes are all encompassing; the palest blue flecked with light green. Her lips are full, slightly parted. In a stolen moment that has no business happening, my gaze roams over her body. I'm used to girls toting around this house in bikinis and heels, nothing left to the imagination. But not Avery. Her long sleeved white top hugs her curves, the black shorts sitting high on her waist. Even though they needn't be, her legs are covered with fishnet stockings. She's like a present, ready to be unwrapped.

"I'm going to move away now," I breathe, ignoring how I feel the words bounce off her lips. My hands grip the sides of the counter as Avery slowly nods.

"Okay. "

"Just gonna…back away and leave," I repeat. Maybe if I say the words enough, my body will follow through.

"Wyatt will kill you if you don't," Avery also tries to convince me.

"He'd bury me six feet under." My eyes dip to the junction of her thighs. I know how tight she is, how beautifully she glistens. I swallow thickly, on the verge of panting. "Why is forbidden fruit so tempting?"

"Because it's forbidden," Avery whispers with a smirk that is almost my undoing. At the point where I decide I'm not going to deny myself a second longer, the loud shrill in my pocket saves us both. Dragging the device out, I hand Avery her phone and shove myself away for good. She makes a disappointed noise in her throat and I'm right back again.

"What's wrong?"

"My roommate," Avery sighs and turns the screen to face me. I'm affronted by a photo of a blue tie hanging on a door handle, accompanied by the words DON'T COME HOME . We share a quick glance, a question in our tipsy gazes.

"Hit the shower. I'll make you up a bed on my floor. But don't get any ideas. If I took this any further, Wyatt would have my balls."

"And we wouldn't want that," Avery smiles at last and slides off the counter. I pause at the sarcasm in her tone. I think Avery would be exceedingly happy if my testicles were hung in the study as a decorative ornament. The shower is switched on behind me and I feel like I should receive a medal of honor for making it all the way into my bedroom without looking back. Just as I lose my nerve though, my cock straining in my pants, I turn to see the door being slammed shut in my face. I guess I'll just jerk off into her pillow instead.