21. Peris

I’m goingto fucking kill him.

Perfect, tight little ass be damned. He’s going to die.

Gabe splutters as he jumps out of his car behind me and raps his knuckles on the top. “What the fuck?” Apparently, all pretenses of our argument are long gone as we both stare at the… surprise Abel left me.

Yanking at my wet strands, I roll my eyes, teeth sunk into the inside of my cheek.

“He took that to a whole new level.”

“You don’t fucking say.”

“So… you don’t want a fresh start? ‘Cause you’re still being a dick,” Gabe says after a short pause. I peer around my shoulder. His brown eyes are warm in the rays of yellow light, curly hair looking like it has gold strands woven within it.

I ruminate on his words as the parking lot fills, both of our cars blocking the end of the lane. Someone honks so I raise my arm to flip them off without looking away from the bright pink spray paint. A fucking smiley face next to a “Peris Baxter” and “Go #3” followed by a weird-looking heart and the name runt with an “xxoo.”

Fucking kisses and hugs, my ass.Couldn’t even be bothered to write xoxo like a normal person.

Allthe other varsity player parking spots are decorated with chalk from the other cheerleaders—as the first game ritual goes—but of course, Abel had to go the extra mile and literally graffiti mine.

“If I get booted from the fucking game for this…” I growl. Yanking on my hair doesn’t help, but it’s all I have when quite the crowd has started to gather, interested in mine and Gabe’s immobility.

“Nah, you’ll be fine. It’s not like you did it.”

“You think that really matters? It’s fucking spray paint, Gabe.” Voices trickle all around me as the crowd gathers. Sweat licks along my spine, burning through to the tight coil in my gut that hasn’t gone away since Abel left my room without a backward glance.

I mean, seriously. What the hell is his deal? He pulls so hot and cold, acting like he wants to crawl up my ass one minute, and the next like he’s never touched me, never choked on my cock or tasted my cum.

Never sat on my dick while I was sleeping.

“What happened?” Gabe asks, bumping my shoulder. It knocks me off balance, and I reach out to grab him. I blink through a ray of light beaming between us and turn away from it.

Raising my hand to my eyebrows to block it out, I catch a gleam up high. I blink rapidly a few times, pinching one eye shut as I tilt my head back, eyes scanning the building. Another flash in my peripheral.

Frowning, I mumble, “What the fuck?”

And that’s when I see him.

The sun is catching on the silver studs on his belt. Barely anything if you’re not looking. But there he fucking is. On the goddamn rooftop.

I narrow my eyes on his pacing form. His arm moves back and forth in the air, but I can’t tell what he’s doing from down here. I don’t know how the hell he managed to get up there, but I’m about to go find his ass and beat it goddamn bloody.

Maybe then I can make sense of this… this mess.

I push away from Gabe to jump in my car and shift into drive. After two taps of my index finger against the wheel with no one moving, I lay on the horn, keeping it pressed in a drawn-out beep until bodies move and I’m able to park over Abel’s… whatever it is.

Shoving my keys in my bag, I throw it over my shoulder and slam the door behind me. Gabe comes out of nowhere, fingers clutching my shoulder as we walk side by side. Eyes follow us—hot and itchy and irritating—but it’s easier to ignore them with a singular objective.

“You gonna tell me what happened?” Gabriel asks again as he leans in, throwing off my equilibrium. I grunt and shove back against him as I step over the curb, striding with purpose toward the front doors.

“There’s nothing to say,” I answer absent-mindedly as my eyes scan the common room. It’s after eight, so most of the teachers have fucked off to their rooms to prepare for first block, which means less risk of getting caught.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. Risking getting kicked out of one of the most important games of the season, my senior fucking year, just to find Abel, and…

“Where are the stairs to the rooftop?”

Gabe’s fingers curl over my trapezius as he leans into me. “Why?”

I laugh loudly, rolling my eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know. Just tell me.”

His lips purse as he rakes his gaze over me. What the hell he’s looking for, I couldn’t say, but when his eyes do a double take on my neck, the flush is instant and white-hot.

“What?” I ask, tugging at my collar. Every game day, we have to wear slacks and button-downs, and they’re so fucking constricting, my skin is already itchy. But Gabriel’s perusal makes me think he actually sees something.

His lips twitch, doing a terrible job of hiding his smirk. Clasping his hands in front of him, he drops back against the wall.

“For fucks sake, Gabe. Spit it out,” I bark, exasperated. There are too many… feelings churning this morning. I didn’t sleep a fucking wink after watching Abel leave. Even after I figured out my usual self-loathing had taken a hike elsewhere, sleep still evaded me.

I’ve been lost in the hauntingly vivid memory of Abel’s tight little body wrapped around me. The curve of his hip beneath my palm, the taste of his spit in my mouth. His sharp little snaggletooth against the tip of my tongue. White hair glowing pink as he rocked on top of me, unabashed, taking everything he wanted.

But before all that… The way my nightmare bled into perfect, tight heat. Impossible and good and confusing. All his words—if they were the truth or just another means to an end.

If I really do hold the power or if that’s an illusion.

Am I worthy of… of love?

But no. What does love have to do with what we’re doing? He’s a hole to fuck, a body to bruise. And it just so happens I like doing both of those things—against my better judgment and long-gone self-restraint.

I think. Maybe.

It was all so straightforward—before Abel.

I couldn’t even let the thoughts permeate longer than a rushed jerk-off session because of Luke. It was that simple. I wouldn’t give him more power than he already took.

But fate and circumstance turned the tables by giving me the embodiment of everything I hated. Because I did—hate him. I think I still might. But it’s different now. It’s no longer black and white but messy pools of silver and pink.

And it’s… strangely nice. Being seen as I am.

“Hey, Peris!” I whirl around to face whoever spoke. Sierra’s walking by with a few of the other cheerleaders. I throw my hand up in a half-wave with a tired smile.

“Ready for the game tonight?” Lara asks.

“Yeah, totally.”

Sierra scoffs. “Tell that to your face, Baxter.” I flip her off as they walk away and round the corner.

“Peris.” My name is snapped. I blink a few times, watching as the bustling room comes back into focus.

“What?”

“Over here.” Gabe jerks his head toward the hallway that leads to the locker rooms. I follow after him, eyes catching on the door to the men’s room as we pass. I blink through flashes of pink shoes on concrete, wet lips dripping saliva, cum painting bruised porcelain.

“Damn, dude. Where’s your head?”

“Long fucking gone,” I reply absentmindedly. Gabe rears back, coming to a full stop. He whirls around, and the twist of his lips tells me I’m not getting out of this one.

I toss my head back with a groan, pushing my hair back from my face. “Gabe, I don’t?—”

“Mmm, yep. I don’t care. Spill.” He leans back against the white cinderblock wall and crosses his arms. “Or I’m not telling you where it is.”

I pin him with a glare, which is about as effective as punching concrete and expecting it to break. Exasperation floods my veins. The bell is going to ring any minute, and if I skip class, I don’t get to play, and Abel is just so close—“There’s nothing to say.”

“I call bullshit.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“Well, you do now.” His legs cross at his ankles, and the stretch of his tailored, black slacks reveal purple and green socks with tacos on them.

My brows furrow before I snort at the incredulity of it all. I readjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “You were right.”

He blinks. “Of course, I was.” He pauses for a beat. “About what, though?”

I snort and shake my head. “Well, if you don’t know, I’m not telling you. You’re annoying enough as it is.”

A dark brow hikes beneath his mop of curly hair as he watches me pace back and forth. Cool, damp air oozes from the concrete floors, creating a line of goosebumps along the backs of my arms. Gabe doesn’t budge—because of course, he fucking doesn’t. Why must I attract all the stubborn shitheads?

My eyes catch on the black and white analog clock to my left. The second hand ticks closer to the twelve, now only six minutes away from the bell ringing. My gaze darts between the clock and Gabe, two, three times before I throw my hands up.

“About me being the fucking problem, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods. “But why do you agree now?”

A growl rumbles at the base of my throat. “Gabriel, I need to find him, so just fucking show me, and we’ll talk later.” His eyes are hot pinpricks up and down my body, once again catching around my neck. I yank my collar up. “What the hell are you looking at?”

“The scratches, man. Did you even look in the mirror?”

I scoff, even as my face bursts into flames. “Of course, I did. They’re covered.” My molars slam together.

He huffs a breath through his nose. “Yeah… sure they are. Did you think about how they were gonna look when you’re suited for the game tonight?”

“No, not exactly. Now, if you don’t mind…” I twirl my hand around, pushing him to move.

“All right, all right. But I’m commandeering you later.”

“As if I have a choice,” I mutter, following behind him as he takes the stairs to the upper-level track. It’s dark and quiet as I stare down at the gymnasium below. Shiny, golden-brown floors with bright lines of color. The purple bleachers are already extended for the game tonight with banners hanging across the walls.

“You ready for tonight? Got your head on straight?”

I scoff. “Dude, my head is so far from straight it’s not even fucking funny.”

Gabe’s head whips around, a beaming smile on his face. “Please tell me that means what I think it means. It was those pictures, wasn’t it?”

My nails dig into my nape as my eyes dart to the floor. “Don’t fucking talk about the goddamn pictures!” I snap without thinking. When Gabe just blinks, I sigh loudly. “I thought we were talking about it later.”

He huffs a whine. “Fine. Here it is.” He stops in front of a dark gray door, slightly ajar. When I pull back, I notice there’s old, dried gum shoved in the strike plate. My eyebrow lifts. Gabe shrugs. “Been up here a few times myself.”

“To…?”

“Smoke. Sometimes,” he adds quickly at my glare. “When it’s not ball time.”

Great. So, Abel’s probably up here getting stoned—as if he wasn’t completely fucked up just last night. I pull open the door and step into muted darkness.

“I’m expecting a full play-by-play later.”

“In your fucking dreams, Avalos.”

“Ugh, you’re right.”

The door snicks shut as I take the few extra steps to another door and push it open. Sunlight beams across the flat rooftop, forcing me to lift my hand to block the rays, eyes scanning for the perfect, little body.

Smoke curls around his fingers from where he sits—on the fucking edge. Anger and something akin to fear flips inside me, pulling me closer.

“Abel.”

His head doesn’t turn as he dips it in acknowledgement. White hair falls in front of his face, parting around the silver adorning his ears. “Peris.”

“What are you doing up here?”

“What are you doing up here?”

“Don’t answer a question with a question.”

“Why not?”

I part my lips to retort but snap my jaw closed just as quickly. I’m beside him and yanking him back by his hair in a few seconds flat. The joint falls from his fingers to the concrete and rolls around by his feet as he scrambles.

His scuffed shoes scrape over some rocks, arms flailing as he falls back against me. Feeling his round ass rubbing against my thighs while the smell of weed permeates the air sends me over the edge.

I step back while keeping his hair in my fist, smirking as he crashes to the ground. “Ow, shit!” He scrambles, palms scraping over rocks. With a hiss, he tries to pull away, only to be stopped short when I yank him in the opposite direction.

“Feeling a little slow, hm?”

“Fuck off, Peris. Let go of me.”

“No. What the hell are you doing up here?”

His head slowly turns, steel eyes glaring at me over his shoulder. “Are you stupid or just completely unobservant?”

I crouch down, hissing in his face as I expose his throat to the light. His larynx is so sharp as it bulges from his skin, and I can’t resist sinking my teeth into the flesh-covered cartilage. Abel moans pathetically, black lashes fluttering against his gaunt cheekbones.

“Yeah, you like that shit.” His mascara is dark against his bruised skin, lashes so long they skim his eyebrows when they open.

“So do you,” he bites back. “Do you plan on ripping my hair out?”

I glance at my fingers, now blanched from the pressure. I shrug and hum noncommittedly. “Maybe. You’d probably be even uglier bald.”

“Yeah, hence why I have hair to begin with.” Abel pulls against my hold, and I release him. He leans down and swipes up the joint to press it to his lips. I scowl at the cherry glowing brighter on a long inhale. Abel leaves it to hang between his lips as he leans back on his palms, chest extended on a breath he’s holding.

After counting to ten in my head, he finally blows it out in a stream of pungent gray smoke. I watch as it curls in the air before dissipating. Abel’s head hangs back between his shoulders, letting the warmth of the sun wash over his pale complexion.

He’s gotta be cold, clad in only an over-sized hoodie and jeans, but he looks content.

I want to ruin it. Preserve it.

I step forward and kick his thigh hard enough to make him skid. He scrambles to keep his balance, nearly dropping the joint. “Why are you smoking, anyway? I didn’t know you did that,” I ask shortly. “More than the one time.”

“Because I can?” Abel replies just as fast, posing it as yet another question, like I’m some sort of fucking magic eight ball. My molars slam together, and my bag slips from my shoulder, dropping to the concrete with a dull thud. Just as I open my mouth to snap at him, the bell blares around us, sounding hollow and echoey.

The breath blown between my clenched teeth is hot and long. Fingers bite into my forearms as they cross over my chest, valiantly resisting the urge to choke the little brat. Now he’s made me late.

“Is that a problem for you, Mr. Goodie-Two-Shoes?”

“Fuck off. I just mean doesn’t getting high fall a little outside the realm of controlling what you feel?”

“It’s better than the alternative.” he croaks on another inhale. The air feels thinner as I breathe in deeply.

My toe scrapes over dust and gravel, and the gray stains purple. “What alternative?”

A cloud wafts in my direction, making me wrinkle my nose. Abel clicks a lighter on and off. “What do you want, Peris?” The spark of the wheel. A little orange flame. It disappears. He sounds tired, and I don’t know why that makes my heart sink. It’s probably the weed and not because he didn’t sleep either.

“Why are you up here?”

My eyes roll up toward the pale blue sky. Of course, I’ve veered off track. Every time I see Abel and his stupid fucking face, I lose the plot. “Why’d you graffiti my parking spot?”

He rolls the spliff between his index finger and thumb, nearly burned to the end. “We were told to decorate them for the game.”

“With spray paint?”

He shrugs and drags the cherry over the concrete, smearing a black stain. “I like to leave a mark.”

I stare at the dark streak, feeling the inconsequential mark far too deep inside me. “An illegal one.”

“Apparently.” He pushes to his feet and walks to the edge to flick the roach over. Sighing, he drags his fingers through his white hair before dipping down to grab his old, ratty backpack. He tries to walk right past me, and I should let him—I really should—but my arm darts out of its own volition, fingers wrapping around the tiny circumference of his bicep.

Abel’s head tilts down and to the side, staring blankly at our touch with bloodshot eyes. Even though layers of cotton, he’s so hot, he burns cold.

I flex my fingers, pressing deep enough that I know the spots will ache with my vacancy when I remove them. When our eyes finally connect, his expression doesn’t shift at all. I don’t know what I was expecting, but his complete and utter detachment was not it.

Confusion eddies, merging with the hot uprise of offense and something that stings.

“Why the fuck aren’t you reacting to me?” I don’t mean to say the thought aloud, but it doesn’t make sense.

Just last night, he was so vigorous and assertive, forcing his will upon me until I split into fractions. Mewling and panting and moaning with my touch, begging me to fill him up, and now… nothing but this bland apathy.

His deep breath in is more relative to a sigh, and that makes my nostrils flare, upper lip curling as he blinks slowly. “Maybe because there’s nothing for me to react to.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” I demand, feeling hot and tight all over.

Abel pulls back, swiping his hand over his forehead before digging into his eyes. When he drops his arms, his bright red eyes stay on me, at least. “You’re asking way too many questions right now, Peri. It’s not that big of a deal.” His hand twirls in the air in front of him. “We’re not that big of a deal.”

My jaw falls slack at the utter absurdity of his words. Not a big deal? Is he shitting me right now?

“Everything about us has been a big deal since you fucking made it that way,” I snap at his retreating form.

As his long, pink-stained fingers wrap around the silver handle, he glances over his shoulder. “It’s all in your head, baby.” And then, steel slams closed behind him, leaving me alone on a rooftop that aches like him.