8. Peris

I made it twenty-four hours.

One fucking day.

And now, I think I’ll wring his little neck.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me!” I bark as Abel rounds the corner, disappearing down the hallway. The heavy thump of his pink fucking shoes over the carpet tells me he’s making a beeline for his room.

Typical of the little brat after toying with me all damn night. Again and again and again. Day after day. For weeks.

Months.

Feels like an endless cycle of forever, and I’m sick of it. Of him. Of this supposed power he thinks he has over me. I’m gonna make sure he knows he doesn’t have shit.

Even if he does.

I catch up to him just as he reaches his bedroom door. My fingers clamp down on his shoulder, yanking him back and forcing him against the wall. His head smacks into the drywall, and his darkened lashes flutter, drawing me in closer. The closest we’ve ever been.

My breath hitches, sharp and heavy, as my upper half curls instinctively around him, accommodating our size difference. The smallest flicker of hesitation in Abel’s eyes pulls out a spike of pained pleasure in the form of a hiss.

With my chest against him, his chin digs into the contracted muscles just below my clavicle. It’s a sharp pinprick—his touch, his skin burning with heat.

It”s suffocating.

I’m suffocating. But it’s not enough.

My skin repels touch, blood simmering but yearning for more.

And Abel doesn’t see anything but his own selfish fucking impulses. “Oh, so because you know I’m eighteen now, you’ll fucking touch me? And I’ll walk away from whoever the fuck I want,” he spits out, chin raised indignantly as he presses his hands to the wall at his back, fingernails scratching along the drywall.

My hand raises of its own volition, fingertips grabbing at that crooked fucking chin. Abel hisses, jerking away. I tighten my grip, digging in until his eyes crease with a wince.

Fuck, that’s nice.

Not so tough now, are you, runt?

My brain freezes for a second, lagging to catch up to the moment.

Hmm, yeah. Runt. I like that.

“Not me,” I reply, lifting his head until Abel’s eyes are forced to meet mine. He scoffs, big lips pursing and twisting into an ugly smirk.

“‘Not you?’” he mocks. “You are absolutely no exception.” My lips twitch with their own smile. Something just as ugly.

It’s been impossible to resist his endless torment. Weeks of teasing glances and taunting comments. The sly remarks, nearly… I swallow the burn of vomit creeping up my throat.

There’s nothing about me to expose. It’s fine. It’s all fine.

I have this—and him—under control now. I can do this and… and not fuck everything up like he’s trying to accomplish.

And now that I finally have my hands on him, I see right through it—all the confidence and attitude. All of his prose and pushing.

He’s just as fucked up as I am.

I lift his chin until the cords of muscles and tendons must be aching under the tension. His throat rolls, sharp cartilage bobbing.

I think I want to sink my teeth into it, just to see how hard it is.

“Then tell me why you can’t seem to leave me alone,” I rasp softly, lips inches from his. His breath coasts over mine—hot, wet. It’s coming out faster, labored. Smelling of sweet candy.

My mouth fills with saliva, wanting to know how they’d taste as I lick their flavor from his tongue.

“Because.” He licks his lips, sharp, gray eyes peering at me through heavy lids. “I like seeing homophobic jocks like you break.”

I rear back, and my stunned reaction is more than enough to let Abel escape my hold. He walks away and quietly shuts his door as if the last two minutes never happened. Like I didn’t just have his bony little body pressed against mine, his breath fanning directly into my mouth.

Like his tongue wasn’t stained rainbow, and I couldn’t not see it.

“Fuck!” I shout, fist slamming into the drywall directly where Abel’s head just was. I pull back, chest heaving as I stare at the hole I just made.

White dust speckles my hand. Chunks of drywall litter the floor and hang from the vacancy I created.

“Fuck,” I sigh, quieter this time as I drag said throbbing fingers through my disheveled hair. I tug at the roots, but even that pain is dull in comparison. My hand drops to the back of my neck, and that’s where I leave it as I pull my phone out and hit call on Ma’s number, blinking through the sting in my eyes.

Better to get it over with while she’s not home.

“Peris, is everything okay?” she asks hurriedly.

“Yeah, Ma.” I clear my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you, I just…” I wince and turn away from the mess I made to grab the vacuum.

“What’s going on?” It’s quieter now, like she stepped into a different room.

Just get it over with. “Put a hole in the wall, in the hallway. I’m cleaning it up. I’m sorry,” I spit the words out fast. It’s not the first time I’ve made this call. And it’s definitely not the first time I’ve put my fist through the wall, but it is the first time in years—since I “got better.”

Except I never fucking did. I just got good at pretending.

“Are you okay?” she says after a moment. My feet stop, inches away from the vacuum.

My throat is closed so tightly, I can barely rasp out a harsh, “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I sigh.

“Do you want me to come home?” I can see her face in my mind—eyes crinkled with worry, soft hands clasping mine, uncaring of the mess and destruction. Always focused on me.

I wish I wasn’t so fucked up—she doesn’t deserve me like this.

“Nah, Ma. I’m okay. Was just…” I trail off, uncertain of what I can even say. I’ve got to get over this shit with Abel. I can’t be around it, but I can’t avoid it.

What’s right anymore? What’s the right fucking choice?

What the fuck am I supposed to do to keep everyone happy? All the while, the little fucking runt keeps at it. Pushing and pushing, just hoping I’ll snap—like that would actually be a good thing! Fuck, I was so close…

“Peris?”

I shake my head and drop it back between my shoulders. The lights above cause multicolored lines to flash behind my closed lids, and I follow their swirling path. “Just memories, you know.” A good enough explanation as any, I guess.

“Did something happen to bring them on?”

“Nuh-uh. Just one of those days, I guess. I’m tired.”

“Okay, baby.” She accepts my answer easily. “Do you want to call Dr.—”

“Nope,” I rush to interrupt her, eyes now open, muscles tense all over. “I’m good, really. Was an accident. I’m getting it cleaned up.”

There’s a long pause with only static shared between us. Muffled voices filter over the line. “I’ve gotta go, but thank you for letting me know. I’ll call the contractor tomorrow.”

“I’m really sorry, Mom.” I blink away the sting in my eyes, refusing to let them fall. But I can feel it all starting to slip away.

“Don’t be, Peris. It’s okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”

“Love you.” My phone slips from my hand, clattering to the floor. Probably broken and shattered.

I don’t even care.

My eyes have never stung so much in my fucking life. Sleep evaded me, never once even coming close enough to touch.

Digging the heels of my palms into my eyes, I lean back against the table, listening to the rush of lunch. Spraying water, clacking trays. Feet scuffing along the squeaky floors.

“Hey, dude. You look like shit,” Corbin tells me very informationally as he plops down next to me, jostling the table. I peel open one eye to glare at him.

“Yes, thank you. I didn’t fucking realize.”

His lips pucker before he turns away to shove the slice of pizza into his mouth. I glare with disgust before turning away to drop my head into my hands, fingers massaging my temples against the sleep-deprived migraine pulsing away.

“Seriously though. You look like death.” This time it’s Gabe commenting. Awesome.

I don’t respond.

“Hey, Peris,” Sierra says as she walks past the table. I glance up and nod my head.

“What’s up?” I ask when she pauses. Her painted nails tap along the side of her tray.

“Just wanted to ask if you’re still good to go with volunteering.” I blink slowly, brows furrowed.

“For…?” I ask after a minute. Gabe elbows me in the side, making me grunt. I scowl at him, and he just shrugs—the asshole.

Sierra laughs softly at our usual antics. “The fundraiser for the PTA.”

“Oh.” Shit, I forgot. I shake my head a few times, trying to clear the fog. “The carnival, right. Yeah, I’ll be there.” I catch Gabe’s expression, which makes me roll my eyes with a snort. “I’m running the ring toss, right?”

She smiles. “Yeah! It’s this Friday. Everyone’s gotta be here by five to set up. Starts at six.”

I nod, already losing myself to the noises around me. “Sounds good.” And to be an ass, I add, “Gabe will be with me, too.”

“Awesome.”

“Hey!” he shouts as Sierra walks away before turning toward me. “I don’t want to deal with kids all night, Peris,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, me either, dude. So now, we’ll suffer together.”

With a sigh, I drop my head, rolling it between my shoulders. All the racket is too much, too loud. Clanging and bouncing around inside my skull. Jesus, I can’t get the sounds out of my head. Or that dude. His white hair, piercing eyes. Those fucking crooked teeth revealed in a smile.

And then, it all goes quiet. The muffled chatter of many voices quickly cuts off into a ringing silence that”s even more piercing. I glance up through my fingers, finding the entire fucking upper class at a standstill as someone walks through the opening of the lunchroom.

I shoot upward, heart in my throat as my eyes follow him. Over his pin-straight, white hair. Sharp, crooked jaw. Baggy clothes that belong in the fucking y2k era along with his head full of silver jewelry and pink fucking Converse—stained and scuffed from head to toe.

He doesn’t glance at a single person as he strides toward the lunch line, which is now empty. He grabs a bag of chips and hands the lady money before striding back across the common room to find a place to sit—a place directly across from me.

I swallow and look around. Eyes still linger on him, whispers persisting, slowly working back up to full volume. He’s unperturbed as he rips open the bag and shovels a handful into his mouth. Lance Garner, who he sat beside, strikes up a conversation like they’re friends. And just like that, it’s like nothing happened.

But… something did.

“Who the fuck is that?” I ask aloud, not exactly meaning to.

“Uh, I think his name is Abel,” Gabe answers with a mouthful of food. I grimace at him. He’s a fucking animal.

“Yeah, he’s new. Foster kid,” Thomas pipes in.

“When did he enroll?”

“Beginning of the school year, buddy,” Gabe replies sarcastically.

“Then, why am I only just now hearing about him?” I ask. “It’s not like this school is that fucking big.”

Thomas shrugs. Gabe lifts a brow, and Corbin shovels more food into his mouth. “Probably because you’re so self-absorbed.” Gabe cackles.

I keep my face deadpan. “You’ve got jokes today.”

“As opposed to every other day?” He snickers.

“There’s been rumors that he sells sex for money,” Corbin interrupts—a little too fuckin’ loudly. My right eye twitches, and I glance up, already knowing in my gut what I’m going to face.

Abel is looking right back at me, those silver eyes still just as piercing as they were the night before, even without the darkness of shadows. I swallow as my teeth gnash together until my jaw aches and screams.

It’s really him.

My eyes drop, following the line of his hands as one disappears into the bag, emerging to bring a salty chip to his full mouth. I watch his lips part, a flash of his wet, pink tongue. A tongue I saw sliding inside someone else’s mouth last night.

No… not just someone.

A guy.

Fuck. Could it be the dude he’s sitting with? My eyes rove over Lance, but I can’t recognize anything. He was too deep in the darkness. I would probably be able to discern his moans. They’ve been playing like a broken record all night, all morning, but there’s no way in hell I’d ever admit to that, let alone?—

My eyes slide over, meeting Abel’s blank stare head-on. I don’t mean to. I try to look away. To break the seemingly impenetrable connection, but I’m locked in tight, his virility strong and impossible.

Plump, pink lips curve, forming the essence of a word I immediately hate—and know that feeling will remain for the rest of my fucking life.

“Hello,” I read from his mouth, followed by a perfunctory kiss pressed into nothing but air.

Breath is punched from my lungs, leaving me bereft and helpless.

Fuck.