Blurring Lines
Authors: Chloe Walsh
Blurring Lines
A stand-alone novel
By Chloe Walsh
Published by Chloe Walsh
Copyright 2015 by Chloe Walsh
All rights reserved. ©
The right of Chloe Walsh to be identified as the Author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright and Related Rights Act 2000.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Blurring Lines
First published, May 2015
All rights reserved. ©
E-book ISBN: 978-1-910817-23-0
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-910817-11-7
Cover photo licensed from Shutterstock Inc.
Editor: Bernadette Kearns
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author acknowledges all songs titles, song lyrics, film titles, film characters, trademarked statuses, brands, mentioned in this book are the property of, and belong to, their respective owners.
Chloe Walsh is in no way affiliated with any of the brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.
The Broken Series
Break my Fall
Fall to Pieces
Fall on Me
Forever we Fall
Twisted Youth Series
Treacherous
The DiMarco Dynasty
DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part One
DiMarco’s Secret Love Child: Part Two
&
Blurring Lines
from Chloe Walsh
Thorn (Twisted Youth #2)
By Chloe Walsh
Awakened (Derek’s story)
By Chloe Walsh
Inevitable (Twisted Youth #3)
By Chloe Walsh
Table of Contents
This
fictional
story focuses on the lives of high school students and contains graphic scenes of sexual violence, promiscuity, bullying, physical violence, excessive bad language, self-harm, rape, abduction, child abuse, and substance abuse. Some scenes in this book may be extremely upsetting for some readers and, due to its explicit content,
Blurring Lines
is recommended for mature readers of eighteen years old and above.
Blurring Lines
has a dual POV, a step-sibling relationship, and
no
guarantee of a HEA.
Warning: This book is not for the faint-hearted and contains scenes of an upsetting nature.
Also, seasons of the year and dates – instead of standard chapters – are used to demonstrate the sections in this novel, and it is written in the
past tense
.
Thank you all for taking the time to read this note.
And thanks to everyone who has read any of my work.
I truly appreciate each and every one of you.
Chloe
x
… Blurred Lines …
“You know that girl in every high school? The beautiful, leggy, popular girl with the loyal group of gorgeous friends and the shiny car? The girl who gets straight A’s and who has a 4.0 GPA?
You know her: she’s the one you see all the teachers smile at, every boy in school leer at, and the girls secretly sneer at. She’s the girl with the best smile, the tightest ass, and the fake-as-fuck attitude. She’s the girl everyone in your class is friends with on Facebook. The one everybody follows on Twitter. And if you’re anything like me, she’s also the girl who has her claws sunk into the guy you like – the guy you secretly, or not so secretly, yearn for.
Do you know her now?
You do?
Well, good; at least we can distinguish that this girl is not me.
Apparently my sex life is a little much for a girl of eighteen years and there are many people out there who would – and do – call me a whore, trashy, and a million other bad names.
The truth is: they’re all right.
I am a whore. I’m
his
whore and I make no qualms about it. And I am a bitch. I’m life’s bitch. I’ve been shat on more times than most forty-year-olds I know.
And sure isn’t there always a reason for people turning out the way they do?
Turning out fucked-up like me?
I know I have a reason.
I have
three years’
worth of reasons. I know most girls in my situation would deal with this differently, but those girls are not me.
I’m me.
Mackenzie Moore.
Warped and transparent.
Secretive and whorish.
So now we’ve established that I’m not the good girl, the popular girl, or the shy, sensitive, beautifully broken girl who gets the hot guy in the end.
Oh, I am broken all right - I am most definitely that - but I don’t give a shit about the rest of it. My conscience is redundant and my moral fiber is all kinds of fucked-up.
No, see, I’m the girl who takes what I want and doesn’t give a damn about the consequences.
You see, I’m the girl who fucks the popular girl’s boyfriend.
I’m
that
girl, and it just so happens that
that
guy happens to be my stepbrother.
And I know that I might not get the guy in the end, but every time Cade Mathews has his cock buried deep inside me is a prize all in itself …”
****
Summer 1997
Age 10
Cade
June 23
rd
, 1997
Age 10
“Cade, sweetheart, come downstairs,” I heard my Mom shout out. “Dee and Mitch from next door are here, and they’ve brought Mackenzie over to play with you.”
Yuck.
I was playing a really important game and I didn’t have time to play with
girls
. Especially a girl whose name sounded like my Dad’s car:
Mackenzie Benz.
Snickering to myself, I continued to march my soldiers over Stink Bomb Mountain.
“Get under cover, men,”
I ordered, as I covered the soldiers on the front line with my hand seconds before the enemy blasted a super-huge exploding ball of fire towards us.
“Water…”
I chanted, covering my soldiers.
“We need water, men … man down …”
“Why are you breaking your toys?” I heard
her
ask … and I hesitated – her stupid voice caused my whole body to tense and my belly to flip. I lost my concentration and the enemy’s fireball blasted into my men.
Game over.
I let out a growl and turned around. My eyes narrowed on the small blonde girl standing in the doorway of my bedroom. She was wearing a yellow string top and light-blue cotton shorts. Her skin was tanned from the sunshine and she had a really cool scab on her left knee that wasn’t there last week. Her hair was longer than that of the other girls in my grade and yellow like the sun, tied back in a braid. Mackenzie Moore had been wrecking my summer since she moved into the house next door three weeks ago. I had tried ignoring her; I had tried being rude; I had tried telling her no, but she just didn’t seem to get the hint.
I think her brain is a little broken …
“You just cost me the war,” I told her in my angriest voice.
Mackenzie’s huge green eyes danced with amusement. “Like Helen of Troy?”
“Exactly, like stupid Helen of Troy,” I shot back. I didn’t want to hang out with Mackenzie. I wished she would get the hint.
Mackenzie giggled and the sound of her laughter wrapped around me, making me feel light and warm. See, that’s why I didn’t want her near me. She made me feel strange inside. It was confusing, and I didn’t like it one bit.
“The face that launched a thousand ships,” she added. I grimaced, and her face broke out in a huge smile. Her smile was pretty and pure, and my belly flipped at the sight.
Damn it …
Skipping over to where I was sprawled out on the mat, Mackenzie dropped to her knees beside me.
“Cool.”
“Cool? What’s
cool
about being responsible for destroying a city?” I was trying to stay mad at Mackenzie, but it was really hard to stay mad at a girl who made the corners of my lips turn up.
“Paris lost the war for Helen,” Mackenzie explained.
I raised my brow.
“Oh, yeah?” I wasn’t dumb. I’d learned all about Paris and Helen in school.
Picking up one of my defeated soldiers, Mackenzie trailed her small fingers over its green plastic body. Her hands were small and girly and looked incredibly breakable.
“You lost the war for me.”
“I didn’t lose the war
for
you,” I muttered. Plucking the plastic solider out of her hand, I tossed it back in the pile with the others. “I lost the war
because
of you.”
“It’s the same difference.” Mackenzie shrugged and the strap of her string top slipped off her shoulder.
“No, it’s
not
. It’s completely different.”
I stood up, shaking my head in frustration, and gaped at the little girl kneeling on my bedroom floor.
“Are you ever going to be nice to me, Cade?” Mackenzie asked, climbing to her feet. She was a good three inches shorter than me, even though I knew we were the same age. “Because I was hoping we could hang out—”
“Listen, I don’t know what my Mom has told you, but I don’t hang out with girls,” I snapped, taking a step backwards. I was flustered and nothing about this girl calmed my nerves.
She stepped towards me, determination evident in those jewel-green eyes.
“Why not, Cade?”
I took another step away from the little blonde hellion invading my bedroom – my personal space – and held my hands up to ward her off.
“Because girls are weak and whiny and annoying as hell.”
“Cade Mathews,” Mackenzie folded her arms across her chest and scrunched her pretty nose up in distaste. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. I am
not
weak.”
I let my eyes trail over her delicate frame. “Shuuuure you’re not,” I drawled.
Her eyes flashed with challenge.
“I bet I can pitch a tent faster than you,” Mackenzie said, poking me in the belly with her small pointy finger. “I bet you I can run faster than you and climb a tree higher.”
The competitive streak inside me roared to life.
“You really think you can beat me?”
“Uh-huh.” Mackenzie smiled. “One hundred percent. But you have to promise you’ll be my best friend for life if I win.”
“Really?” Something fluttered inside of my tummy. “You want to be my friend that badly, huh?”
“I have a good feeling about you.” Mackenzie smirked, and extended her hand to me. “So, do you accept the bet, Cade?”
I took her hand and shook it firmly.
“Yeah, I do.”
****