Tremble (7 page)

Quarter after quarter, I watch Logan and Gage in equal parts—Logan as the quarterback and Gage as safety. Logan in al his quarterback glamour and Gage caught in the thick of the fight, always looking out for the other guy—protecting. The analogy isn’t lost on me. It tel s our story in so many ways.

After the game, the team runs by, and we hold out our hands as they high five us on the way to the gym. Gage leans in and kisses my cheek when he passes. I see Logan holding up the rear. My heart thumps in rhythm, quaking like the ground beneath me.

I love you, I say as he clasps onto my hand.

In an instant he swoops by, but he watches me until he hits Briel e at the end of the line. I can tel he wanted to say something, maybe add something of his own. But the moment passed, and he disappears into the gym.

***

Clearly I should be mortified at what a stupid, stupid thing I did.

I beat myself up on the way over to the party, sinking low in the seat next to Gage. Gage—who I need to make priority one at our debut as a couple.

“Is Logan going?” There’s not an ounce of longing in my voice. Secretly, I hope he won’t be there. I’d die if he had to watch me melt like butter al over Gage after declaring my freaking love to him during a high five after a footbal game we lost.

“I don’t know.” He leans into the rearview mirror before relaxing back into the seat.

Gage has been bent out of shape ever since he found out El is Harrison’s been running around giving me flowers al night, as he so comical y put it. He doesn’t seem to appreciate the competition, that’s for sure.

“So who’s this Carson person?”

“Carly’s friend from East—cheerleader like you.”

“Oh. Is she pretty?” I’m stil not sure if I shouldn’t encourage Gage to sniff in another direction. I’m not opposed to having him as a boyfriend, but a part of me wonders if I should be playing the part of scary loner, too.

“Briel e knows her.” He rounds his hand over the wheel expertly avoiding the question.

“So do you like her? You like anyone?” It’s a smal tear in the bloated bag of emotions I’ve been trying to maintain al night.

A choking sound emits from his throat.

“I like you.” He glances over at me with a look of wild frustration as if I should have pieced this puzzle together a longtime ago.

This isn’t going to end wel . No one in their right mind can have two boyfriends. Nobody is going to win in this little love triangle of Logan’s own making. Doesn’t he realize my heart is breaking for Gage?

“I like you, too.” I reach over and place my hand on his knee. And I’m going to make sure everybody knows it.

***

Carson, the cheerleader, lives on a perch overlooking the cliffs near Devil’s Peak. I’m fascinated watching the fog swirl in thick bil owy waves around the coast, hugging the cliff side—making it disappear entirely like a skil ed magician. It must have been that way the night they buried Chloe.

An entire string of homes face in that direction. I can’t imagine whoever put her in the ground was unseen, unless of course they were masked by fog.

Bodies file in and out of the oversized balcony, bigger than the backyard I had in L.A.—L.A., where my father burns no matter what I do to try to stop it.

“What’s going on?” Briel e knocks into me with the rhythm of the music.

“Where’s Drake?”

“Looking for a bathroom to puke in.” She swirls her straw in a pink and yel ow colored drink fil ed with glowing ice. “Relax, it’s virgin—like you.”

“Good to know. Hey, at the game tonight there was this real y strange guy with kind of dark blonde hair. He had a black coat on. He was cal ing me, and he kind of did this funny wave.” I hold my hand stiff in the air. “You see him?”

“Nope. Guess word’s out about you and Logan. For sure El is got the memo.”

“Yeah, I’m with Gage,” I say lackluster.

“So where’s he at?”

“Getting me a…” before I can finish, a red plastic cup swoops in from over my shoulder, “drink.”

“Nice. Get him trained early.” Briel e snatches Drake as he’s about to bypass us.

“I gotta go.” Drake clutches at his stomach. We’ve been here less than an hour. He must real y be a lightweight.

“Aww…” Briel e draws her disappointment out with a sigh. “Cal me, kay?” She motions as he pul s her backwards.

“Guess he’s done.” Gage takes a seat on the concrete bench behind me.

I turn around and throw my legs around his waist, facing him. It’s my version of the Carly, as I’ve affectionately come to cal the position.

Although in her defense it didn’t look half as skank because she wasn’t wearing a cheer skirt at the time.

“Hel o to you, too.” His eyes saucer in and out.

I knock back my drink, never once taking my eyes off Gage. I don’t feel much like talking. Time to convince the whole world, including myself, that it’s Gage I want.

Chapter Fifteen

Kiss Me

I lay it al out on the line, slobbering al over Gage like a rabid Saint Bernard.

First, let the record show, I only mildly enjoy it in comparison to Gage himself who, as evidenced by the growing bulge in his pants, is finding way too much pleasure in the situation. The bulge in question is in direct contact with parts of my person that it has no business being in contact with in front of the student population of both East and West high. In case fornicating in public didn’t quite send off the right signals, I openly laugh at whatever comes out of his mouth in the form of a semi-coherent statement. The more I laugh, the funnier he becomes, and the funnier he becomes, the more I want to kiss him—it’s erotic mathematics.

By the end of the night, I pluck him off the bench we molested each other on, for the better part of forever, and pul him towards the exit.

Inside the house, bodies float like dark shadows, their laughter creating an indecent echo. Gage goes off to use the restroom, and I refil my plastic cup with more of the minty lemonade I’ve grown to love.

“Skyla,” a male voice says just above a whisper from somewhere in front of me. I marvel at the fact I hear it at al . It’s as though the room hushed for a moment, and at just the right interval, my name was cal ed.

A dark figure stands in the doorway towards the end of the hal . I gulp down my drink trying to ignore the fact it might be the same freak from the bleachers.

“What’s going on?” El is pops up next to me.

“Waiting for Gage. We’re taking off.” I refil my drink and start chugging in an effort to cut off the conversation. What do I say? Thanks for the flowers? I may have already done that, but at the moment everything about tonight seems a bit foggy.

The figure in the hal way shifts, and a seam of light fal s across his face. I think it’s him, the boy from the water—the dream. His head is down, and he’s got this weird clown-like smile on his face that real y freaks me out. I’m deathly afraid of clowns.

“Who’s that?” It speeds out of me as I point down the hal .

El is looks up to where I’m jabbing my finger. He tilts his head and glances around the room.

“Who is that?” I repeat, snatching at his jacket.

“I don’t see anybody.” He steps in front of me blocking my view. I crane my neck to get another look, but he’s gone. Whoever that was is probably on his way over—probably some Count who wants to kil me, or…

There’s a quick squeeze around my waist, and I jump a foot in the air.

“Shit!” I clutch at my chest. It’s just Gage. “You freaking scared me!”

He holds his hands in the surrender position. El is disappears within three seconds of Gage’s appearing.

I do appreciate that Gage has become a surefire El is repel ant.

***

We make our way outside, and the world starts to spin. The sidewalk shifts to meet my legs, and there’s a distinct dizzying lag slowing down my brain.

On the whirling drive home, I rol the down the window and stick my head out as far the seatbelt wil al ow. The cool, heavy fog col ects on my lips, crystal izes my hair into long frosted strands. My skin feels numb. It doesn’t understand the touch of the icy wind. If I close my eyes too long, it feels like I’m twirling through the air—gyrating, and I wonder if I’m on some time travel default setting. I open my mouth to voice my concern to Gage, and a rise of vomit spikes up in the back of my throat.

“Pul over,” I unhitch my seatbelt and lean further out. I can feel him grab me by the back of my shirt in an effort to keep me from sailing out the window. We pul into a turnout facing the ocean.

Soft subtle waves lap over the rocky shore. The moon sprays out its iridescent glow, flutters over the water like a mil ion dancing butterflies.

It feels good like this—nice and stil as opposed to moving on a sixty-five mile an hour merry-go-round.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.” I land back in my seat. Gage pinches off his belt and turns the radio down a notch. He nods to the music while looking out the window.

Gage and those deep soulful eyes—I want to fornicate for real in the cab of his truck.

I’m going to tel him this, but it comes out a lazy smile instead. He comes at me more than wil ing. Kissing Gage feels surreal, like I’ve waited my whole life to have him here with me. It’s as if I’m heightened to this awareness, and now I want nothing more than to be with him. I run my hands down his chest and dig my fingers into his jeans causing his stomach to contract. I fiddle with his button and take hold of his zipper.

“Skyla.”

I can’t open my eyes. It feels so good to spin like this—so dizzy.

Chapter Sixteen

Spin

“Shit!”

The expletive echoes in my mind like a gong. It takes three tries before my eyelids obey and slit open exposing the confines of my bedroom.

I’m half off the bed, my neck dangling from the side, staring at something…something glossy and wet that reeks like…puke?

“Why didn’t you tel me you threw up?” My mother rushes into my bathroom emerging with a towel.

The expletive in question surprisingly came from Mom, which isn’t altogether abnormal, but she definitely reserves them for the most harrowing of events.

My head hurts—bad. For a second I try to remember if Gage and I were in a car accident last night. They say you don’t feel anything until the next day and mother F, does it ever hurt. I let out a deep meaningful groan.

“Here.” Mom ditches into the bathroom before tossing a damp towel over at me.

It takes al my strength to sit. It feels as though my blood’s been mixed with concrete, and to my surprise, I’m naked. I pul the sheets up to my chin and slink back down a notch.

Think, think…

I have no freaking recal of how I got in bed or undressed.

“What were you drinking?” Her marked irritation gets my attention.

“I wasn’t drinking anything. Lemonade, I was drinking lemonade.” That’s right, I think. I close my eyes and gently rub my temples.

“You weren’t drinking lemonade, Skyla. Drake’s sicker than a dog. Tel me right now, I want the truth. Did you drink beer or any hard liquor?”

Her emerald eyes dart right into me.

“No.” I don’t know what Drake was ingesting. I real y don’t care. “I told you it was lemonade. It had like mint in it or something.”

“Where were you?” She makes a final swipe at the floor with the towel and holds it at her waist.

“Carson, some girl from East. Her parents have a house near Devil’s peak.” It’s like I was injected with truth serum or something.

“Drake says he drank lemonade.” She spews the words out like venom. “I’m contacting Carson’s parents. I’m letting them know they’re responsible for poisoning two of my children.” She walks towards the door taking my vomit-laden towel with her.

“You’re going to embarrass the hel out me.” It hurts to raise my voice like that. My throat feels raw. “It must have been spiked. Probably everyone knew, but me.” Because apparently, I’m special that way.

“Oh, I’m sure it was spiked. I want a formal apology or I’m going to press charges.” With that she storms out and slams the door.

I reach for my cel and text Gage.

You take off my clothes? ~S

Less than five seconds later.

Yes.

My cheeks sizzle with heat. He took off my clothes!

I pul back the sheets and cringe. He saw me naked. Who knows how long he sat there gawking? He probably took advantage of me, or worse—pictures.

I scramble to find my cel , which gets momentarily lost in the folds of my covers.

Fuck you. ~S

Ten seconds later.

You’re welcome.

***

By four in the afternoon, my mother and Tad are on their way over to the Armistead’s house to receive their formal apology and perhaps tel them off in the process. I told my mother I would be asleep the rest of the day. I lock my door and push the dresser over it just enough. Logan’s meeting me up in the butterfly room. I’ve showered and dressed and am ful y expecting him to have seen naked pictures of me, so I’m slightly ticked and mortified at the same time.

“Hi,” I say climbing in and taking a seat across from him.

“Hi yourself.” He tilts his head, narrowing his gaze. I can tel he’s holding back a laugh.

“He took pictures didn’t he?”

“Took pictures of what?” His forehead creases, like maybe he real y doesn’t know what the heck I’m talking about.

“Of me. Naked.”

He straightens. Logan’s entire person revolts.

“Who took pictures of you naked?” He’s good and pissed and it’s safe to assume—nope—he didn’t know.

“Gage?” I’m hesitant to fil him in on the details.

“Why would Gage take naked pictures of you?”

“I don’t know.” I try to shrug it off. “Were you even at that party last night?”

“No.” It comes out curt. “I had to open this morning. Does Gage have naked pictures of you?” He looks simultaneously hurt and horrified.

I don’t think there’s going to be a right answer to this one. Either way, I’m pretty sure Logan is going to beat the crap out Gage later—oops and oh freaking wel .

“Maybe. Someone spiked the lemonade, and I was wasted. I woke up without any clothes on, and I asked Gage if he did it. He said yes.”