“Yes, yes, yes!” was hollered from upstairs, a familiar voice, while a definite male voice groaned.
I leaned back against the rest, then slung my legs over the edge of the breakfast bar. The torture of hearing two people fucking each other’s brains out was nothing new to me, not in this house, anyway.
It wasn’t long before one of my housemates entered the kitchen, looking fucking pleased with himself.
He stopped dead when he saw me lounging with my hands behind my head. “Fuck, Quinn, you scared the shit out of me.” Layton scratched the back of his head. “How long have you been back?”
I lazily checked my watch. “Oh, about five minutes.” I smirked at the discomfort on his face, his eyes wide and a guilty as fuck smile.
“I didn’t hear you,” he replied, opening the fridge and pulling out two beers. He handed one out to me, but I shook my head.
“I guess you wouldn’t have heard my bike with all the noise coming from your room,” I replied, pumping my brows.
Layton’s expression shifted, relaxing into a careful grin. “Yeah, she’s a bit vocal.”
“Really?” I asked, then laughed. “I never would’ve guessed.”
Layton walked over, then sat on the stool next to me, reeking of sex and strong perfume. I was nauseated by the potent stench and needed a shower to get rid of it. I knew where he’d been, and I should’ve warned him, but he’d known from what had happened that he’d made a massive mistake.
“So, where did Josh get off to?” he asked, tugging at the heavily creased T-shirt he was wearing. “He came back but left a few minutes later. He said you were probably going to be gone until dinner.”
I noticed the slight shimmer of glitter ground into the pale-blue fabric, a reminder of a mistake I’d made and lived to fucking regret. I was wasted at the time and didn’t remember it; Layton was stone-cold fucking sober. I shrugged. “Don’t know—he never said. I don’t keep tabs on him, ya know?”
Layton placed his bottle on the surface, swallowing a mouthful of beer. “I just thought you’d know. God, what the fuck’s up with you?” he asked, holding out a hand.
I dropped my legs from the counter and leaned toward Layton. His face paled, and I moved closer—so close that I could hear the gulp when he swallowed hard. “Nothing the fuck’s up with me,” I said, keeping my tone low. I kept eye contact with him when the sound of footsteps crept down the stairs. “Why does there have to be? I guess there should be after the shit you said after the fight.” The door opened, and without breaking away my stare, I called out, “Bye, Phoebe!”
Layton was the first to drop his eyes, his head dropping down and shaking a little. “It’s nothing,” he began to explain. “We’re just having fun.”
I stood, then headed out of the kitchen toward the stairs. “Why do you think I give a shit?” I asked, stopping in the doorway. “Fuck her, fuck anyone, I don’t care.” It’d made perfect sense why she was hanging around Layton’s RV, right where I’d seen her.
“Even Kinsley?”
I stopped and spun around. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, yeah,” he sneered. “I saw you eye-fucking her today. If you don’t give a shit, then I’m sure you won’t mind me parting her sweet thighs.”
I rushed him, grabbing his T-shirt and dragging him off the stool, right to my face. He stared into my eyes, his dark irises small against the large whites in his widened lids. “I don’t know why, but if you’re trying to piss me off again, then keep going. I don’t care who you try to fuck, actually fuck, or otherwise. So sure, go ahead, take your chances with Kinsley. Just know that I warned you, okay?”
I shoved him back, his T-shirt ruffled and more creased than before.
“Warned me?” He huffed. “She yours?”
I let my head fall back, then laughed loudly. “Fuck, Layton.” I shook my head and wagged my finger at him. “You’re a stupid son-of-a-bitch sometimes.” I walked out of there, still laughing, knowing he’d be standing there wondering what the hell I’d meant. He’d see, though.
As I took the stairs to my room, his words ran through my head. ‘She yours?’
I had to speed up my timeline because if he made a move after what I’d set out to do, he’d be a dead man.
Chapter 4
Kinsley
“It’s called The merging of The Horde,” I said to my art professor. He studied my screen, scrutinizing every damn detail, or lack of. “See here?” I pointed to the mass of people I’d edited, making their faces blur to nothing, and their bodies to blend together to make it look like one giant, multi-colored gummy worm about to take over the college. “One person is blended to the next, then to the next and so on, making them one huge mass.”
Except for one.
“Is that what you see?” he asked, looking from my screen to me and back. His face was a mask of worry like I was a crazy person for even suggesting this was art.
“It is,” I replied. “Everybody’s going through the motions, the mundane, the grind of getting through college and hoping to break free from the insanity once it’s over.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin with his fingertips while crossing his other arm over his body. “Although I don’t share your opinions on college life, Kinsley, I do understand why you would come to such a conclusion.” His fingers moved to the multi-colored tie hanging from his neck, decorated with paintbrushes. “They appear to be joined together, a collective body, a group that can’t be distinguished from one person to the next.” He straightened, a smile forming on his thin mouth, making his neat mustache curl up at the ends. “Needing to be part of the crowd, while also needing to break free from the crowd…” When I nodded, he added, “Excellent work, Miss. Jensen.”
I saved my work, happy that my vision was seen just as I’d intended. I opened my next project and studied the image in front of me.
“Hey, Kinsley?” Colby said from his desk a few feet away, gladly further than my regular classes.
“Yeah?” I turned to him and saw he was completely facing me, his arm slung over the back of his chair.
“So, I think we got off to a bad start. I apologize if I weirded you out on your first art class here. I meant no harm.”
I shrugged. “No worries. I apologize if I was a little too harsh.” And I was. God, I was awful, but the gnawing inside me wouldn’t go away, and the more people prodded it, the more hostile I became. I had to at least attempt to rein it in, or risk getting a stomach ulcer.
“Nah,” he said with a snorted laugh and a huge grin. “I was the one gawking. You don’t know me, and it was rude of me to stare.”
Where’s this coming from?
“Apology accepted,” I said, offering a tight smile, then turned back to my screen. I could still feel his eyes on me, though, and I twisted to the side to glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, he hadn’t moved.
He held his hands up. “Sorry, just thinking about something.” When my eyes narrowed, he continued. “I was just wondering where you’re from and why you transferred this late.”