Anger simmers in my gut as they walk off. As soon as they’ve gone to their room, I rise to my feet, pulling Alis to his feet. Taking his hand, I guide him up the stairs and into his room. I would have taken him into my shower, but I want him to smell like himself—limes and sweetness—not whatever the fuck I smell like. I need him to wash away the horror of the day and bathe in normalcy.
I shut his bedroom door and lock it. I’m not taking any chances. I strip out of my clothes and find Alis standing beside the shower, dazed. My fingertips graze down his spine, making him shiver. Once I get the water started, and steam begins to fill the bathroom, I tug off all his clothes.
We remain quiet as I lead him under the hot spray. His arms wrap around my middle, and he rests his cheek on my chest. An overwhelming sense of relief washes over me, cleansing away the stress and worry from the day. Having him safe in my grip settles something deep inside me.
It’s fucked up.
The whole situation.
Our dads won’t understand.
Neither will Mom or Carrie or the kids at school.
It makes me want to shove Alis into the passenger seat of my Challenger, fill the tank up, and drive north until we’re somewhere people don’t know us. Where there are no expectations or anyone to disappoint. We could just be two guys who once hated each other but now simply don’t.
He’s my Chibi.
My opponent. My challenger. My counterpart. My conscience. My everything.
As the water rains down on us, I wonder if there was ever a time I thought Nae was my everything. Naomi was there for me, and I loved her and cared for her. But I never saw more with her. Not a future…just a present.
With Alis, I dream. A lot. Of possibilities. Fantasies I want to come true. A life beyond the now. I think of sharing a space with him. Making his brown eyes sparkle to life as I gift him pieces of himself and of me to prove to him home is where he makes it.
I dream of us.
Not boyfriends. Not stepbrothers. Not even friends.
More.
But every time I began traveling down that mental pathway today, I was jolted with horrifying images of loss. When Dad received the call from Quinn at the hospital, I thought I’d be sick. I’d even dry heaved.
Because I thought something happened to him.
I’d heard the words shooter and blood and Alis.
Dad assured me he was okay, but I’d been tainted by the what-ifs.
After living months and months filled with pure anger, stewing over the dissolving of my family, I’d finally found something that brought me joy. Him. And then it felt fragile and temporary.
“You’re trembling,” Alis says. “Is your mom going to be okay?”
I stroke my fingers through his wet hair and then clutch onto it, tugging his head back until he’s peering up at me. Cradling his jaw with one hand while my grip is still on his hair, I slant my mouth over his, desperate to taste the realness of his lips—to feel proof of his existence. To taste the reality that he’s mine.
He whimpers as my tongue dominates his, eager to kiss away all the bullshit we’ve dealt with today and replace it with something that feels good.
“Canyon,” he murmurs, pained brokenness in his voice that cuts me deep. “Why? Why did he want to kill me?”
“Shh.” I nip at his bottom lip hard enough he yelps. “Be quiet, Wonderland.”
His eyes fill with tears, and his body shakes. I grab the soap that smells like limes and coconut and him and begin scrubbing away the crimson evidence of the attempt on his life.
“Canyon…”
“I said quiet.” My voice sounds robotic as I thoroughly wash him from head to toe, focusing on cleaning him so we can forget this ever happened.
“Canny.”
I wince at the way his voice cracks. My eyes sting, and my throat hurts from the emotion clawing up inside me. Gripping his shoulders, I push his back against the tile wall, grinding my hips against his.
“No words,” I whisper before crashing my lips to his.
With just my tongue and teeth and needy moans, I answer all his questions.
Bad people don’t need a reason.
They’re monsters.
Enemies.
But I won’t let it happen again.
I won’t.
Not sure how I’ll make good on that promise, but I swear to fuck I’ll die trying.
He responds to my physical reassurances by submitting to me with a soft, masculine groan that sets my soul on fire. I tear away from his lips and drop kisses along his jaw and down his neck. Sucking the flesh, I mark him with claiming bruises. With each scrape of my teeth along his skin, he quakes as though the ground beneath him is shifting. I keep him held up with my powerful body pinning him to the tile wall. Desperation has me abusing his neck with my mouth, hungry to kiss away all the terror and uncertainty.
This thing between us is anything but uncertain.
It’s a real, breathing beast of passion that aches to be released.
He tilts his head back, exposing his neck even more to me, showing off the proof of who he belongs to. Seeing all the bright red splotches I’ve made with my mouth on his skin calms all the raging parts inside me. Knowing they’ll bruise and turn purple has pride blossoming in my chest. I slick both my hands up with the soap and then toss the bar back on the ledge. Taking both our cocks in my hands, I stroke us at once, loving the fuck out of his ragged breathing. My lips find his again, and I kiss him less brutally than before. He digs his fingers into my shoulders, fucking my fist like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, trembling with need. “I, fuck, yes!”
The heat spurting from his body feels hotter than the water raining down on us. It sets me off, drawing my own need from my dick almost effortlessly. Our dicks twitch in my hands until we’re both spent.
Dark, mahogany eyes bore into me like I have all of life’s answers stored deep within me. Words that have no business leaving my lips nearly escape. I chase them back by kissing him with enough force and eagerness that I’m surprised he doesn’t crack his head on the tile wall behind him.
The things I feel for Alister Sommers are too intense. Too fast. Too reckless and wild.
All today managed to do was turn a slow-burning ember into a full-on forest fire.
We’re an inferno now, and there’s no putting us out.
By Monday, life tries to continue on as normal. As though my mom and my secret boyfriend both didn’t almost die the same weekend. Everyone at school laughs and chatters, oblivious to how Alis’s and my lives have been irrevocably altered.
Every time I see a couple taking for granted that they can publicly display their affection, it pisses me off. By lunchtime, I’m ready to punch someone. Being forced to watch Alis eat lunch with his friend Leon and now Nae while I was stuck listening to Cain brag about his weekend conquest had my blood boiling
But it’s Gage who sets me off.
The guy’s been a douchebag for weeks. I can handle his stupid remarks, though I want to knock his head off for any aimed at Alis. Nothing, though, compares to the fury that explodes within me to see him flirting with her.
My fucking sister.
Carrie laughs at whatever he says, but the salacious grin he gives her has me seeing red. I charge for him, shoving him hard against the lockers as soon as I reach him. He slams into them, losing his footing only a second before he shoves me back. People yell and cheer around us. My sister shrieks, calling me a colorful string of insults.