“See you later, Palmer,” Marek says over his shoulder as he follows Breaker.
There’s no way to know how I’m meant to feel. One thing I’m certain of is how domineering Marek is. He asks, and I hand over. There had been no uprising while he’d decided how I’d be spending my evening. Instead, I stood silent, agreeing with everything he said. He knew it, too. He’s also not the only one.
Frustrated with myself and my inability to hold my own ground, I jam my notebook in my bag and head down the steps for the door.
Byron blocks my exit. “He’s into you, Palmer, but you and I both know you aren’t the girl for him. You’re not built like Reed.”
“You don’t know what I’m built out of, Mr. Decatur.” I shove my shoulder into him, clearing a space for my body and dignity.
Though I stupidly choose to spend time with Marek, that choice doesn’t automatically give the rest of them permission to thrust themselves into my life. I’m not like Reed in that regard.
“Palmer,” Byron calls out. The heavy fall of his expensive loafers hit the tiled floor as he jogs towards me. “Here’s a note for your next teacher. You’re going to be late.”
“Excuse me?” I snap the letter from his hand. Sure enough, it’s a tardy slip.
“You’re going to want to head to your dorm and get dressed.” He smirks, proving his arrogance with the lift of a brow. “Quite the view from the whiteboard, Palmer.” His eyes skim to the front of my plaid skirt. “Not as if it’s something I haven’t already seen, but still a nice treat for my morning.”
“You put such a sour taste in my mouth sometimes, Byron.” I twist on my heels, attempting to escape.
“And you taste like candy on my tongue.” At the want dripping from his disgusting compliment, I check over my shoulder to catch him shrug. Subconsciously, I cover the front of my skirt, knowing damn well he’s been between my legs.
I groan heavily, not trying to hide the disdain and displeasure this man brings out of me. All he can do is smirk.
Heavy steps carry me away from him in a fit of anger. I slam through the door, needing to put space between us. Every time he looks at me, I’m disgusted with myself for ever falling for his charm.
Out in the fresh air, I’m able to take the full breath I’ve been needing.
I spot Dixon leaning against a brick half-wall, his eyes dead set on me. His lips don’t pull up in the corners. Looking every bit of a threat I’m afraid he is, he may as well be made of the stone his foot is propped on.
I twist my neck from side to side, expecting to see Marek and Breaker close by, and I’m confused by the rush of irritation when I don’t.
For whatever reason, these four boys have become far too concerned with my whereabouts. With slow steps, I continue down the path that leads to the dorms. I check my surroundings twice to find the gap between Dixon and me hasn’t changed. He follows me at a safe distance until I click my pin number and slam the door behind me.
With my back against the metal, I release the breath I’m holding.
I’m certain of a few things.
Dixon is a puzzle I’m not sure I want to solve.
Byron is an ice-cold son of a bitch, unable to melt a fraction.
Breaker is becoming someone I trust.
Marek is thawing me out, and my intentions for being near him are blurring faster than I’ve ever expected.
The one thing I’m not certain of is what I mean to them.
Chapter Eight
Marek
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Delaney says under her breath as if we can’t hear her. I’ve heard quieter gun shots.
Didn’t these girls’ parents ever teach them a damn thing about self-preservation and safety? They shouldn’t be following us into the woods, and yet, I hear their footsteps close behind.
“You don’t think they’d kill us, do you?” Palmer asks. She doesn’t try to mask her question. Her boldness makes me snicker. This girl is something else.
“What do you think’s in the backpack?” Delaney whispers, a hint of worry in her tone I’m sure is making Breaker hard as cement.
“You ever hear of the myth of these woods?” Breaker’s eyes cut to me as I stop walking. He hands over his bag.
I bend down and unzip the large compartment, feeling the cool glass bottles.
“Yes.” Delaney walks towards Breaker, leaving Palmer alone.
“I’ve never . . .” Palmer whispers, watching me as I remove the liquor. From where she’s standing, she strains to see them.
“The myth is that, back in the eighties, four teenagers came out here, got raging drunk, and only one of them came out alive.” I stand with a fifth in my hand. “How about we see which one of us makes it out tonight?”
“My money’s on me.” Delaney jerks the bottle from my hands, twists the top off, and takes a long swig.
“I knew there was a reason why I liked you.” Breaker stoops down and throws her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. She squeals, beating on his back with her free hand while she takes another sip.
Palmer watches her best friend with a disapproving frown for entertaining Breaker. If you ask me, it’s sort of the pot calling the kettle black.
Once they’re out of sight, Palmer’s face softens, and she turns her gaze, searching every inch of me for something.
“What, Palmer?” The leaves and sticks snap under my feet as I take a step towards her.
“You aren’t good for me.”
She’s right about that.
“I’ve been trying to tell you that, and you’re just now figuring it out?” I grin, studying our surroundings. “Now, of all places, when I have you all alone in these woods?”
“I’m realizing my mistakes.”
“Pleasure or pain?” I thumb my bottom lip, enjoying the rapid rise and fall of Palmer’s chest.
“What?” She shakes her head, unsure what I mean.
“Which cries do you want to fill these woods with tonight?”
“You wouldn’t hurt me.”
Haven’t I, already?
“You sure about that?” I need this girl to see me for who I am. At least then, I can live with the things I plan to do. “I’ve hurt people before. Some out of necessity. Some by accident. Some for, let’s call it, fun.”
“You won’t hurt me, Marek,” she says with such confidence.
“What makes you so sure?” I shut my eyes and tighten my hands into fists, working hard to control myself. “A part of me really wants to.”
“Pleasure.”
Fuck. “What?”
“You asked me what cries we should fill these woods with, and I’m choosing pleasure.” She marches up to me, running a finger down my chest.
“What if I choose pain?” I wrap my fingers around her wrist and clench them against her soft skin.
“A lot of pleasure with a little bit of pain never killed anyone, now did it, Marek?” Palmer bites the corner of her lip, letting me know she wants me.
That’s all I need. I twist Palmer around and pin her chest against the unforgiving surface of a tree. The bark bites into her flesh, feeding me her whimper. She doesn’t complain, though, welcoming whatever I’m willing to do to her body. I grip her hips, digging my fingers into the flesh above her waistband.