And God knows Chloe has more to fear than losing her tresses.
***
Chloe shows up while the ‘rents are still hammering out the finer details of the hair affair.
“With all of this bitching and moaning, I’m beginning to feel right at home,” she says it low, for my ears only.
“Soon, you’ll be the one bitching and I’ll be the one moaning,” I quip, eyeing an entire row of bright red suitcases behind her.
“Correction, you’ll be the one bitching about how you lost all trust in Gage, and I’ll be the one moaning. And believe me, it won’t be you evoking that pleasure-filled response in me. Would you like to guess who that certain someone might be?”
Ethan walks by and belches for effect.
“I hope he gives you rabies,” I hiss.
“More like scabies, and you’re wrong again. Think Oliver.” She glides into a smile of faux sexual satisfaction. “The feelings I have for Gage are mutual. Does that scare you, Skyla? Does it frighten you to think it could be me wrapped in his arms forever?”
My stomach cinches when she says the buzzword. Have I shared that with her before? Good God, had he?
“The only thing that frightens me, Chloe, is that you keep lessening the six degrees of separation in our lives.” And something tells me she won’t stop until she takes over my body. Knowing Chloe, that concept is very much on the table.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Skyla. I happen to hate living alone, and I do enjoy your family. Too bad you’re in it.”
“The nice thing about you shacking up with Ethan is…” I sharpen my gaze on her. “Oh wait, there isn’t anything nice about it. I don’t appreciate you using any member of my family. Get your own damn family, Chloe. For that matter, why don’t you just shack up with the Olivers?” Immediate regret sets in before the words have a chance to settle in the air.
Crap. With my luck, Emma would welcome Chloe with open arms. I seriously hate this backward version of my former life, a.k.a my new reality.
“Well…” She sighs. “I’d better get settled in.” She motions behind her at the army of angry suitcases as if she expects me to schlep them to Ethan’s room for her.
“Good luck.” I blink an irritated smile. “Hope you break a leg.”
“You say that to actors, stupid.”
“You’re so fake, I think you qualify.”
She pulls her head back and barks out a laugh.
Mom sweeps by on her way upstairs and cuts us an approving look. “It’s so nice that you girls get along.”
Chloe steps in as my mother drifts down the hall and shouts, “Oh, Skyla and I get along infamously.”
Infamously is right.
I lean into Chloe once my mother is out of sight. “I bet that’s how this relationships ends—infamously.”
She turns and gives the curve of a wicked smile. “You can bet your foolish little ass that’s exactly how it’ll end it. I’ll take you down so horrifically they’ll chant about it in the schoolyard while skipping rope. People everywhere will shudder when they hear your name. I’ll be sure to off you so grotesquely the entire Western Hemisphere will gawk at your misfortune on the Internet news between checking their emails and hopping on Facebook. Isn’t that exciting, Skyla? You’ll get your fifteen minutes. You’ll be the star your father always knew you’d be.”
I connect the open palm of my hand with her cheek in one swift blow, and my flesh stings from the sheer velocity.
She draws her fingers to her face, stunned that I had the balls to slap her, on this, the first night she’s a paying guest in our home. Chloe reaches for a suitcase behind her and starts wheeling it toward her new living quarters.
She pauses and turns back. “Chloe Bishop took an ax and gave Skanky Skyla forty whacks. And when she saw what she had done, she gave her family forty-one.”
A tingle of fear rises through my spine as Chloe cackles her way into Ethan’s bedroom.
Chloe Bishop is certifiably insane.
And dear God almighty—I do believe she’s going to kill us all.
***
Not one to waste time where revenge is concerned, Mia quickly pulls a chair into the middle of the kitchen where Mom suggests the “mane” atrocity take place. Both Mom and Tad run upstairs to avoid the carnage, and I’m left to supervise my scissor-wielding sister while Chloe gleefully watches from the sidelines.
“Just a trim,” Melissa snaps. Her fingers are pressed to her forehead from the stress of it all.
She should have thought about how shitty the payback was going to be while she was busy hacking off my sister’s beautiful golden locks. All Mia is left with is a bunch of fuzz in the back and a few long strands framing her face. Come to think of it, she might be able to get away with a bastardized ponytail. She should totally replicate the effort on Melissa and they could both wear lopsided “retribution ponies” for the next few months. Before I can make the suggestion, Mia scoops up Melissa’s dark hair and starts in with a quick cutting motion until it disconnects in a jagged line at the neck.
“Crap, Mia,” I hiss. “It looks like a rat gnawed her hair off in her sleep.”
“What?” Melissa shrieks.
“Relax!” Mia barks, “I’m going to fix it. It’ll be cute. I’m sure by the time summer is over, every girl at Paragon Intermediate will be wearing the same stupid look.”
I doubt entitling Melissa’s new, slightly unbecoming hairstyle as a stupid look is the best idea while her victim is still patiently waiting for the torment to end. Call me crazy, but I’m not entirely sure spitting out the phrase I’m going to fix it while seething with anger is a selling point either.
“Sit still,” Mia instructs as she circles around to the front.
“No bangs.” Melissa yelps. “Not fair, I didn’t give you bangs.”
“Shut up, would you?” Mia pinches up her hair in the front and holds the scissors even with her eyes. “I’ve told you a million times you need to hide that hook that hangs halfway down your forehead. “I’m doing you a favor.”
I’m with Mia on this one. Bangs would totally be a good look for Melissa—in theory.
Mia continues snipping and cutting until Melissa sports the most geometrical haircut known to man—if only it were straight. It’s so damn choppy, Melissa’s going to have to run, not walk, to the nearest beauty salon to rectify this catastrophe.
“Cleopatra called.” Chloe snipes to the helpless Landon. “She wants her haircut back.”
Melissa’s mouth drops open and she runs upstairs with one long wail expelling from her lungs. Mia runs after her with the scissors still firmly planted in her hand. Obviously, safety rules such as running with scissors have been overlooked in this household, as were the dangers of running with your sister’s boyfriend, who, by the way, I really blame for this entire hairy mess.
I swat Chloe on the arm. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that if you don’t have anything nice to say, you should keep your mouth shut?”
Chloe would be vying for the world record in silence if she ever implemented that rule. I should have kept her coffin shut. That would have saved a whole lot of heartache.
Chloe scoffs. “My mother wouldn’t waste her time on stupid maxims like that. She focused on much more honest truths, like, if you see something you want, go out and get it. That’s what I do, Skyla. I get what I want.”
Gage fills the silence between us like a ghost.
That might be the first truth to ever come from Chloe Bishop’s mouth.
Chapter 23
The World at Your Feet
In the cool of the evening, as I audition high heels for my date with Logan, I get a text from the other, much less tolerable yet, disturbingly desirable Oliver—Gage.
I had a dream about you. A vision. I would really like to share it. Can I see you tonight?
I stare at the words an inordinate amount of time.
My heart yearns to see Gage, to know what his dream was, what it might mean, bu
t I don’t answer. I’m just not ready to listen to whatever excuses he’s come up with. I can see it now, Gage opening his mouth and an entire stream of lies pouring from him like water from a fire hydrant knocked off its base. And yet, something in my soul leans toward Gage like a wilted flower begging for light. My entire being misses his attention. I wish I didn’t. I wish he and Chloe would hook up for good and get the final phase of this spectacular heartbreak over with. I just need to get over Gage once and for all and put this misery behind me.
Logan texts that he’s downstairs, so I head in that direction.
Mom and Tad and a bouncy blonde congest the entry.
Isis, the slithering niece of Detective-I-don’t-solve-crimes-I-mastermind-them Edinger, has arrived. Her boobs look like they’re allergic to her body because I swear they’re swelling right out of their casing, and eww? Why is she wearing Daisy Dukes and barefoot?
Mom clears her throat. “Izzy here is conducting an informal couple’s survey tonight.” She blinks at me with a note of disdain. “It’s casual.” She nods as if answering my question.
“It’s Dr. Edinger.” Isis is quick to correct before drilling her finger into Tad’s belly button. “But it’s Izzy for you!” She titters with an animated, slightly orgasmic spasm of delight.
Holy shit. She is freaking insane. And judging by the look on Mom’s face, she’s arrived at the same conclusion.
“I’m going to step out for a while.” I jump out onto the porch. “Have fun.”
“You have fun—for all of us,” Mom whispers before shutting the door.
I will.
Right after I stop wallowing in all of this misery.
***
Logan and I drive for what seems like all eternity before we finally arrive at the Falls of Virtue. We pull into the parking lot and take in the glassy black lake with a sliver of moonlight dancing over the surface. A precipitous fog closes and opens over the expanse like a curtain.
I take up Logan’s hand as we make our way down to the distal end of the reservoir, away from the chaotic rush of the falls.
I have my bathing suit on underneath should the need arise to dive into a freezing body of water. If Logan wanted me to, I’d dive off a cliff—naked. I’m so happy he’s still around, still my Elysian, even if it does bring him pain.
“I can’t believe it’s been so even keeled, no rain in weeks,” I say. “Just white milky clouds, mist in the morning and at night. I like Paragon’s version of summer.”
“Right after the Fourth of July, it takes a turn for the worse.” He gives my hand a squeeze as though it were an analogy of what’s about to happen to the two of us.
We stop just shy of the tiny marsh that connects to the lake and take a seat on a nearby boulder. I kick my heels against the rock, and the sound echoes for what feels like miles. A few people are shouting and laughing over by the falls, but not a sign of anyone I recognize.
“Ellis is having a party,” Logan says, straddling my legs. He sweeps his hands around my waist, but there’s a distant look in his eye with hurt layered underneath.
“And in other non-news.” I pull him in by the T-shirt. “Ellis is always having a party.” I whisper it sultry right over his lips.
“Ellis is a party.” Logan blows the words over me as if he were going to finish his thought with a kiss, then retracts.
“No, it’s OK.” I pull him in soft by the neck. “I want to be close to you.” I almost added, “again.” The truth is, I crave Logan. I crave the pure blossoming love we had before Gage was injected into the picture.
“Skyla.” He looks down as if he were mourning. Something is off. Maybe Logan Oliver has finally lost his desire for me.
“Logan.” I pick him up by the chin. The reserve of moonlight captures his features, holds them hostage like the carving of a brilliant work of art. “I want everything we had back.”
“It will come back. I promise you this,” he assures. He takes in a breath that goes for miles before relaxing into me. “Just not now.” He puts it out there in a mournful whisper. “Not for a while anyway.” He comes in close, so close I can feel the heat radiating off his face.
“Kiss me.” I breathe the words like a song. I’d pull him in and press all of the starvation I feel into him with wild abandon, but I need for him to want it too.
He shakes his head, barely noticeable.
“Yes.” I’m startled by his reluctance.
“You’re not over him.”
“Are you going to make me beg?” I laugh and the sound of my voice ripples across the water. It ricochets off the hillside just south of the lake—sounds like a frightening cackle when it returns.
“Never beg me for anything, Skyla. I’d give the moon if you wanted it. I’d shred it in a blender and drink it for you if it would make you happy.” His eyes glint a burnt sienna. Logan is sublime in every way, a prince, a lover, my earthly savior.
“I beg of you to kiss me, Logan Oliver, so now you’ll have to comply.” I lean forward and pucker.
“Comply, I will.” His elongated dimple inverts where I sliced him. “But before I do—I want you to know, I really think you should hear Gage out. You love him, and he loves you. I know your feelings didn’t just up and disappear. I’m still in this for your heart, Skyla, but not like this, not when I know you and Gage are long from over—that the faction war still rages.” The theoretical end of the war is the cap of my relationship with Gage according to Logan, or at least his tolerance of it.
I open my mouth to refute what he’s said, tell him that I hate Gage with everything in me and that I could never love him again, but I can’t bring my tongue to carry out the treason.
“Kiss me, damn it.” I pull a bleak smile.
His chest rumbles with laughter. “One day, I’m going to love you until you’re delirious.” He caresses me at the waist, and an explosion of lust goes off like a bomb through every cell of my body. “When it’s just you and me, there will be fire in the air. Forget the moon. The ocean will pull to our magnetism. We’ll control the tides with our love. Do you believe me?” He winces as if my answer has the power to hurt him on the most intimate level.
“Of course, I believe you. But why wait for someday when what we both want is staring us in the face?” I lean in farther, trying to seduce him with my words, with my cleavage.
Logan drops to his knees and looks up at me with a reverence reserved for deities.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Skyla.” He plucks off my heel and holds it in the air. He gives a wicked grin before dropping it behind him and plucking off the other one. He picks up my right foot and kisses the tip of my toes, picks up my left and repeats the effort. He looks up with a long expression. “The Counts have it all backward. You’re my everything. I’m your slave, your servant in every way.” He scoops my feet into his hands and settles his lips over my ankles a very long time. Logan remains still—lost in his worship. The thought of interrupting him frightens me. He pushes back with a sigh. “I’m going to love you—every part of you. It’s just not my time.”
I hop off the rock, fall to the ground, and hold Logan as if the entire world were disbanding around us. I wish he weren’t right. I hope he’s not. I don’t think it’s fair that Gage steals anymore of my life than he already has.
The night settles its dew over us as we embrace each other near the still end of the lake.
I wish I were over Gage.
I wish today was the start of a tangible future with the first boy I ever loved.
“It comes,” he whispers.
“I can guarantee you it will.” I’m quick to assure.
I can also guarantee Gage will prove to be a tremendous obstacle despite the fact he swallowed my heart and vomited it out all over Chloe Bishop’s feet.
Chapter 24
Party with the Lights Off
Logan and I decide to head to Ellis’s after all.
We walk hand in hand past the overgrown fountain with the lazy lions that le
nd themselves as the climax of Ellis’s opulent circular drive.
Fog presses down over Paragon, cool and welcoming. Three days in a row of seventy-degree weather and it feels downright balmy.
Dream. A voice echoes from the forest in triplicate, and I jump into Logan’s chest as if he were my own protective hedge.
“That’s you-know-who,” I hiss. There is no way in hell I’m going to call Ezrina to myself by forming the letters of her name on my lips.
“Ezrina!” Logan shouts as if he’s about to flag her down and invite her into Ellis’s hotbed of carnal infections. I swear at any given time, there are at least thirteen different STD’s mutating into new exotic strains that are undoubtedly resistant to the most potent elixirs modern medicine has to offer. Not even the scientific community can keep up with the contagions brewing in those bedroom laboratories.
“What the hell are you calling her for?” I yank him by the elbow when all I really want to do is rattle his skull.
“I’ve got some business to take care of.” He washes over me with those citrine lenses. There’s a painful smile on his lips as if he’s about to make a supreme sacrifice. “If I’m not back, maybe Gage can give you a ride home,” he says it sweetly, forlorn, as he takes up my hand.
“No thanks. I’ll catch a ride with Bree, Drake or Ethan.” I’d walk before I graced that lunatic’s truck with my presence. Heck, I’d hitch a ride on a train bound for the tunnels and give an artery or two at the office, or leave all four limbs with Ezrina before I get within spitting distance of that abnormally gorgeous abomination.
My stomach cycles with a bite of heat, at the thought of seeing Gage tonight.
Logan holds our conjoined hands up, amused at my psychotic ramblings, and I shake my head as an apology.