they disappear forever. “It's Devils' Day, Barron Farrar.”
He looks down at me, clearly trying to puzzle out my motivations as I dig my fingers into his rainbow-dyed hair, fingertips teasing the shorn sides of his head and the dark hair there. He has EKG lines buzzed in on either side, like the lines on a heart monitor.
Like everyone else at Crescent Prep, he was sent away for failing to comply with his parents' wishes. I don't know much about the Farrars, other than that they own a series of superstores similar to Wal-Mart, with an online shipping business that's up-and-coming. The rumor is that Barron threw a Molotov cocktail through the front window of their flagship store during a drunken bender mid-freshman year. That's when he showed up at Crescent Prep, climbing from the back of a white limo with a red lollipop between his lips, sketchbook tucked under his arm.
Raz, Calix, and Sonja took him in right away, and within just a few weeks, he was one of them. A part of the fucking Knight Crew.
“It is Devils' Day,” he agrees, biting my lower lip and sucking it in between his teeth. “But I also don't want a baby, do you?”
“I've got that taken care of,” I lie, rocking my own hips up and against his pelvis, encouraging him to keep up the not-so-dry-humping we've got going on. “And I'm clean.”
“You've only slept with Calix?” Barron guesses, not entirely inaccurately. If this had been the real Devils' Day, the first one in this never-ending timeline, that'd be true. Technically, I only slept with Raz in a dream, right? I nod my head and Barron chuckles. “He got tested twice after that, neurotic fuck. So you should be good.”
“And you?” I ask, wondering how he knows about that, and why Calix got tested twice. Was he concerned that I'd given him something? He knew I was a fucking virgin. Also, apparently a big mouth. It's quite clear he kept almost nothing about our encounter a secret. Not that it matters, considering there's a video floating around out there now, too.
“Me?” he asks, his eyes bright as he lifts the red leather devil's mask up and then off of his head entirely, tossing it aside. Baring himself to me. He looks tough, but I imagine his true feelings, the ones he keeps so carefully locked away, are as fragile as the wings of those dead butterflies. It’d be so easy to grind them into the dirt beneath my feet, but he’s lucky: I’m not like him, and I’d never do that. “My parents make me get tested every six months, whether I like it or not, whether I've had sex or not. But are you really going to trust me when I say that?”
“It's Devils' Day,” I repeat again, using my legs to pull him closer. Our mouths slant together, like two pieces of flint, striking hot, starting an ember, edging into flame. The corset-like bodice of my dress is attached to the full skirts; it takes Barron a moment to figure that out and he curses. Sitting up, he grabs hold of the waist part of the dress and tugs on it, sliding it over my breasts, my stomach, my legs, before tossing the garment onto the blue-covered cushions on the pews.
I cross my arms over my breasts, hiding my nipples from Barron's assessing gaze.
“I just ate your pussy out, Karma,” he says, and I groan, closing my eyes in frustration even as Barron chuckles at me. “What do you think hiding those perky nipples of yours is going to do for either of us? Don't you want me to touch them?”
He leans forward, putting a palm on either side of my face, waiting for me to open my eyes and look up at him. I can smell him now, this mix of fresh sweat and a woody aroma that brings to mind a fresh case of charcoal pencils, just waiting to be sharpened and put to the page. That's something that he and I have in common that neither of the other boys does: we're both artists.
“Have you ever drawn these?” I ask, my voice getting huskier, darker, thick with need. Slowly, I draw my hands away, so Barron can see the small but full mounds of my breasts. His mismatched eyes take them in hungrily, and I have to bite back a gasp of surprise when he drops his mouth to them and takes the right nipple between