Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #1) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,101
bad was pretty goddamn dramatic, but I think Cal’s might be worse. He was always small and shy, huddling up next to Vic on the playground. But whoever that Callum Park was, he’s gone now. In his place, there’s an entire person made of up secrets and shadows.
I bite my lower lip for a moment, inhaling and finding Cal’s talc and aftershave scent mixed with the fresh bite of sweat. Why is it so hot when guys have that fresh sweat smell? I mean, after a while, sure, it’s not so sexy anymore, but when they’re warm and that tattooed skin is moist …
I shake my hands out, and Callum’s smile turns into a grin.
“Did you really get throat punched by a member of a rival gang?” I ask, and one of Cal’s blond brows goes up before he laughs, that smoky chuckle making me shiver.
“Nah. No chance I’m letting some gang banging asshole touch my throat.” Callum draws a line across his neck with a blue-painted fingernail. Pretty sure that’s his favorite color. He chuckles again and shakes his head. But from what I can remember, his voice used to be this angelic whisper. I get that he’s gone through puberty since, but still, that voice of his is so husky and dark. Something must’ve happened. He taps his fingers against the side of his neck. “Is that the rumor going around Prescott?” I shrug. We both know that it is. Cal leans in and puts his mouth near my ear, the soft, pink curve of his lower lip brushing against my lobe. “You don’t like my voice?” he asks, that husky sound curling around me like smoke.
“I love it, actually,” I say, turning so that his mouth brushes my cheek and we’re staring right at each other. Cal barely talks to me, but not like how Aaron ignores me. It’s obvious Aaron is avoiding me, and we both know why that is. But Callum … he may as well be a stranger.
“Sometimes pain is pretty, to the people who have too much of it,” he tells me, and then kisses me on the cheek. “You’re gorgeous, by the way.” Cal pulls back and heads up the stairs toward the bathroom, leaving me gaping after him and trying to figure out what that last comment just meant.
Pain is pretty. And I’m made of it.
Hael appears from the direction of the laundry room a moment later, reeking of marijuana and soaked in sweat. He grabs two beers from the fridge, offers one up to me, and then leans against the counter, the bare skin of his arms covered in little green pot leaves.
“Trimming is simple work but tedious work, fuck my life,” he groans, downing the beer. I'm not a hundred percent sure what, exactly, trimming is. I take it to mean he's trimming pot leaves off the plant.
“Why are they so … sticky?” I ask as I move over to him, peeling one off of his bicep and finding that even that simple touch between us ignites that fire in my body.
“Dunno, science-y shit. More crystals and terpenes or something. Now you know why good weed's called sticky-icky, huh?” Hael pauses as Aaron comes out of the laundry room, closing the door behind him. There's a bathroom just off of it, and on the other side a door to a poorly converted garage. I mean, there's drywall in there and a carpet over the cement, but it's cold as hell and still feels like a garage. I remember because Aaron and I used to fuck in there sometimes.
He sees me there with my fingers still resting on Hael's arm, and it's like every emotion in his face goes dark all at once.
“I'm gonna shower.”
“Cal's in there,” I say and Aaron groans, grabbing a beer and then slumping to the floor of the kitchen. It smells like pot so bad in here. I wonder if the neighbors can smell us down the block? I wouldn't be surprised. Good thing weed's legal in Oregon now, although I imagine the boys are growing and selling it in illegal ways …
I draw my hand back from Hael, and I refuse to think about his dick in my mouth, or me riding him in his Camaro … Fuck. So much for that. It’s all I can think about now.
Victor appears in the doorway to the kitchen as if summoned, this dark shadow that makes me shiver. I don't look at him, sipping my beer