can matter.
Emily
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Or why I’m doing it.
Or even how, for that matter.
I just am.
Maybe it’s to rebel against my pre-ordained destiny. Or to flip the finger to my parents. Or to steal from Mason all the things he doesn’t want and that I don’t want to give him.
He’s a boy...
That’s just the way it is...
And so is the person kissing me now. Can I be blamed when he’s just doing what boys do?
A thousand excuses and explanations roll through my head, one after the other, a parade of them, complete with dancers, and floats and large balloons that people fight to keep under control in turbulent weather.
I’m angry, and I don’t know why it matters now. I’m desperate, which is why my fingers curl over shoulders wider than mine. I’m turned on because I’m letting someone touch me when I know I shouldn’t.
Damon or Ezra.
It can be either of them, and I’m not sure I care right now.
Because this isn’t about the boy. It’s about me taking back what destiny and family obligations have stolen.
A low sound vibrates in his throat when I pull my lips from his and tilt my head. It’s all the permission he needs to run those lips down the line of my neck, to flick his tongue over the taut tendon. I shiver against the new sensation, caring more about rebelling than who this even is.
I should care which twin I’m with.
I want to.
This entire thing started with Ezra, but I don’t really know him. We haven’t talked much beyond the secret moments we’ve stolen, haven’t done more than kiss and touch, his hands greedy and mine demure. I haven’t let his fingers explore places they shouldn’t, haven’t yet crossed that line.
Except now, when his hands slide up the outside of my thighs and my skirt is pushed higher, my modesty snaps back in place, my heart thumping hard before I finally stop him, my mind screaming the same thought over and over until it volleys from my throat.
“Stop. I do care.”
Amber eyes trap mine so fast and fierce that my breath catches in my lungs. He dips his head in that feral way he always does, bringing us to eye level while still somehow hovering over me.
I watch the corner of his mouth tug up.
“Why?”
“I just do. Who are you?”
A wicked glimmer brightens his eyes for only a second. “Ezra.”
“Promise?”
He nods his head, his fingertips tracing lines down my thighs, teasing the skin.
I can’t help it. Jealousy roars through me, wild and unfettered, and I have no idea where it came from. I have no right to be jealous, but I am.
Maybe it’s because I have no experience with this. Or maybe I’m placing too much importance on a boy who gave me my first kiss. I’ve heard that happens. I just never understood it until now.
“Were you just with Hillary?”
Before he can answer, the door pops open, a line of soft, yellow light seeping in to break up the heavy shadows in our dark room. Ezra’s head snaps in that direction, his jaw tight, his body going frighteningly still.
I don’t know who’s at the door, nor do I care when I see for the first time the pattern of an ugly bruise on Ezra’s neck and shoulder, the dark blue-black stain dipping down beneath the collar of his shirt.
Without thinking, I grab the fabric and yank it down to see the shape of a handprint, four distinct fingers leading to his collarbone that I trace with my own, the touch snapping his attention back to me.
“Who did that to you?”
Anger flashes in his eyes, that and something else I can’t name. He pushes away from me, but I step forward to yank at his shirt again and see the damage.
I’m not even thinking, I just feel so full of fury that someone - anyone - hurt him like that. It’s visceral, this feeling, as if I have some claim on him that gives me the right to be mad. I barely know him, and already, I want to shelter him from some unknown danger. I want to stand in front of him and rage at whoever believed they could touch him without my explicit permission.
And really, how ridiculous is that? The twins fight for the fun of it, but I’m still livid at the idea that a person believed they had the right to hurt him back.
They say redheads have fiery tempers, and judging by what I’m feeling now,