In an instant, he’s moving toward me like I need saving, and I feel myself get seriously irritated.
Yep, it’s definitely that time of the goddamn month.
And right after I went to all that trouble to take the pregnancy tests.
“I’m on my period, Aaron,” I tell him dryly, watching as he comes to that realization on his own a split-second before the words leave my lips. “I get really heavy ones sometimes; it’s not that big of a deal. I mean, for your sheets it is. But not me.”
He hesitates about a foot away from the bed, still stuck in that strange limbo we’ve had between us for years. Are we something or not? Was it just a casual fuck … or not?
“Do you need help?” he asks, eyeing me with a morbid curiosity.
“I mean, you could shove this shit in the laundry?” I suggest, wondering if I’m taking whatever it is we’ve got going between us too far, too quick. Cute first-time boyfriend shit like shyly helping your girl with her period, we’re past that. I’m two years too far beyond getting a bouquet of tampons by a well-meaning high schooler. “This is weird, isn’t it? It’s freaking weird. Just … get out.”
Aaron surprises me by laughing. He buried a girl in the woods last night, has dark circles under his eyes … and he’s laughing. Guess he meant what he said about trying to find happiness wherever you can, whenever you can. I can see how and why he changed so quickly. The old Aaron probably vomited at the sight of his first body and fell into shock for days. That old Aaron would never survive this, would most definitely not be able to laugh.
“It’s no big deal, Bernie. I know what a period is; I’ll throw the stuff in the wash.”
I narrow my eyes on him, but now that I’ve asked for help, I decide I don’t want it. I’m going to have to run for that stupid toilet, blood running down my legs, dripping across the floor … The last thing I’d ever want is for any of the Havoc Boys—Aaron included—to see me in that state.
I’m Bernadette Blackbird, leather-wearing, face-smashing bitch from hell.
That’s the persona I want. This is too real for me. Honestly, it’s freaking me the fuck out. I’m pretty sure I have intimacy problems that I need to work through.
“Aaron, screw off,” I say, trying to keep my cool as much as possible. Anyone that tells you that women are irrational freaks on their period is probably a misogynistic douche, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy having blood all over me and cramps that hurt like a punch to the gut.
“Stop that crap. I’m here to help. Where did you put the tampons and shit you bought?” He crosses his arms over his chest, like he intends on standing there until I tell him.
“Downstairs,” I grind out and he nods, disappearing out the door while I scramble to get to the toilet. Unfortunately for me, Oscar is in the bathroom when I get there, and I groan. He’s brushing his teeth at the sink and pauses to look my direction with a face painted in abject boredom. When he sees the blood all over my crotch, his expression shifts slightly.
“I can see you need this more than I do,” he says calmly, spitting into the sink one last time before he quickly rinses it and puts his toothbrush in a case. I try not to judge, but who the hell takes the time to put their toothbrush in a snapping plastic case twice a day? It just isn’t worth the effort.
Oscar goes to skirt past me, but as he does, a strange thrill passes over me, and he pauses right beside me, our bodies jammed together in the doorframe.
He’s tall, much skinnier than Hael or Aaron or Vic, but with long, lean muscles that move viper-quick in an altercation. I’ve seen him fight before, when he curb stomped that kid outside the school. I’ve also used a stun gun on him and watched as he grabbed my arm and electrocuted me, too. I ended up on my back on the ground, twitching, as Oscar stood stoically over me.
He’s inhuman.
I move into the room and slam the door behind me. Seeing as the lock is broken, I don’t bother with it, climbing into the bathtub with all my clothes on and shivering as I wait for the water to warm up. Blood swirls down