Devils' Day Party: A High School Bully Romance - C.M. Stunich Page 0,72

length of his shaft, until he's shuddering and bucking his hips up, spilling himself in me yet again today.

We press our sweaty foreheads together for a few seconds before I slide off, lying slumped and sated in the pillows next to him.

“I've always wanted to dye my hair,” Raz says, his eyes half-lidded. He turns to look at me, frowning again. The smell of oranges and fresh sweat tickles my nostrils. It seems I just like … the smell of him? I shudder briefly, closing my eyes for a moment.

When I feel his fingers in my hair, I open my eyes in time to see him pull my mask off and toss it aside.

“What are you going to do with me tomorrow?” I ask, knowing I should take a more proactive role in all this, but understanding that it's likely I won't get to see what tomorrow will ever be like. At the very least, Pearl won't be dead, and I won't be going to jail for one of the most heinous things I've ever done.

“I don't know,” Raz replies honestly, the sheets pulled over his crotch. He lifts one knee up, his other leg straight out in front of him. His expression is as fierce as ever, his eyes breaking with a wild storm. It'll never be easy for me and Raz, but we can take steps forward. We can change the way we look at each other.

But what if … I can only change the way one of them looks at me? Calix or Raz.

Or Barron.

I can't forget that he sent me a necklace …

“I don't know, but I'd be lying if I said I'll be able to keep my hands to myself.” He cants a look my direction, sharp mouth curving into a rare smile. “If you don't break my nose again, that is.” I smile back, scooting tentatively closer until he hooks an arm around my shoulders.

The way I feel being pressed against Raz's body is honestly terrifying. He's every awful, ugly, broken thing I never wanted. He's as sharp as a devil, just as tricky. There are evil parts inside him that should make me hate him. And they do. But he also makes it so that I like the jagged bits of him.

This boy is going to bleed you dry, Karma Sartain.

“If I'd walked up to you this morning, thrown my arms around your neck, and told you I loved you … would you have hugged me back or thrown me to the ground?” Raz hesitates for a moment, but then he wraps his arm tighter around me and pulls me closer.

“I'm not sure,” he replies hesitantly, but there's enough doubt in his voice that I decide to give it a try. Because my own special version of tomorrow will be here before you know it. “I'm also not sure we've ever had a conversation that's lasted this long.”

“Non jamais,” I reply, and he grunts in annoyance, his exhale ruffling my tangled hair. “We haven't.”

“Then let's talk. What's it like to live a hideous little trailer with dykes for moms?”

“It's …” I pause for a moment to consider, ignoring his homophobia for a brief moment—exposure and education can cure that. “Fucking wonderful, actually.”

“How?” he asks, but the question doesn’t sound as awful as it could. So we talk. We talk until the sun peeks above the horizon and the clock on the nightstand reads 4:22 in the morning.

That's the last thing I remember.

And then … there's blood all over my steering wheel.

Nothing lasts forever.

That is the nature of beautiful things.

“Are you fucking insane?!”

Calix pulls me out of the car and pushes me up against it. I let him do it, my mouth etched into a deep frown, my head feeling like a balloon, ready to float away into the rainy sky.

“Not today, Calix,” I murmur, reaching up to push his arms away from me. He doesn't budge, but his ebony eyes do narrow as I lift my suddenly heavy face up. From weightless to impossibly heavy in an instant.

“Not today?” he barks back at me with a sharp, dark laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me, Karma? You crashed into my car.”

A moan escapes me as I collapse forward. This time, for whatever reason, Calix catches me. He throws me up into his arms, holding me against his chest with a frown.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

My heart picks up speed as the woman in the yellow shirt with the daisy nails approaches, leaning