Author: Cheryl McIntyre

“You have no idea how much I’m prepared to offer you.” Her tongue skims along the outside of my ear before she sucks the lobe into her mouth. With her this close, I can hear the small squeak that escapes as my hands shoot out and grip her waist.

I turn my face in so I can whisper into her ear. “Then give me a clue.”

She laughs softly, but not enough to hide the nervous tenor. “I thought I was.”

We pull away enough to look at each other, but the amount of space between us is minute. Intimate. I give her my best smile, and wink. “I’m a slow learner. I may need more to go on.”

“Oh, for the love of all that is holy,” Guy grumbles.

“Seriously,” Chase grunts. “Get a freaking room already.”

“They just came from a room,” Annie says flatly.

Hope drops her forehead to my chest. I laugh as I run my fingers down her bare arms. Her skin is hot and smooth. Just this simple, innocent touch has my heart thumping wildly.

“I would say it’s cute if it weren’t so nauseating,” Guy sighs and shakes his head. But he’s smiling, making me wonder if he actually approves. He winks at me before leaning his head back to look at the sky.

“Yeah, well, Park isn’t going to think it’s cute,” Chase says matter-of-factly. “He’s going to kick your ass, Mason. And I’m not saying that to be a dick.” He shrugs his shoulders slowly, a sympathetic expression on his face. “It’s just fact. He’s going to be raging. Hard core.”

Hope lifts her head, steadying a glare on Chase. He holds his hands up in defense. “You know I’m right, Hope. Hell, he flips out when guys look at you, let alone...” He waves his hand, gesturing at us.

I feel my body go rigid. I don’t know how to react to this. I figured there might be issues. But the way Chase talks, it seems like Park is going to be more of a problem than I anticipated.

“Park won’t flip out,” Hope says quietly.

Annie laughs loudly. “You are in serious denial, Hope.” She rolls her eyes at the raised brow she receives. “You know when other guys are around and Park keeps touching you, and hugging you, and kissing you? Well, he’s telling those guys that you’re with him, without actually saying it out loud. He’s going to flip. And it isn’t going to be pretty.”

“But I’m not with him. I’m not with anybody.”

Guy stands up, straightening his dark jeans. “I’ll take care of Park,” he says. “But I just want to know exactly what I’ll be taking care of him for.” His eyes dart from me to Hope. “I mean, what is this? Do I tell Park you’re seeing both him and Mason? Or are you just seeing Mason now?”

Good question. I turn my gaze on Hope. She curls her hands into fists in her lap. A muscle twitches in her throat as she stares at the ground. My stomach aches as I wait for her to respond. I want to know where I stand as well. I don’t want to share her, but I’ll do it. God this is so messed up. I cannot believe I am willing to do that. But I knew she had a fear of commitment. And I haven’t asked her for one, so it’s not like I can complain. Ugh. But the idea of his lips touching her now since mine have...it makes me sick. I want her to myself.

Slowly, Hope raises her eyes to meet mine. She stares at me for so long, I don’t know if I should say something or not. I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and bite it. Choose me.

Hope lets out a breath, long and slow. She looks at Guy, her eyes settling somewhere on his chest instead of his face. “Don’t say anything to Park right now. What I do, and who I do it with, is my business.” She stands up and brushes her dress off. “I’m going to change.”

I watch her walk away. When my attention focuses back on our circle, everyone is looking at me. Thanks a lot Hope. “Can I get a ride, Guy?”

“Yeah. No problem,” he murmurs. “I, uh, don’t drive. But Chase can take us.”

I find Kellin snuggled up next to Misty on the porch swing and wave him over. “We’re leaving.”

His brows crinkle and he frowns at me. “I thought we were staying the night.”

“We’re not. Chase is taking us home, so come on,” I say. And I hate the sound of my voice. I hate that I’m pissed off. I hate that my chest burns and my throat feels clogged like I’m about to choke. None of this should bother me. None of this should matter. So, Hope wants to see both of us. So what? So, Park’s hands will touch her body. So, his mouth will be on hers. So fucking what?

“I don’t want to go. I want to stay,” Kellin whines.

“Just get in the fucking car, Kellin. DAMN IT!” I shout. He flinches away from me and I close my eyes tightly. Why am I such an asshole? This went from being one of the best nights of my life, to being...just shit. But it isn’t Kellin’s fault. He waves to Misty and stalks toward the driveway.

Guy rides along, sitting in the backseat behind me. Chase keeps the music down and I sense I’m about to get a lecture or something. Maybe they’re going to tell me to back off their friend’s girl. I’m not in the mood. I just want to go home, punch something, and go to bed.

Guy clears his throat and sits forward. Great. Here we go. “Don’t give up on her,” he says. That’s not what I was expecting. I turn around so I can see him, read his expression. His face is passive, giving nothing away.

“What?”

“She does this,” he sighs. “She will do shit to push you away. It’s just another one of her stupid tests, but I don’t think she even realizes what she’s doing. You’re good for her, Mason. She’s happy when she’s around you. She said you make her feel normal and that’s huge for Hope. I’m telling you not to give up on her. Don’t let her scare you off because I think you two could have something good.”

Um, wow. “Isn’t Park supposed to be your best friend? Why are you telling me this?”

Guy and Chase exchange a look in the rearview mirror. “He is my best friend, but so is Hope. She told me she likes you, but liking you is scary for her. She’s had a hard life. Things you can’t even imagine. I love the girl more than I can explain and if you’re the one that can make her feel like that shit didn’t leave a permanent mark on her, then I’m rooting for you.”

“What kind of shit?” I ask, my voice scratching my throat. My fingers tighten into fists.

Guy glances over at Kellin. “Shit I can’t talk about. Shit no one should have to talk about.”

I look at Chase. “Do you know?”

He sucks in a breath and holds it for several seconds before releasing it in a rush. “I’ve pieced some of it together, but no, she’s never told me.”

“And this shit, is it what caused her aversion to relationships?”

Guy nods slowly. “Some. Most.” He leans back and pinches his eyes shut. “Hope has an aversion to love. She says she doesn’t believe in it. That people can’t romantically love each other unconditionally.”

I rub my face. “So, what exactly do you suggest I do? Let her see us both?”

“For now,” he agrees. “Park won’t be able to handle it, he’s had her all to himself for too long, but if you’re the one who sticks it out...” Guy lets the sentence float between us.

“You’re giving me a headache.” I heave a sigh, turning my attention to the window. I press my head to it. “I like her. Way too much honestly. I just need to decide if she’s worth all this.” It’s a flat out lie because I already know she is. I also know I’m going to go along with what she wants. And I’m pretty damn sure it’s going to turn me into a raving lunatic. Hell, I’m already questioning my sanity.

“She is,” Guy says quietly.

Chapter 16

Hope

Sometimes I think my veins run with poison. We’re all slowly dying, right? From the moment we’re born, our time dwindles away. Like some countdown we’re not privy to. We can die at any moment. I could be walking down the street one day, minding my own business, and then, BAM. Hit by a truck, massive heart attack, some random disease, shot in the chest, stabbed in the back, aneurism, cancer. Who knows? Anything. Anything could happen at any second.

So why bother? Why bother meeting people? Making friends? Caring about someone? Falling in love? It’s just going to end. Taken away, ripped from my hands. Tore from my heart.

I have enough scars.

This is why I’m standing in the middle of my bathroom, naked, clutching a razor blade between my thumb and finger. I need to release the poison. The fear. The anger. I want the pain that festers inside of me—out. I want it on the outside. On my flesh. Where I say how I hurt. Where I say when. Where I say for how long. Where I say stop. Where I can stop it.

I’m so ugly.

I am so fucking ugly.

My insides are disgusting. There is nothing good inside of me. I’m not a nice person. I’m not smart. I’m not funny. I am selfish. Mean. There is nothing special about me. I can’t stand the sight of myself. I hate myself. I hate everything that makes me, me.

I have enough scars.

I do not have enough scars.

Light hits the blade of the razor. I twist my hand, allowing it to pass over my face. What would happen if I cut there? Right across my face where everyone could see. Everyone would know. Maybe someone would finally stop me.

I shiver. My secret is all I have.

Pressing the razor flat against my stomach, I take a deep breath. Push my belly out to shove against my savior. I could mar all my skin. Then nobody would want me. Nobody would look at me. My outsides could mirror the sickening rot that lives beneath.

I pull up on the grip so the sharp edge is poised against flesh. I need the bite of this instrument so badly.

My phone sounds. I jump, the blade nearly going to work before I’m ready. Blackbird plays, filling the bathroom with its soft melody.

And I lose it. I lose my shit as I drop the razor into the sink. It makes a tinkling sound as it bounces and slides across the porcelain.

If I answer it, he’ll know I’m crying. He’ll want to know why.

I don’t want him to know.

I want him to know.

He will probably hate me. I don’t want him to hate me.

I want him to hate me.

“Hello?”

“Hope? Hey.”

“H-Hey.”

“You all right? You sound upset?” Mason’s voice trembles over the last word. Why does his voice tremble?

“…I’m…I’m…fine.” I’m whispering. Like maybe he’ll believe me if he can’t hear me well. I don’t want him to hate me. I don’t want that at all because he makes me feel like I have someone I can talk to. That I can trust. That I can love.

My breath catches. I am incapable of loving like that.

The mere fact that I want to love him, that I can imagine myself loving him… My stomach clenches. I drop the phone and flip the toilet seat up as I begin emptying the sad contents of my stomach. Cake and tequila.

Awesome.

My forehead feels hot in a majorly uncomfortable way. Sweat beads on my neck and above my lip.

My cell phone shouts my name, muffled by the pale pink rug in front of the bathtub. I wipe my mouth on Annie’s towel—she’s going to be pissed—and I pick up the phone.

“Mason?”

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“No. No. I mean, yes. I just got sick.” I pause here because I want to say something, I think. I want to tell him about the cutting. That he just stopped me from doing it. That he’s the reason I was getting ready to do it. But that last part isn’t true, and how do I say something like that anyway? “I’m fine now.”

I can hear his soft breaths. I can almost feel them against my ear and my own breathing slows until it matches his. “You don’t sound fine.”