Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

16

Love dies.

Then you’re at the end of my kaleidoscope,

Broken, bright shiny pieces.

Obviously, you can’t love me.

And neither should I.

The text from SA comes in on Wednesday night as I sit on my bed, my laptop and textbooks scattered across my quilt. Earlier, I had a quick dinner with Tyler at the group home, and now I’m at the dorm and bored, my homework looming.

Ava? You there?

I stare down at my phone. It’s been several days since I heard from him, and I can’t stop the curl of excitement in my chest.

Another poem? Wow, you’re really into this class. Same author? I ask.

Yep.

Funny. I googled that last one you sent, and it never came up anywhere. The internet is a pretty amazing tool. Wanna tell me who wrote it?

He doesn’t respond for several moments, so I open a bag of Doritos and chomp down on a few. I’m grinning around my munches, imagining SA squirming. I can’t help but think about Knox, holding his phone somewhere, typing. Maybe he’s at home. Maybe he’s in his car and had to pull over because he can’t stop thinking about me.

I scrunch up my face. I wish.

I was too embarrassed to admit I wrote them.

Oh, it’s getting good now.

Yeah, the jock who writes poetry. For me, I assume? I send.

YOU.

They’re pretty nice.

I scroll up, read the poem again and type, So you’ve never been in love? You said it dies.

My parents didn’t even want to be in the same room as each other. He loved her one day and she loved him, then they both changed.

SA is a bit of a pessimist.

Another text comes in. I care for my brother. He’s all I care about. Who have you been in love with?

I sit up straighter in bed. Knox cares for his brother.

Ava, tell me—who have you loved?

Gah, we’re getting personal, and part of me can’t resist it. It’s a place to pretend we might just have something special, and I want to trust SA; I do. His poetry is revealing…

I loved a boy once. He moved to Texas for college.

Do you still see him? Email him? Text him?

SA is poking a little hard.

Another text comes in. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to think about you with him. Then, What was his name?

I laugh out loud.

Luka.

Luka with his shaggy brown hair and cigarette burns on his arms. We started off as friends, but nights were lonely at the group home and soon we were sneaking into each other’s room, talking about our hopes and dreams. I loved his crooked smile and shy glances. I don’t know that our emotions were the kind of love that’s forever, but he was my friend, and I trusted him. We fumbled through sex, and while it was never the way I’ve read about in books, it was enough.

My eyes widen at the next text.

I only want you.

My fingers clutch the phone as I type out a response.

Is that what this is then? A way to woo the girl you can’t have?

No response.

WHY did you leave that letter if you aren’t going to tell me who you really are?

A hard, rapid series of knocks sounds on my door, making me yelp. It’s past eight and visiting hours ended a while ago. In fact, the hallway’s been eerily quiet tonight, an almost expectant air in the stillness. I frown and type.

Hey, someone’s at my door. Weird, right, this late?

He doesn’t reply right away, and I feel antsy about the knock. I set my phone down and look at my black booty shorts and camisole—not exactly how I want to greet someone.

“Who’s there?” I call out, but all I get is a whole lot of silence.

I look through the peephole, but no one’s there. Anxiety drifts over me, giving me goose bumps. I’ve been more cautious since the hit at school, especially since no one knows who it was. According to Trask, there aren’t any cameras in that part of the gym. Of course not.

I bend down to my hands and knees to see if I can see feet or a shadow, but it’s only the bright white lights of the hallway. I consider calling the resident assistant but quickly dismiss the idea. It’s just a knock, right? I could text Wyatt, but he said earlier he was headed out to grab dinner with some guys from the baseball team. I think he’d come up to my floor if I asked, even though visiting hours are over.

Still…

There’s no one there. Someone probably just knocked on the wrong door, realized it, and moved on. Maybe it was for Camilla.

Yet, I can’t stop myself from pacing the floor, feeling that anxious pit in my stomach expand. I stop in front of the door and soon it’s not just a door; it’s the woods at night.

Another knock then “Ava!” The voice is male and low and instantly recognizable.

I fling the door open, relief washing over me.

“Knox! What are you doing here?”

My eyes run over him. He’s still in football practice clothes, his hair damp and pushed back off his face. I swallow at his roped forearms and tanned skin, the sculpted muscles beneath his pants.

I cock my hip against the doorframe.

“Got done with practice, was just around the corner. Thought I’d come over and check on you, see how your head is. Plus, you might need me.”

Need him?

“Someone knocked on my door a few minutes ago—it wasn’t you?”

“Nope, but I can guess who.” He looks down the quiet hall, studying the closed doors. He even walks to the end of the corridor, opens the stairwell door, and checks it out. I notice he’s carrying a duffle bag. Weird.

“Who would you guess? Also, what’s up with the duffle? You planning on sleeping over?”

“May I come in? I can explain.” He leans against the edge of my doorway, and he’s wearing a cocky grin. It’s so different from how he is in class that I feel disarmed.

I cross my arms. “Why the heck is King Shark standing at my door asking to come in?”

He smirks. “Trust me, Tulip, you’re going to need me.” He holds up the duffle bag. “I have supplies.”

I arch a brow. “Color me intrigued.” I do a sweeping motion. “Please, come in.”

He waltzes inside, running his eyes over my small room, taking in the twin bed against the wall and the small dresser that come standard with the rooms in the dorm.

“You need to decorate,” he says, looking around.

I scoff. “Yeah, my neighbor Camilla has these cute twinkle lights up around her bed. I haven’t had time.” Or the money to burn. “Trust me, this is plush compared to my room at the home.”

He turns to face me. “A girl like you deserves pretty things.”

I frown, shoving that comment away, something I’ve learned to do well with him. “What’s in the duffle? A cute lamp? Some posters?”

He gives the room one last look. “No time to waste with small talk. These need to be filled stat, and I suggest changing out of that white shirt and putting on pants.”

What?

He opens the duffle and pulls out a bag of multi-colored balloons.

“Are we going to have a party? I’ll call Wyatt and Piper.” I’m joking. I’m not in the party mood.

He darts a look at me. “Prank night at Arlington. Wyatt didn’t tell you?”

I shrug. He’s spotty in the dorm, plus he’s on a different floor.

“It’s an annual thing, and I heard this afternoon that it might be tonight. Seems it’s a secret until it happens then all hell breaks loose.” He pauses. “Hijinks are about to ensue, and if someone knocked on your door, that might have been code for Get ready. Unless you want to hide under your bed and hope for the best…”

I rear back. “I was born ready, and I have heard of prank night. Even the staff gets involved, right? Or at least they let it slide as long as we clean up? Guess it slipped my mind since I’ve never lived in the dorms until now.” I eye him. “Thank you for paying for my room. I don’t think I ever said that the day in the auditorium.” Because things got a little hot and heavy. “I’m going to pay you back someday.”

He pauses in his handoff of a wad of balloons. “You don’t have to. Here, you take these and start filling them.”

“Bossy Shark,” I murmur as he drops half the balloons in my outstretched hands then rushes into my tiny bathroom.

I follow, and he’s in the small shower with the cold water on, his hands filling up a pink balloon.

“Take the sink. Don’t fill them too much—we don’t want them to burst.” He grins widely, and I blink, gaping at the football player in my shower.

“You’re like, really into this, aren’t you?”

“Less talking, more filling, Tulip. I came to help you and we’re gonna kick ass together, you feel me?” He flicks water in my direction. “Get to work.”

I like this side of him. “You participate every year?”

“Nope. This is for you.”

This is for you.

I let that settle and file in his dossier to savor when he’s gone.

A few minutes later, we’ve collected a pile of about fifty balloons, and he’s placing them back in his duffle with careful hands. I’ve got damp splotches on my camisole and his shirt is soaked and sticking to him, catching spray from the faucet.

“How many do we need?” I ask.

“All of them. This isn’t a night you want to be shorthanded.” His eyes drift over me, starting at my legs, lingering on my chest before coming up to my face. “Babe, as much as I like seeing you in booty shorts, you need to change. I’m talking sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. Tennis shoes might be a good idea so you don’t slip.”

I gape again. “How bad is this going to get?”

Another wide grin.

I shake my head. “You are crazy. Fine, fine, let me change.” I march over to my dresser, pull out a pair of leggings, and pull them on over my shorts. When I turn around, he’s watching me, eyes low and heavy. “This work?”

He clears his throat. “Anything works on you.”

There’s a clatter out in the hall as if something metal has hit the floor.

I yelp, nearly jumping off the floor. “Is that the start? What was that noise?”

He walks over to me slowly, puts a finger to my lips. “Don’t be jumpy. I won’t let anyone hurt you. We got this, babe.”

My heart flies. Holy shit, he’s touched my lips! I feel a sudden rush of heat, and I must be crazy because my mouth opens and I nip at his finger. “Don’t call me babe, Shark. I’m the least babe girl there is in the whole world.” And Chance called me that.

He lowers his hand slowly. “Don’t call me Shark and we have a deal.”

“Fine.”

“I’m not giving up Tulip. I like it very much.”

“Didn’t say you had to.”

His gaze lands on my mouth. “Good.”

The moment is broken when another clatter comes from the hallway.

He walks back to the door.

“What’s the signal?” I say, secretly hoping he shushes me again.

“We’ll know it when we hear—”

HONK!

A blaring air horn slices through the silence, loud and irritating. “Oh shit!” I yell, adrenaline pumping.

He grabs the duffle and puts a few balloons in my hand. “Follow me,” he says, and then he inches the door open.

We enter the hall, and he’s crouched down to make himself a smaller target. I instinctively follow close behind.

“Use me as a shield, got it?”

I nod, feeling the heat coming off his back, tracing my eyes over his broad shoulders—

Ugh. I’m about to get into a water war, and all I can think about is a guy.

The hallway is as quiet as a church on Sunday.

“I’m starting to think the prank is you making me think there’s something going on.” I peek over him to get a better look around and see a cluster of girls several feet away.

A huge water balloon bursts on my chest, and I sputter.

“Booyah! Nailed one!” calls a female voice as a group of underclassman girls run toward us from the end of the hall, flinging balloons.

“Hit ’em!” calls Knox, and I return fire, hitting the floor instead of the gaggle of girls. Dang. How did I miss all of them?

“Your aim sucks,” he groans, and I glare at him.

“I’m just warming up. Give me a minute—”

Another one hits me on the cheek, water drenching my face and sliding down my throat.

“You know, we could just hide in my room,” I call out as I lob another one and it bounces off the wall. One of the girls picks it up and throws it back at us, hitting Knox square on the head. I bite my lip to stop the giggle.

He was looking at me, caught unaware, and well, it’s funny. He wipes water off of him. “We could hide in your room if you want.”

I shiver. There was…a little bit of heat in his voice.

I pick at a piece of purple balloon stuck to his face. “No, I think I like seeing you getting clobbered with water balloons by a bunch of girls—”

One flies past us, splattering on the floor. “True. We can’t let these whiny underclassmen beat us.”

I pick up another one, and just when they’re about twenty feet away, I sail it across and it splats on Camilla’s pretty blonde head. She just darted out of her room wearing a bemused expression and got in the way. I grimace, wishing I’d hit someone else. She’s not exactly rude to me, just withdrawn.

Knox nails two of the girls, which slows them down, but there are only two of us and several of them, including a group of guys who’ve suddenly shown up.

We run down the hall to see another group approaching from the opposite direction, throwing balloons at us and at the group behind us. Shit, stuck in the middle. Apparently, it’s a free-for-all.

“In here!” Knox yells, yanking open the door to a maintenance closet near the stairwell.

We dive in and shut the door, hearing balloons burst outside.

He glances down at my water-soaked camisole.

“I told you to change. Your nipples are hard.”

I elbow him. “Eyes on my face, football player.”

He stares at me. Frowns.

“What?” I ask.

“How are your knees and elbows?”

“Good.” They are better, nice and scabbed over and itchy, but they don’t hurt.

He exhales and gets a grim look on his face.

I sigh. “Knox…don’t. I’ll be okay.”

I don’t want to dwell on it, and I don’t want him losing friends over me either.

There’s a long silence as we stare at each other.

He scrubs his face and looks away from me. “I’m sorry about the auditorium—”

Someone out in the hall screams and giggles, cutting him off. “Let’s just have fun, okay?” My chest twinges and I rub it before dropping my hands.

“What’s wrong?”

I look away from him. “Nothing.”

“Who’s in your locket?” he asks softly. I glance back at him and pop it open, and he leans in to study it. “Tyler?”

I nod. “He’s all I have.”

He tucks a strand of hair over my ear. “Yeah, I get it. It’s Dane for me.”

“Catch them!” someone exclaims from the hallway.

“I’m allergic!” another girl yells.

“What the hell—” Knox says just as a white and black furry arm reaches under the door, claws extended as it pats around the floor.

“Holy cats! That is a cat, right?” I ask. “What on earth is going on out there?” Ludicrous statement, considering the mayhem.

He opens the door, and a small striped feline darts into the closet, gives us a scathing hiss, and then hides behind a mop bucket.

We lean past the door and peek out. People—and cats—are dashing everywhere.

I frown. “Why involve innocent animals? Geeze.”

Another water balloon hits me in the side of the head as we venture out. “Dammit!” I yell at whoever threw it, but they’re already running away.

“Ava! Knox! Follow me!” shouts a familiar voice. It’s Wyatt as he runs past, arms full of balloons.

We dodge people as we catch up with him, taking the stairwell. Girls and guys with water guns chase after us while Knox throws balloons at them, beating them back until they shut the door. Nice job, QB1.

We rush down to Wyatt’s floor and enter the hall, where I come to a halt, slipping a little on the water. Holy white hell. There are no cats, but a white powder coats the wet floor and walls. Flour?

The lights suddenly go out and I scream.

A tall frame pulls me close. “I got you,” Knox says. “Get on my back.”

I climb him like a monkey, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and my legs around his waist. Well, at least I’m not thinking about the dark anymore. He runs down the hall, and I don’t even know how he can see except for the few windows at the end that allow a little bit of moonlight in.

“Where are we going?” I press my face into his neck, hoping he’s not aware that I’m totally smelling him.

“Wyatt’s. I figure he went to his room. I know the way.”

He fumbles around, opens a door, and darts inside, setting me down on my feet.

Sure enough, Wyatt is in the middle of the room, holding flashlights. He tosses one to Knox, who catches it. He laughs, looking at us before focusing on Knox. “Knox, didn’t know you did prank night.”

“Came as Ava’s backup. Didn’t think she’d like being surprised.”

“Yeah, it would have been nice if you’d told me.” I glare at Wyatt, and he grins and waggles his eyebrows.

“What’s the fun in that?”

“A friend would have, jerk,” I grumble.

He snorts. “I meant to but time got away from me at our baseball dinner.”

Uh-huh. Jagger.

The lights blink back on, and suddenly a Bluetooth speaker in Wyatt’s room explodes with a familiar tune by Rick Astley. It blares out in the hall as well.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you…”

“Someone hacked all the speakers,” Knox says, shaking his head, his face incredulous. “This thing gets nuttier every year.”

“Seriously, is the entire building being rick-rolled?” I exclaim. “I’M IN HELL!” Wyatt and Knox start laughing, and I join them, saying, “It’s fun, okay, it is, but this song…it’s driving me bonkers.”

“Let’s get back out there,” Knox says with relish as he grabs a handful of balloons. He’s way too pumped for this, but I’m feeling it too—as long as he’s with me.

“One, two, three…” he yells and pulls the door open then we rush out.

HONK!

The air horn blares again, and everyone in the hall freezes, wails of disappointment coming from every direction.

I look around. “What’s going on?”

“Prank night is over. I repeat, prank night is over,” is the announcement that comes over the loud speakers. It’s a female voice, probably Miss Henderson, the dorm mom. “Please grab a mop, broom, or stray cat and put the building back together. If everyone will return to their own floor, we’ll get this place back in shape. If you don’t return Arlington Hall to pristine condition, this will be the last prank night allowed and all underclassmen will blame you forever. And please, oh please, will whoever hacked everyone’s speakers turn off Rick Astley? I can’t even think with that on.”

“Dammit!” Wyatt says. “That wasn’t nearly long enough.”

We laugh, saying goodbye as we head back up the stairwell to my floor. Sure enough, Miss Henderson is standing there, her hair everywhere, out of its usual little bun. Even her shirt and jogging pants are soaked. She tilts her head toward a cage. “Put the cats in here. In the future, please don’t bring small animals.” Her voice is stern. “They could have been hurt, and I do not approve. In fact, I plan on writing up those involved. If you know who’s responsible, please let me know.” She picks up one of the smaller cats and rubs its head, giving us all side-eye. A few of the girls giggle and she glares at them. “I believe I counted six. I want them all rounded up and safe.”

“My bet is on the freshman girls. Amateurs,” Knox murmurs as he looks at the group who was laughing. A couple call out his name and give him little finger waves as they check him out.

“Hey, Knox,” a pretty brunette says, giving him flirty eyes. “You should have been on our team.”

Another one shouts, “Wanna come help us clean up, Knox?”

They stare at me and a few whisper behind their hands, and even though most of them are younger than me, I figure everyone knows who I am.

I give them death glares.

Camilla steps forward, blocking them from my view. “I’ll take care of the cats, Miss Henderson. If they don’t belong to anyone, I’ll make sure they find a good home. I work at a humane shelter.”

Nice person.

I open the closet where we hid to grab a mop. Something darts toward the door then changes its mind and heads back inside, huddling in the corner.

“It’s our little friend,” says Knox from behind me. He was collecting pieces of balloons and stuffing them into a trash bag Miss Henderson gave him.

I pick it up, but she claws at me and tries to jump down.

“Easy now,” Knox says, taking the cat from me.

She hides her face in the bend of his muscled arm.

I scoff. “Seriously? Why would she go to you but not me?” I pet her and realize the fluffy fur is hiding skin and bones. “She’s so tiny. Are you going to take her to the cage?”

He glances down at the cat now lying on her back in his arms and kneading her little paws into him. “Maybe he wants to come home with me.”

“She. It’s a she. See, no balls.”

He smirks. “Okay, maybe she wants to come home with me.”

“I see—you dig cats. Let me add that to the list of things in my file about Knox Grayson.”

“You’re making a list?”

“Big thick dossier. Plays piano, likes cats, hates kissing.”

His jaw drops. “Hey, that is not true—”

Camilla stops in front of us. “Those stupid freshman girls. You wanna hand her over?”

Knox shifts, fidgeting. “What’s going to happen to her?”

“I heard some of the girls saying they picked up the cats from a dumpster near an alley downtown. Pretty sure they don’t belong to anyone. I imagine she’ll get adopted at the shelter. She’s little and cute.”

He mulls that over, lifts her up, and stares into her black and gray striped face. “I’m going to give her to Dane, and her name shall be Astley.”

“I think that means he’s keeping her,” I murmur to Camilla.

She nods, looking pleased. “I’d get her checked out at the vet, though. She’ll need meds and all that.”

Knox says he will, and after the rest of the cats are accounted for and the hallway is sparkling clean, he follows me back to my room. Miss Henderson has left our area, probably to check on the other floors, so she doesn’t see him sneak in.

“I really needed prank night,” I murmur as he sits on my lone wooden chair with Astley, softly rubbing her fur.

The big football player is holding a kitten, and my fingers itch to take a picture.

“I have some soda. Do you want a Coke or something?”

He takes in the textbooks and laptop on my bed. A conflicted look crosses his face. “It’s late. We have school tomorrow.”

I fiddle with the Mountain Dew I’ve pulled out of the fridge. “Ah. Dangerous to drink a soda on a school night. Noted.”

He shrugs.

I clear my throat. “I have a few cans of tuna. Let me get some for your new baby.”

He rolls his eyes. “Can you get some water too? She might be thirsty.”

I huff out a laugh, grab the tuna, and open it, setting it on the floor near the bathroom. Before I can get her some water in a mug from my desk, she’s already got her face in the can, eating delicately.

“She’s kind of prissy,” I murmur, watching as she leans down and swishes her tail.

“She’s perfect.”

“You think Dane will like her?”

He looks up at me. “Yeah. She’ll be good for him.”

I plop down on my bed, moving the books and my laptop then adjusting my pillows at the top so I can be propped up.

We don’t talk, and he seems on edge, alternately watching Astley and checking his phone.

He’s antsy, like a tiger in a cage who wants out but isn’t sure how to escape.

It’s awkward. No, scratch that—it’s weird AND awkward.

“Why are you smiling?” he says gruffly, startling me.

“You look terribly uncomfortable, and it makes me happy.”

“You like me uncomfortable?”

“Immensely! I love it when you aren’t sure what to say or do.”

“Like now?”

“Plus, you came to help out with prank night, and now you have a new pet. Fort Knox is breaking apart and getting soft, little by little.”

He grins then. “So I’m not usually like this?”

“Like, fun and lovable?”

He blinks at those words, his lips parting, and he starts to say something but stops.

“Go on, say it,” I say. “As one guy told me the first day of class, just get it all out.”

He takes a deep breath, stands, and walks over to the bed, making my heart skip a beat. “Truth or dare, Tulip, and you can’t say dare.”

Oh.

The tension tightens in the room as tendrils of excitement flash through my nerve endings.

I bite my bottom lip, anticipation rising. “Payback, I assume?”

“You bet.”

Shit. I can’t read him right now, not that that’s unusual, but his eyes are low and heavy.

“Okay, I’ll play. Truth.”

“Were you in love with Chance last year?”

“I thought I was. I wasn’t.”

His gaze glitters at me as if he’s trying to decide if I’m telling the truth. “Hmmm.”

“My turn—”

“Nope,” he says. “You had three times in the auditorium, remember? Truth or dare?”

I stand up and face him, nervous with my heart pounding in my ears. “What do you want me to pick?”

“Lady’s choice.” His chest rises rapidly as his eyes linger on my mouth.

“Truth, again.”

“Last year, did you want me as much as I wanted you?” His words are husky.

I shiver. “Yes.”

“Fuck…” A long sigh comes from him and he scrubs his face.

“Don’t wimp out now, Cold and Evil. Ask the next one so I can get my turn.”

A low grunt comes from him as if he’s not sure it’s a good idea for us to continue this game, but he sucks in a breath and finally says, “Truth or dare, Tulip?”

“Dare.” Dare, dare, dare, baby. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but…

The electricity in the air cranks up, the hair on my arms rising as he breathes deeply, his face open, so open and full of heat, and I don’t know what I’m doing here, but I’m in the moment, and he’s so close and…

“Kiss me,” he growls.

I take the two steps necessary to press my chest against his. Slowly sliding my hands up, I shudder at the feel of him, the silky quality of his practice jersey, the way his muscles spasm against me as I caress his collarbone, the hollows of his face. My fingers trace his eyebrows, marveling, amazed by how indescribably gorgeous his features are. And he wants me. I can see it by how still he is, the tense way he holds himself, as if he doesn’t want to startle me.

My hands tangle in the hair around his neck. He puts his hands around my waist and tugs me closer, until we’re one. I slide my tongue over his parted lips and he gasps, and I don’t think I will ever get tired of the little truth that he kisses me, kisses me, when he doesn’t anyone else. Moaning, I nip at his bottom lip and pull with my teeth, and his hands clench around me, his tongue darting out and caressing mine. He groans my name and deepens our kiss, his lips hard and insistent, his hands now pressing on my ass. A tornado twists inside me, desire ripping and tearing at the very heart of me.

Will every kiss by him always be like this?

When I pull away, I stroke my hand over his cheek and stare up at him. “You kiss like it’s your last.”

His lashes flutter as he licks at my finger, sucking it into his mouth, making me breathless, the sensation sending waves of heat to my lower body.

Hang on there, body, there’s still a game to play.

“Truth or dare, Knox?”

“Which one do you want?” he asks, eyes glowing

“Truth.”

“Ask.”

“How did you get your scar?”

I just need him to tell me, to open up when I know he hasn’t to anyone else except probably Dane.

He sways on his feet. “God, Ava…”

I cup his face. “Scars serve as medals of honor, and the strongest hearts have the most. I like your scars. Share them with me.”

He takes a breath and his words slay me. “My mother sliced my face open.”

I force the shock to not show on my face. It’s not what I thought he’d say. I entertained the idea that maybe he did it to himself even though he denied it the day he helped change my tire. I blink, reorienting my thoughts. “Why?”

He moves to my bed and sits down, and I follow him, curling my legs up. His throat bobs, emotion stark on his face. “She went through these fugue episodes, more after the attack. I woke up one day and she was straddling me, a kitchen knife in her hands. She lashed out…she didn’t know who I was.” He stumbles over the next words. “She told me I was ugly after it happened, but she didn’t know what she was saying, so please don’t think badly of her. I don’t. I’ll love her always…she was my mom.”

I bite my lip at the pain in his voice.

“She killed herself a month later.”

Tears prick at me as those images flicker in my mind, and I shove them down, pick up one of his fisted hands, and press it to my lips. I kiss each knuckle, unfurling his fingers until they’re no longer clenched.

“I know I’m not ugly, but sometimes, sometimes, it gets in my head a little, and I…just…I don’t know…can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, if my own mom hurt me, then what the fuck is wrong with me? Then I remind myself that she had serious issues, but shit, the scar bugs me. I see it everyday in the mirror, and it’s a reminder that maybe I didn’t help her enough, that I should have seen how bad off she was that day we left her to go to school and she…she ended it.” He sucks in a breath. “It just…made me push people away. I didn’t want anyone to know what happened and I didn’t want to ever fucking kiss a girl again.”

“I’m sorry it happened, Knox.” God, what else can I say? He’s been through so much more than I ever realized.

He nods, sighing. “Dane has similar mental issues, I think.”

I wince.

“What?” he asks.

“He was doing coke the day I was hit outside the gym.” I describe how I saw the powder on his nose. “I kinda sorta said I wouldn’t tell you, not really out loud, but with my eyes, and now I’m a snitch again and we haven’t really been talking—”

He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for letting me know. Now, can you truth or dare me again? Because I really feel like this conversation took a nosedive.”

I turn to face him on the bed. “Okay, truth or dare?”

“You sound so serious,” he murmurs.

I pop him on the arm lightly. “I am! It’s the only way to get you to talk to me.”

“Ah, Tulip, I always want to talk to you…” He trails off. “Truth.”

“Are you SA?”

He pops an eyebrow. “SA?”

I dart my eyes at him. “Don’t play innocent. You wrote me that letter and you’ve been texting me these poems, and if it isn’t you then I’m in deep shit cause I think SA is nice and I may really want to kiss him—”

“Yes.”

Warmth washes over me.

“You’re smiling,” he murmurs.

“Mmmm, I guessed it, so many clues there…how you showed up to help with my car, the mention of your brother…” I let my words drift off, thinking back to that letter. “Whose cell number do you use?”

“One of Dane’s burner phones I took a while back.” He grimaces. “I really tried hard to not be stalkerish.”

“Did you have anything to do with Tyler getting his scholarship?”

His lips quirk. “That was all you, Tulip. Vicious girl. I bet you made Trask wet his pants when you waltzed in there and laid down the law.”

I blush and scoot closer to him until our legs are touching. “Truth or dare?”

His chest rises and he rakes a hand through his hair. “Shit. Truth?”

“Why did you come tonight?”

He lets out a frustrated growl, all male. Hot eyes drift over me. “I want you so bad I can’t think straight.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. There it is. Somebody give the man a gold star.

“Because you’re slumming?”

“No!”

“Because you plan to use me for some evil plan?”

“No!”

“Because you feel sorry for me?”

“No!”

“Because you just can’t help it?”

“Yes!”

His hand tilts my face to his and I drink him in, the scar that slices down his cheek, those eyes that burn—for me.

I play with the V-neck of his jersey, wondering what he looks like with his shirt off.

“What makes me so special?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Does that even need a response? Don’t you see how incredible you are? How fucking hot and sweet and strong? And what happened to you at the party—figuring that out doesn’t stop, you feel me? It’s not over for me. I will find him, and when I do, I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born—”

“Shhh.” I refuse to let what happened that night ruin this moment. “One more time. Truth or dare?”

His eyes lower to half-mast. “I believe you are out of turns.”

“Pretend I’m not,” I say softly. “And you best say dare.”

“You’re quite the master player. Dare.”

My heart flutters and my hands are clammy. I know what I want to ask for…

“Take your shirt off. And the pants while you’re at it, right down to your underwear.”

He gulps air. “Ava, wait a minute now…”

There he goes, holding back and wanting to protect me, but doesn’t he see how I feel? He gets a weird look on his face. “Were you like this with Chance?”

“And by like this, what do you mean?” My hand reaches out and brushes the hair from his face, and he grabs it, pressing a hot kiss to my palm.

I like that feral gleam in his eye. Jealousy.

“Badass. Mouthy. Sexy as fuck.” His hands cup my cheeks and he leans in, hovering over my lips. He changes direction, his nose running up my neck. He nips me on my throat then sucks hard, and I gasp.

“Chance doesn’t know this side of me,” I say breathlessly. “Only you.”

He tugs on my hair. “Thank God. He never could have handled you, Tulip.”

“You haven’t completed your dare.”

Our eyes cling for a long moment, and then he murmurs. “Technically, it was my turn. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” I whisper.

“You take my clothes off.” He swallows thickly and stands up from the bed, his chest rising rapidly.

Standing up, I lift his shirt, grazing my hand over his upper chest then dropping the jersey to the floor. He toes his shoes and socks off, kicking them aside while I work on his slick pants, pushing them down until he’s in his tight black underwear.

My heart clutches. He’s beautiful, all hard muscles and broad shoulders and tanned skin, his legs thick and powerful.

He bites his lip. “Tulip, please…please…I’m dying to…”

“What?”

His lashes flutter. “Fucking devour you like I’ve imagined a million times.”

“Please do.”

He pounces then, like the tiger he is, his arms closing around me and pulling me in for a hard kiss, holding nothing back, his tongue dueling with mine, sucking and nipping. He’s ferocious with his mouth, his hands clutching my shoulders so tight, as if he’s hanging on to me.

“Get…this off,” I mumble, and my camisole is pulled up, by him and me together. His fingers unsnap my bra until my skin is bare, and he groans as my flesh presses against his.

“Tulip…so sweet,” he whispers, his mouth closing around a nipple, and I clutch his head as blazing flame burns over my body, my legs scissoring with need. His teeth graze over one peak then the other, and I shiver. It’s never been like this, never this intense, never this hot feeling on my body, the way I burn.

He pushes at my tights, grunting when he sees the booty shorts underneath, his fingers stalling out. “Are you sure, Tulip? Are you? Because I want you, but I don’t want to scare you or make you feel like you have to be physical with me. We can cuddle. We can crawl up in your bed and watch those goofy Star Wars movies while I play with your hair.”

“I am,” I rush out, helping him slip the shorts off. I want something good. I want to not worry about a dark night in the woods, I want to replace it with beautiful things. With him.

And I know he’s a Shark and I’m not, but he’s kind, and I trust him, I do. He’s proven himself to me in so many ways.

He looks at me, his irises dark with desire as they rove over my body. “So beautiful.”

He sweeps me up in his arms, making me laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he muses.

“You’re just so…strong. I like it.”

“Good.” He lies down next to me on the bed, his lips on mine. We take up the whole mattress, but I don’t even notice. I melt into him, basking in this need and want he’s kept on a leash.

My back arches up when he kisses down my body, hands tracing over my face, my breasts, his mouth moving from one nipple to another, teasing me and sucking. He dips his tongue in my belly button, tasting my hip bones with a soft bite.

My core tightens, and my eyes roll back in my head at the friction, at the feel of his powerful body against my soft one.

“Tulip, I want to…” He presses little kisses to my stomach, his tongue flicking at my waistline as he toys with my panties.

Something makes him stop and I rise up. He’s staring at my underwear, and all at once I’m embarrassed. They aren’t special: white cotton, standard issue from the group home with my initials on the inside. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just…nervous. May I?”

The big bad Shark is nervous? It only makes me want him more.

I nod and he slides them off, easing them down my legs.

His fingers skim over my wet folds and I throw a pillow over my face. In the auditorium, we were so rushed, but this is slower and he’s right there…

“Don’t be shy now, Tulip. You’re so brave. Unless…unless you want me to stop?”

I whip the pillow off my face and throw it on the floor. “If you stop, I will kill you with a lightsaber. I have one in the closet. You wanna talk about a dark side? I’ve got one.”

“I’ve watched a few of them because of you,” he murmurs as his fingers dance over me, skimming over my mound, never quite hard enough, not nearly enough until he eases a finger inside me and I moan.

“Uhhhhhh, good.” I can’t breathe.

“Is this okay?” he rasps, and I nod, trying to move so I can touch him too, but he holds me back, so I wait and fall into bliss, my hips rising up against his fingers.

My breaths come in erratic pants and when I look at him, he’s intent on me.

“More?”

“You’re torturing me.” I don’t know why he’s even asking. I am his right now.

“How about more torture?”

“Lightsaber, remember? Don’t stop.”

He laughs and pulls me to the edge of the bed, gets on the floor on his knees, leans down, and holds my legs apart. Part of me feels vulnerable and nervous. I’ve never done this, never, and it’s with him and that means something special—

His head dips and my fingers grip the quilt on my bed, clawing at it when his slick tongue brushes lightly over my center, lingering on my bundle of nerves. He groans. “Tulip, you taste so good, like, like destiny…” He leans closer, his nose trailing up my inner thigh. “I want to consume you, eat you up so fast, but I’m trying to go slow…” Another long, slow lick up my center, and I shudder.

“Knox, Knox, that, that…” My chest heaves. “Ohhhhh…don’t stop!”

Cupping my bottom, he settles in and teases me, never quite enough pressure, his touch light and excruciatingly slow, swirling his tongue, wicked, so wicked as he draws intricate patterns on my clit, stoking the fire inside me hotter until I’m burning…

My body tightens, tension building at my spine.

His finger curls inside me, rubbing and stroking, and I can feel his breath on my skin, his tongue as he sucks—

Lights burst behind my shut lids. The universe becomes just him and me as sensations ripples across my skin.

“Knox!” I writhe underneath him, shameless as I press harder into him.

I’m boneless when he moves up and touches my face.

“You like?” He grins.

“That…that…when can we do it again?”

He throws his head back and laughs, satisfaction evident on the planes of his face.

And nothing matters. To see him laugh, to put joy there…being with him is so easy, and we laugh together, and I just…gah…I’m so close to falling—

“What are you doing to me,” he says when I reach up and kiss him hard and long, sucking on his tongue with a fast rhythm, imagining him fucking me to the same beat.

Without our mouths parting, I use my hands to push down his underwear. He’s thick and hard and long, his crown veiny and wet. I stare at him, getting a good look, nerves kicking in at how big he is even as my core clenches in anticipation. Wrapping my fingers around him, I stroke from his base to the tip, my thumb skating over the silky skin.

He groans, hovering over me. “Tulip, please…”

“Please what?”

“Harder.”

Increasing my pace, I pump him with long, firm strokes while he kisses me.

He gasps for air, his chest shuddering. “Condom. Do you—”

Before he can finish, I jump off the bed and dash to my chest of drawers. They’re two years old, but they’re there, thank you, in the top under my underwear. I grab one and whip around and he’s already up and behind me. With hands that tremble, he takes the package from me and rips it open with his teeth, his gaze never leaving my face. He slides it on and picks me up. My legs lock around his hips. Somehow we’re back on my bed and he’s on top of me.

Slowly, he rises above me and teases my entrance. His face is flushed and small beads of sweat dot his brow.

“So good…” I exhale. “Don’t hold back, Knox, please…”

His hands clench around my waist as he strokes in all the way, stretching me, the fullness tight. He stops and holds me, clutching me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I…haven’t been with anyone in a while,” he growls.

I smile, remembering our conversation at Lou’s. He was waiting on me.

“Are you going to come too soon?” I tease.

He huffs, slides back out, and enters me again, swiveling his hips, getting a new angle that makes me shiver. “No. I’m going to fuck you till you see stars, Tulip.”

“Always wanted to see the universe up close.”

He huffs out a laugh.

He owns me then, taking control, moving my hips up, his strokes hard and solid, each slide precise and sure, my wetness coating him, the sounds of us, our bodies slapping together, our heavy breaths are all I can think about.

Leaning over me, he hitches one of my legs over his shoulder and gains momentum, his voice in my ear, dark and husky. “I want to know everything about you. What you eat, except for tomatoes, God, I hate those, what you dream about, what songs you listen to, what makes you laugh, what makes you happy, how you feel when I fuck you. I want you breathing for me. I want you begging me for more of this. I want you kissing me, just me. I want you, Tulip, you, you, you, you…”

His finger circles my clit in tandem as he takes me, and I writhe underneath him. He does it so well, so good until I can’t breathe, until I’m thrashing as I clutch his ass and dig my nails in. “Tulip…” he grunts. “I’m close. Come with me.”

He moves faster, faster, his cock thickening even more and I call out his name, undulating under him. He cups my face and goes over with me, his breath hard and unsteady as he kisses me with our eyes open. Emotion claws at my heart as my body pulses around him in the aftershocks.

I want you kissing me, just me.

God. His words.

I’m falling so hard, dancing near the edge of the vastness that’s him.

And I know there’s barely any trust left in me for guys, but for him…

I want this. Whatever it is.