The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot

 

EIGHTEEN

 

His little friend has done a good job taking down all my posters, but my cheer team is better. They replace them faster than Remy can find them, all for the cost of twenty minutes off practice. The truth is, they would have gotten the time anyway because I need to make sure I look okay for my afternoon meeting with Spencer.

He hasn’t said anything, and I can’t lie, that bothers me. He still isn’t phased by anything I dish out, and it’s starting to make my insides burn. How is he so detached?

The only thing he really cares about is maybe Remy, and after a talk with Blaze, I realize starting any drama with her will only cause me problems. So now, I’m left scraping the bottom of the barrel for ideas to piss him off.

A thought crosses my head from a week ago in the locker room. Amora threatened Stacy with a screenshot. Posting it as a puzzle around the school for people to piece together. Maybe that would do something to him. Pull him out of his shell once and for all. I would do anything to see him get angry.

I make it to the tiny room before he does, and lean back in my chair, inspecting my cuticles. Since we are the only ones ever occupying the space, the mixed smell of us still lingers in the air from last week. Its hues of lavender and lemon with deep cedar. It’s intoxicating and incredibly frustrating.

The door handle jiggles, signaling his presence, forcing my spine to straighten. I brush a hand down my arm, smoothing the goose bumps before he walks in.

Spencer’s head appears first, and a strange combination of satisfaction and hunger jumbles my nerves into a knot. Dark circles highlight the skin under his equally dim eyes. His brown locks are in disarray, falling onto his forehead and brushing the edge of his new square frames. The black hoodie he’s wearing hugs only his biceps and hangs loosely over his core. He must have forgotten a belt, leaving light wash jeans clinging just below his waist.

He’s tired—exhausted.

So the flyers are working.

I smile inwardly, loving the way my chest swells with a tinge of arrogance. He’s not so invincible after all, and even if the inconvenience is slight, I’ll take it as a victory.

He flops into his chair, not daring to look at me, and takes a small controller from his pocket. He sighs and clicks a button on it. The room instantly glows a dark crimson red. It’s a dangerous color, and my pulse responds immediately, nearly doubling its resting pace.

My eyes lock on his hands as he sets a timer on his phone, still unwilling to gaze at me. Annoyance flickers through me, and I suck on my teeth. He winces but keeps his stupid stance.

The three-minute wait is unbelievably long, and the number of emotions wracking through my mind leaves me almost panting for breath. I’m exasperated. Irritated, my heart still flutters when I see him, and he can’t even be bothered to look at me.

Yet, I’m confident. Powerful in this moment that everything he’s feeling is caused by me. Every insult, down to the small donations left at his locker. All of them, remind him of me, and sick satisfaction leads to my next conundrum.

I’m horny… as hell. My knees clench together to keep the heaviness from taking over. It’s hard to ignore the slickness between my thighs.

Finally, his damn alarm goes off, and he doesn’t wait. “Hey.”

His voice is rough and deep, like he just woke up. It shoots straight to my core, making my own voice sultry. “Hey.”

His eyebrows pinch together for a second before his face returns calm, bored, and focuses on a stray spot on the desk between us. “How was your day?”

“Boring. How was your day?” I think I’m holding my breath as I wait for his response.

“Just grand. How are you feeling?”

“Vexed. How are you feeling?”

He shifts in his seat, nearly parallel with the table, and puts one arm on it. He scraps at the corner, peeling a splinter of wood. “I’m fine. If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

It’s clear he wants to be done with this, but unfortunately for him, I don’t. “I’d put a leash on my bitch and take him for a walk. Maybe get him a treat if he’s good. What about you, Spencer? If you could do anything right now, what would you do?”

At last his eyes snap to me, blazing with the fury I’ve longed for. “Fuck you, Lily. I can—”

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” I lean forward, both elbows on the table, a glorious grin spreading across my face. “I don’t partake in bestiality. But you know, I have heard Remy might.”

“Don’t say her fucking name, Lily. Whatever sick obsession you have with me doesn’t involve her.” His body is shaking—so much anger vibrating through him it’s almost tangible.

I ignore the pang in my chest at the way he defends her and huff. “I’ll say whatever the hell I feel like. And until I get what I want, no one is safe.”

Before I can blink, I’m against the wall with Spencer’s hand wrapped around my throat. His body is flush against mine, the heat of his breath searing a path down my neck and spreading across my collarbone. The brown is nearly gone from his eyes, leaving black orbs with bits of gold. They glimmer under the light which now surrounds his head in a red glow. The God of War has nothing on Spencer Hanes at this moment.

“Is this what you want, Lily? A fucking reaction?” he snarls, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

Heat swirls in the small space between us, leaving my head swimming and speech unfeasible. Instead, I nod and feel him smile against my neck. My skin burns everywhere his body is touching mine and yearning for it in the places he isn’t.

“Why?” He runs his nose along the edge of my jaw, and I gasp. He grips tighter, tilting my head away. I can breathe, but swallowing is near impossible.

“Fucking answer me.” His voice booms in my ear, jolting me upright. His arousal presses into my thigh, and my core clenches. This isn’t the sweet Spencer from my treehouse. This one is dark... mean.

“Because,” I rasp. My mind is spinning, and for some reason, I can’t lie. “I want to know I affect you.”

“That much is obvious, but I want to know why.” His nose continues its assault, trailing down the length of my neck, and I arch—arch into him, molding my body against the surprising hardness of his. Everything is on fire. It’s a furious mix of anger and desire, and I... want this.

I want him.

Get control.

“Now,” he hisses before nipping my eardrum, his grip tightening.

“Because I…” The words die in my throat. I can’t say it. I won’t. No matter how much my body wants him, he doesn’t get to have my thoughts. I won’t make that mistake again. “Get your dirty ass paws off me, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what? Get more of your sheep to leave me gifts? Bark at me till they’re black and blue? Do you think I fucking care, Lily? Do I look like I care?” The way he draws out my name feels like a slur. When I clench my teeth in response, he laughs. It’s low, deep in the back of his throat, and his grin is wide—like the cat that caught the canary.

No, he doesn’t get to win this time.

“Spence, get your fuc—”

His mouth crashes into mine, stealing my words, my breath, my soul.

It’s not tentative or soft, it’s angry and possessive. He bites into my bottom lip, forcing my mouth open in a gasp, and takes full advantage, sliding his tongue inside to fight with mine. Though the word fighting is an understatement.

We wage war on each other.

He takes my breath and gives me his, but it isn’t enough. Nothing is enough. My fists find his shirt, balling the fabric to pull him somehow closer than he already is. He threads his fingers in my hair, gripping it by the root and tugging our bodies flush. There is no way to tell where his ends and mine begins.

A groan vibrates his body, sending wild tremors down my nerves. My veins throb, threatening to burst at any second. To think I’ve been kissed before is the stupidest thing I’ve ever thought.

Thisis my first kiss. The one that makes me feel like I could combust at any second, but not care, because he would put me back together. Then do it all over again.

He breaks from my mouth, and before I have time to whimper a protest, his lips are on my neck, somehow licking and nipping at the same time. I feel my eyes roll to the back of my head, and I mewl, hoping he doesn’t stop.

“I bet if I slid my hand down here, you would be fucking dripping.” His fingers tickle around the waistband of my jeans, and my stomach tightens.

Everythingclenches and screams, begging for him to just do it.

“Is this what you want from me, Lily?” His lips are back at my ear.

“Yes.” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s breathy, needy, and weak. But he hears it just fine.

“Remember this. Because now that you’ve had your fix, I will never fucking touch you again.”

And then he rips his body from me in one fluid motion, letting a deep chill wrap around me in his absence. He played me like a damn violin, and I showed him how, singing as he did it. I blink the fire away, curling my hands around my stomach.

How did I let this happen?

“I hate you.” It’s a whisper, but I know he hears it when his eyes narrow.

“Believe me, baby, I hate you more.” Spencer grabs the notebook on the table before sparing me one last glance. “You can parade around here like a queen all you want, but I know the truth. You’re nothing but a fucking peasant.”

With that, he slams the door behind him before I take my next breath.

My chest feels hollow yet heavy, and there’s an insane burn inside my nose. But this time I don’t ignore it. I embrace it. I let every old scab bust open and bleed out, committing this new pain to memory. Because I will remember this and let it remind me why I won’t mess up again. My fingers find the charm on my necklace, clench it, and pull it back and forth until my neck burns from the friction.

Well, Spencer Hanes, welcome to the end. And believe me when I say, what I did before was child’s play.

With my mind made up, I exit the small room, and what little air I have left flees my lungs. Stacy stands with her back against the wall, fingers playing with the hem of her cheer skirt. She peers up at me before smiling.

Shit.

Instead of walking toward her, I click the down button on the service elevator right next to me. If I were to talk to Stacy now, I’m liable to bash her poor head against the locker and of no fault of her own. It’s just because I can’t do it to Spencer.

With a dull wave, a small wish she didn’t hear anything, I clamber inside the elevator and glide down to the first floor.

The elevator doors open, and I swear someone is playing a goddamn trick on me. My mother sits at the entrance with her cleaning cart, drinking from a metal cup.

You got to be fucking kidding me.

Her eyes connect with me, and instantly I know—this bitch is drunk on the job. I’m quick to move around her, ignoring the sounds of the metal hitting the cart. I make it two feet before her cold fingers wrap around my arm, swinging back to face her.

“You’re just going to walk by your mother, you fucking puta?”

“Mother? Bitch, my dad was more of a mother to me. My aunt Mina was more of a mother. I am more of a mother to me!” I can’t stop it. I try, I really do, but it’s like trying to hold water in a strainer.

And the consequences are instant. The cool metal of her cup crashes into my jaw, spilling its contents all over my blouse. Whiskey burns the inside of my nostrils, and I’m pretty sure she cracked my tooth as the metallic liquid fills my mouth.

She pushes her cart onto the elevator, turning to look down her nose at me. “You are nothing. Don’t forget that.”

“Lily? What the fuck!” Amora’s screeches echo down the hallways, squeezing my heart in half.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

She reaches the elevator as it closes, slamming her fist into the reflective doors. Amora whirls around to me, still crumpled on the floor. She crouches down, grabbing my face with surprising gentleness. “Your mom?”

Her baby blues search mine, her eyebrows furrowed and curled upward. It’s as if she’s putting the pieces of a puzzle together, filling in gaps. Tears linger on the brim of her lid. And in this moment, I no longer care that my entire world can crumble if she knows. I need her to know because I can’t hold back anymore.

And I don’t.

I nod my head, letting the tears sear down my face, and sobs rip through my body. Everything is shaking so violently, I think Amora will call for help, but instead, her arms wrap around me. She pulls me into her chest, rocking me back and forth, smoothing her hand down my arms.

“Shhh. Lily. I’m here now. You don’t have to carry this anymore.”