The Masks We Wear by Lee Jacquot
EIGHT
So he can’t come to school, but he can come to a football game? Something he’s never been interested in before?
The audacity.His ass knew I would be here tonight.
Irritation rolls in my stomach, and I chew the inside of my lip a little too hard, tasting the bitter blood on my tongue.
Tonight’s game is packed, and while I have our routine on repeat in my head, it all comes to a stop when I feel him set foot in the stands. The fine hairs on my neck stand at attention, and the air blows a little warmer, despite the string of clouds moving in. When I look back, I find him without much effort, sitting next to that Remy girl.
I suck my teeth. Fine, since he wants to come to my turf and ignore my presence entirely, I’ll put on a show. It’s halftime, and the announcer summons us to the field.
We saunter onto the grass, and I ignore the hundreds of eyes on me, focusing on just one. And the second those amber orbs lock on mine; it’s on.
My hips flit to the sound of the drums, soaking up every ounce of attention he gives me. The attention I should have had over the past five days. I find it intoxicating that despite what I did, he can’t seem to break away from me. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t come to school. Because even though he doesn’t want to, he’s attracted to me now, and it eats him up that he won’t get me.
I’m not sure if it’s satisfaction, rage, lust, or a combination of the three, but a tingle radiates through my body before nestling in my pussy, driving my body to pick up the pace. My hands slide down my curves and up again, showing him everything he almost had. Everything that was at the tips of his fingers.
A shiver descends my spine, and even though it’s strange how euphoric it feels, I live in the moment. Reveling in the way he lights my body up without even knowing.
Until suddenly, he snaps his eyes closed and walks away. As if he’s bored with the view.
The act hits me in the chest, leaving a hole in the dead center, allowing the nip in the air to flush the desire out like being dumped in a cold bath. There’s nothing I hate more than becoming invisible and left behind.
I bite back the burn in my throat and jump into the counts.
Screw him.
AFTER WHAT FEELS like the longest game of the season, I drive home, Lo-Fi flowing through the speakers. It’s well past ten, but even in the dark, the low-hanging clouds loom over, ready to spill their belly on the earth below.
I hurry home, parking in the driveway, and run to the front door, hopeful I make it inside before the downpour starts. But the light pouring out from the front window stops me in my tracks. My heart bottoms out, hitting my hollow stomach, instantly making me nauseous.
She’s home. She’s never home.
I stare at my keys, considering where I might go. Blaze is probably buried balls deep in somebody, and Amora is most likely just as busy. My eyes flash to the dark house behind mine, but I don’t let them linger too long.
Letting out a slow breath, I meander to the front door. Maybe I left the light on while rushing out this morning. It’s true my mind hasn’t been able to focus in the past couple of weeks.
A violent tremor takes hold of my hand, causing me to drop my keys twice. Finally, I’m able to unlock the door, pushing it open as quietly as possible. If she is here, I might be lucky enough she’s passed out, and I can slip into my room.
My face jerks to the right, a sting radiating across my jaw. My hand snaps to the tender spot before I spot her, standing in front of me in a deep red robe. Her dark hair is mussed, and streaks of mascara decorate her flushed cheeks.
“You dumb bitch. Where the fuck have you been?” My mom’s voice slices through the air, hitting me square in the chest.
I close the door and push past her. If I can get up to my room and just shut the door, I’ll be fine. Two feet is how far I make it before I’m yanked back by my ponytail. Her slurred words ring in my ear. “I asked you a question, you fat little slut.”
Maybe if she was ever sober, or better yet even came home, at all, she would remember I cheer. It’s like she only remembers the fact when she’s telling me I won’t make it into Kentucky.
“I was at the game,” I say through clenched teeth. My body struggles against the need to slam my fist in her stomach, but I don’t want to clean up the vomit she’ll inevitably hurl after.
“Yeah, I’m sure you were, pinche puta.” She releases me, shoving me against the banister. My hands reach out immediately, grabbing on and using it to propel me up, taking the steps three at a time, ignoring the sloppy slurs she yells behind me.
Running inside my room, I slam the door closed and lock it before pushing my back against it, sliding to the floor. Every part of my body shakes, a dangerous mix of anger and frustration sloshing through my veins like sludge.
I count my breaths, forcing my brain to slow its erratic thoughts. I haven’t seen her in over a week—I guess my luck was bound to run out.
Luck. Luck was when I was young, and she stayed cooped up in her room, only coming out to eat. Luck was when we did interact, and I only had to endure pops to the back of the head or a belt across the leg. Or when my dad was here to make sure she didn’t hit me too hard. I ran out of that luck about five years ago…
Wiping my brow with the back of my hand, I laugh; it’s humorless and trickling with the sadness I wish I could let go of but never do. Instead, I always let it fester in my gut until I throw up and wonder when I’ll ever be good enough for her.
At last, my tremors start to ease when a flicker of a light grasps my attention.
It’s him. A sudden wave of calm washes over me, soaking up the anxiousness and steadying my breath. Pushing to my feet, I move to the window, careful to stand in the shadows of my room so he can’t see me.
Spencer’s curtains are open, giving me a full view of him pacing his room. He’s on the phone, and from the looks of it, thoroughly pissed off. He grabs the hem of his hideous pea-colored sweater before dropping it and threading his hand through dark locks. As he massages the nape of his neck, his eyes suddenly snap to my window, and my heart stops.
I hold my breath, inching closer to the middle of the window. For some reason, I want him to see me—need him to. An idea sparks in my mind, and I act fast, scared I may think better of it before I actually do it.
Sliding open the pane, I peek my head through. The air is moist and smells like it’s only seconds away from filling with rain.
Slipping onto the sloped roof, I ease myself down on the ledge. The drop isn’t but about ten feet—an easy stunt to a frequent flyer. I fall, bending my knees slightly when my feet make contact with the soft ground.
A few quick steps and I am at the large maple tree nestled in the corner of my backyard. It’s just to the right of his window, only about five yards away, and I know he can see inside of it. One time when he had the flu, I sat inside and talked through the open window.
I hoist myself up the ladder, nailed to the trunk, my heart thumping against my chest with every step.
A year ago, Amora helped me clean it out and give it a new look. She gripped the whole time but ended up loving it. Sometimes we come out here, escape from the day-to-day shit, and just relax. She didn’t know it also served as an escape from my mother’s occasional...outbursts. The inside is now painted a soft white, with a black abstract poster on one wall. A dark plush rug rests in the middle, and two gray poufs sit near the only window.
Positioning myself in the middle of the rug, I gaze out the glass at Spencer’s window. He’s still there, leaning against the frame, his arms folded across his chest.
Heat flares low in my belly as I keep my eyes trained on him, leaning back on the furry floor. My pulse races, and my breathing becomes labored, but I don’t dare look down. Not yet. I want him to be the one to break away like he did at the game. I need to see if he’s capable of doing that now.
I pull my tank over my head, exposing my breasts to the chilly air. My nipples pebble instantly, and I move one hand to roll them in between my fingers. Spencer shifts and his jaw clenches, the thick vein on his neck makes an appearance, but he doesn’t stop staring. In fact, his eyes darken, a forbidden desire rolling in them, turning me on more.
My thighs clench together, the sudden warmth deep in my core igniting a fire in my pussy. I want to plunge my finger inside and put my throbbing clit out of its misery, but I need to put on a show. See how far I can push Spencer Hanes before he cracks.
Trailing my other hand down my bare waist, I stop at the edge of my shorts, my head naturally lulling to the side with the small shocks of pleasure. Curling my finger around the string, I pull it slowly until the bow flops open, allowing my hand to slip inside.
A crash of thunder jolts my body upright as my index finger makes contact with the sensitive bud. I rest on my elbow, watching Spencer’s chest rise and fall faster. Biting into my lower lip, I drag my pinky through the slippery folds, moaning at the sensation. I imagine it’s his tongue, licking up and down, exploring every crevice, lapping up all the wetness that’s just for him.
I slip the shorts from my hips, giving him a full view before sliding my hand back up my thigh. I roll my swollen clit, and a flutter descends in my core, heating my body up just as a string of lightning illuminates the dark sky. Finally, my eyes shut, unable to keep up the charade, and I give in to the burning ache.
My fingers massage the knot, moving faster with each rumble of thunder, hungry for release. An electric surge ransacks my nerves, pulling me deeper into the abyss. Breathing becomes impossible as my body tips over the edge. All I need is one last glimpse...
I gaze at the window and see him leaning against his arm that’s resting above his head on the window frame. His hands curl into fists clenched so tight his knuckles are a bright white. He is so incredibly sexy when he’s angry.
A burst of stars steals my vision, and my toes curl in, pulling every tendon in my foot. My head snaps back as the orgasm rips through my body, threatening to kill me with it. Every muscle clenches in uniform, squeezing and releasing until finally, they relax entirely.
I fall back onto the rug, my eyes finding Spencer’s window as I catch my breath. He’s still standing in the same spot, his hooded eyes burning into me with a fury that lights my body up all over again.
My lips curl into a smirk, and as if on cue, he turns, disappearing into his room. Moments later, darkness swallows it, leaving me alone as rain breaks open the sky.
I won. But what, I’m quite not sure.
And for a moment, I wonder what I may have just started.
