The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(18)

“I like you, okay? You’re different from girls around here.” He leans toward me again, his eyes closing. This time he hesitates an inch away from me.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I’ve barely spoken when he presses his mouth to mine—tentative first, then harder, hungrier. He parts my lips with his tongue and slides his fingers into my hair, pulling me closer, until there’s not an inch of his body that isn’t pressed against mine. I stop thinking and just react, letting my hips and chest rise and fall with his. One hand is tangled in my hair and another tugging at the waistband of my jeans. He slips his fingers through my curls as he moves his hand down to trace the skin from my neck to my collarbone, sending shivers through my entire body. Decades pass before Charlie pulls away. His hair sticks out from his head in all angles, and I itch to reach for it again, to smooth it back behind his ears. All the blood in his head seems to have rushed to his lips, because they’re bright red and swollen from kissing me.

His nose brushes against mine. “You taste minty,” he says into my mouth, leaning in to kiss me again.

The giggling in the swimming pool rises in a shriek of laughter and then cuts off abruptly. Charlie hesitates and reluctantly pulls his lips away from mine.

“What do you think they’re doing?” I ask. “Should we find out?”

Charlie pushes himself to his feet, then leans over to give me his hand. “Only if it’ll help convince you that swimsuits are optional.”

“Unlikely,” I say, but I follow him toward the pool anyway. There are gaps in the fence, each about one inch wide. I squint into the gaps, but I can’t make out entire people—just jumbled shapes. Charlie comes up behind me. Circling my waist with his arms, he starts to kiss my neck.

“I thought we were spying,” I whisper.

“Spies do this.”

Just beyond the fence a girl says something, but the wind snatches away her words. I lean in closer, pressing my eye against the largest gap.

Brooklyn stands at the top of the plastic staircase leading into a hot tub, holding the stub of a cigarette between two fingers. Black swimsuit bottoms hang low on her hips, and she has a white tank top knotted above her waist. The tank top is wet and pasted to her skin in patches, making it easy to see she’s not wearing a bra.

“What are they doing?” Charlie whispers. I shush him, lifting a finger to my mouth. There’s a boy in the hot tub, too, his brown hair slicked up in wet spikes. Thin lines of steam rise from the tub, mingling with the smoke from Brooklyn’s cigarette.

“Ever done it in a hot tub?” Brooklyn asks, her mouth curling. She’s wearing dark red lipstick that smudges across her cigarette. The boy stands, water dripping from his faded navy boxers. He grabs Brooklyn and spins her around.

I immediately recognize the light brown eyes, the cleft chin. Josh. Riley’s Josh.

I press my face closer to the fence. Josh sets Brooklyn back down and pulls her to his chest. She drops her cigarette into the water behind her, then lifts her face up to his. They kiss long and deep, and I blush even harder.

Brooklyn looks up, and her eyes find the exact spot in the fence where I’m watching. It’s like someone has touched an icy finger to the lowest part of my back and runs it up the length of my spine. She wraps her arms around Josh’s neck and kisses him again, possessively, her red-painted mouth mashing against his teeth as she pulls him closer. The whole time, she never takes her eyes away from the fence. From me.

It’s like a dare. A challenge. I pull away from the fence and turn back to Charlie, feeling as though I’ve had the wind knocked out of me.

“Sofia, what’s wrong?” Charlie asks. I shake my head.

“I’ve got to go,” I say.

? ? ?

I make my way to Riley’s house, following a long, curved road that dead-ends onto Riley’s street. Gnarly trees line the sidewalks. The houses sit back far from the street, their windows dark. Overhanging branches send skeletal shadows over their yards.

A bird squawks above me, rustling the tree branches as it flies away.

“Crap,” I mutter, trying to still my rapidly beating heart. I ran most of the way here, not because I wanted to get to Riley, but because I didn’t want to spend any more time in Brooklyn’s neighborhood. In fact, now that I’m here I wish the trip had taken longer.

I pass a few more towering houses before I locate Riley’s. Her house is a mini-mansion. A wide white porch wraps around front, and Greek-style pillars stand on either side of the double doors. I ring the bell, and a tinny ding-dong echoes inside.

A tiny green garden snake slivers across the wooden porch, its body undulating over the concrete. I cringe and cross my arms over my chest. A second later it disappears behind a heavy clay flowerpot.

Footsteps sound just inside the house, then the door swings open.

“Sofia?” Riley leans a cheek against the edge of the door, considering me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry, I tried to call.” I try to catch my breath. “Can I come in?”

The corner of Riley’s mouth twitches upward, and her face grows several degrees warmer. “Of course. You want something to drink?”

“Um, sure.”

Riley steps back, opening the door into a foyer with high ceilings and real marble floors. I step inside, momentarily distracted. Beautifully posed photographs of Riley sandwiched between her parents cover the walls, all three wearing matching preppy-chic. I gape at them, amazed at how perfect everyone looks, like they’re posing for a catalog.