Sicko(40)

I take the drink from him. “Thanks.”

“Jade, right?” Jensen says, leaning against the railing. His eyes remain on mine, his feet crossing at his ankles.

I nod. “Yup,” taking a sip of the flat beer. Gross. Everything about college is severely overrated. Even somewhat tipsy, it does nothing to fill the void that’s aching in my chest.

“Is Ollie inside?” Sloane asks, winking at me. “I think I’ll go find him.”

Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells are going off, but I silence them. I need to put myself in college. Mentally, I’m not there. I’m many years ahead of all the people at this school. I’m struggling.

Sloane’s eyes fly over my shoulder as music continues to pour out of the house. She pales. “Oh shit. Jade…”

I turn my head slightly over my shoulder to find Royce tossing his helmet on the ground near his idling bike, his eyes furious and on Jensen. His jaw tenses, his fists closing. How the fuck did I miss the fact that their bikes had stopped? Everything spins, my brain fuzzy. Ah, that’s probably why.

My brows curve in as he gains distance, but just as he’s about to reach us, one of the other bikers steps in front of him, hand on his chest. This one has short hair on the sides, longer on the top. He doesn’t seem to have a flick of tattoos, and almost looks too good to be in an MC vest, no offense to Royce. Wicked. Wicked leans into Royce’s ear and whispers something that only they can hear before I watch as Royce’s face morphs into serenity. Calm. All of the anger we all witnessed has vanished.

Royce’s eyes cut to mine, a snarl on his mouth. He pushes away from Wicked and storms toward me, only this time, he does it while grabbing a cigarette, putting it between his swollen lips, and lighting the end gracefully.

God, Royce. So damn beautiful it aches my soul. When I was a teenager, I thought that ache was butterflies, but now, what I feel isn’t butterflies in my belly. It’s my soul exploding from beneath my skin and not having anywhere for the shrapnel to escape to. It’s everything that should kill you but doesn’t, instead it lingers within your veins, spreading poison. The bow in his middle lip, the symmetry of his face, the strength of his jaw, the beautifully cut cheekbones, sharpened by a scalpel. It’s even the tattoos that stain his flawlessly muscled skin, and the way his dark eyelashes fan out over his cheeks. It’s his annoyingly perfect nose and impeccably straight, white teeth. Royce Kane is not for one girl, he’s for every girl. He’s your mom’s secret fantasy and your father’s insecurity.

He’s a big slut too.

“What are you doing here?” I say through gritted teeth, just as his eyes swing to Jensen. I steady myself by clutching on to the wooden rail. Woooo.

He winks at Jensen. “Actually, not for you. Where’s Nellie?” I try not to let the way he dismisses my encounter with Jensen affect me. This is what I always wanted, to not have his attention, so why does it bother me so much anyway?

“She’s in the house.” I lean against the railing, which puts me right in front of Jensen. If I wriggled back just a little farther, my ass cheeks would hit his crotch. “What is Nellie to you anyway?”

“Ahhh,” Jensen says, his hand coming to my hip. Instantly, Royce’s eyes snap to where they flex.

The harsh lines around his eyes soften as he quickly composes himself. He takes a step forward, his messy military boot hitting the tip of my Givenchy. The heat pouring from his body is enough to ignite an angry inferno. Or maybe I’m drunk.

He leans down until the tip of his nose touches the side of my temple. Jensen’s grip tenses around my sharp hipbone. “Mmmm,” Royce growls softly, his warm breath touching the skin on my face. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Duchess.” At the simple drop of my nickname, my insides solidify.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Why does his voice suddenly sound familiar?

You’re drunk.

I step backward, forgetting that Jensen is right there, so obviously, my ass hits the apex of his fucking thighs. “Nellie’s in the house.”

“Who is this?” Jensen whispers into my ear from behind. I have to give it to him, he has balls not cowering at the presence of Royce.

Any other man most definitely would.

My eyes lock with Royce’s, the rim of plastic coming to my lips as the stench of stale beer swims up my nose. “Just my brother.”

“Oh, shit, man!” Jensen chuckles, sliding me away. “I thought you were an ex-boyfriend or something, but figured you were a bit too old.” He’s literally twenty-two. Jensen is a fuckwit. The Royce I know would have already punched Jensen, but I guess he’s not the same boy I knew.

He’s more composed. More in control. He’s a weapon that’s been sharpened and only utilized to cause mass destruction. I’m in trouble.

Royce’s eyes remain on mine, but his words are for Jensen. “If only.”

He leaves and I finally exhale the breath that I’ve been holding. Jensen reaches for me again, but all I want to do is run. I can’t breathe, being suffocated by this life isn’t helping. I can feel my mind slipping into a dark hole and I don’t think I’m going to have the courage to pull myself out of it this time. Everything around me slows as my pulse quickens. I take the few steps needed to get to the front grass. I can vaguely see bikes parked at the front, but I don’t care about them. I want the safety of my dorm, to be held indoors, in my soft blankets and safe. Safe.