The Damned Page 10

  Dropping my eyes to the mark on my forearm, I brushed my thumb across it, feeling the thick scab. I wished the surge I felt when putting it there would ripple through me again. I wasn’t some freak who got off on the pain from mutilating myself; it didn’t arouse me, but I couldn’t deny it was my go-to coping method when I felt nothing else would do. One would think, given my home life and the supply of drugs and alcohol present in my house due to my mother’s addictions, I would have ventured down the same path as her. But, I hadn’t. I couldn’t see the point in using all the time. Cutting and burning were different though. I didn’t view either of them as an addiction the way some might. I viewed them as surviving.

  I gripped my cigarette between my forefinger and thumb as I lifted my shirt. Without an ounce of hesitation, I touched the lit end of it to the area above the cuts I gave myself the other day. The old familiar sting rushed to meet the embers, and I closed my eyes as I pressed the cigarette harder. All the thoughts I had woken with streaming through my head disappeared, and if for only a little while, I was content. Once again, I was in control of my thoughts, of my fears, of my emotions, of myself.

  * * * *

  My day was spent hanging posters on my walls, figuring out what clothes were clean and which were dirty, and unloading my handful of toiletries. When the afternoon came, I was rounding the corner of stir-crazy and heading in the direction of being completely fucking irritated. I needed a break from this house, from this room that wasn’t mine but was.

  After jogging down the stairs with my board in hand, I headed toward the front door, ready for a different kind of release. One that was more physical and less mental.

  “Where are you going?” Julie’s voice came from somewhere in the living room.

  I paused and turned to find her. She was sitting on the floor in front of the couch with tons of pictures spread out before her. From where I stood, I could only make out one—a black-and-white still image of a swing on a playground. It looked creepy as fuck to me.

  “Out for a bit.” I shrugged.

  She shifted her eyes to my board and then back to me. “Be careful, okay? This isn’t Harper. The cops and shop owners here probably won’t like you riding that thing around even more than they did there.”

  “Got it.” I started toward the door again.

  “When do you think you’ll be back?”

  Her question made me freeze. What was she now, my mom?

  Turning to face her again, I cocked my head to the side and felt my lips quirk into an amused grin. “I don’t know. Is there a time you want me back by?”

  Julie stared at me with a look that let me know this conversation, this moment, was just as awkward for her as it was for me. “Well, I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to let you know I have to go into work at four, and I won’t be off until about eight, unless they ask me to help close again. Nick might not be home until later either, around six or seven. It all depends on how many boats he has to wash today.”

  “Boats he has to wash?” I grinned wider. That was his fucking job? My brother-in-law was a damn boat washer?

  Julie narrowed her eyes at me. “Yeah, he works for the guy we rent from actually. That’s how we found this place. It’s a professional boat washing company, McDougals Marine Washing. With all the boats around here, it’s a booming business, so I wouldn’t snub your nose at it if I were you, Cole.”

  “Okay.” I drummed my fingers against my board, her irritation fueling my own. “So, you guys won’t be back until later. I can take care of myself, Julie. I’ve been doing it for years, or have you forgotten?”

  The look that crossed her face made me regret my harsh tone as well as the words themselves. I shifted on my feet and hoisted my board higher under my arm.

  “I haven’t forgotten. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself.” She dropped her stare to the pictures in front of her. “I just wanted to let you know is all. Oh, and Nick had a house key made for you. It’s on the kitchen counter.”

  I blinked. A house key. I guess that meant this place was officially my home now too.

  “Thanks.” I walked toward the kitchen and scooped up the silver key off the counter. Tucking it into my pocket, I backtracked toward the front door. “Later,” I called to Julie without glancing her way again.

  Stepping outside, the thick air invaded my nostrils and made my clothes stick to my skin. I pushed the sleeves of my long-sleeved shirt up and cursed myself for the mark I’d left on my arm. I damn sure would be sticking to places I could hide, because there was no way I was walking around in a long-sleeved shirt every day with temperatures like this.

  I paused at the end of the driveway and dug in my pocket for my cigarettes and lighter. My eyes shifted to the house at my right. The vehicle I had seen the girl washing yesterday was still in the same spot, but the other one I’d noticed beside it—the black Mini Cooper—was gone. I wondered which one she drove, and if she was home.

  As I thought this, the garage to her place opened and out pulled a sporty silver car. I checked the driver’s seat to see if it was her, but it was just a man I assumed must be her father. He backed out of the driveway without noticing me and pulled away at a quick speed, one that said he couldn’t get away fast enough from the confines of that house.

  Lighting my cigarette, I shoved my pack and lighter back into my front pocket and hopped on my board. As I pushed off with my right foot, I took a drag from my cigarette and glided down the sidewalk. I kept track of how many streets I cut down, so I would know how to get back to Julie’s as I made my way around Baycrest, searching for a place I could stunt. While gliding across the even pavement of the sidewalk was fine, I was in the mood to do a little more. I craved the adrenaline spike that came with landing a perfect kick-flip or grind.

  Remembering the park close by Julie and Nick’s place I’d spotted yesterday, I spun around to head back in that direction. Surely, there would be something I could use there to get my adrenaline pumping.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  EMORY

  My head was swimming by the time I pulled out of the parking lot at Ignite. Eating such a small breakfast and skipping lunch entirely was not agreeing with me. Grabbing the water bottle from my cup holder, I popped the top off and chugged the contents. Maybe if I stayed hydrated I would be able to hold out until dinner, then I would eat something small, like a salad.

  My head pounded, and my stomach rolled in heavy protest of my decision to continue starving myself until dinner. When I reached the first stop sign after leaving the gym, I rummaged through my purse for the pack of gum I knew was in there. After quickly unwrapping a piece, I shoved it into my mouth. There had to be practically nothing in a stick of gum, but maybe what small amount of calories it did have would be enough to tide my stomach over, because the water didn’t seem to be doing it.

  Turning the radio up, I lost myself in the taste of something minty in my mouth, the breeze flowing across my sticky skin, and the music blasting though my car. When I turned onto Collier Street, swift movement in the picnic table section of Calloway Park caught my attention.

  The guy from next door, Cole, was riding a skateboard across the concrete steps that separated the picnic table sections from one another. His bare, sweat-covered chest glistened in the sunlight as I watched him. He was oblivious to me, lost in his own little world. For a moment, I wondered if this was what I looked like while performing a routine.

  Before I realized what I was doing, I had turned into the parking lot of Calloway Park and cut the engine on my Mini Cooper.

  I remained in the driver’s seat, watching as he completed trick after trick with incredible ease. After a little while, he swiped the back of his hand against his brow, and I knew he had to be sweltering. Pursing my lips together, I decided I should bring him one of the extra waters I always kept in the backseat of my car. It would be warm, but at least it would be something to replenish what he was losing, something to wet his mouth.

  I c
hecked my reflection in the fold down mirror on my visor. While I didn’t look horrible, I had seen myself look much better. Tugging my hair out of the high bun, I ran my fingers through it, combing the waves out some. I reached for my purse and fished out my lip gloss to apply a light coat. Next, I grabbed my body spray and lightly sprayed myself with the scent of coconut lime before reaching behind my seat for an unopened bottle of water.

  Before I lost the courage I had mustered, I opened my door and slipped out. Locking my car behind me, I started across the parking lot with my sneakers barely making any noise across the pavement.

  Cole didn’t notice me until I was right up on him, but the second he did, I knew he remembered me from next door. The same smirk that had twisted his lips last night, just before I slipped inside my bedroom window, stretched across his face.

  “Hey, stargazer, what’s up?” He ran a hand through his damp hair.

  A fluttering sensation slipped through my stomach at hearing the nickname. I smiled and held the bottle of water out to him. “Nothing much. I just saw you as I was driving by and figured I would offer you some water and introduce myself.”

  “What made you think I didn’t already have some?” He arched a brow.

  My heart sank to my toes. Why had I instantly assumed he didn’t have any? I felt my neck grow hot at the realization of how stupid I must seem, how lame my excuse for talking to him was.

  “I’m just messing with you. I didn’t bring anything with me. Stupid thing to do in this type of heat, right?” He reached out and took the bottle from my fingers.

  “Yeah, it’s got to be ninety something out here already.”

  “Says the girl in the black workout pants.” He twisted the top off the bottle and brought it up to his lips as his eyes skimmed over what I was wearing.

  “Uh, yeah.” I glanced down at my attire, and then brought my eyes back up to his face. He was chugging the water, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat with each swig. “I had practice bright and early this morning.”

  He paused in his water indulgence for a split-second. “Practice? For what?”

  “Gymnastics. I’m a gymnast.” It was the first time I had ever said those words and been slightly embarrassed by the confession. Everyone who knew me knew what I did, how dedicated and passionate I was about that part of my life. Saying the words to him somehow embarrassed me though.

  Cole closed his eyes and pressed the bottle of water to his forehead as though it was freezer cold and nothing had ever felt as good. I took that moment to trail my eyes over his glistening torso, not knowing if I would ever have another chance to do so. While I had been right the other day in thinking he would be sculpted with lean muscles, I hadn’t imagined he would also be covered in tiny white scars that resembled spiderwebs crisscrossing his body. Curiosity gripped a hold of me. My fingers itched to reach out and trail over the puckered edges of the few that were raised higher than the others, the ones that still seemed to be fresh.

  Shifting to set his bottle of water down, he picked up a shirt lying on the ground and pulled it over his head.

  “Thanks for the water,” he muttered.

  I blinked, wondering if his marks were self-inflicted or caused by someone else. I had never seen anyone with scars like that before. “You’re welcome.”

  My eyes locked with his, and I noticed for the first time their color, a bright blue. They were endless and intense, captivating me with the fractured pieces of his soul reflected in them. Silence built between us. I got the impression he was waiting for me to ask about the marks—how he’d gotten them, why they were there.

  “Can you show me one of your tricks?” I asked instead, the words surprising me as much as they seemed to surprise him.

  The right side of his mouth twisted upward as though he found me amusing. “If you tell me your name first.”

  “Emory, Emory Montgomery.”

  “Well, Emory Montgomery, nice to meet you. I’m Cole, Cole Porter.” His coy grin never wavered. “What trick would you like me to demonstrate for you today?”

  I enjoyed the way my name sounded coming from his mouth more than I should for having just met him. It sent shivers of excitement coursing through my system and made my heart beat in overdrive.

  “Whatever it was you were doing a second ago.”

  “The grind. Okay.” He kicked the end of his board and popped it into his hand.

  I watched as he steadied himself on the thing, and then pushed off to gain speed for the trick. My mind bounced back to the images of his scars, and I knew there was a story there, a secret. I chewed on my flavorless gum while watching him and wondering what his secret could be, what could have been so horrible that he harmed himself in that way, if that were the case.

  My stomach cramped with hunger, so I swallowed my gum to tied it over a bit longer. Maybe that was what I had sensed in him, what seemed to captivate me about him most—his sense of brokenness. I realized then that it matched my own.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  COLE

  Emory had seen my scars and yet she was still standing here. She hadn’t asked what happened or looked away completely shocked or disgusted by the sight of them. Instead, she seemed almost as though she wanted to reach out and touch them. I sent up a silent prayer to no one in particular the moment she opened her mouth and asked me to do a trick for her.

  Could it be that she understood the twisted secret my scars were? How she hadn’t been supposed to see them, not her, not ever? While there had been other girls before her who had, they didn’t matter. I had let them view my scars openly while I got them to do what I wanted. It was something I tolerated as I lost myself in them for a while—during a time when cutting and burning seemed to be more of a last resort.

  The girl next door, though, the one with the sad green eyes who hid on the roof of her garage and stargazed, most likely dreaming of someplace better, the one who wore black spandex workout pants in ninety-degree temperatures, wasn’t supposed to see them. She was supposed to get to know me before she formed some fucked-up opinion of me I wouldn’t be able to change. Either that opinion was still forming, or else she was too high and mighty to act as if she’d seen what she wasn’t supposed to.

  Emory, Emory Montgomery. Even her name sounded rich and sophisticated. Maybe I had been wrong about her; maybe she wasn’t a broken soul like me. Maybe she was only fractured slightly in a way that time would mend. The thing with her parents would be forgotten after the first week of her new life at some fancy ass four-year college. She would remember how she used to climb through her window and sit out on the garage roof to gaze up at the stars while her parents yelled and screamed at each other, but that would be it. That would be the end of her broken story.

  Mine would continue though with tormenting memories waiting around every corner, because mine was more fucked up than hers. Mine was one worthy of the scars I had put on my body while living through it.

  Years from now, she would remember me as the guy who moved in next door that one summer, the guy who was hopeless in more ways than she could count with a shit ton of scars.

  I popped my board with another burst of energy, and used my other foot to even out my body in order to obtain a little air on the trick. The ghost of a smile touched the corners of my lips as I landed a near perfect Ollie for her. Rolling to a slow stop in front of her, I widened my grin and held her stare. Even if this moment—right here and now—was all I got with her, I’d take it. She was cute as hell, and there was just something about her.

  “There, how was that for a few tricks?” I reached for the bottle of water I’d set down before my show. My throat was dry. I was sweating profusely in the scorching heat, and my heart was about to hammer out of my chest. “Did you enjoy what you saw?”

  “That was great! I have no idea how you manage to keep your balance on that thing.” Her entire face lit up as honest excitement danced in her eyes.

  I had seen the small, weak, embarrassed smile she’d
given me twice now, but this … this was the first real one. It brightened her eyes and crinkled the bridge of her nose a bit, making me feel a tad bit guilty for all the harsh things I’d thought about her.

  “Easy.” I took another swig of my water. “You just have to use your core.” I reached out and lightly touched her stomach to show her where I meant.

  It was a quick gesture—one that had been wrapped with purely innocent intentions—but the second my hand met the flatness of her stomach, those intentions changed rapidly. I jerked my hand back as the sensation to lean into her and brush my lips against hers burned through me. I cleared my throat and skimmed my eyes over her face. I could tell she had felt the air between us shift the second my hand touched her as well.

  I kept my eyes fastened on her as a perplexing thought made everything pause for a moment.

  This was a scenario I’d seen before, the preppy little rich girl having a fling with the grungy, poor boy in an act of rebellion against her mommy and daddy for never paying enough attention to her. There were numerous movies, TV shows, and novels with this plotline. Hell, I’d even seen a porno or two with that as the base storyline.

  Staring into Emory’s incredibly green eyes—ones that I was now realizing had flecks of amber buried deep within them—I knew there were two options laid out for me when it came to her. One, I could turn away, give her the cold shoulder, and refuse to be her plaything for what remained of the summer. Or two, I could go with it and enjoy the ride while it lasted.

  She licked her lips and continued to stare at me before she suddenly turned her back to me and started to walk away.

  “Where are you going?” I pulled my pack of cigarettes from my pocket and fished out my lighter as I watched her continue toward the black Mini Cooper that I had seen parked in her driveway yesterday. Guess I knew which car was hers. “All right, bye,” I called after her when she neglected to explain her quick departure.