That’s when I saw it.
That thing I’d never forget that made the hair on my arms stand on end and my mouth open with a gasp.
Whenever I thought of someone who was “scary,” I thought of men from movies or books. The overly muscled type with no necks, wearing black clothes with scowls on their faces. Someone like a security guard or bouncer or biker who could warn people away with their large statures and brooding silence. Someone you wouldn’t want to cross in a dark alley, never mind a lit street.
The man on top of me could never be described that way. He was far from a brute with his lean build. And his clothes consisted of pastels and suspenders, not exactly big scary-man attire. In essence, he looked as if he’d stepped out of a page from The Notebook.
Upon first glance, the guy was about as scary as the Easter Bunny.
Until I saw IT.
It was a spark. Just a glint of depravity lurking behind his amber eyes. I saw it in the way he smiled as he held me down. I heard it in the way he told me I was dumb-as-fuck and adorable in the same breath. And when he spoke about his plans for revenge, I felt it in my soul.
It was then I knew he was capable of things I couldn’t even fathom.
Where Conner and Eric were bad guys in an obvious way, they didn’t instill in me the same kind of fear this man did.
I’d thought I’d known true fear when I’d stood on the ledge and decided to recklessly end it all, but I hadn’t. I hadn’t even known it when Conner and Eric had beat me, brutalized me, and then took turns forcing themselves on me.
Into me.
No.
I never knew true fear until I met pure evil.
He wore a smile and a bow tie.
CHAPTER FOUR
PREPPY
The night had taken a turn for the worse when I showed up to Mirna’s house on the tail end of being robbed of my fucking plants.
However, I was now straddling a naked chick on top of the water tower, which was one of my favorite places in Logan’s Beach.
Shit was looking up.
Although, when I followed her up to the tower I hadn’t known she was planning to defile my sacred space by tossing her boney body off of it.
There was something about her, something almost familiar, although I knew I hadn’t met her before. I watched as she stood stark naked, with her face tilted toward the sky, and her arms out, like she was king of the world on the front of the motherfucking Titanic. She was fascinating.
The bitch was in rough shape. Bruises and dried blood patched all over her skin made her look like a puzzle missing some pieces. I’d stood there in the shadows, taking in the sight before me for such a long time that I almost missed the slight tilt of her body in a forward motion. If I was a nanosecond later in making a run for her I’d be calling for a clean up instead of sitting on top of her, caging her in with my thighs. Fuck, if she hadn’t been such a tiny waif of a thing, she probably would’ve pulled me over with her.
“Why did you save me?” she suddenly asked, pausing her adorable struggling which was getting her nowhere fast.
“Awe, thats cute,” I said, peering down into her doll-like eyes that were so dark, they were almost black.
She huffed, her small perky tits heaved up and down as she tried to catch her breath. So did her rib cage, which was outlined under her purple and yellowed skin. Her collarbone was sharp and so were her elbows. She reminded me of one of those starving dog commercials with the sad music playing in the background. “What’s cute?” she asked on a strained exhale.
“That you think you’ve been saved.”
“Well, I’m not dead,” she argued.
“Yet,” I shrugged. “It’s hard to get answers from a flattened corpse. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
She growled and tried to free her arms from my grasp, and that’s when I got a better look at the inside of her arms. Suddenly, it sunk in that this chick wasn’t just covered in bruises, these were pock marks. She wasn’t just some skinny bitch.
She was a junkie.
Bruised. Broken.
Vulnerable.
She was shaking like a fucking leaf, and with every tremble my dick grew harder until it was begging to be free of its khaki confines.
She gasped, when she felt me hard against her leg, “What…why?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Really? Why? My cock only knows that I’m on top of a naked chick. It’s simple biology. Don’t feel too flattered, I once got a chubby when the lady who runs the deli tried to wipe a mustard stain off the front of my pants.” If she really knew that I was thinking about how her bruises and dried blood looked like art under the moonlight, and how I’d like to paint a line or two on her skin myself, she’d probably scream.
Loud.
I grew even harder.
“What’s your name?” I asked, easing up on my grip, slightly.
“Why?” she asked, warily, her voice now a whisper.
I rolled my eyes. “So I can know what to doodle on the cover of my notebook,” I said, sarcastically. “Okay, so here is how this is gonna go. I’m going to let go of you and let you sit up. Then I’m going to introduce myself, and then you’re going to introduce yourself. Got it?”
She tipped her chin in agreement and never took her eyes off me, even when I let her go. She tried to sit up but was struggling, her muscles visibly shaking from the strain. At the rate she was going I’d be next to throw myself off the tower from the pure boredom of waiting. She swatted at my chest when I picked her up by her hips and pulled her up to a sitting position, pressing her back against the wall. I grabbed her hands in mine. “No hitting,” I said, shaking my index finger at her like I was scolding a toddler.
I released her again and plopped down next to her. This chick was exhausting, but shit I was kind of having fun.
Junkies. Who knew?
“I’m Samuel Clearwater,” I said, extending my hand. I didn’t wait for her to take it, instead I picked up her hand off her thigh and shook it hard, as if to show her how introductions were done. My gaze dropped to the tiny patch of light colored curls between her legs. My mouth watered.
Huh.
Dark hair on her head.
Light body hair.
Interesting little druggie.
“But everyone calls me Preppy.” I gave her delicate hand a hard squeeze. “And you are…”
“Andrea, but most people just call me Dre.”
“Like Dr. Dre?” I asked, excited by her unique name. “That’s fucking awesome. Please tell me you have a sibling named Snoop. For the love of all that is holy, please tell me that. Shit, never mind, don’t tell me, I’m just gonna pretend that you do.” Her eyebrows squished together like she was trying to figure me out.
Good-fucking-luck to her. She wouldn’t be the first one.
“So Dr. Dre, you strung out?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Fuck off!” she spat, turning her head. I grabbed her chin and forced her to face me.