Page 2 of Almost Ravaged

Next year, it won’t be like this.

Next year, it will be hard, if not impossible, to carry on our birthday month tradition.

Next year, for better or for worse, everything will be different.

So even though my boobs are squashed and the harness is pinching my sides, I’m going to enjoy this day at Quest-O-Rama, surrounded by prepubescent boys with aliases like KillaMachine69 and RizMan3000.

As I scan the list of opponents, I snort more than once. Then I add my own alias to the leaderboard.

RougeRogue.

When I’m done, I make quick work of pulling my copper hair into a messy bun and securing it with the thick elastic I always keep around my wrist.

“Ready, Rogue?”

I turn at the sound of my twin’s voice.

One of Atty’s dimples comes out to play as he breaks into a boyish grin. I love that he’s so into this. I just wish Tytus had actually picked something for himself this year.

With the tip of my chin, I grin right back. “Ready, Ace.”

He always picks the same alias. And the story behind it is beyond lame. A few years ago, while we were waiting for our game of laser tag to begin, he was flirting with an attendant, and he asked her what he should pick for a name. She blandly offered Ace, and here we are.

Whatever. At least I can count on Ty to keep it fresh.

Red lights flash overhead, signaling that the two-minute countdown has begun. The young boys around us razz each other and pretend to work on their aim.

With a shake of my head, I plant my hands on my hips and scan the roster on the overhead screens.

A massive shadow appears on my left, a bare arm brushing mine, making the little hairs there stand at attention.

I don’t even have to look to confirm who’s beside me. My body is so attuned to him, so intimately aware any time he’s in my proximity.

“What’d you pick?” I practically yell to be heard over the chaos.

Ninety seconds.

Tytus bends low, and the scent of his body spray wafts over me. It’s woodsy and masculine, though there are hints of warm vanilla and bitter lime.

I close my eyes and inhale deeply as he lingers in my space, savoring the breath like it could be my last. Hand clenched into a fist, I dig my nails into the center of my palm to stave off the urge to pull him closer.

He’s close enough.

Close enough that when I look at him, I can see the whites of his eyes glowing in the eerie purple cast of the black light.

Close enough that his exhale ghosts over my skin and stirs the hairs at my temples, the warmth of his breath in sharp contrast to the minty cool scent of his gum.

He hovers close, smirking.

I hold my breath, not daring to release the air from my lungs until I get his answer.

Sixty seconds.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” The deep timbre of his voice coats my insides like honey.

When I’ve found the willpower to look away from his face, I survey the screen overhead and finally release a breath. His eyes bore into me as I scan the list, making it nearly impossible to stay focused and process the names there.

YoureMom