Page 21 of Beg for It
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BLAIR
Iam well and truly fucked.
My head feels like someone is playing Whac-A-Mole. Poorly. They keep missing the mole and are just thwacking the blank spaces with the eagerness of a child hyped up on candy.
“Do you have any idea how embarrassed I am?” Our mother paces back and forth, her designer loafers thumping on the custom rug. “Both of my children gone.”
Josh somehow looks a million times worse than I do. He has his maroon hoodie pulled over his head and still smells like beer.
I woke up in my bed with no clue how I ended up in it.
My body had still been covered in blood, sweat, and cum, which was not ideal.
I’d groggily stumbled my way into the scalding hot shower and burned every trace of the night from my body…
or as much as I could. Then I covered my body with the largest sweatshirt I could find to hide away all the remaining evidence.
“Do you have anything to say for yourselves?”
“Dad said I could go,” Josh shrugs.
“I—” Our father begins spluttering. “Honey, Josh is so busy with lacrosse. He’s allowed some free time. Boys need to let loose.”
I bite my tongue.
“And you?” She squares her gaze on me.
“I’m sorry.”
It won’t do me any favors coming up with excuses or reasons as to why I snuck out. None of it would be valid in their eyes. I am tired, and the energy needed to appease them is greater than what I have.
“I’m disappointed in you, Blair.” Her words pierce my skin. “I expected more from you.”
“Sorry.”
“The Langhams brought their son. You didn’t even get a chance to meet him.”
“Sorry.”
She lets out a huff and storms out of the room, our father trailing behind her.
I raise my foot sideways and kick Josh’s chair.
“Hey,” he whines.
“Seriously?” I hiss.
“What?” He shrugs. “How was I supposed to know you’d bail as well? That’s not your MO.”
“I don’t know. Maybe if you’d bothered to ask me?”
“Whatever.” He clenches his jaw like a petulant child.
I let out an exhausted sigh, rising from the seat to retreat to the safety of my room. I didn’t want to deal with this. I’m already fielding a barrage of texts that are blowing up my phone. I don’t feel like playing the role of the sweet sister.
Josh jogs to catch up with me, silent in our ascent up the stairs. We reach the second-floor landing, which is where we normally split off. I head down the hall to my room, and he continues up to his. Except this time Josh follows me for a few steps.
I pause at the threshold of my door, peering at him over my shoulder.
“Everything okay?”
“I heard something.”
“Yeah?”
He plays with the sleeves of his hoodie. “There was a fight at Trent’s last night.”
I swallow.
“There was.”
“People are saying things.”
Dammit. I didn’t think it would spread this quickly. If Josh knows, that means half of town has to be aware of what went on.
I square my shoulders, donning the imaginary tiara everyone expects me to wear.
“And you believe what they’re saying?”
The challenge hovers in the air between us.
“No. Never.”
“Good.”
I disappear into my room and shut the door before he can push any further.
My skin feels like it is a hundred degrees, panic burning through my veins.
I rip off the sweatshirt I don’t even want to be wearing.
The fabric falls to the floor, and I rush into my en suite, turning the faucet as cold as it can get.
I splash water on my face a few times before lifting my head.
The reflection that stares back holds no secrets.
Dark purple hickeys litter my collarbone. Rosey pink bite marks mar the slope of my neck. The imprint of a palm stains my windpipe. An angry red X scars my left boob.
All of it is pure evidence.
Undeniable proof of the last twenty-four hours.
The sun may have risen, but my sins are still alive.
I hate how my fingers trace over every mark, causing my pussy to pulse. This is everything I wanted, but at what cost?
From the moment I woke up, my mind has been a mixture of Eli and Phantom, the two personas dancing in a twisted waltz in my brain, taunting my every desire. A hollowness will live in me from this moment on, there is no denying that.
I drag myself out of the bathroom and plop down on the edge of my bed, staring blankly out the bay window.
It’s only after a few minutes that I realize something…
The switchblade is missing from the tree.
THE END FOR NOW…