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MY HEART TO KEEP

RILEY

I snap the heavy Demonology Codex shut with a thud. It’s almost eight o’clock, and I haven’t started getting ready for our get-together with Felix. Sliding the book underneath my pillow, I move to sit on the edge of the bed, dangling the necklace Willow gifted me before my eyes. It’s an outline of a black heart. Spindly skeleton fingers wrap around a red rose in the center with tiny diamonds etched into the black edges of the heart.

I remember the day she gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. I couldn’t even fathom how she scrounged up enough money to buy this, let alone spend a dime on me. I’ve always told her that the only gift I will ever need in this life, or the next, is her. She wrote in her sketchbook that she was secretly stealing money from our late foster parents’ wallets. A dollar here, two there. When she spotted the necklace, she knew it belonged to me. I was reluctant to accept it, but the pleading look in her eyes softened my demeanor, like they always do.

I leap off the bed and stride over to Willow. She’s applying shimmery pink lip gloss to her plump lips, rubbing them together. So slowly… it’s almost sensual.

Standing behind her, my gaze locks on her lips, and she flicks her gaze to meet my stare in the mirror. The corners of her lips curl into a smile, and she rubs her lips together one last time before making a popping sound.

“You look beautiful,” I murmur, never once losing eye contact.

Willow’s wardrobe is vibrant and full of color. She could’ve easily fit in with the popular girls if we weren’t inseparable. But fuck that, she’s mine, and Willow isn’t callous and shallow like all those girls are. She has a pure heart and a kind soul.

Calling her beautiful is an understatement. She’s drop-dead gorgeous. She’s wearing a white off-the-shoulder cropped blouse with a cinched waist, accentuating her curves and a pastel pink skirt.

She looks good enough to eat. And I’m fucking starving.

Willow blushes, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and lowers her gaze.

I step closer to her, brushing my breasts against her back. Her breath catches on a hitch, and she meets my hungry stare in the mirror. I push her strawberry-blonde hair, still warm from the straightener, over one shoulder, without a word. The pads of my fingertips gently brush against the exposed skin on her shoulder, and I watch the goosebumps pebble her ivory skin.

I wrap my arm around her, showing off the necklace in front of her face. “Will you wear this for me, beautiful?”

Her large green eyes widen, confusion settling on her features.

“It’s okay. I want you to wear it. For me.” I lean closer, whispering the words against the crest of her ear.

She sucks in a sharp inhale, nodding slowly.

Around her delicate neck, I clasp the sterling silver chain. I trace my fingers over the pendant and I let my hand wander lower, feeling uncertain. Between her breasts, down her flat stomach, past her navel, to the waistband of her skirt.

Willow pants, her eyes following my every movement. I let my hand rest on her smooth skin. I wrapped my other hand around her waist, pulling her against me.

I’m well aware that I may be crossing a line with her. But I can’t find it in me to stop. From the way she looks, her perfect curves, and her long legs, that I crave to spread wide open so I can feast on her. To how her hair smells like strawberries, the scent that I want to envelop me for the rest of my life. Her soft pants I wish to devour with my mouth. Her moans and gasps of pleasure I yearn to draw from her.

I fucking want it all. And I’m wondering if she wants this, too, because one thing is certain—she isn’t moving my hand.

I never considered myself a lesbian or bisexual. Labels aren’t my thing. I despise them. It never mattered to me whom I loved, as long as they accepted me, regardless of gender.

Willow and I have little experience on the boy front. She said she once kissed a boy on a school bus in elementary school. That captures the entirety of her romantic life. As for me… well, I don’t enjoy talking about my experiences much.

I lost my virginity when I was a sophomore. To Brad fucking Moore. One of the star hockey players at our school, and I was dumb enough to believe he actually wanted me.

It was all a prank. They wanted to make fun of one of the Draven sisters and make us the school’s laughingstock. Without my consent, videos of me and him circulated throughout the school.

Little did everyone know they were watching my very real fucking rape.

They mocked me. Tortured me. Called me every synonym of whore in the fucking dictionary.

But I told him no. I told him no repeatedly. He was too strong.

From that day on, I’ve tried to bulk up as much as I can because one day I plan to be stronger.

I’ve never wanted to kill someone until that day. Willow keeps me at bay and soothes the rage that lives and breathes underneath my skin. I would have snapped if it weren’t for her holding me together.

Willow trails her fingers over mine, over the soft flesh of her stomach. She brings me back to reality, grounding me in this moment that I want to stay in forever—with her. It is always only her.

I gather the courage and take a leap of faith to ask her if I can drag my hand even lower. I need to know what she feels like. Is she as slick between her thighs as I am for her?

“Willow,” I breathe against her ear.

That grabs her attention. She bites her bottom lip, her gaze fixed on me in the mirror.

My heart feels as if it will burst from my chest. I sink the tip of my index finger under the fabric of her skirt, and her body stiffens. “I want?—”

We both jump to the sound of glass shattering on the floor beneath our bedroom. Then the shouting match begins between Maria and her dick of a husband, Eric.

I let out a long sigh as I step away, realizing that whatever this was between us has ended. Willow spins around, her finger tapping a rapid rhythm on her thigh. This is usually the telltale sign that she’s scared or nervous.

I give her a weak smile. “It’s gonna be okay.” I touch the pendant on the necklace again with a soft motion, hoping that my plan works. While Willow was getting ready, I scoured the Codex for means of protection.

We know demons exist. The Saint, who claims souls on Christmas, proves it. There is so much about him, or the other supernatural beings, that we don’t know enough about yet. With the existence of demons and all the research I’ve done, I’ve deduced that magic must be real, too.

I found a protection spell, or at least I think it was, and spoke the words scrawled on the page while clasping the necklace in my hand. I need Willow to always be protected, so I hope someone, or something, listened to my plea.

I steal a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to my bed. Felix should be here any minute.

“Let’s get the hell out of here and go have some fun.” I offer her my hand, which she takes without hesitation. I rake my eyes up and down her body, drinking in every inch of her. “If anyone even thinks about touching you, I’m going to break their fucking hands.”

Willow tilts her head, a curious twinkle in her emerald eyes.

“I mean it,” I emphasize.

She shakes her head with a playful grin.

More glass shatters downstairs. Maria’s screams turn into wails as her argument with her husband becomes more heated. Rolling my eyes, I dart over to Willow’s bed and grab her sketchpad and pencil. She goes nowhere without it, and it’s her only means of communication with anyone who isn’t me.

I plaster on a wide smile as I hand it to her. “Didn’t want you to forget this.”

She hugs the pad to her chest with a warm smile. I grab her hand again and turn towards the door.

“Come on,” I say, tugging her along behind me as we head outside to wait for Felix.

Felix showed up twenty minutes late, and I was starting to wonder if he was ever going to show up. But alas, his beat-up red pickup truck came rumbling down our street. The truck sounds like it’s near death, so I’m sure it woke up our entire neighborhood.

The entire ride to the party, Felix was the most quiet I’ve ever seen him. He appeared to be on edge, anxiously tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, and avoiding eye contact with the both of us. Whenever I’d try to make conversation, he’d either give me one-word answers with a nervous laugh or enter a hysterical coughing fit. I exchanged uneasy glances with Willow, who just shrugged it off and squeezed my hand to show me that everything was okay.

But it’s not okay. Something about this feels wrong, but I can’t pinpoint why. Felix is our only friend—the only person who never treated us differently or judged us for who we are—surely he wouldn’t do anything to backstab us? Right?

Wrong.

Dead. Fucking. Wrong.

His truck comes to a screeching halt when he has to slam on the brakes extra hard to make the wheels stop turning. We’re parked in front of a massive white mansion, and I know this house does not belong to Felix or any of his nerdy little friends. We can hear the heavy rap bass from all the way out here. There’s a large crowd gathered outside, passing around joints and booze, laughing wildly with their friends.

And then I notice some familiar faces from our high school. This cannot be happening.

“Where the fuck did you take us, Felix?” I shout, refusing to let Willow open the truck door.

Felix opens his mouth to speak before closing it again. Seemingly, he is lost for words but as my left hand tightens into a bloodthirsty fist at my side, I’m seconds away from unleashing my knuckles into his teeth to help him spit it out. I feel Willow’s fingers tighten around our still-joined hand, and my anger ebbs slightly.

I glare at Felix as he stammers over his words like a blubbering fool. “Where. Are. We?” I bite out.

Felix takes the keys out of the ignition and hangs his head with a heavy sigh. “Vanessa invited me here, this is her place. She told me to bring you two?—”

“WHAT?” I’ve let go of Willow’s hand, fully turned in my seat to face him. “You mean the same Vanessa that targeted us for four years? The same one that made our lives a living fucking hell?”

Felix lifts his head, staring at me in shock. “Yes, but, Riles, you need to listen to me. She seemed sincere that she wanted to make amends and apologize. For all of it. She invited us as a sort of peace offering.”

“Take us home. Right now.”

Just because that vile bitch somehow sunk her claws into Felix doesn’t mean I’m going to let her do the same. And I have no plans to drag Willow into this den of vipers.

“Just hear what she has to say, Riley. I want to stay and have a good time. I promise tomorrow I’ll talk to my dad for you about staying at Pizza Crumbles. Just… please don’t be difficult,” he murmurs, pocketing the keys and stepping out of the truck.

My jaw drops in awe. “Are you saying that if we don’t go to this party, then you won’t ask your dad to help us out?”

He swipes his hand down his face in frustration. “I’m not saying that.” He looks at Willow, avoiding me completely. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you both, right, Will?”

Willow nods and looks at both of us. She takes me completely by surprise when she opens the truck door and basically drags me out of the seat. She points to the bustling mansion and tightens her fingers around my hand again.

“You seriously want to go in there?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip and smoothes her thumb over mine.

I stare at the house apprehensively. Dread weighs heavily in my heart because I can’t shake the feeling that this is all a trick. But if Willow wants to try… then I guess I’ll try, too. For her.

“Fine. But anyone so much as looks at us funny we’re leaving.” My eyes darken as I place an icy glare on Felix. “With or without you.”

Felix barks out a laugh and rushes over to us. “That’s the spirit.” He audibly gulps and steps closer to Willow. “I promise, we’re going to have a night to remember.”