Page 12 of Bite Me
I brushed my lips over the side of Jesse’s neck and then made my way toward his mouth. “Does that lipstick you’re wearing have a flavor?”
His arms looped around my neck, teasing the hairs at my nape and pulling me closer. “You tell me.”
Cherry. Just like I’d hoped. But I only got about two seconds into enjoying it before a series of violent knocks sounded at our front door.
“What the fuck?” Jesse and I pulled apart and looked at each other before hoofing it down the stairs. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.
I yanked open the door, and the two cops standing on our stoop looked us up and down, brows jumping up. The taller, bushy-haired one said, “Someone called in a report of a masked man entering through a second-story window.”
Jesse and I glanced at each other again, but it was fucking quick, because too long and we both would’ve lost it.
“I can explain,” I said.
Another hour after that, we finally made it to the party, Jesse in one of his backup pairs of fishnets, the other pair in tatters on the floor near his sweats.
I had zero remorse. Not one bit.
SCARE DUTY
MARK & CHET
5
MARK
The orderly facade of my parents’ house was a stark contrast to the nerves rattling through me as I pulled into the circular drive. Coming home used to feel more like a respite, even if my dad had always been hard-nosed. But ever since the end of summer, when my dad and I had had a tense showdown over my relationship with Chet, it had just unsettled me. I showed up for my mom and Marta, though. Not for my dad.
The shoulder strap of Chet’s homemade toga kept slipping, and watching him slide it back into place with a frustrated growl as I parked made me smile, a brief reprieve from the anxiety crawling just under my skin.
“How do women deal with this shit on a daily basis?” he groused, fiddling with the strap again.
“For one, they’re usually not wearing cut-up bedsheets, but someone had to be fucking stubborn about it. I told you five million times we should get a better one. Two, after you refused, and right before we walked out the door fifteen minutes ago, I told you to tape it.”
Chet aimed a flat stare in my direction, and I bit back a laugh. “Yeah, and you handed me duct tape.Duct tape.Sorry ifI’m committed to keeping the top layer of my skin intact.” He narrowed his eyes at my grin. “You should’ve been Patroclus and I should’ve been Achilles.” He gestured at the faux leather tunic I was wearing. It was unexpectedly flattering if I did say so myself, stayed securely where it was supposed to, and was definitely more comfortable than his sheet. Very freeing for the legs and undercarriage. Chet was as stubborn as I’d accused, though, not wanting to spring for a legit costume because he was saving up for law school, yet refusing to let me help. I should’ve just done it, regardless.
“You’re textbook Patroclus, though. Tragic, loyal, and way smarter than me,” I reminded him.
He shot me a gimlet-eyed look. “You’d better be just as loyal as Patroclus or there’ll be hell to pay. I already feel like a side piece right now. And do I need to remind you Patroclus was murdered?”
“I’m more loyal than Patroclus could ever dream of. They were all banging anything and everything anyway.” At least I was pretty sure they were. Greeks and hedonism weren’t associated for nothing. Joke was on Chet, though, because I was crazy about him. Even pawing at his armpit like he was just then, still messing with the toga. I pushed his hand gently away and fixed the folds. “Could be worse. You could’ve been Hector.” I shrugged. “Plus, Achilles was notoriously bad at feelings, so that tracks.” I meant it as a joke, but as I turned the engine off and glanced over at the house, it came out way more somber.
The house looked like it was watching us. Hell, for all I knew, my dad was in his study right now, staring out the window at us and hoping the power of his fury would incinerate Chet on the spot.
For that reason, and so many others, I leaned over, nosing my way along Chet’s jaw to his lips, where I kissed him.
He sighed into the kiss, then pulled back, flicking a studious gaze over me as he brushed his fingers along the tops of my thighs, grounding me. “You good?”
I looked beyond his shoulder at the cement lion statues guarding the sweeping steps up to the double front doors. I’d given a lot of thought recently to the meaning of home. It’d shifted for me since Chet and I had gotten together, less a physical place now and more a feeling.
I sucked in another breath and exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m good.”
It was my mom who’d asked us to stop by so she could see our costumes. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be here. I might’ve blown it off in the past, too, but fall and winter were tough seasons for her, and I could hear in her voice that she was toeing the line. I didn’t love being around my dad these days, but I’d do anything for her.
“We don’t have to stay long, remember, and if or when you give me the bat signal, we’re out of there. I’ll break windows if I have to,” Chet said.
I sucked my lower lip and nodded. I was being a baby. Plenty of folks struggled with their parents. I wasn’t special. Chet had to deal with far shittier circumstances on a daily basis, on top of knowing my dad didn’t like him, and he still seemed completely unbothered by his condescending stares. His resilience was something I admired. That was why he was Patroclus. It wasn’t just his IQ that was probably higher, it was his emotional intelligence, too. “Alright, let’s do this.”
The white gleam of his smile put me at ease. Goddamn, he’d have been devastating on a battlefield, I just knew it. “Troy awaits.”