Page 42

Story: Did They Break You

Cortland didn’t force me to come here. Just like he didn’t force me in the library. And I have no idea how to feel about that.

“Need help?” Cort whispers beside me, tugging me close.

Storm reaches over to the side table, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. I’m very aware of the scent of him, like leather, or a new car. I see his tattoos, too, edged over his fingers as he flips through different shows.

I glance up at Cortland and see his gray eyes glowing silver in the brightness of my screen. A dimple in his handsome face flashes, his lip ring pulling into a smile as he stares at me.

I feel hot, and I squirm a little on the couch, my screen going dim. “What?” I whisper, tasting the strong drink he made in the back of my throat.

He shakes his head, looking away a second, and I take in the sharp curve of his cheekbone, and his defined jawline.

He takes a pull from his beer and I watch his throat bob as he swallows.

“You’re just cute,” he says after a minute, looking back down at me and lowering his drink to the side of the couch.

Storm pretends to ignore us as he flips through Netflix for something to watch.

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and I really, really want to down the rest of the drink Cort made me, but I force myself to hold his gaze.

“What are we doing?” I whisper. The same question I texted him.

He smiles, and in these few moments, I’ve seen the boy I had a crush on. Kind, always smiling, aggressive on the field but friendly off it. I’d never consider him a pushover, and at six foot three, it’s not like he didn’t hold his own. But he wasn’t a bully. He wasn’t an asshole.

I don’t know what happened that night.

Are we all capable of those shadowy things in the dark?

“Just enjoy it,” he says. Then he nods toward my phone, still in my hands. “Tell her you’re gonna sleep in the library,” he suggests. “Or…” He trails off, then glances through those long, dark lashes at Storm, still flipping through the channels. “Tell her the truth.”

I almost die right there.

But I just laugh, and even Storm scoffs at my side.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he mutters under his breath.

Another look from Cortland, but I get the distinct feeling Storm is not looking at us.

“I can’t,” I tell Cortland. “There’s no way in hell she’d be chill about that.”

Cortland pulls my phone gently from my hand and I watch it go, knowing he can’t unlock it without my face or passcode now that the screen has gone dim. “Why don’t you just put it away?” he whispers.

“Because Sloane will panic if she wakes up and I’m not there,” I shoot back, reaching for my phone.

He holds it up in the air, over my head.

“Cort, come on, what the hell? Give me my phone.”

He reaches over and I hear a soft thud as he sets his beer on the table, the triceps of his arm flexing. Leaning back and smiling down at me, he still holds my phone hostage. “You’re not with Sloane right now. You’re with me.”

I grin at that despite myself, and climb on his lap, my hand on his chest as I try to grab the phone. But he tosses it over my head and when I whip around, I see Storm catch it easily, his eyes on me.

I freeze, my ass on Cortland’s lap. One arm comes around my shoulders and his hand comes to my hip, holding me tighter to him.

Storm sets my phone on his thigh.

“Sorry, baby, but you’re not touching him there.”

I turn to glare at Cortland, but before I can open my mouth to say anything, he grabs my jaw with one hand and kisses me, his mouth open over mine.

My lips part for him as I twist toward him, my arms threaded around his neck.

And for a moment, I don’t even care that Storm’s watching. That Cortland’s just distracting me with his mouth, his tongue clashing with mine.

Desire heats through my veins, and I dig my nails into him. He squeezes my hip, one hand still on my face.

Then I pull away, breathless, my heart racing in my chest. “Seriously,” I say, my fingers clenching the material of his shirt as I stare at his chest, heaving just like mine. He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and I speak around it. “I need to text Sloane.”

There’s silence between us for a moment, and I feel Storm’s eyes on me.

“Say please,” Cortland says, and I think he’s teasing me, but his words are low.

I look up into his eyes, and find his brow arched, his lips tipped up into a small smile.

My heart flutters in my chest but I decide to indulge him. “Please,” I whisper.

He traces my mouth with his thumb again, then looks to Storm. “Give her the phone.”

I look over and see Storm doesn’t move, my phone still on his thigh.

“She can get it,” he says, nodding toward it.

I start to reach over, but Cortland moves his hand from my face to the back of my neck and stops me, jerking me against his chest. Then he snatches the phone from Storm’s lap.

He pushes it into my upturned palm.

Slowly, I slide off of his lap and sit beside him, his arm back around my shoulder.

Ignoring both of them, I clear my throat and open my texts to my best friend.

Might end up falling asleep here. I’ll be back in the morning. Xx

I lean forward and set the cell beside my drink. I didn’t even lie, technically speaking.

“Good excuse,” Cortland whispers, massaging my shoulder.

I straighten, then glance over at him. “You spying on me?”

He keeps kneading me, but he looks at the TV as he shrugs. “You’re in my house.”

My mouth drops open, but I can’t keep the amusement out of my voice. “And that means, what?”

He turns his gaze to me, running his fingers over the back of my neck, slipping them beneath my hoodie. It feels good and I start to relax, even as I try to feign offense.

“Means I look after you here.”

I ignore the warmth in my chest with those words. “And what about you?” I whisper as Storm resumes flipping through movies. I jerk my head toward the kitchen at our backs. “Who were you texting?”

He shrugs. “My brother.”

That surprises me, and I guess he sees the look on my face because he leans over and pulls his phone from his back pocket, offering it to me as he settles back down in his seat. “Wanna check?”

I glance at his phone and see the screen light up. Mountains in the fall as his background image, which makes me smile.

I consider his offer, my heart racing.

What could be in there?

But then I decide against it. He could be bluffing, but maybe I don’t want to know. “No, thanks,” I say, and he nods, leaning over and putting his phone down on the coffee table, face up.

I settle in against him and he shifts on the couch so his knee is opened up against the back of it, then he drags me into his lap with no effort at all.

I relax against his arm propped up on the side of the couch, and he wraps both around me, his hands on my belly, over my hoodie. He kisses the top of my head.

I see Storm glance at us, but his expression is unreadable.

“Put on something scary,” Cortland says, and I tense, going rigid in his lap. He notices, looking down at me over my shoulder, his brows pulled together. “I thought you liked scary movies,” he says, his eyes searching mine.

I lean over, swipe up my drink as Cortland holds me tight.

Then I tip back the rest of it, relishing in the way it burns in my empty stomach.

When I can’t hide behind the cup anymore, I drop it to my lap, fingers flexing around it.

“I used to,” I say, but ominous music starts to play just as Storm turns off the lamp on the end table, casting us all in darkness.

My eyelids feel heavy, even as I stare at the screen, Storm setting down the remote.

A cabin comes into view, a man standing outside of it with a pitchfork in his hand, facing the cabin.

“You used to?” Cort presses, leaning in close to me, brushing my hair from my neck, his breath skating over my skin as he looms behind me. “What happened?”

I can’t look away from the screen, my heart racing in my chest, the drink going to my head. The man, dressed in all black, steps closer to the boarded-up cabin. A bird caws ominously in the distance.

At our side, Storm huffs a dark laugh. “ We happened,” he says quietly.

I tear my eyes from the TV, turn to meet his gaze in the dark.

My chest is heaving, my ribcage too tight as I stare at him.

The music grows louder. Deeper.

Something is about to happen.

Cortland’s hand comes gently to my collarbone as he pulls me back into his chest. My stomach flips with his touch. “Is that right?” he asks me quietly, his mouth to my ear.

I hold Storm’s gaze as I answer him, the music building.

And building.

And building.

“Yes,” I whisper in the dark as Cortland shifts further on the couch, so we’re facing Storm, the empty cup falling from my lap to the floor, but no one seems to care. Cort slips his hand under my hoodie, his calloused fingers over my bare skin.

Storm bites his lip, his gaze raking over my body, still covered.

“You like him looking at you?” Cortland whispers in my ear.

On screen, a gunshot rings out, making me flinch.

Cortland laughs, and the music stops.

“It’s okay if you do. You remember what I told you, Remi. Some things are messy.”

The gunshot is still ringing in the aftermath.

Then a woman’s scream pierces the air.

My chest heaves.

I can’t breathe.

I close my eyes tight, trying to ride out the panic. To force it back. To breathe through it. But I can’t escape it. It claws at me, eating me alive from the inside. The scene shifts on the TV, but I can’t hear it.

I can only see the darkness. Feel my knees in the dirt. Hands all over me, grabbing me, pulling at me.

Chase is the worst of all.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Cortland’s sharp words.

But he didn’t stop him.

Storm watched me.

My body was numb with Chase.

This isn’t happening to you.

You aren’t really here.

This is all a dream.

I’m on all fours and I should stand up.

I should stand up.

I should get up.

Get up.

Get up.

Get. Up.

But I don’t.

And I don’t stop them.

I don’t do anything.