Page 48

CHAPTER

THIRTY-SIX

CORTLAND

I don’t want to be here.

The cabin is crowded, someone is snorting a line of coke off the table, another group of guys are fucking around with a bong that goes up to my knees, and some chick is dancing half-naked in front of the projector screen on the wall of the living room.

And I just walked in two seconds ago.

Storm is at my back, Brinklin beside me, and Chase is in front, surveying the half-naked girl’s tits bouncing before he glances back at us with a smile.

I ignore him and turn to Storm, who’s looking at me.

“I wanna leave,” I tell him.

We walked down here to get further from Maya, who is two cabins down from ours, just like she said she’d be.

This one was a mile away, and I drove the truck because walking two miles in the dark might’ve been fun…

if Chase wasn’t with us. But he’s drunk as fuck, and annoying as hell, and having him in my truck for two minutes is all I want to see of him the rest of the night.

“Yeah,” Brinklin says beside me, observing everything, “we should go.”

I know what he’s thinking about. His precious future as a U.S. senator, going up in flames.

I glance at the residue of coke on the wooden table, some dude licking his finger and dabbing it up, placing it in his mouth.

I don’t do coke. I don’t smoke pot. Ever since that night, I stick to beer and the occasional cigarette. I wonder what my dad would say if he could see me here. There’re drugs in West Virginia, where he grew up, but things are just different. There’s not… this. Then again, I guess I’ve done worse.

I close my eyes a second, exhaustion heavy in my head, and I think about Remi’s last text to me and I want to wrap my fucking hand around her throat, just like I said. But at least she isn’t here.

Chase approaches the girl who looks like she’s high on E or something , but when she picks her head up, her long red hair falling in front of her eyes, she wraps her arms around Chase’s neck and presses herself to his body.

I run my tongue over my teeth, wondering if I should warn her about him. He glances over at us, grinning, and my skin crawls, seeing his baby face flush pink, matching his pink and black flannel shirt.

I imagine his forearm against Remi’s throat.

My stomach twists into knots.

I tear my eyes away from him and run my hand through my hair, not seeing anyone I know here—thankfully—and bump my shoulder against Brinklin’s. His green eyes meet mine, but I see him glancing at that guy bumping another line.

Brinklin’s jaw is tight, and I look down to notice his fists are clenched.

Interesting.

“I just gotta piss, then we’ll go,” I tell him.

Storm laughs behind me. “It’s a campsite, Cort. Piss outside.”

Yeah. The last time I got naked outside, Chase took out his phone and started taking pictures before I busted it against a tree, shattering his screen. He thanked me for that later. As if I did it for him.

“No, thanks,” I tell Storm with a tight smile. “Be right back.” I turn away from him, shoving my way through the bodies congregated in the living room, the smell of musk and sweat and booze permeating the air.

“El Diablo” by Machine Gun Kelly is playing too loudly, giving me a headache, and all I can think about is Remi. Grateful she’s far away from this mess, but pissed she’s still ignoring me. Kind of.

I need to tell Maya to fuck off, and maybe that would appease Rems. Mom would be mad, and it might complicate things for me, but I don’t think I care anymore.

If Remi was with someone else, I’d?—

I stop short, halfway down the narrow hallway of the cabin, marijuana smoke thick back here, but with less people.

There’s a door ajar to my left, and I see something very fucking familiar.

Orange and blonde braids.

Sitting on the edge of a bed.

Two people on either side of her.

One I recognize. That white guy she’s always with, tattoos down his arms, and on her other side, an Asian girl with her hand on Remi’s face and her mouth… on her neck.

The guy has his hand on her thigh. Her bare thigh.

Because she’s wearing a dress—the first time I’ve ever seen her in one, unless you count her cheer uniform, which I don’t.

She’s in boots that go past her knees, a flannel shirt tied around her narrow waist, and as this guy’s hand travels up her thigh, she parts her knees, one hand on the lap of either of her friends.

The girl’s mouth trails kisses up Remi’s throat. To her lips.

I’m going to kill them both for touching her.

I clench my hands into fists as I stare at these two touching my girl, and I’m fucking frozen.

I want to break their hands.

I want to scream.

But before I can do anything, Remi dips her chin, and her eyes connect with mine.

Mine narrow, my jaw tight, and she appears to freeze, her entire body going rigid.

No one seems to notice.

The guy slips his hand under the edge of her dress, and the girl is still running her lips over my girl’s throat, to her mouth again.

Remi’s lips part.

She spread her knees wider.

I might actually kill her.

She smiles at me, arching a brow, as if to say, What, fucker?

I take a step forward, lean against the doorway.

Then I pull out my phone.

Smiling at her, I open up the camera, point it her way.

Her smile falters and she turns her head from the chick.

I wonder if she’s thinking of that night too. Chase trying to record everything. Or maybe my bullshit threats to her the day she woke up in my bed and I told her I’d videoed her.

I’d never really do that, but watching her discomfort, I don’t put my phone away.

She clears her throat.

Good girl.

Both the guy and girl pull away from her immediately, and she smiles at both of them, then turns to the guy.

“I think I…” She trails off, averting her eyes, but not looking at me. As if she doesn’t want them to see me standing in the doorway. “I think I’m gonna go back?—”

“I’ll walk you back,” the guy says, and I drop my hand, push my phone into my pocket.

No thanks, asshole.

“I’m okay,” Remi assures him, and I think he’s a little drunk, the way he sways as he leans back, pulling her hand to his lips.

I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” Remi stands, tugging down her dress, and the guy’s hand runs up the inside of her thigh.

I’m going to kill him.

I’m going to actually fucking kill him.

But just as I take a step forward, Remi pulls away, her back to me as she tosses her braids over her shoulders. “Goodnight, guys.”

“Bye, Remi,” the girl says, and Remi turns, hurrying to the door. She closes it behind her, standing in front of me, close enough for me to touch her.

And I do.

My hand goes to her throat, just like I promised her it would. “You are fucking. Up.”

She narrows her eyes into slits, and I see they’re lined with red.

She smells like marijuana and alcohol and underneath it all, her coconut scent.

But her words aren’t slurred when she speaks.

“You already did, so I guess we’re even.

” She throws the words I spoke to her in the cemetery back in my face.

I push her against the wall beside the door, one hand cradling her head. My eyes rake over her dress, her bare thighs, those fucking boots.

“Happy birthday, baby,” I tell her, slowly looking back up into her golden eyes. “Twenty never looked so fucking slutty.”

She grabs my forearm, clawing her black painted fingernails into my skin. “Are you jealous , Cortland?” she whispers, her voice dripping with venom. “For a boy who passed me around to his fucking friends, you’re actually jealous?”

I tighten my grip on her throat. “I’m not a boy, baby. And don’t worry. Tonight, I’m not passing you around.” I lean in close to her, my mouth over hers. “Because when I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left to take.”