Page 9 of Fractured Loyalties

Nine

IVY

Kade: Today was awesome. No more lunches alone? Yeah?

I smile at the text as I make my way to my room to strip out my uniform and opt for something more… me.

For once, my head isn’t full of static or panic or suffocating grief. Maybe it’s just that the day didn’t destroy me. Perhaps it’s that Kade made the whole thing less like a firing squad and more like a terrible reality show.

Or maybe I’m still coming down from the shock of someone actually standing up for me in front of Blair and her deranged followers.

I don’t know, but regardless of the answer, I actually feel as if the rest of the year might be survivable. It’s amazing what one simple change—such as having a fucking friend—can do.

I open my bedroom door and scan the room, noting there’s fresh bedding replacing the old, and my nightshirt is gone, along with the rest of the linen. It’s strange to have maid service in your house, but… It’s not the worst thing, I guess.

Better than having to think about what I rolled around in last night.

“Gross,” I mumble, tossing my bag onto the comforter.

Somewhere in the house, the sound of a door slamming echoes. In my head, I assume it must be Roman. No matter how calm and uncaring he likes to appear…

I think deep down, he’s the type who always wants to make a show.

At least he didn’t yell at me or come to torment me today. Maybe he’s sulking about the fight he got into, or maybe he’s just mad I didn’t crumple into a ball the second I crossed the threshold.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. I refuse to let him rent space in my head. Not tonight. Tonight, my life actually doesn’t totally suck.

I pull open the dresser and start rummaging for something comfortable. Everything in here is either brand new, absurdly expensive, or both. There are still tags on half the stuff. I end up settling for an oversized, soft hoodie and leggings. Comfort over couture, every time.

Tucking them under my arm, I pull my phone out of my pocket to see another text from Kade.

Kade: The big party at the Woods’ Estate is this weekend. I assume you’ll be there? I will. :)

I furrow my brow. I have no idea if I’ll be there or not… But probably? I mean, I do live here. It would only make sense…

I don’t answer him because I’m not sure. For all I know, my mother may lock me away in my room for the duration of the party. I might embarrass her.

I head for the bathroom, leaving my phone on the bed.

I turn on the water, twist the handle all the way to the right, and wait for the steam to start creeping up the mirror.

The tiles are cold against my feet, but the air is already thick with heat.

I slide out of my clothes and pile them in the corner of the bathroom.

For a second, I just stand there and let the steam wrap around me. My skin prickles, and I watch the mirror blur, my own shape dissolving into nothing. It feels symbolic. The day, or maybe the last few months, are finally melting off me.

That would be a freaking miracle.

I step into the shower and let the hot water scald me.

The pressure is perfect. It hammers at my shoulders, pounds into my scalp, and roars in my ears until there’s nothing left but sound and sensation.

I tilt my head back and let the water run down my face, over my neck, and down my chest. My muscles unclench, little by little, until I feel almost boneless.

This is the first time, since I moved here, that I don’t feel as if I’m drowning. The thought makes me want to laugh again, or maybe cry, or both. But instead, I just stand there, letting the heat and the water rinse away every trace of the day.

I’m okay. I’ll be okay.

I want to stay under the water forever, but eventually my fingers go wrinkly and the heat starts to make me feel dizzy. I turn off the shower and step onto the thick mat, wrapping myself in the towel and scrubbing my skin dry.

I stand there afterward for a second, looking at myself in the foggy mirror. My eyes are brighter than usual, and the skin around them is less puffy. I feel taller, somehow, and lighter. Not pretty, exactly, but less as if I’m about to be sucked into the floorboards.

I pull on the hoodie, letting it swallow me up, and slide into my leggings. The towel goes back on the hook, and then I brush and braid my wet hair.

When I go back into my room, I go to my backpack, knowing I have homework to get done. My phone is still there, untouched and open to the text thread Kade started.

I should reply.

The last thing I want to do is lose the friendship because Kade thinks I’m a shitty texter or something. I start typing, delete it, and then start again. Finally, I send it.

Me: Is it, like, an open thing? Or do you have to be invited? No one has said anything to me about it.

He replies instantly. Literally within seconds.

Kade: You’re Woods' family now. You’re supposed to be there. Also, everyone else is afraid of your brother, so I’d be an idiot to say no if you want to hang out at it.

A laugh bursts out of me, and it sounds weird and loud in the empty room. I glance over my shoulder, half expecting Roman to materialize out of the wall and sneer at me. But he’s not there. No one’s there. It’s just me and the message, and the little burst of joy it brings.

Me: I’ll be there, then. I’ll find you.

I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, imagining Kade staring at his phone, maybe thinking about what to say next, or perhaps just laughing at how obviously desperate I sound. But a few minutes later, I’m feeling relieved again.

Kade: Unless I find you first. ;) It was so cool to get to know you today, Ivy.

Something flutters in my chest, so I send a funny GIF back and then drop my phone onto my nightstand.

I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the paint and listening to the sound of the house settling around me.

My body feels as if it’s buzzing for some reason.

Maybe it’s the fact that Kade is so friendly—and hot, too.

Regardless, my core grows achy, and I rest my hand on my stomach.

And suddenly it’s as if I’m teasing myself. I think about Kade, his easy smile, and the way he stood in front of me, a wall against Blair and her army. The way he didn’t flinch when I said my dad’s ashes were on the shelf, or when I joked about not understanding the dynamics of this family.

I think about his hands, how big and brown they are and lined with swimmer’s calluses, and I think about the way he said my name.

Ugh. I squeeze my eyes shut, roll to my side, and punch the pillow into a new shape. It doesn’t fix it.

The heat under my skin intensifies, rolling over my body in waves that crest. I know exactly what’s happening, and I mean…

Fuck it. I’m eighteen. If this house is suitable for anything, it’s privacy, I think.

Or wait… Someone’s always watching?

My eyes flutter open at that, and I scan my bedroom for a few tense moments. But there’s nothing. No one is watching me in here.

That would mean someone would have to care.

I let my hand drift down, my fingertips skating across the band of my leggings, before slipping under the oversized hoodie. My skin is still clean and smooth from the shower, and I shiver at my own touch.

Slowly, I slide my palm over my stomach, up under my shirt, and feel the ridges of my ribs and the quick stutter of my own pulse. The air in the room is cool, but my body is hot, every nerve ending awake and electric.

I hesitate for a moment, holding my breath at the burst of shame, but then I push it away and let my other hand slide lower, underneath the band of my leggings.

I press my palm between my legs, feeling the heat and the moisture of my pussy.

My thighs tense around my hand, and my breath hitches in my chest.

Oh my God, I need this. It’s been too long.

I try to take it slowly, to savor the feeling, but my body isn’t interested in slow. I rub harder, pressing circles with my fingertips against my clit.

“Mmm,” slips from my lips, as my breath becomes quick and shallow, and my face heats up.

I close my eyes and picture Kade, leaning over me, his hands braced on either side of my head.

He’s smiling that stupid, crooked smile, and the weight of his body is enough to pin me to the mattress.

His lips brush my ear, my cheek, my mouth.

I imagine his hands on my waist, my thighs, everywhere at once.

“I want you so bad, Ivy,” I hear him in my head.

The thought is almost enough. My hips lift off the mattress, chasing the feeling, and my other hand squeezes my breast. Every muscle in my body is straining toward something just out of reach.

Fuck, I’m so close. But it’s not enough, and a frustrated moan erupts from my throat as I drop back to the bed, panting.

I squeeze my eyes tighter and try to refocus on the fantasy.

Kade’s lips move lower, grazing my neck, my collarbone, down to the hollow of my throat. He whispers something, his breath tickling my ear.

“What is it?” I ask, my body desperate to grind against his. I want him to keep going, want him to touch me the way I’m touching myself, want him to…

Without warning, the face starts to change. The eyes shift to blue, the smile sharpens, and…

“Roman,” I breathe out, a new jarring burst of arousal shooting down my body, from my nipples to my clit.

“You little fucking whore,” his voice is deep, and it rumbles through my entire body.

“Oh God, you’re what I want,” I moan, my voice cracking as I start to skyrocket toward the edge. “I need you.”

He chuckles darkly, suddenly pressing himself between my legs. “You know how I would touch you, Ivy?” His hot breath tickles my neck as he pulls at my skin, tugging me into his mouth. “I’ll ruin you.”

“Please ruin me,” I moan, just as my orgasm takes hold of my body, a wave of pure pleasure and fucking sin soaking my fingers and my leggings.

My eyes fly open, and immediately shame floods through my body.

Holy fucking shit.

I am so disgusting.