Page 8 of Slick & Spooky
Like none of it matters.
Like I don’t matter.
I don’t look away. Instead I smile. A slow, taunting curl.
In one night Knox tapped into parts of me I didn’t know existed. Dark, dizzying corners of myself I’d never dared to explore.
He was careful with me. Too careful
He never let me see all of him. He gave me the edges. The strong but silent man who knew how far to go without pushing too far, and I let myself believe that was all there was.
Still, word spreads. Quiet little stories passed between frat brothers like contraband. I didn’t pay them much attention at first, but the image sharpened fast.
Knox with a reputation.
Knox who liked control.
Who liked it rough.
Who liked to ruin you, not rescue you.
The more I heard, the more it pissed me off because I wasn’t the only one hiding.
I’d spent the summer shielding myself behind charm and innocence, hoping he wouldn’t look too closely at the mess underneath, but while I was busy performing, so was he.
We were both playing it safe. Both afraid of what it would mean to show the other what we actually wanted. Deep down, I think we both knew if we let go of the act something between us might actually break.
Now I can’t stop thinking about everything he didn’t do. Everything he didn’t say. Everything he could’ve been if he stopped playing it safe.
No one’s ever shown me their darkness. I want it. The black, endless parts. The parts that pull and crush and consume.
I want to see if I survive it.
Behind me Joey shifts, his silence louder than the pounding music. I can feel his wide-eyed panic without even turning.
Whatever this thing is between Knox and me… subtlety never touched it.
“I think you got his attention,” Joey mutters in my ear, like he’s afraid Knox will hear.
My grin widens.
“Yeah,” I say. “And I think I’m in trouble.”
3
It’s a standoff.
We stand frozen in place like the party around us doesn’t exist. His gaze is a weight, sharp and unreadable, and I can’t decipher it.
Could be hate. Could be hunger.
Either way, I’ll take it. Both will suffice.
I’ll say this much: if it weren’t for my jockstrap suppressing the reaction I’m having to him, this look alone would be enough to make them a very public problem.
Knox drags in a slow inhale, so deep I swear it rattles through me even from across the room. His stare locks on, and suddenly my legs are concrete rooted to the floor. It dares me to move first, to crack under the weight of it.
But he cuts the thread. Rolls his eyes, yanks his hockey mask down like a curtain closing on our little scene, and turns away.