Page 22 of Forged By Shadows
“Sold!” Mother whirls around to kiss me on the cheek, her hands lingering a little too low on my back. “Can you believe it honey? Sixty thousand dollars! I can get that new Porsche after all.” I try to join in her joy, wanting to be happy that I’m able to provide her with the luxuries in life father used to. But first, I have a night of misery to get through.
A woman hops onto the stage in tall red heels. She’s fairly attractive, her wavy hair falling onto her shoulders and an extremely tight red dress pushing her chest up. Her long fingers stroke my arm through the shirt, a shiver running through me. I crave affection, but not like this.
“Why don’t you go wait in your room honey? We will wrap things up down here.” I step out of the woman’s touch and half-sprint from the ballroom and up the staircase. Passing my room, I rush onwards to my father’s old study. Even before cancer stole him from us last year, their marriage wasn’t necessarily a happy one and he spent most of his time in here. Throwing the door shut behind me with a pained scream, I move into the bathroom and splash water onto my burning face.
My hair falls forward, which I automatically smooth back before catching sight of myself in the mirror. Rubbing the soft strands between my fingers, I stare at myself. Mother loves my hair; always running her hands through it and saying it’s the best part of her that I inherited. A few months ago, a new hairdresser at the salon cropped my sides shorter than usual, and mother had her fired for it.
A stupid idea springs to life. Hastily opening the cupboard beneath the sink, I find a pair of clippers on one of the dusty shelves. Wiping them clean on a cream hand towel, I look back into the mirror. My hand is shaking slightly as I lift the clippers and flick the switch with my thumb. The powerful vibrations that meet my hand are a shock and almost cause me to drop it.
Mother’s voice calls my name through the hallways, making my breath catch. She loves the idea of her little prince, the one who can maintain her rich lifestyle. Princes have to be handsome, desirable. I want to return to school with my friends, to play basketball and video games in the evenings. Not this. Never this.
That’s the only thought going through my mind while I glide the clippers straight down the middle of my head as the door swings open. I won’t be her whore. In fact, I never want to be desirable again.
Waking in a panicked sweat, I quickly run my hand over my scalp, relaxing to find it is shaved short. The echoes of my mother’s cries when she found the basin filled with my brown hair ring inside my mind, soothing me. That scene replays in my dreams at least once most nights.
“It’s Friyay!” Huxley shouts from somewhere beyond my window, drawing a smile from my lips. As long as I have my boys with me, I can overcome anything.
Rising from the bed, a glance at my phone tells me it’s almost three in the afternoon. I planned to oversleep after last night’s mix-up with Avery. The last thing I wanted to do is wake early and fidget, wondering if I should be creaming her tattoo or creaming something else. I enter the bathroom, glancing down at my raging erection. Garrett will be devastated he missed it. After a freezing cold shower, I drag on a white tee and blue sweatpants before heading out to find the others.
Stepping barefoot into the warm sunshine on the stone patio, Garrett chucks me a beer and I catch it at the last second. I move to join him on the wicker bench, eyeing the plate piled high with fried chicken wings on the table in front of him. I use the edge of the table to open the bottle with a hiss, surveying the scratch marks along the rim from where we’ve done it a hundred times before. Garrett offers me a half-eaten chicken wing in his greasy fingers as I rest my legs over his thighs.
“I haven’t even had breakfast,” I shake my head, taking a long swig of my beer.
All of us are close, but I often wonder if the guys know the extent of my mental state. They’re my rocks, a constant presence I lean on at any given opportunity. I joined the Shadowed Souls as an angry teen who spoke with his fists. We all come from different walks of life, but it’s never mattered. We accept each other for our sins, and their understanding has been exactly what I needed. They indulge my need for physical touch. They’ve never pushed me to speak when I don’t have the words. Somewhere along the way, I was actually able to look in the mirror without grimacing at who I’ve become. Who my mother forced me to become.
Huxley appears from the house, volleyball under his arm, looking out over the lawn. Other than myself and Garrett, Wyatt is out here, stretched across a lounger in the sun and fast asleep. Shades cover his closed eyes, a blanket over his body which Garrett no doubt put there. Behind him, the net we erected for summer stands proud. Dax is next out, making a show of stretching.
“Last game of the year boys. Skins vs shirts?” Dax smirks, dragging his vest over his head. Huxley follows suit, much to mine and Garrett’s amusement. Finishing his chicken wing, he wipes his hands clean on my sweatpants and pushes upright. Thanks a lot, asshole. We head to the back of the yard, leaving Wyatt to his nap. On the way past, I spot a whiskey bottle poking out from beneath the lounger and frown. Whiskey isn’t usually Wyatt’s vice, but I suspect Avery has everything to do with that.
We stretch out briefly, jumping on the spot to get our hearts pumping. Coach often imposes last minute basketball practices on us whenever his schedule has an opening, so we’re used to warming up on the way to the court. Huxley notices that I’m taking an extra few moments to stretch out my neck and roll my shoulders. He saunters over.
“Maybe I should have left you to fuck Little Swan yesterday, and you wouldn’t be so tense,” he chuckles. My jaw drops and I shoot a look back at Wyatt, who is sleeping softly in ear shot.
We quickly took to calling Avery ‘Little Swan’ after we realized we’re in way over our heads. Even when she doesn’t know it, Garrett radiates towards her and watches on from a distance. Dax has taken an extra interest in English Lit and Huxley seems to disappear often, returning with flushed cheeks. Ironically, Wyatt’s order to stay away from her has made her all the more desirable. I’m undecided where I stand on the matter.
Punching Huxley’s chest, Garrett instantly appears with large, worried eyes.
“When was this? I thought you always shared with me,” he whines. I roll my eyes and stride away, taking the ball from Dax’s hands. I thought our threesome agreement was only beneficial to me, since Garrett goes home with women on his own all the time. I’ve spent too many evenings during my teens alone with women I didn’t want touching me. Having Garrett there keeps me grounded, stops the memories from flooding back. So why was it so easy to be in Avery’s company without conflicting thoughts getting in the way?
“It was nothing,” I lie, tossing the ball between my hands. “I just got caught up in the moment. It won’t happen again so keep it quiet.” The three of them share a concerned look, knowing we don’t keep secrets. Huxley and Dax slowly round their side of the net but I’m not hanging around, jumping high and slamming the ball down on their patch of grass. That seems to snap everyone back to reality as a round of chuckles fill the air.
“We’ll let you have that one for free,” Huxley scoops up the ball and gets into position. Batting the ball over the net, Garrett and I toy with them for a little bit. A friendly back and forth, the ball sailing through the air until I’m close enough to slam the ball home on their side once more. We’re not bothered with keeping score or track of time, happy to lose ourselves to the afternoon.
Somewhere between my calves burning and Huxley taking a hard ball to the face, we call it quits. Garrett fetches more beers, Dax hands out bottles of water instead. His tanned body is coated in a sheen of sweat, his abdominal muscles shifting with each breath. Downing his drink, I watch his Adam’s apple bob until he pours the rest of the water over his face and hair. Long fingers roam over his skin and come to rest on his neck.
“Take it easy, Dax,” Garrett smirks, throwing an arm over my shoulder. “Our boy here hasn’t been out to play for a while.”
It’s true. I’ve been missing practice and parties each morning and evening attending Avery’s back, and I can’t say I regret it. There are worse ways to while away the time than giving massages and stealing soft touches to feed my aching soul.
Dax smirks without apology and dries himself off with a hand towel. Even though I’m well aware only Garrett would cross that line with me, Dax and Huxley have no qualms being flirtatious teases. We settle into a stoic silence, the adrenaline flooding our systems. All eyes are directed at the Shadowed Soul who would usually be acting as umpire and calling ridiculous fouls. Wyatt would have kept score, and made sure the losers ran extra drills tomorrow morning.
“We need to get him out of here,” Hux sighs. I nod in agreement as Garrett hums into his beer.
“Isn’t there a grand opening for a new club in the city tonight? Eclipse or something?” Dax adds. I feel, rather than see, Garrett tense beside me. Lowering his beer, his smile is horrifically wide.
“Fuck yes!” he shouts, rushing over to Wyatt. Without warning, he tips the lounger aside and then dives on our friend, shaking his shoulders. Wyatt is immediately on the defense, throwing punches and curses like wildfire. Whilst distracted, arms wind around me from behind. Dax rests his chin on my shoulder, his chest firm against my back.
“Are you okay? You seem quieter than usual.” I lean into him, releasing a long exhale. What am I supposed to say? I’m having conflicting thoughts about my best friend’s sister, who I shouldn’t have gone near in the first place, despite everyone else in this yard lusting over her? Instead, I nod and force a smile. Huxley joins at my side, placing a kiss on my head.
