Page 28 of Forged By Shadows
“What took you guys so long?” I laugh, leaning down to touch the water. It’s surprisingly warm trickling over my hand. Garrett stomps along the river in his sneakers, kicking a splash of water over me. I gasp and run over to the tree, ducking into Meg’s side.
“Don’t bring me into this,” she smirks, shoving me away. The three guys stop before us, waiting patiently as I raise my brow.
“Come on then,” Garrett gestures between Meg and me. “You owe us a show.” I smirk, pulling my knees up to my chest.
“You first.” Garrett pushes his hands into his pockets, not caving as easily, whereas the other two barely hesitate. Huxley and Axel grab their t-shirts and peel them off with delicious slowness. Meg’s hand grips mine, centering us both in the heaven we’ve just tripped into. They’re gorgeous, the sunlight at their backs appearing like halos.
Huxley holds more bulk, whereas Axel is leaner, but his abs and that sensuous V dipping into his waistband is no less defined. Skilled fingers drop to their buttons and zippers, and my mouth goes dry. Despite being in bed with Huxley last night, and waking with his solid cock pushed against my ass, watching them strip is something else entirely. They exude lust and confidence.
Dropping their trousers and shorts, they lay out their clothes in the sun to dry before laying out our picnic blanket. Axel pulls a second, albeit slightly damp, one out of his backpack and the three of them lie before us, questions in their gazes. I can’t stop looking, the landscape of the creek suddenly losing its appeal. Dark ink is splashed across Huxley’s thigh and Axel’s shoulder, the same decayed skull as on Garrett’s hand staring out. Each one is unique in how the shadows spread across the skin.
“Do you all have a skull?” I ask, reaching out to trace Huxley’s. He doesn’t seem to mind. Empty eyes appear hollow against the shaded bone, teeth open on a scream while thick black ink drips downwards in thick rivets. Tracing the image with my fingertips, his dick jumps behind his boxers and he quickly takes my hand in his.
“The Shadowed Souls,” Huxley shrugs in answer. “We’re bound for life.”
“And what does it take to become a Shadowed Soul?” I quirk a brow in an effort to keep the conversation light. It doesn’t work.
“You need to have suffered greatly and broken free,” Axel answers, staring just past me and into the distance. As usual, his hazel eyes are haunted and I feel compelled to crack open his secrets. I want to understand the way the others do, to know how to comfort him. Garrett, laying in his soaking wet clothing, watches me carefully, his expression darker than usual amongst his bruised eyes.
Clearing her throat, Meg asks who’s hungry and instantly, Garrett is back to his full, gleeful self. He takes a majority of the offered pastries, despite the size of the breakfast I saw him eat this morning. I honestly don’t know where he puts it. We eat, my hand remaining in Huxley’s for some unexplainable reason. Stretched across the blanket on his side, his long hair drips onto the grass. Luckily, the sun is warm enough to dry them off before they catch a chill. My mind wanders.
The view is beautiful, but I don’t see it. The Shadowed Souls. Bound for life. Until recently, I thought I had a support system who would always be with me, too. I had the family I’d always dreamed of as a scared and lonely child. In a matter of months, I’ve had the life I loved torn away from me. My mom is gone, I can’t see Meg as often, or the therapist I’m used to, and for the first time, I feel a twinge of anger at Nixon. Like me, he is grieving, but where I sought to remain close, he chose to throw himself into his work. He relocated me and left without even asking how I felt about it. A heavy sigh escapes me, my thoughts growing dark.
“Do you think Wyatt will ever forgive me?” I ask out loud. Confused gazes swing my way. Garrett leans his arms over his knees, the illustrative tattoos on his arms facing upwards. I take his distraction as a chance to investigate further, stopping between Bart Simpson and the Pringles man.
“Wyatt is our boy, but everyone knows you haven’t done anything wrong. Even him.” I snort at this. It sure doesn’t seem that way to me. Garrett smiles sadly, running a hand through his brown hair. A trio of Mario characters flex on his bicep. “Hell, in another life, there’s no doubt you would have been one of us. You’ve suffered worse than we have.”
Meg tenses. We have an unspoken rule to leave the in-depth conversations for my sessions with her mom. She’s the best friend I can rely on to help me forget my past, not remind me of it.
“It’s okay,” I laugh but the sound isn’t convincing. “At this point, they know more about me than you do.” I briefly dip my head into her ear to explain how Wyatt stole my transcripts. The pain that not only he, but all of them, read the documents burns with a betrayal I have no right to feel. These guys are a bit of flirty fun, but they don’t owe me anything. Least of all, their trust.
“Anyways. From where I’m sitting, on the outside,” I emphasize, keeping that clear barrier between us, “it doesn’t seem to be about who has suffered worst and least. You each have your own demons and pasts you’ve endured. Call me a hypocrite, but I just don’t see where Wyatt comes into it. He had everything, and he gave it all up.”
The silence that follows is damning. Either they secretly agree, or they know something I don’t. When no response comes, I decide to wash my hands of this conversation. It was worth a try, to gauge the burning need for information I always crave. In my head, if I could just understand Wyatt a little better, maybe the events of the last ten years would make sense. But once again, I’m affronted with the truth that there’s nothing redeemable about him.
“Okay, well, moving on,” Meg injects. She’s scrolling through her phone, hunting for the song that starts to leak from the speaker. Don’t Start Now by Dua Lipa. I instantly grin, remembering the corny dance routine Meg and I made up to this song on repeat in the dance studio back home. She jumps up with a grin and drags me with her.
“Oh no, no, no,” I shake my head. Meg doesn’t care, kicking my foot to bend it artfully. Our routine is a mix of my ballet and the breakdancing class she was taking at the time, never supposed to see the light of day ever again. Linking her arm in mine, she follows through the seven poses, our legs bent in a plié to start.
“Have you seen Avery dance? She’s phenomenal,” Meg raises her brows at our present company. I smack her for embarrassing me. Ignoring the blush in my cheeks, the guys lap up our stupidness as if it’s addictive. I’ve never seen Axel smile so wide or noticed how deep his dimples are. After a few small hops and some fancy footwork, Meg attempts to lift me. The move was much simpler when we were eleven and not fully-grown women, and definitely didn’t end with me yelping as the ground nears. We collapse in a heap of laughter, slicing through the tranquil setting.
“I sure hope you don’t do that during your showcase,” Meg giggles, shoving me off her. Dusting myself down, I roll my eyes.
“I’ve already told you. I’m not doing the showcase. I’m just learning the routines so I can assist in the practices.” It’s a decent excuse and better than admitting I just want to be available if the other girls might want help. Making friends isn’t easy when you’ve been introverted for the entirety of your teenage years. Besides, spending my evenings dancing is the perfect stress reliever and Theodore seems to enjoy the extra chance to play his compositions.
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Meg sighs, looking to Huxley for backup. “Tell her she’s too good to sit on the sidelines.” Hux freezes, torn between the two of us folding our arms and waiting to see which side he’s on. Garrett barks out a laugh and saves his friend from choosing.
“No one can tell Avery to do anything she doesn’t want to. But if you do decide to sign up, Peach, I’ll let you borrow Axel for those massages you seem to like so much.” My cheeks flame as Meg gives me a curious side glance. Axel watches me from where he’s still laying in Garrett’s lap, his haunted gaze not giving anything away.
“It would be selfish to hide your talent,” he says in earnest. I scrub my hands over my face.
“Ugh, well it doesn’t matter anyway,” I wave them all off. “The auditions are today.” Meg looks as if she might murder me.
“That’s why you planned this hike in the middle of goddamn nowhere!” she shrieks. I exhale from my nose and purse my lips.
“I mean, it was recommended as one of the top attractions in the area,” I start but Meg is already rushing to pack up our stuff. “Wait, no. It’s a lovely day, let’s just chill and enjoy the view for a while longer.” Meg spins on me so fast, I thought she might slap me.
“Avery Hughes. This is your fresh start to live your life and experience things that never would have happened to you sitting in that manor. I can’t get dressed up to support my best friend if you don’t do anything. Now get your shit, get down that hill and get to your audition.” She’s a flurry of movement, throwing the guy’s dried clothes at them. Just like that, our afternoon is packed up early while I stand around and whine.
