He reaches over to Malice, rips the joint from his lips and takes a long drag. Malice raises an eyebrow and looks at him with that terrifying expression of his, as if he’s considering how to pull my brother’s organs out of his body. You can never tellwith Malice because that’s his usual expression. The guy doesn’t know how to smile.
Chris jiggles his knee as he scans the crowd gathered around the bonfire. Jackson’s cousin Sam hands me a beer from the crate beside his chair, and Jackson uncaps it with his teeth. “Here you go, sunshine.”
Another murderous glare from my brother, and he points a finger. “Cut that shit or I’ll cut you, understood? She’s my sister.”
Jackson’s chest shakes with suppressed laughter. He loves nothing more than to wind my brother up. No one can blame him. It’s too easy to bait Chris. All it takes is a look for him to snap.
The boys talk about the upcoming race at Dark Lanes. I listen with half an ear as I sip my beer, still sitting on Jackson’s lap. Among my brother’s friends, he’s the one I’m closest to.
Malice is impossible to get to know, not only because he’s hostile to nearly everyone but also because he communicates through grunts and stares. Sometimes he’ll watch you until you squirm like a worm on a hook. Very few can stay still under his scrutiny.
Rain and her brother are complete opposites in looks and personality. It’s easy to forget they’re siblings.
Jackson fishes his phone out of his hoodie pocket and makes a call while I settle in with my head on his shoulder.
Rowdy laughter drifts on the breeze. Someone squeals on the flatbed beside ours. Jackson chuckles at the guy on the other end of the line, shifting slightly beneath me as he pulls his hood up over his brow. The fabric smells of salt from the sea, a hint of smoke, and a sharp splash of cologne. I’ve never been attracted to him that way, but he smells good. I snuggle closer, watching a group of girls dance in their underwear near the bonfire.
Malice lights a cigarette and gazes up at the stars as if he’s contemplating life. For someone everyone fears, he sure seems wistful sometimes.
Rain has shifted. She’s on her side now, her head in Summer’s lap.My sister runs her fingers through the purple strands, just like our mother used to do with us when we were kids.
Sometimes I can see so much of Mom in her.
And sometimes I envy that.
Jackson pulls me out of my thoughts when he raises his phone and tells me to smile. My lips curve automatically as he snaps a picture of us. He uploads it to his social media and then slips his phone away before tapping my hip.
I stand and rub my arms now that I don’t have Jackson’s warmth to keep me comfortable. The half-naked girls by the bonfire don’t seem to notice the cold, but I definitely do. Part of that is probably because I pushed myself hard earlier.
Jackson unzips his hoodie and drapes it over my shoulders, wrapping me in the scent of wood smoke and sea salt. I slide my hands into the sleeves and turn to thank him, but he’s already gone.
The party is still in full swing. It will be hours before it winds down for the night. I glance toward the others.
Chris sits with his elbows braced on his thighs, scratching at the corner of his mouth, brows furrowed in concentration. Or maybe disapproval. It’s hard to tell with him. A freshly rolled joint glows orange between his fingers as he listens to Sam talk.
My brother’s friend has a brunette perched on his lap in a revealing dress. They’re probably planning to share her later, but I don’t ask questions. No one really understands their dynamic.
And I don’t want to.
Ugh. Gross. I’d rather drink bleach than think about my brother’s sex life. Unfortunately, I don’t have to imagine it. I hear enough.
We seriously need soundproof walls.
I walk over to the edge of the cliff, the sea breeze whipping my hair around my face. Below, choppy waves crash against the rocks, but it’s too dark to see the water from up here, and the thought sends shivers up my spine.
Lost souls have jumped from this cliff, plunging into the dark depths below. They say you die on impact, but who’s to say that’s true. Maybe they were conscious when they hit the surface.
Maybe they felt every excruciating snap of bone. Maybe they were still awake when icy cold seawater flooded their burning lungs. And maybe, just maybe, they wished they hadn’t jumped.
“Creepy,” a voice says beside me, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the guy adds, and I step back from the edge. I recognize him. Our town isn’t big, so chances are I’ve seen him around before.
He leans slightly over the edge, and my heart pounds harder. “Even if you survive the initial impact, the next wave would slam you into the cliff face and knock you out.”
I glance back toward the bonfire. We aren’t far from the others, but I doubt we’re visible from here. The glow doesn’t reach this far.
“You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?” he asks, straightening.
