Page 48 of False Idols

My breath hitches at his words. Why is what he’s saying making my body go hot? My clit throbs and I have to force myself not to rub my thighs together for the friction of it.

“Stop it, Beau,” I snap at him. “I’m here because I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Yes. We need to talk. I mean it.”

“Talk about what?” he asks and I want to scream at him and the lazy look he sends my way. It’s not fair that he’s perfect. Even after all these years, even after he played a game of football, he looks calm and collected. Perfect and beautiful. His dark hair falls over his eyes. It’s wet from a shower, so there’s a natural curl to it. His blue eyes draw me in like normal, though they’re darker today. I like it because they only look that way when Beau’s eyes are on me. He’s dressed well, in a pair of slacks, a linen shirt and a jacket slung over one arm while he carries his duffle bag over one shoulder.

I swallow hard. It’s getting harder to talk to him the longer I’m standing here, so I may as well just get it over with. “Us,” I blurt out.

Beau’s grin turns into a smile and then he throws his head back and laughs. He genuinely laughs. People stop to stare at us while the sweet sound of his laughter echoes around us. Anger fills my veins. Beau laughing at me like I’m crazy while he’s dressed perfectly and looking utterly untouchable is how I always thought this would go when I was fourteen. Back then, he was the fixation of my every obsessive daydream. As much as I tried to focus on what it would be like to tell him that I had feelings for him and have him take me seriously, I could never make the daydream work.

There was always some flaw that got in the way and ruined the fantasy for me. Beau laughing at me was the number one thing that I was fearful of. Having it happen to me now after years, after what we did together and what he took from me, I’m angry. He knows what sex means to me. What having him as my first would mean to me and he did it anyway, because he wanted to hurt me again. I hate that he’s hurting me right now with his laughter. That’s probably why I say what I say.

“Shut the fuck up you asshole.”

Instantly Beau’s laughter stops and he stills. If I wasn't standing as close as I am to him, I wouldn’t even be sure he was breathing with how quiet and calm he gets. Those marble statues roped off at museums have more life to them than Beau does right now.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” His voice is a growl. Low and rough. It feels like the jagged edge of a blade slicing across my skin and I instantly put my hands up, blocking where he cut my chest when he had me on my knees.

“I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.” Beau shakes his head, tilts his head to the side and looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “Kitten has claws after all,” he murmurs.

I shake my head. “I was angry. I didn’t mean it, I-”

Beau grabs my wrist and jerks me forward with him when he starts down the hallway. “Oh but you did mean it, angel. You did. Lucky for you, I liked it.”

“You did?” I ask. I don’t believe him. He has to be trying to make me feel safe, but for what?

We round the hallway and I stumble, but Beau’s grip on me keeps me upright. A second later he puts an arm around my waist and keeps me pressed close. To anyone looking at us, they would see friends, lovers, people that are close.

We aren’t close, though. Beau is my tormentor, an angry god out for vengeance. I’m the idiot that just pissed him off.

“I did. I like my women with a little fight in them. Last time you let me down, angel.” He unlocks a door and shoves me in before I can answer him. “This time, why don’t you try getting away.” There’s nothing but darkness in front of me. I stumble forward and hit my hands on something and my foot catches on the edge of it as I try to steady myself. I cry out and almost trip but then Beau flips on the light and I see that I ran into an old sponsorship sign for one of the local car dealers in town.

“What are you going to do to me?” I back up from Beau and almost trip again. He sighs as he watches and crosses his arms over his chest. The dress shirt he’s wearing stretches tight in all the right places and he tosses the jacket he was carrying over an old table that’s turned on its side, stacked against the wall beside the door.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere no one is going to look for you, angel. Your ass is mine. You think running your mouth to me is going to get you off, just because I want you to fight me?” he asks and snaps the door lock in place.

Oh fuck. What was I thinking? Why did I curse at him? I called him an asshole. This isn’t going to end well for me, I know that. I have to get away from him, but where? There’s nowhere to go now that he’s locked the door. I look around the room, desperate for an escape. It looks like an old supply room and it’s surprisingly big. There are folding tables everywhere. Some are stored in stacks while others are up, like someone decided not to bother breaking them down when they stored them. I see signage from old games, sponsors and concessions in here, along with metal gate barricades that are haphazardly stored. There’s a line of windows that run the length of the room, but they’re tinted so hardly any light from the field comes in. I see what looks like volleyball netting strung along a wall, but other than that, there’s nothing. No doors or hallways from the room. It’s just me, alone and trapped in this room with Beau.

Oh god. Oh no.

“What? How-I don’t understand.” I point at the door and try to sound braver than I feel. “Beau, let me out or else.”

“Or else? That’s my line, Nevaeh. You know I’m going to have to punish you even more for that, don’t you? You don’t threaten me, angel.” Beau stalks towards me, dropping his duffle bag on the ground as he approaches and points a finger at me. “Ever.”

Or Else. Oh fuck. I can’t believe I just said that.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. It’s quiet in the storage room. Even though it feels big, it’s like the walls are shrinking around us, moving in closer until I can’t turn without running into something. Everywhere I look there’s something blocking my path. I take a quick step back and slam my hip into a table.

“I’m sorry,” I try again. I hear the band in the distance. The drums are still going and if I listen hard enough, I can hear cheers from the remaining students who are still having fun and partying on the field and in the stands. The windows. What if I get to the windows? I scan the wall of windows and see handles at the top of them. I bet they’re the kind that you can pull towards you. The ones that don’t open all the way, but would open enough if I was trying to squeeze out of one. As crazy as it feels, I know it’s my only hope. The windows. I have to get to the windows.

“Beau, listen, I-I-” I stammer and stop before I try again. “I wanted to talk to you. I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

---