Page 77 of Endgame

I spent the best part of Sunday morning cleaning up after the party. I took out the half dozen bags of trash before vacuuming the whole way through the ground floor. I felt fucking ridiculous the entire time. Never in my life had I used a mop or vacuum, but I did it anyway, and I did it with the image of Six’s face weighing heavily on my conscience.

By one o clock, Six still hadn’t come out of her room, but the house finally resembled a home and not the zoo it had been when I got up this morning.

With still no sign of her, I retreated to the living room where I spent the rest of the afternoon watching NFL reruns, feeling agitated and hungover to shit, only getting off the couch to answer the delivery guy when he dropped off a pizza.

Amelia text me at some stage during the evening to let me know she would be spending another night at Jenny King’s house and going to school from there. Jenny was Daryl’s younger sister and Amelia’s best friend. I had no problem with her staying over so I let her know in a text, and warned her not to be late to school tomorrow. I knew she wouldn’t be, but it was the kind of thing I felt was my duty to say.

I made three attempts to check on Six before I went to bed. I stood outside her bedroom door three goddamn times and couldn’t make myself knock. Whatever it was she had over me, whatever feeling this was, it wasn’t good. I wasn’t ready to commit to another girl, not after Britt, and it wasn’t fucking fair for me to lead Six on. I wanted her. More than life. But I wouldn’t use her like that. There were more than enough girls at school willing to sate that particular need of mine.

Shit…

What the hell was I going to do at school tomorrow?

Britt was going to be there, and she was going to be out for Six’s blood.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Iwouldn’t.

Mercedes

WHEN I WOKE UP MONDAY morning, my face looked a lot like my heart felt; cut to shit.

Correction;my pride, not my heart.

I refused to believe it was my heart that was hurting so bad in my chest.

I made a huge mistake by offering myself to Rourke on Saturday night, and he had showed me exactly how pointless that was; how broken his humanity was.

His words still haunted me.

I stopped this from happening because I don’t want you. Because fucking you would be a horrible mistake

Stupidly, I allowed myself to grow feelings for a guy I knew was trouble. I knew he was a bad idea, I had warned myself, prepared myself for his bullshit, and still I let myselffeelsomething for him. I refused point blank to acknowledge in any way, shape, or form that the emotions I was harboring for my stepbrother were anything resembling love. I couldn’t love him. Iwouldn’t.

For me, this was so much worse than the usual traumatic bullshit that came with a break up in a small town, because I had to continuelivingwith him. Rourke had seen me in intimate positions, touched parts of my body, put his fingersinsideof me. But I refused to go down like this. I refused to drown in these feelings. I would keep swimming. I would fight this until my heart stopped beating.

I don’t love you…I won’t love you

Numbly, I threw my covers off and walked straight into my bathroom for a shower. I needed to do something with myself, make myself somewhat respectable for my first day at the Academy. Yeah, the day I had been dreading was here. I should have felt nervous. Instead, I just felt…shredded.

When I was finished, I quickly dried off and threw on a clean pair of bra and panties. Never in my life had I worn a uniform for school. The ones I had attended were low budget, lower middle class, American public schools. That was all about to change.

A grey V-neck sweater with the signatoryOcean Bay Academycrest, white shirt, navy tie, and fitted grey skirt were laid out on a chair when I walked back into my room. Immediately, I shuddered at the sight. This was not who I was. I wasn’t a preppy, private school snob. I was a working girl who bussed tables to make it through school and keep a roof over my head. This shit was alien to me.

I blow dried my long hair, in a state of semi denial, before forcing myself to suck it up and get dressed. Slipping on a swanky new pair of three inchMary Janes– courtesy of step daddy Gabe – I adjusted my grey stockings before checking my appearance in the full-length mirror in my bathroom.

Well… shit.

I almost didn’t recognize the girl staring back at me. Running my hands over the front of my sweater, I adjusted my skirt once more and sighed. Maybe this whole uniform jazz wouldn’t be so bad. I had one of those hourglass figures everyone talked about. You know; big ass, thick hips, tiny waist, overly generous breasts. In theory it sounded great, but unless you had the bank account of a Kardashian, trying to buy clothes to suit my shape on a budget was close to impossible – and cellulite was a bitch. However, I wasbossingthis uniform look.

The scratches Britt left on my face were healing, but still blatantly obvious, so I applied a full face of makeup to cover those up. I might not own much in the world in monetary terms, but I had some mad skills with a set of make-up brushes – the perks of being raised by a glamorous teenage mother.

Twirling around to get a one final look at my ass before venturing downstairs, I raised a brow in scrutiny. God, there was no hidingthatthing.

No wonder my skirt was clinging to my body; I was housing half my weight in my ass cheeks.

I wasn’t overweight, not in the slightest, hell, I was only a size six, but it was justall there.

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