Page 74 of Satan's Spawn
She can go ahead and try, though.
I could use all the help I can get.
* * *
Most of theride to Sampson’s house is spent blasting the radio with the top down on Archer’s very impressive Porsche Panamera.
There’s something freeing about speeding down a highway with strong gusts of warm air hitting your face. A view of a coastline, even if it isn’t La Jolla. The adrenaline spiking my heart rate as Archer’s engine accelerates. It’s helping me breathe for the first time since I woke up this morning.
It almost feels like home.
“Whooo!” Hendrix shouts with her hands up in the air, as if in the front seat of a roller coaster. “This is fucking amazing!” She shakes her head, embracing the wind that has her dark hair dancing wildly behind her.
Archer grins proudly from behind the wheel, in sunglasses and white tank, and it doesn’t take long before the both of them are cheering together.
I watch from the back seat—trying to forget where we’re headed, forget that, for all intents and purposes, I’ll be going on my first date with a boy I barely know and forget the brooding boy who lingers in the darkest corridors of my mind.
Crayton is a shadow I can’t outrun, a bad omen, like the appearance of a black cat or a crow.
The epitome of wrong in the form of carved stone, danger, and raw sexual magnetism.
You can’t help but want to get closer.
Maybe that’s why I’m so reactive to him, his chemical imbalances are somehow balancing mine.
“Yo, Bex!” Archer’s deep voice breaks me out of my stupor. “Shut up, you’re talking too much.”
The both of them laugh together, and I join nervously, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
“You doing okay?” Hendrix asks.
“All good.” I smile. “Just hoping this doesn’t backfire in my face.”
“Dude.” She turns to face me, the car still going at full speed. “You have us there the whole time, plus Felix. He seems to be really into you.”
And sweet too, texting me last night with a “goodnight beautiful” and the same this morning.
“Yeah, well, if he or Crayton pulls any shit just let me know. I’ll get their asses booted quicker than you can say ‘take two’.”
Always a drama club reference.
“Thanks, guys. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Crayton will probably be too busy with his Ice Queen to even notice me.”
The two of them share a look that we all know calls bullshit, but nobody speaks a word about it again, and before I know it, after a few more miles and lane changes, we’re getting off the exit for Sampson’s neighborhood.
His house is set in a private development, rows like an exhibit of outrageous homes built for royalty. We pull up to a paved road, and when Archer makes a quick right, a huge colonial mansion comes into view.
Lush green gardens, fountains, colored flowers and stone architecture line the rounded driveway to the front doors, which are hidden behind huge marble pillars. The glass is all blackout, each intricately designed in different shapes, some arches and some square to highlight the grand white mansion.
Cars line the entire way leading up to the house, making it clear the party started much earlier than one o’clock.
A red Maserati is parked at the front with Felix’s tall handsome figure leaning against it, bare chested in blue swim trunks and an opened short sleeved button down.
My heart rate jumps the closer we get to him.
Archer parks in a spot right in the front of the house, as if it was reserved for him, and after killing the engine he turns to face me.
“Bex, seriously,” he says in a tone that screams protective big brother. Even though I’m technically older than him. “If anyone bothers you, ruins your day, I will make sure they regret it. Even if it means going to my grandfather.”
