Page 27 of Make Me Scream
“Get my bag,” I shout over the noise of the crowd. She throws up a thumbs up, and I nod before spinning around and rushing up to Abel. He seems to be in a bit of a daze as I wrap my fingers around his elbow.
“Let’s get home, runt,” I lean down to murmur in his ear.
“What home,” he utters back, bitter and cold. I rear back, offended.
“Don’t fucking start right now,” I snap, yanking him into my side. The polyester material of his uniform rubs against mine, and I shiver.
“I never stopped, Peri.”
“Yes. You did,” I argue. Because he did.We did.
Right?
“That’s what you think.”
Why the fuck is he being like this right now?
“Don’t piss me off. We’ve gotta go.”
“You’re always pissed off,” he mutters. My eyes roll into the back of my head—and not in a good way.
“Just go get your fucking bag, would you?” I release his arm and cross mine over my chest. Surprisingly, he does as he’s told and waddles over and dips down, pert little ass sticking straight out as he grabs his ratty little backpack and slings it over his shoulder.
“Ready, boss.”
“Smartass.”
“Better than no ass.”
“Mmm, you don’t have much of one anyway, I guess,” I muse as we walk down the hall toward the front doors. Abel feigns a gasp, loud and echoing.
“How dare you?!” He leaps forward and twirls around, face twisting in a wince as he bends forward and arches his back in a perfect curve. Creaks resound in the air from how hard my teeth grind together. He turns and looks back at his own butt. “Yeah, I think it’s all right. What do you think?” He bats his darkened eyelashes, and my heart summersaults.
My hands reach out and graze the shaved sides of his head before twining my fingers into his French braids, tugging on the tiny ends that brush the edge of his neck. I yank harshly, drawing a hiss from his full lips before pulling him up on his tiptoes and bringing his mouth to mine.
I mold our lips together, relishing in the consummation of pain and confusion and alteration. Our usual rush of touch is slowed by something much deeper and more. Abel’s breaths and touches are slowed, his hands reaching up to cup either side of my face in a delicate hold.
When he strokes his thumbs along my cheek bones, I pull back, face burning and tingling. “Let’s get going before she finds us,” I rasp, bending down to rest my forehead against his.
He chuckles dryly, shaking me off. “Too late for that.” I rise up with a frown. He jerks his head to the left, and I follow the direction to find Lucy standing near the wall, watching us like some fucking weirdo.
I glare at her, eyes narrowed. “Fucking cunt.” I turn to Abel. “Let’s go home.” I grab his hand and walk out the door into the burning cold air, pretending I never even saw her and ignoring the fact my heart is about to beat out of my fucking chest because she saw me kissing my foster brother.
Our steps echo across the parking lot filled with cars and illuminated by yellow lights from the lamp posts. “Don’t sweat it. She probably doesn’t care,” Abel stutters.
I scoff. “Probably.” I rake my fingers through my hair and yank on the strands. “Jesus Christ.”
“Everything okay?” Ma’s voice sounds as we near my car, and I jolt out of my skin. Abel snickers, but it’s muted by his teeth clacking together.
I take my bag from Mom and unlock my car before reaching in to start it. “Get in,” I tell Abel while tossing him a hoodie. He catches it and yanks it on, muttering to himself as he slips inside and closes the door behind him. I roll my eyes, arms crossed over my chest.
“How’s he doing?” she asks, shivering a bit herself.
“He’s Abel, Mom. You know how he is.”
“So fine, but not fine.”
“Pretty much. We’ll meet you at home.”
