Page 18 of Seven Lost Summers
He’s a beast wrapped in steel with a heart bigger than this whole town. Nobody else would believe it because to them Wes isn’t a person. He’s a reputation. A shadow that follows me. No one in their right mind fucks with his kids.
I keep my eyes locked on her like some fucking obsessed idiot, tracking every step as she cuts through the crowd of kids milling around outside. Her long black hair sways with every move, that perfect ass wrapped tight in jeans like they were made for her. Voices bounce off the brick walls and concrete paths as she heads toward the big doors.
Why her?
Why the hell is she the one who gets under my skin, fucks with my head when no one else ever has?
I don’t waste my time on chicks. I don’t have that fuck-it-all drive Nate’s got, banging anything with a pulse just for kicks. But, fuck, there’s something about her. Something that’s jammed itself deep in my ribs, fucking with my head, twisting every damn thought. And I don’t have the patience to untangle that shit.
I flick the joint to the ground, grinding the ember under my boot, the only damn thing I can control right now. I yank the hoodie up over my head, push to my feet, and jam my hands deep in my pockets, trying to choke down the itch crawling under my skin before the urge fucking devours me.
“Where are you going?” Nate’s voice cuts through, amused as hell.
“To check out the new chick,” I mutter, trying to convince myself it’s no big deal. “See what she’s up to.”
Nate chuckles. That asshole knows exactly what’s up.
I don’t slow down, don’t break my stride. He slips in beside me, moving fast like he’s ready for whatever shit’s coming next.
Every girl we pass can’t help themselves. Their eyes lock on him, wildfire blazing through, impossible to ignore, and they’re nothing more than sparks caught in the heat. Nate drinks the attention in like oxygen. He flashes that lazy grin promising every kind of chaos and trouble they’re dying for. He moves through the crowd as though the whole place were built for him. Confidence rolls off him in waves—effortless, unshakable, the way things have always been. He owns every inch of this shit without even thinking twice.
But me… I’m the shadow in the corner. Hoodie pulled low, head bowed like I’m trying to disappear.
Their eyes don’t latch onto me with hunger the way they do with him, but every glance still scrapes across my skin. The whispers follow me, smoke twisting around a dying flame. I fucking hate the attention. Hate that they’re always watching, always judging. I don’t want that spotlight. Because if anyone stares too closely, too hard, they’ll see the cracks beneath the surface. The pieces barely hold me together. The mess I’m desperate to keep hidden. They’ll see how fucking broken I really am, and I’ll be damned if anyone gets close enough to learn that.
We step into the long corridor.
The place is nearly empty, with only a few cheerleaders scattered by the lockers. Lydia stands in the center, flicking her hair as though she’s rehearsed the move a thousand times in front of a mirror. Something she’s sure will make every guy here drop to his knees.
She turns at the sound of our footsteps, eyes locking on Nate like a fucking spotlight.
Everyone knows she’s had a thing for him for years. Nate has already had her twice. First in the backseat of his car, second at some lame party last month.
I witnessed the first time, sitting in the passenger seat like an invisible ghost. Heard Nate work his charm and smooth-talk her into spreading her legs, only to laugh afterward, reducing her to another notch on his belt. Another story for him to brag about.
Nate, that cocky bastard, talked her into giving me a blowjob as though it were some fucked-up favor. I should have told him to fuckoff, shut that shit down the second it started, but I didn’t. I let the whole thing happen. The way Lydia’s eyes cut into me like I was some diseased freak, made my stomach twist into knots. I sat frozen, numb, as if I wasn’t living in my own skin. Watched her mouth move, doing its job, but I felt nothing.
I fucking hated the whole thing. How my skin crawled under her touch, dragging all the old shit to the surface, trying to choke me with the past. I couldn’t fucking breathe.
Nate knows better now. He doesn’t pull that shit anymore because I can’t stand the pressure pressing down on me.
Lydia’s eyes are desperate and full of hope as she steps in our way. She acts like he’s some goddamn savior instead of another guy who’ll fuck her and toss her aside like yesterday’s trash.
Nate grins, that arrogant, unapologetic smirk nailed to his face. I catch the look. He’s already scheming, figuring out how to keep her hooked enough to get off on the control.
But when her eyes catch mine, everything flips.
Her face twists with disgust. I’m still the bitter taste stuck in her mouth that won’t go away.
“Hey, Lydia,” Nate says, his voice smooth as silk, lazy like he’s about to wreck her whole fucking day. “You see where the new girl went?”
Her smile flickers, barely visible, but still enough. I catch that shift in her eyes—the quick flash of jealousy she tries to hide but can’t. She covers the slip with fake, bored indifference, but I recognize the glare. I’ve seen the same thing every time Nate’s attention drifts away. That bitter, shitty edge of desperation clawing its way out.
“Theo’s looking for her,” he says, the lie sliding off his tongue so smooth it might as well be the truth.
“Oh,” she says, her voice rising sugary and bright. Her fake-ass smile snaps back into place like nothing happened. She’s trying to convince herself she didn’t stumble, didn’t get knocked off balance by the thought that Nate’s focus isn’t on her. She leans in, pushing her chest out, tits begging for his attention.
I grit my teeth and move forward so she can’t see me flinch from her cold cutting stare. But every step drags harder with all those fucking eyes behind me, Lydia’s crew watching, pressing in, trying to strip me bare, tear me apart piece by piece.
