Page 32 of The Love of My Next Life
“Thank you,” I say to Eric. “Give me just a second.”
Macon takes a step toward me and grabs my waist. I shake my head and scrunch my eyebrows, mouthingNO, but he ignores me.
“He doesn’t touch you,” he commands in my ear. Goosebumps prickle my skin, my body wanting to melt back into him, but I shove his chest instead.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” I whisper back.
He grabs my braid and yanks it, exposing my throat, then presses his mouth to my sensitive skin. I freeze.
“He doesn’t fucking touch you, Lennon.” His lips ghost over my pulse point, and my whole body shivers. I feel him smile against me. “We’re not done.”
He turns and leaves out the same door he came, without another word, but his threat lingers.
EIGHT
It’s wellafter ten in the morning when I wake up on the air mattress in Claire’s bedroom. A glance at her bed tells me she’s still out cold. Her hair is a mess and last night’s makeup is smudged.
I frown.
She would hate me if she knew what happened at Josh’s last night.
She’d definitely kill Macon.
I don’t know who she would be angrier at.
I was so shook up after my encounter with Macon that I told Eric I had a headache and spent the rest of the night alone in Claire’s car, agonizing over what happened. She stumbled into the passenger seat around two, and we snuck into her bedroom just before three.
Two hours after her curfew.
I laid awake for another two hours listening for Macon, but I never heard him come home.
My body burns when I replay what happened in that bathroom. The way my nipples harden at the memory of Macon’s mouth on my skin confuses me, and then I grow angry with myself.
This is Macon. Claire’s brother. My tormentor.
Deadbeat pothead who apparently now pops pills and vandalizes houses for fun.
I try to think of Eric, to go through the things about him that I like, but I’m overcome with guilt and have to push him out of my head. Macon did this just to mess with me. I’m sure he left that bathroom and went straight to Sam to laugh about it.
And I’m here stressing out over all the people I could potentially hurt.
I hate him.
I get up and make my way to the Jack and Jill bathroom that Macon and Claire share and spend the entire time brushing my teeth on the defensive. I don’t know if Macon is in his bedroom on the other side of the bathroom door, but if the knob so much as jiggles, I’m sprinting out of here.
Luckily, I’m in and out without trouble.
I leave a brief note for Claire, telling her I have homework and I’ll call her later, then I grab my bag and quietly slip out of the house. I heave a sigh of relief the moment I close the door behind me. I know Andrea is off today, but I’m glad I didn’t run into her. I don’t think I could face her after last night. Not yet.
Macon’s hands. Macon’s mouth. Weed and spice and spearmint.
We’re not done.
I shake my head to get the images out of it.
I make the short walk to my house, trying to think of anything but Macon and the bathroom, and when I finally turn the corner onto my block, I break into a sprint.
Dad’s 4Runner is in the driveway, which means he’s home a whole day early. I pay attention to nothing else, zeroed in on our front door, unlocking it and kicking off my shoes in record time.
