Courtney
Last day of school…
“Don’t look, but he’s staring at you,” Whitney says, wickedness dancing in her wide brown eyes as she pops a grape into her mouth.
Naturally, I look.
My eyes lock with Rome Murray, the school freak. He holds my stare from just below his black messy hair. His jaw clenches and I shudder. Snapping my gaze back to Whitney, I hiss, “Why is he staring at me?”
“Probably wants to carve you up like a pumpkin and put you on his shelf like all the missing girls on that crime show you always watch.” She pops her gum and leans forward, giving me a full view of her cleavage that’s probably not school acceptable. Not that it would stop Whitney McConnell anyway. Her dad’s a civil defense attorney who plays golf with our principal on the regular. She gets away with everything.
“Rome doesn’t kidnap and murder girls,” I say with a laugh as I peel the sticker off my apple.
She pokes at her salad with her fork and shrugs. “Right. That’s his twin freak. She probably has a basement full of dead bodies.”
At the mention of Rome’s sister, Raven, I can’t help but turn my head and look for her. There was a time when we were almost friends. Back in tenth grade. We’d been assigned biology lab partners. She was quiet and funny. Said some strange things, but I found myself eager to hear what she had to say. I’d almost invited her to a movie or something when Whitney caught wind of it. Ew, she’s a weirdo and people like us don’t hang out with people like her, Court, she’d said. I kept my distance after that.
The twins are the school’s oddballs. Sure, we have the nerds and the Emos and the freaks who are all people Whitney and I don’t associate with, but the twins seem in a league all of their own. Rome sits by himself as if people are a disease and it’s catching. Raven hides in the bathroom a lot. Sometimes, at lunch, she’ll sit outside under a tree alone. I’ve always wondered why the Murray twins don’t sit together.
“Anyway, this summer is ours. We’re both eighteen now, so we can do whatever the hell we want,” Whitney says, her lips turning up in an impish grin.
I smile back. “A whole summer without cheerleading practice or Coach Pelt drilling us seems like heaven.”
“Until we get to Northwestern. Coach Daniels is twice as intense as Coach Pelt. The squad there practices just as hard as the football players. I’ve watched some of their practices on YouTube. Extreme, Court. We’re going to have to be in major shape.” Her lip slightly curls when she eyeballs the roll on my lunch tray.
My stomach grumbles. I’d wanted to eat carbs the entire summer, but something tells me Whitney is going to keep me in line. I’m going on an athletic scholarship, so I can’t mess it all up just because I’m starved for bread and cake and, oh God, mashed potatoes.
“No,” Whitney grumbles as she steals my bread. “I see the way you’re giving that roll your fuck-me eyes. Isn’t going to happen on my watch.” With an evil giggle, she launches it behind me.
I jerk my gaze around just in time to see it bounce off the side of Rome’s head. When he darts his furious glare my way, Whitney laughs. It’s sweet and innocent, but I can hear the twinge of disdain.
“Oops. Sorry. My friend is clumsy.” She pats me on the top of the head as if I were the one who threw the bread.
His eyes narrow at me and he scratches his finger along his sharp jaw line. Something about the way he does it is menacing. He scares me. With one simple movement, he can send ripples of fear skittering down my spine.
“Why did you do that?” I whine, shooting Whitney a horrified stare.
She smirks as she picks at her salad. “I was saving you from carbs.”
“By trying to get me murdered?”
“Calm your tits,” she huffs. “He wouldn’t murder you…” Another evil grin. “At school.”
“You suck.”
“Really well,” she agrees. “Just ask Kason.”
We both start to giggle at the mention of her boyfriend. He worships her. They’re the stereotypical high school couple. Captain of the cheerleading squad and football quarterback. His family doesn’t come from as much money as hers does, so he follows her around like a lost puppy. Little does he know, after school she’s breaking up with him. She wants to be free for the summer before college.
I bite into my apple and ignore the guilt twisting in my belly. It was our pact. We’d both break up with our boyfriends this summer. I really like Lee, but what Whitney says goes. And he’s going to a different university anyways. Probably better this way.
“Life is about to get a whole lot more exciting for us,” Whitney chirps, dragging me from my inner thoughts. “Get ready, bestie, we’re about to cause a storm.”
One week later…
“God, you smell good,” Lee mutters, his breath hot against my throat. He presses kisses up to my earlobe and gently tugs there. Heat courses through me and my panties are soaked with need. Lee was who I lost my virginity to before Christmas and we’ve had sex countless times after. I was supposed to break up with him last week after graduation. But then he went on vacation with his parents. And now, he’s here.
“Lee…” It’s all I can manage with his hand up my shirt and his mouth on my neck. Right now, in this moment, I don’t want to break up with him. I want him to fuck me.
“When will your mom be home?”
“Not for another thirty minutes,” I whisper.
He pulls away and flashes me a dimpled grin. Lee plays football with Kason. I think he’s better looking than Kason, but I’d never tell Whitney that.
“Looks like I have time to get inside your wet panties then, huh?” His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief.
You’re supposed to be breaking up with him.
“Just enough time,” I agree, my words breathless.
He laughs and peels away my shirt in record time. Clothes get ripped away in a flurry. Once his cock is sheathed in a rubber, he pushes inside me. Whitney blabs about orgasms all the time, but I’ve never had one with Lee. I can get myself off, but when he and I are together, it’s different. It’s more of the human contact that I get off on. I like the way it feels when his hard chest is pressed against my breasts. I like the way his eyes turn wild with desire right before he comes. It’s orgasmic in a different way.
“Fuck, baby,” he groans as he ruts away on top of me. “You’re always so tight. I’m going to come so hard inside you. You’re gonna milk my fat dick dry.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. It comes out as a whimper that he misconstrues as a moan of pleasure.
“That’s it,” he urges. “Get after it, girl.”
This time, a giggle slips out. His dirty talk is…special.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He closes his eyes and thunders his hips against me. “Fuck.”
I’m grinning up at him, enjoying the way sweat drips down his temple, when he finally comes. With a loud groan, he orgasms.
“You’re so hot,” he murmurs, his eyes reopening to admire me.
I beam at him. “Thanks.”
His frown that appears suddenly steals my smile. “But…”
My heart stops inside my chest. “But what?” Do I have a pimple? Is my face looking greasy? Has he noticed I’ve put on a pound?
“But, we’re both going to different colleges and…” He slides out of me and rolls off the bed to dispose of the condom. His voice carries from the bathroom where he starts taking a piss. “I’m just not ready for a long-distance relationship.”
The words—words I’d planned on using on him myself—sting when they’re directed my way.
“W-What?”
He flushes the toilet and bypasses the sink to hunt for his pants. Embarrassed, I sit up and drag a pillow across my lap.
“You heard me,” he grunts, his gaze not meeting mine. “We should see other people.”
I blink in shock. “But we…you and I just…”
He snorts. “It was just fucking, Court. That’s all we ever did.”
“You were my boyfriend,” I screech. Hot tears well in my eyes and I hate how emotional I’m getting over this.
“Don’t be dramatic.”
A tear snakes down my cheek and drips from my jaw. “That’s it? Just fuck and run?”
He shrugs as he buttons his jeans and grabs his baseball cap from my dresser. “If you want to fuck again sometime this summer, as friends, you have my number. I just don’t want to be tied down. I’ll miss your blowjobs, though, baby.” He winks at me as if we’re sharing a cute secret. Bile rises in my chest.
“Lee…”
“There’s nothing else to say,” he says softly. “You’ll probably meet your husband at Northwestern. I was just a lame high school boyfriend. You were just some girl I dated for a bit. I promise, there is more out there for the both of us.” He tips his head before swiping his keys from my dresser and heading out.
This summer is already off to a shitty start.
“I guess I don’t understand why you’re so upset,” Whitney bites out as she paints her toenails a bright orange that makes her golden skin seem even tanner.
Lee officially broke up with me last night and I’m still bothered by it. It was my plan to break up with him, so I don’t understand why I’m upset either.
“Yeah,” I concede. “I guess you’re right. But why did he have to fuck me first?” That’s the part that stings the most.
My best friend lifts a brow and levels me with one of her no-nonsense gazes. “Because he’s an asshole. Most high school boys are. We’re about to embark on a whole new world. We’ll be around men at Northwestern. Actual men who aren’t pussies and know what they want. Lee did you a favor.”
“He said we could still fuck this summer.”
Whitney snorts. “I bet he did. Screw him. You’d be better off using my singles app I downloaded. Hot, local guys down to fuck at all hours of the day.”
I crack a smile. “Ha. Ha.”
“Seriously!” she exclaims and laughs. “I already slept with one guy I met through the app. A man.”
“What? How am I just learning about this?”
“Because you were too busy still playing house with Lee.”
I sit up on my knees on her bed. “Tell me about it. Tell me about this guy.”
She shrugs and pops her gum. “DealFinder was his screen name. He was older. Thirty-eight. Some corporate guy downtown. I met him at a restaurant and he fucked me in the bathroom. We ate lunch and then parted ways. The end.”
Shaking my head, I point my finger at her. “You can’t just give me a watered-down version! Was he hot?”
“He was hot but kind of stuck on himself. The guy didn’t even make sure I came. Of course, I did, but that’s beside the point.”
I pick up her phone and locate the app. Sure enough, singles of both sexes show up. “Women too?” I breathe as heat creeps up my throat.
She curses when she drips a blob of orange nail polish on the top of her foot. “Yeah? So? College is about experimentation. I’m starting early.”
I’m scrolling through the faces on the app, on a hunt for anyone familiar. When a pair of haunted green eyes fill my screen, I stop and stare.
“Is that Raven Murray?” I question and hold her phone up.
Whitney’s eyes widen. “Oh my God! It is!”
I laugh and start to scroll again, but Whitney steals her phone back. She squints as she reads Raven’s profile. Her name on the app is PoetPrincess99 and not her real name.
“Can you imagine if she met up with DealFinder? He would have ripped her apart and left her a sobbing mess on the bathroom floor.” She snorts. “Just a little girl playing in a woman’s world.” Her features darken as she glares at Raven’s picture.
I frown. “Maybe we should warn her that there are jerks out there.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “No. Maybe we should teach her a lesson. It’ll be better coming from us and not some strange man.”
“What do you mean?”
“Here,” she says as she grabs my phone. “We’ll create a profile on your phone. A man. We can lead her on a bit and then tell her she’s been catfished. She learns her lesson about online dating and it’ll be funny as fuck for us. Everyone wins.”
My stomach tightens with nerves. “I don’t know. It sounds mean.”
Whitney rolls her eyes. “The world is mean. Best if she learns it now.”
I bite on my lip and watch as she taps away on my phone. After a few minutes, she hands it back to me.
LonelyLogan69.
“What a horrible screen name,” I complain. “She’s not going to chat with some guy named LonelyLogan69.”
“Have you seen his picture?” Her eyebrows waggle.
A picture of Zac Efron.
“She’s not stupid, Whit.”
“We’ll see,” she retorts. “Private message her. Since you’re the ‘nice’ one around here, I’ll let you do the typing.”
Some of the unease melts away. I remember things she told me in biology, so I’ll use them to my advantage.
LonelyLogan69: You’re pretty. I’d like to chat with you but am new to this. Not ready to meet.
Whitney peeks at my message once I send it and nods. “Easy. Now lure her in.”
“If she even replies—”
The phone buzzes in my hand.
PoetPrincess99: Thank you. You’re cute too. Is that really your picture?
Whitney and I both giggle.
LonelyLogan69: It is. Are you really a poet, princess?
“Oh, that’s good,” Whitney says, grinning.
PoetPrincess99: I dabble in poetry. It calms my thoughts.
LonelyLogan69: What kind of thoughts?
PoetPrincess99: Dark ones. Confusing ones. Sad ones.
My heart sinks. In biology, she always smiled. As though she were happy. As though she didn’t notice that she was poor and wore dated clothes that hung from her thin body. As though everyone wasn’t laughing behind her back. As though the whole world didn’t matter.
“Keep it going,” Whitney orders. “I’m going to go dry my hair. We’re going to Claudia’s party tonight.”
I give her a weak smile before settling back against the pillows.
LonelyLogan69: Are your thoughts calm right now?
PoetPrincess99: My dad’s not home, so life is always calm when he’s not here.
My heart rate spikes. This feels intrusive and not funny. As much as I like playing games with Whitney, this feels different.
LonelyLogan69: Is he mean to you?
I don’t remember seeing any bruises on her but then again, she always wore long sleeves even in the spring when the temperature would get up to ninety degrees. As a matter of fact, so did Rome. Such a strange duo.
PoetPrincess99: Not to me. To my brother.
I let out a sigh of relief for Raven’s sake but then a sick sensation settles in my stomach.
LonelyLogan69: He hurts your brother?
PoetPrincess99: He hits on him when he’s been drinking. Anyway, how old are you? What do you do for fun?
I want to probe her more on her father and brother, but she clearly wants to change the subject.
LonelyLogan69: I’m eighteen. I like going to football games.
Not lies.
PoetPrincess99: Ahh, so you’re probably into the cheerleader types. I’m not like that. I have a brain.
Her comment irritates me and I feel defensive.
LonelyLogan69: Cheerleaders are smart too. That was mean.
PoetPrincess99: Sorry. You’re right. I’m not good at this…whatever this is. I just opened an account with this app because I only wanted someone to talk to. I’ve had a rough couple of days. And if all goes well…maybe we could meet.
My heart seems to skip a beat in my chest. Doesn’t she know this isn’t safe? She’s not like Whitney. Whitney could bring a grown man to his knees with one evil glare. But not Raven. Raven is too innocent.
LonelyLogan69: You don’t even know me. It’s not safe to meet with people you don’t know.
PoetPrincess99: I’m desperate to know someone. Anyone. I’m desperate for them to know me too. I work at Hamby’s Diner. You could come see me tomorrow if you wanted. I don’t have much time to meet anyone.
LonelyLogan69: Not. Safe. I can’t believe you just told me where you work! And why don’t you have time? Are you going off to college in another city or state?
She takes a minute to respond and I’m considering telling her who I am. The lesson doesn’t need to be a hard one, but all it takes is some sicko she meets off this app to get her alone.
PoetPrincess99: Sorry. Again. What else do you like besides football?
LonelyLogan69: I like music. Not this newer stuff. My mom always made me listen to her music, so it just kind of grew on me. My best friend makes fun of me because I’m not obsessed with Taylor Swift like she is.
PoetPrincess99: Your best friend is a girl? Is that hard?
I scrunch my nose and it takes a minute for me to realize what she means. Because she thinks I’m a guy. Oops.
LonelyLogan69: I’m not interested in her like that.
PoetPrincess99: Good.
LonelyLogan69: Can you send me a poem?
I remember Raven always scribbling things in her composition book. I’m sure she has plenty of poetry to send.
PoetPrincess99: Eyes so dead. Hearts cold. Today is my prison. Tomorrow is my savior.
The hair dryer stops and Whitney comes waltzing out. She peeks over my shoulder and laughs.
“That’s stupid.” With a flip of her silky brown hair, she walks into her closet to hunt for an outfit.
LonelyLogan69: I thought poetry was supposed to rhyme.
PoetPrincess99: You thought wrong.
LonelyLogan69: It doesn’t make any sense.
PoetPrincess99: It makes perfect sense to me.
I start to wonder if it’s a blonde thing that I’m not getting it when she replies again.
PoetPrincess99: My dad just got home. I need to go check on things. Chat later? Maybe you can write me a poem.
She goes offline on the app and I let out a sigh. My mind buzzes with curiosity. I’ve hardly spoken to her aside from the few times in class. Each time, she was pleasantly guarded. I want to know more about her.
Clearly, Raven isn’t the girl I thought I knew.