My hand fists Kellie’s soft silky blonde hair, and I kiss the crook of her neck just as her hand brushes down my stomach and beneath my waistband. Her fingers pull and tug at my briefs eagerly before fully shoving her hand down my pants and gripping my hard cock.

“You’re always hard.” She arches a brow as if my having a boner all the time is a bad thing. It’s only a problem if I don’t have something to rid of it.

“What do you plan to do about it?” My voice is husky. Her wet tongue slides along her bottom lip lapping up her sticky lip gloss, her eyes narrowing in on her arm extended down my pants.

I’d be all over her if I thought this would end any different than any other time she had her hand down my pants. She’s a cock tease. She’ll fondle my dick, pump it a few times and then throw up the shy card, leaving me with blue balls and a hard as rock veiny cock for the rest of the fucking day.

The bell rings, and I step away just enough for her to lose her grip so I can situate myself and zip up my pants. My cock is sensitive and pissed as I shove it back down, but I have gym class, and Coach will roast my ass if I don’t show up. It’s the end of senior year, and all eyes are on me. I have a free ride to play at Texas College, and every teacher and passerby lets me know just how proud they are of me. Talk about fucking pressure.

I don’t know if playing ball is even what I want anymore…

“You can be late,” Kellie giggles, reaching for my shirt.

“Easy,” I tell her, her excitement sexy but desperate. She’s too obliging sometimes. Pushing her hands away, she looks up at me with pouty blue eyes. “I gotta get to class, or Coach will come looking for me,” I explain. If anyone is watching me closely, it’s him. I’m a golden stamp on his resume of coaching football.

“Whatever.” Kellie smacks her lips, fixing her ponytail in an uncaring matter. “The squad needs to get together to see who is all going to cheer-camp this summer anyway,” she huffs. Trying to put herself back together after making out with me. Kellie’s the cheer captain and about as stereotypical as you can get. Blonde hair, blue eyes, perky tits, strong legs, and her nose held above everyone else’s in the school.

Tossing my letterman jacket over my shoulder, I casually step out of the photography room and into the crowd of students rushing to their next class. Knowing the drill, Kellie will step out and walk the other way two minutes after.

A hard shoulder bumps into me, knocking my steps sideways.

“Did you nail her?” Axel laughs, running his hand through his shaggy brown hair that he disheveled walking into me. He’s a foot taller than me, darker skin, and plays offense. He did have two black gauges in his earlobes before the coach had him remove them, so in true rebellion fashion, he got a tattoo on his forearm displaying our mascot, the Blue Cats, of scratches slashing through his arm and blue blood staining his skin. The girls in this school have thought he’s hot shit since. I don’t show my tattoo off as much.

“Come on, how many Home EC classes are you going to miss and snuggle up with Miss Pom-poms only to head to practice and poke me in the ass with a hard-on,” he teases.

“Hopefully, the wait will be worth the blue balls,” I half laugh.

“So, then you need to wear a cup today?” He tilts his head to the side, and I smirk, shaking my head.

“Don’t act like you don’t like my cock—”

“Warner!” Turning at the sound of Coach’s voice, he stands wide at the end of the hall, his hands on his hips. He’s taller than any student passing by him, the lights above casting a glow on his bald head. That fucking whistle he blows every five seconds in practice hanging around his neck.

“We’re outside today,” he informs sternly. I nod, and take a right, heading to the football field.

“I’m telling you, man, if you get Kellie up the ass, you’d be the most famous guy in school!” Axel continues, following me outside. I don’t say anything back. I don’t love Kellie, I don’t even really like her. She’s a challenge if anything. Senior year in high school, what can I say… I’m fucking bored. I’m ready to get out of this town, and away from my deadbeat dad.

Once outside, the smell of summer is just out of reach. The sun shining, and the smell of the mowed grass in the air.

“What are you doing this summer?” Axel changes the subject.

I shrug. “I plan on drinking and fucking everything that walks past until I’m shipped off to college.”

He laughs. I toss my jacket on the bench and grab a football from the ball bin.

Parties and pussy sound like every fucking day in this town, along with football. I’m bored of it all, and need something more… promiscuous. Leave this town with more than the kid who was great at football. Looking at the pigskin in my hands, I just don’t feel the excitement like I used to. Not since I lost my mom. Sighing, I lift my arm up to throw the ball across the field, Axel runs back catching the ball with his arms flexed for the girls on the bleachers, tossing a charming grin their way. I grab another ball from the bin and toss it at his head.

“Hey!” His face turns red, and I have to bite back my smile. “Hey, you pick a college yet?” He acts as if nothing happened.

“Not sure,” I lie and shrug him off by tossing the ball back and forth. Truth is if I told him, he’d try to get into the same college and I’m not sold on even going.

Coach watches as we toss the ball, everyone doing their normal routine for class.

The preppy bitches sit on the bleachers gossiping, Kellie sitting in the middle of them all holding court. The nerds stand with their arms crossed and phones out over on the grass, oblivious to the world, and us jocks make sure to stay fit even though it’s offseason.

He only watches the athletes, making sure we stay active. Otherwise, it being the end of the year, everyone gets to do whatever they want.

Suddenly two black SUVs drive past the field, grabbing everyone’s attention in class. Even Coach squints in the direction of the vehicles. The cars pull up in front of the school and slowly come to a stop. Catching the ball, I raise my hand and glance at the polished black cars. This is a small town, and I’ve never seen such expensive cars drive through here, especially at this school.

The driver in the first car gets out, he’s wearing a suit and tie, and looks important. We all form into a crowd, nosy as fuck and curious who sits behind the tinted windows in the back.

The driver opens the back doors, and a man and a woman get out. They’re dressed to impress. The man with short dark hair, and dress shirt and slacks. His eyes look the school over with disgust and a hard stare. The woman is wearing a peach dress with a huge floppy hat. She looks at the school, sliding her hat off. She leans into the man, her husband I presume, talking to him.

“Who is that?” Axel whispers to nobody in particular. Maybe it’s someone scouting talent or a school board attendant. Whoever it is, they are rich and not scared to show it to the town.

The driver in the second SUV gets out, he’s much older than the other driver but still wears a suit and a solemn look on his face. He opens the back door and a foot clad in colorful beads slowly descends to the cracked asphalt. A red string inked into the ankle grabs more than my attention, it makes my dick jerk in a familiar way. I’ve seen tattoos on kids my age before, but it’s usually a tramp stamp or a butterfly. That string on the dip of her ankle … I’ve seen that only once before. It can’t be a coincidence either!

My eyes run up the tan legs to a pair of shorts with a heart patch sewn into the left ass cheek, a belt of rainbow colors frayed and swinging around her silky tan thighs. Biting my bottom lip, I scan farther up to a low dipped olive-green shirt splotched with yellow. I take notice of the bare skin around her collarbone, I’ve never paid much attention to a chick’s neck before, but this girl has my jaw grinding to sink my teeth into her soft skin. Running my gaze over her once more, bracelets of beads and string wrap around each wrist. She finally turns and my mouth parts at the whole package.

She has brown wavy hair with a white flower headband wrapped around her forehead. She’s unlike anything I’ve seen in Forest Creek High. She’s down to earth but in a natural disaster kind of way. She looks my way and familiar eyes pull at my chest. Taking a step forward, I try and get a better look. Familiarity has my lips parting, and my feet aching to get closer.

“She’s def in the wrong place.” Kellie smacks her gum, her squad of bimbos agreeing with her.

“Ew, her shirt is tie-dye. I stopped wearing tie-dye in like, the fourth grade,” Chloe, Kellie’s best friend, backs her up. Chloe is a little heavier than Kellie but looks exactly the same otherwise. Blonde hair and blue eyes. Only difference is, Chloe has let me fuck her, she’s let all my buddies fuck her, and Kellie knows nothing about it. I think Chloe likes having something over Kellie.

The woman and man rush to the girl’s side and assist her inside of the school. The way they act, I assume it’s her parents.

The drivers don’t follow them in though, they stand outside by the front of the cars with their hands crossed in front of them. My brows knit together with curiosity. The night of spring break, the girl, that tattoo, and the way she dresses... Not many girls look like that. It has to be the girl from that night.

“Show’s over, everyone back to where they were!” Coach yells, his hands on his hips and face drawn as if he’s uninterested.

Tossing the ball in the air, the little hippie girl is stuck in my mind. Is she the girl from spring break? Is she going here now?

“Come on River.” Dad ushers me forward, straightening his tie and smoothing his dress shirt as we go. Students stare out the classroom windows, the ones on the football field standing still as they watch us. Taking a step forward, my eyes seem stuck on the field, on the blond haired guy in front of the crowd. Letterman jacket and eyes that seem to brand me from afar. He’s familiar to me and my whole body acknowledges it as goosebumps dance across my skin.

Slow motion images string into the back of my mind of the night I threw my morals out the window with reckless abandon. That warm April spring night that I was left in a fancy five-star hotel and pissed at the world I couldn’t recognize anymore. That night I lived like there was no tomorrow, like it was my last day on earth.

What started out as a walk around the parking lot soon turned into a night of exploration, and by fate, I just happened to stumble upon a backwoods party full of kids my age while mother and father were out looking for property to buy. We were moving, again. The longest we’ve lived in one place is a year, and then we’re on the move again. So I was angry, like always. I was pissed at a lot of things that have raised to the surface in my family. I didn’t know anybody at the party, and they didn’t know me. But that didn’t stop me from dancing in the night with bonfire smoke in my hair, and my will to find myself under the stars thumping against my chest.

Shaking my head, I push those thoughts of that night to the back of my mind and follow my parents inside.

Looking around, I can’t help but notice there are no security officers at the front doors, nor cameras in the hallways. It’s a small building, and it has that feel that everyone knows everyone - matching the town. Which meant they can not only be surprisingly brutal when idle, but I’ll be even more out of place at this small-town school.

After all, it’s not my first time attending a school this size.

I sling my tie-dye shoulder bag over my chest, my mouth dry at the mere thought of starting another new school, add on it’s at the end of the year making it worse. I catch the receptionist running a disapproving eye over me, her thin brows narrowed in as if she’s looking at an old throw pillow out of place on a fancy couch.

I’m used to side looks like that though. I’ve been told I don’t dress or act like teenagers my age, and next to my parents, I’m a sore thumb. Looking down, I fiddle with my colorful bracelets. Hippie. Flower child. Bohemian princess. These are all names I’ve been called, but ask the fucks I give. I was born in the wrong era. I could have thrived in the sixties. A time where there was no judgment and everyone was friends with everyone. Life was wild, and the only morals anyone had was where they got their drugs from and who to pleasure.

I’m just like my grandma which my mother disapproves. She says I remind her of her mother too much. The way I dress and act so free willed. Seeing as how I hung out with my grandma until her death, it should be no surprise I act like her.

In all honesty, she could care less about what I’m into as long as I don’t embarrass her and stay out of trouble. As far as she’s concerned, a girl should be pretty and sophisticated. Preaching “Money follows beauty, River.” My being five foot two with long wavy chestnut hair, and green eyes isn’t what bothers her though, it’s my array of headbands I wear around my forehead each day, my bohemian style outfits, and lead-stained fingertips from drawing that has grossed her out. Grandma would love it.

My father, on the other hand, could care less what I look like, he’s always on my back about keeping my head in the books, and that doesn’t include art books. He thinks being an artist is a waste of brain activity and time. My grandma would disagree if she were still alive.

“The Addingtons!” My head snaps up at the mention of my last name finding a tall man wearing a cheap suit and a smug smile stepping out of a back office. The principal’s office. His hair combed over and sprayed with hairspray so heavily it shines. He looks like he’s trying out for a fifty’s porno.

“I’m Principal Green, and can I just say how happy we are to have you in our town?” He grips my father’s hand, shaking it a little too eagerly. Typical principals’ reaction to my parents.

My dad’s face remains somber, he’s used to people being dramatically excited for his arrival. He smells of money, and he knows it. I could care less about money, especially now that I know how he earns it. Maybe I can say that because I’ve always had it, but I can tell you from behind closed doors it doesn’t make people happy.

Flashbacks from growing up of my parents screaming at each other string in the back of my mind. I have to sigh heavily to veer myself away from that emotional roller coaster. They don’t trust each other, always thinking the other is messing around the other’s back. Knowing who they work for, I can see why now.

My parents met attending a seminar on ‘How to Be the Richest Friend on The Block.’

My dad locked eyes with her from the stage and they said it was love at first sight. Twenty minutes later they were in the hotel room and I was conceived.

“You’re here on business, correct?” Principal Green pushes. Wondering how long he’s staying, and will he invest in the school activities I participate in, I’m sure. Giving my parents a sideways glance I can’t help but wonder if everyone knows of the activities my parents bestow on each town they come to.

“Will we make you rich if that’s what you mean?” Mother laughs, her fake giggles gyrating my nerves.

“Business later,” Dad interrupts, rubbing my mother’s back with a tight smile across his face.

“Right, we’re here for our daughter River’s first day,” my mother interrupts. The way she draws her words out as if her language is of riches, drives me crazy. She pulls at my green top, and sighs loudly when she tucks up behind me closely and whispers in my ear, “You couldn’t wear something a little nicer?”

“I have my two piece romper back home. You know, the blue sequined one? It would go nicely with the mascot colors here, don’t you think?” I sass, my tone and face serious. I’ve gotten good at acting when it comes to my mother. If I can’t have fun with her, I’d be some depressed teenager who can’t cope that her parents don’t understand her.

“Right, let’s get your classes in order and get you started!” Mr. Green slaps his hands together, making my mother jump where she stands.

“Do you have an art program?” I can’t help but ask. My last school had tons of opportunities for me to dig my hands into something creative. But that was New York, not here in bo-donk hell.

I love sketching the most which is the most simple form of art I can think of, so surely they have something like that here. I can’t help but ask because it’s my only escape. I get lost in the drawing and drown out the faded blur that has become my existence. Art is my way of exploring an imagination, a world that is my own. Art is something nobody can take away from me, even moving from state to state. Art is who I am.

My parents both groan in protest at my question, but I ignore them and await the response of Mr. Green’s reply.

“You want to be an artist?” he asks with amusement, his tone as if he was talking to a small child. I should say ‘I want to be a stripper, where do I sign up for those classes’ and really give everyone in here a shock they can’t come back from.

I don’t reply, because it will only earn me further growls from my parents who think art is a waste of time, and I really don’t care to have that conversation here in the hallway. At least not this early in the morning.

Besides, I don’t just want to be an artist, I want to be the art. Every step I take forward, or may it be backward, I want an array of colors to tell my story in my wake.

Mom hugs me tightly as if it’s my first day of school. Well, it is, but the way she’s squeezing me you’d think I was six and not seventeen. “What happened to the Chanel perfume I got you? You smell of pencil shavings,” she scoffs in my ear, and I can’t help but roll my eyes at her. That bottle was donated to the thrift store when we moved. It smelled so strong I couldn’t smell anything but it. Her hand trails down my arm, and I know she’s about to check my nails and fingers next. Which my chipped blue fingernail polish will no doubt be the wrong color and then she’ll notice my lead-stained fingertips which will really get her going on me.

“Your locker is seventy-four.” The receptionist hands me a small piece of paper with the combination written on it. Jerking my hand from Mom’s grip, I take the slip from the receptionist, and the principal hands me my class schedule. I bite my cheek to hide how relieved I am for the distraction.

“Thanks,” I whisper, praying I don’t lose the small piece of paper with the combination on it.

“See you tonight, kid.” Dad gives my shoulder a firm grip, the smell of his cologne strong. This is his usual way of telling me he cares about me, and have a good day. He’s never been the touchy-feely kind, not that I can remember anyway. The lack of connection in our family can’t be missed from wondering eyes, but I would have never noticed if it weren’t for seeing other families hug and love on their kids, or watching movies or parents reading stories to their kids before bedtime.

It’s whatever. I’m fine. You can’t miss something you never had, can you?

“Don’t be such a hippie,” Mom whisper-yells behind her hand, giving a small laugh afterward conveying she’s joking. “Seriously though, take that headband off and maybe a few bracelets,” she points at my wrists.

Knowing I need to get away from her before she starts trying to pull my bracelets off herself, I take a step away and start down the hall.

With a tight smile pulling at my cheeks, I head for my locker to put my things away just as a loud bell rings. Warm bodies swarm the halls getting to their next class, and I quickly find my locker and hide behind the door to put my things away. Sighing heavily, I try to erase my parents’ voices in my head. I’ve lived by the rules my parents have had carved in stone since I can remember. But for the first time ever, I feel the urge to… rebel.

I should, I deserve it after everything that happened in our last town.

A familiar smell wafts past me. One that is spicy and does things to my body. Tingles running up my spine, hair raising on my neck. Things that don’t happen every day. Glancing over my shoulder, I see nameless faces, but I remember that smell from the night I ran away from a hotel into a field of fire. I’ll never forget that night.