Mercedes
I HATED MY STEPBROTHER.
Seriously, I hated him more than I hated anyone in my life – even more than the scumbag that knocked my mom up at fifteen and left her to raise me alone. Whoever he was.
I normally had a handle on my emotions, but since arriving in Ocean Bay, I felt like screaming at the top of my lungs. My nerves were in shreds and I was burning with anxiety and rage. Who the hell did Rourke Owens think he was? Talking down to me like I was trash? Making me feel like a bad person for breathing? And throwing me in his stupid swimming pool in front of his stupid friends? Rage coursed through me. He wasn’t going to get away with it.
The alarm on my phone cut through my thoughts and I quickly snaked a hand out from under my warm duvet to turn it off, wondering why I ever bothered setting an alarm when I always woke before it went off.
It was 7am on a Saturday morning in mid-July. Most teenagers I knew would be sleeping the morning away. But if I had been back in Kansas, I would have been getting up for work right about now. I guess old habits die hard.
Throwing the covers off myself, I climbed out of my warm bed and straight into a fancy-pants shower that had more water jets than I had skin to wash.
Drying off, I dressed in a black tank and my denim cut offs before ambling downstairs to the kitchen to fix some breakfast.
Grateful for my early bird nature, I tackled the empty kitchen, making myself familiar with every cupboard door and expensive looking appliance.
When I had fixed myself a plate of bacon and eggs, I sat down on one the stools at the huge granite marble counter and dived in.
As I munched on the crispy bacon, I gazed out the gigantic floor to ceiling window in dismay, taking in the sight of that damn swimming pool Rourke had tried to drown me in last night. Jerk.
“Fond memories?” a familiar deep voice asked. I bit back the urge to growl when Rourke sauntered into the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants hung low on his hips. The white shirt I presumed he had been wearing was wrapped around his left fist.
“What the hell happened to you?” I blurted out, eyes locked on the blood smeared shirt in his hand.
“What the hell has it got to do with you?” Rourke shot back coolly, tossing the shirt down on the counter in front of me.
“Nothing,” I replied, flicking it away from my plate. “Bleed to death for all I care.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Reaching into the fridge, Rourke grabbed a bottle of water and cracked the cap open. “To get me out of the way so you and your momma can clean up?”
Was he for real?
Did he actually believe that crap?
I opened my mouth to respond to his ridiculous accusations, but he was already walking out of the kitchen. “Save it, Six,” he tossed over his shoulder as he walked out. “I wouldn’t believe a word that came out of your mouth anyway.”
Oh yeah, I really did hate him.
Rourke
BRITT STOPPED BY last night. Part of me wanted to throw her out on her ass when she walked into my bedroom like she had the right to everything inside of it. She didn’t. Not anymore. I should have sent her on her way. I didn’t. I was a fucking idiot for it, but there was something screwed up in my head when it came to that girl. And it was my mother’s birthday.
Mom would have been forty-four years old yesterday – had she lived – and Britt remembered that. No one else had. My father certainly hadn’t. The sound of him giving it to his new wife on the third floor had been so loud that I would have been surprised if he remembered his own damn name.
Asshole.
When I woke this morning, I felt dirty. Like I’d done something really fucking stupid by accepting Britt’s body and offer of comfort last night. I tried to ease my conscience by telling myself there was nothing wrong with hooking up with her. I forced myself to believe that it was okay to need someone’s touch every once and a while. That it was okay to need someone, period.
I knew Britt was the wrong fucking girl for me to attach myself to, especially since all that had happened last summer, but she was all I’d known for such a long time that it was hard to walk away. As fucked up as it sounded, Britt was the only permanent thing I’d had in a lifetime of temporary everything.
Then I thought of Six and anger coursed through me.
Goddamn that girl.
I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was driving me batshit crazy. Her quirky remarks and quick comebacks entertained me far more than I wanted them to. When she looked at me, it felt as though she was looking straight through me. It was as if she was seeing past the material bullshit and straight into my black heart. Nobody looked at me like she did. It unnerved the hell out of me.
I wanted to hate her so damn much. She and her momma represented everything I despised in life. They represented yet another bad decision by my father. Another wife. Another stepsibling. Another fucking mouth to support.
I didn’t care if Six was a girl. I didn’t care if history wasn’t repeating itself. I was still fucking angry that Dad had gone and done this again without thinking of the consequences. Without thinking about us.
Forcing my mind free from all thoughts of Six and her mother, I showered and then slipped on a pair of shorts and my Nikes before heading downstairs. The moment I was outside the front door, I broke into a run, needing to work off some of this pent-up frustration festering inside of me.
Like a cruel twist of fate, Six was climbing out of her car when I jogged back up the driveway. The moment I laid eyes on her, I realized that the last ninety minutes of running had done jack shit to curb the energy bristling inside of me, and every time I put my eyes on that girl, it ignited even further.
Her grey eyes landed on my face and that energy bristling inside of me erupted into something I could only describe as molten fucking lava in my veins.
“What the hell are you looking at?” I snarled, because it was the only thing I could say. Her eyes on my face affected me more than I cared to acknowledge.
“You,” she replied evenly. Slamming her car door, Six stalked towards me. I slowed to a walk, waiting to receive her “I’m looking at you, asshole.”
Goddammit, Six needed to cut it with the catty remarks. I was quickly learning that smart mouth of hers was a major turn on for me – which only aggravated me more.
“Got a problem?”
“Yes, I do,” she snapped, not stopping until our shoes were touching. “You’re my problem. You and your sex noises.”
I grinned. “Sex noises?” Was she for real?
“I could hear you last night,” she hissed, red faced. “Having sex with that girl.”
“Really?” I cocked a brow and smirked. “I didn’t know you were listening. I would’ve put on a show.”
“Ugh. Spare me.” She made a gagging noise. “Next time, keep it down.”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” I asked, amused.
“Take it whatever way you want,” she shot back, not giving me an inch. “I don’t give a shit so long as I don’t have to listen to some stupid girl screaming the house down like a freaking hyena.”
“Sounds like you’re jealous, Six,” I shot back, grinning, when she made a heaving sound.
“And it sounds like you’re delusional, Rourke,” she retorted before swinging around and storming off in the direction of the house.
Mercedes
I WOULD NOT LET him get to me. I refused to allow Rourke Owens to hold any sort of power over my emotions.
“Sounds like you’re jealous, Six,” Rourke taunted, towering above me with a shit eating grin etched on his face.
Like hell… “And it sounds like you’re delusional, Rourke,” I shot back before turning my back on him and rushing towards the house. I needed to get away from this boy. When I was around him, I didn’t feel in control of my emotions. And I wasn’t jealous. He could screw whoever the hell he wanted. It didn’t matter to me who he brought into his room at night, just as long as he didn’t keep me awake while he was entertaining them. Asshole.
Shoving the front door open, I marched into the foyer, holding onto my temper by the skin of my teeth.
Breathe, Mercy, breathe. Don’t let that jackass get to you.
“You’re pissy today,” Rourke taunted as he followed close behind me “What’s wrong with you, Six?”
You! You’re what’s wrong with me… “Leave me alone, Rourke,” I shot back, jaw clenched, moving for the staircase. “I’m tired and hungry and in no mood for your bullshit.”
I heard Rourke laughing, but thankfully, he didn’t follow me upstairs.
When I reached my bedroom, I slipped inside and slammed the door shut before leaning against it. Exhaling a loud sigh, I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm the hell down. I needed to get a grip on myself. I couldn’t let this guy continue to get to me like this.
I wouldn’t.