Page 33 of Antichrist

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He moves his body between my thighs while leaning down until our lips touch and I taste what he’s been drinking on the tip of my tongue. Damn. He’s drunk as shit.

“You and I both know you can’t handle that…”

When I don’t answer, too caught up in the sharp angles of his jaw, he squeezes my chin between his thumb and finger, yanking my eyes up to his. Green against gray.

“Don’t fucking bring him here if you still want a cute little boyfriend.” He pushes me away and walks back the way he came, the sea of people spreading as quickly as my legs just did as he leaves.

“Well, I guess I should have figured you’d find yourself in the middle of a mindfuck sandwich.” Lila breaks through my foggy thoughts, but I ignore her.

Why was he so moody tonight, and why do I care so much?

I push off the barstool, my mind already made up on where I’m going. Even when we were kids, I was the fixer. If he and Ari were fighting, I’d sit them both down to make sure they talked through their problems. They didn’t know it, but both of them would come to me when they’d piss each other off. Same with Luca, though now that I think about it, it was only ever once or twice that Niko had an issue with Luca, and I always knew they’d figure it out on their own. Their fights were superficial. Almost as though they never cared enough about one another to have a real fight.

Can’t be true. They were best fucking friends throughout our childhood. Until Niko left me with him.

Swallowing the rest of my whiskey, I’m standing from the stool when a hand is in mine, pulling me in with such force the alcohol in my belly almost rolls back out my throat. His scent hits me first, and it’s the first time that I realize how much I don’t enjoy it. It’s too strong. Like it’s trying too hard to be seen. I used to love his cologne; it reminded me of late nights in the hot tub with flowers growing in the garden, but now it’s too much. I need to buy him something new. The breathing starts, my hands feel clammy, and sweat slides down the nape of my neck. I squeeze my eyes closed.

We will buy a new cologne. It’s fine. This one has simply expired.

I rest my hand on his chest, pushing back slightly to look up at his eyes. I’m expecting to be met with the playful Luca I always get, but I knew the second he snapped at me in the car that it was too late.

His thick brows are tugged so far in it almost looks like he has a unibrow.

“What’s wrong?” I ask sweetly, resting my hand on his cheek.

I hate me right now. I hate the tone I just used and the way it makes me feel.

He pulls away from me. “I’m leaving. Are you coming, or am I going to The Nine tonight?”

I snatch my hand back as if it physically hurt to touch him. Because it does. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was going to the local swingers club either.

“Ah, I won’t be back until late. I promised Ma that I’d—”

“Meraki, I don’t give a fuck about any of these people.” He steps away from me, running his fingers through his hair. “See you tomorrow.”

Then he leaves me standing there, in the middle of a damn cookout. How did he know I was safe here? I mean, sure, of course I was, but how did he know that? And he just leaves. To go get laid by one of the many people he gets fucked by daily.

That doesn’t bother me.

It never has.

What bothers me is how far I’ve now pushed him. I need to not panic. At least not until I’m alone and away from Ma, who will see it straight away. Fuck.

I continue with my mission, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone else in the room, afraid that if I see Ma, I’ll falter in my step. Or worse, his girlfriend.

Taking the steps two at a time, I head straight for the door where I know he’ll be. It was his room when we were kids, the place we would hang out and talk. It was used as an old parts and storage room, so we’d bang around with all of the metals and make our space comfortable.

I push open the door to find the lights out but the curtain slightly open, offering just enough ambience from the full moon hanging in the distance. The room is different now. There’s a double bed pushed against the wall, a dresser, a small TV, and a broken Harley sitting in the corner. It looks more than broken actually. It looks wrecked and collecting old dust.


Tags: Amo Jones Dark