If there’s anything I learn from the journals, it’s that I loved the weird little life we built.

The phone next to me buzzes to life, Rike’s face brightening the screen. I stare at it for a minute, contemplating answering, before it goes silent and takes the option away. I can’t think of him without remembering everything he made me feel. The way his hands played across my body, pulling pleasure from it so fucking effortlessly.

The problem isn’t that I don’t want Rike, and everything that comes with him. Wild, beautiful chaos.

The problem is it’s all I want. I lie awake at night, crying because I know that we were happy. And I can’t remember it. I feel like I’ve been robbed, and like every moment I spend in that life is a lie—me pretending something that I want but don’t feel. Not really.

He would probably tell me I’m thinking too hard. To let go of my worry and just live. But I don’t know how. And it’s terrifying.

The phone rings again, and I frown. The number isn’t one I know.

“Hello?”

“Holy shit, I finally found you. Jesus, baby girl, you shouldn’t make it so fucking hard to get a hold of you. Where are you?”

I blink once. Twice. Finally, “Um. Who is this?”

There’s a loud laugh and then, “Oh shit. That’s right. Ok. It’s Brody, Peyton. I’m in town. Where are you?”

Chapter 17 : Before

It takes a long time for us to break away—longer than normal. Everyone is high on the fucking song.

Scott doesn’t say anything about it until we’re finally free. His gaze rakes over me. “You surprised me back there, RIke.”

“You’ve heard me work,” I say, and he laughs.

“Not on that. That was shit you haven’t bothered to share with me.”

I shrug. “It came to me this morning.”

“They loved it.”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? The girl it’s for didn’t even hear it.”

He eyes me briefly and then shakes his head. Falls to silence as we walk through the dark streets back to the apartment. Something is going on with him, but I don’t know what and I’m too fucking tired to puzzle it out.

I poured my soul into that song. And to realize she wasn’t even there to hear it…I lash out suddenly, hurling the glass beer bottle I’m holding. It swings in a shining arc before it shatters against the side of a barber shop, glass and beer spraying out. Scott side-eyes me but doesn’t comment, and with the explosion of glass, some of my temper settles.

“Come on, dude,” he says, pulling me along.

“Why didn’t she listen?” I ask, and it occurs to me that I’m too drunk for maudlin shit. Or maybe that’s why I’m descending into maudlin shit. Either way. It’s a bad recipe give the way the night is shaking out.

“I dunno, man. But don’t jump to shitty conclusions. You both keep doing that and you’re going to fall apart because of them. Talk to her tomorrow. Find out why.”

“You’re such a fucking girl,” I laugh and he shrugs. Accepting it.

We’re emotionally stunted shits, but Scott isn’t stupid. He’s been through the court-ordered psych shit. He knows that communicating is the only way for either of us to build something healthy and longer than a few nights.

He just hasn’t ever cared.

I watch him while he unlocks the door to our walkup.

My badass best friend who doesn’t care about anything but strumming his guitar and picking up pussy is growing up. What the actual fuck.

He grins at me, a quick glimpse of the dude who always had my back, and the thought slips away as he pushes open the door.

Lindsay is sitting on the couch, her legs crossed under her. She isn’t wearing a bra, which is vaguely distracting.

I’ve seen the girl naked, and I can see her nipple through the tank top she’s wearing.

Then Peyton steps out of the kitchen, carrying a red plastic cup and wearing a nervous expression and bare feet.

Her eyes find mine as my mouth falls open, and I hear Linds giggle, a triumphant noise that is vaguely grating as I cross the tiny living room in two steps and yank Peyton into my arms.

Her hands are in my hair before my lips hit hers, pulling me into the kiss, and the world falls away.

She’s pressed against me, all soft curves and rumpled skirt and sharp nails digging into my scalp. She tastes so fucking sweet—sugar and sunshine as her tongue tangles with mine, fighting to control the kiss. Her nails sink down, yanking on my hair and I bite her lower lip, just enough to make her moan and sag against me.

I drink down that noise like fucking water. I want to hear every sound she makes, and what causes them, want to know how demanding she will be when I’ve got her riding the edge of orgasm, when my tongue is driving her fucking crazy.

She sways against me, her hips grinding against my erection as she all but purrs into the kiss. I pull back, just enough to stare at her, at the hot hunger in her eyes. “You heard it.”

She nods, and tears well in her eyes. I make a low noise in the back of my throat, and kiss her again. Softer. Gentle.

“Meant every fucking word, perfect girl,” I whisper. I can feel her tears on my cheeks, rolling down between us, can taste them as I kiss her.

I shift my grip and lift her by the ass and her legs wrap around me, clinging to me as I kiss her.

Vaguely, I’m aware of Lindsay, her voice rising in question and Scotty pulling her away. But it’s all very distant, overshadowed by the girl in my arms and her lips moving over mine in a hungry, desperate way that makes my blood heat.

I walk without looking, until the darkness surrounds us and my knees hit the edge of my bed. Without breaking the kiss, I kick the door shut behind me and then lower her to the bed.

I pull back, just enough to stare at her. I’ve waited too long for her to not savor the sight.

Peyton in my bed, her hair spread over the pillow, her eyes foggy as she reaches for me, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.

“Rike,” she whispers, and I groan, dropping down on her and kissing her. My lips eat her up, my tongue pushing past her lips, tangling with hers as I rock against her. She’s all soft curves and sweet smooth skin against my dick, and I want to pull back until she says my name again in that pleading tone that I can’t get enough of, but I can’t pull myself away from her.

She’s fucking addictive and I want to lick every inch of her. My hand comes up, yanking on the neckline of her tank, pulling it and her bra down until her breast spills out, filling my hand, and I growl as she arches against me, rubbing like a kitten. Her nipple is a tight little peak against my palm and I leave her lips as I trail wet kisses down her.

She gasps when I draw her nipple into my mouth, scraping my teeth over the sensitive skin before I suckle her. I slid a hand between us, and her hips tilt up into my touch as I slip my hand under her shorts and into her panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet, babe.”

“I want you,” she whimpers, and I laugh, a low noise as I shove my fingers into her and she shrieks, choking it off with a hand over her lips.

I pull it free. “Baby girl, I want to hear every fucking noise you make when I fuck you.”

I slip my fingers through her, teasing, almost out, and she gasps, “But, Sc—“

I smirk, and whisper against her ear, “Will fucking hear everything. And like it.”

She shudders, her pussy clenching around my fingers, and I lick the shell of her ear as I rub her clit and fuck her with two fingers. “You fucking love that, don’t you, sweetheart? Knowing he’s listening to me fuck you. She is, too.”

“Rike,” she whimpers, and I bite her earlobe, and she shrieks, her body arching off the bed as she scrambles against me, thrusting against my hand, and I laugh, watching her come apart.

I pull my hand free before while she’s catching her breath, my hand sticky and wet. I almost lick my fingers clean. Instead I yank her shorts down, and sink to my knees by the bed, pulling her to my lips.