Twisted Minds (7 page)

“Oh, no.” Kira waved her arms at him frantically, signaling to get his attention. “Greg, stop!” She began running towards the rock cliff, but she wasn’t going to make it in time.

In the darkness, I tried to gauge the distance from the ledge to the peaceful water. It looked like a decent twenty-foot jump, but it was too dark to really tell. Either way, I wouldn’t have taken the risk, especially not to impress a girl—even if that girl was Kira. Clearly, this small town dumbass liked to take chances.

“Greg, don’t!” Kira was still yelling at him.

But it was too late. Greg took a flying leap off the edge of the rock, hugging his legs to his chest and cannonballing into the darkness of the lake with a loud splash.

Then nothing.

Greg’s stupid friends started calling for him, but there was no response. Kira took off running towards the edge of the water, dirt kicking out from under her feet as she yelled out for him.

I didn’t know the guy, but my heart was hammering in my chest as my eyes searched the dark water for any signs of his idiotic, blond head.

Then all of a sudden, there was a splash and the asshole resurfaced. His booming laughter carried out across the beach, and I could hear Kira’s cries of outrage.

“Are you fucking serious, Greg! I thought you were dead!”

Douchebag was making his way out of the water now, grabbing Kira around the waist and swinging her around as she tried to slap him. His friends were cheering, stumbling down the rocky slope onto the beach to meet him.

“Come on, babe, lighten up,” he was saying to Kira as he pulled her around to face him. “It was a joke.”

“That wasn’t funny!” she chided him, but I could sense the relief in her voice as she gazed up at him.

In that moment, it felt like someone had kicked me in the chest. Kira and I had had some sort of connection tonight. There was more to her than just the physical; there were her words, her thoughts, her feelings. All of which made me want her more.

Yet, now she was fawning over this moron.

Well, whatever. I didn’t care. I was Nathaniel James. I would do what I wanted. I was sure there were some girls here who would be more appreciative of my attention.

Fighting the strange, hollow feeling in my chest, I threw the bottle of tequila into the cooler and grabbed my cup. Kira could do whatever the hell she wanted to do; I was going to find someone better to focus on.

Even as I angrily made my way across the sand, the alcohol swirled in my head, and every coherent thought I had, faded away.

Eight

That Sandpaper Feeling

The world was spinning.

The light was painful.

My mouth tasted like sand. And puke.

I had the motherfucker of all hangovers.

Squinting through my lids, I realized I was in my bed, but I had no recollection of how I’d gotten there.

My head was churning in pain as I sat up and glanced around the room that I was only just becoming familiar with. My phone and wallet sat on the bedside table along with a glass of water and Tylenol.

There was a folded piece of paper—like one of those note cards you wrote a speech on—leaning against the glass.

The first thing I reached for was the paper—I always made sure someone wasn’t trying to poison me, because with my track record, there were a lot of women who probably wouldn’t have minded seeing me die a slow, painful death.

Nate,

Joe & I are at work on this fine Saturday. Whenever you get up, there’s Tylenol on your bedside table, and chicken salad sandwiches in the fridge.

See you tonight.

Theresa

Hastily reaching for the Tylenol, I took two and washed it down with the glass of water. Ugh, my mouth tasted disgusting, as though various people had puked in it. I needed to get the fuck clean.

As I got up from the bed, my eyes glided back over to the note again. It was weird that Theresa had cared enough to leave me Tylenol and water, and sandwiches. No one had ever been that concerned about me to do something like that.

With my head still spinning a little, I headed out of my room and down the hall towards the bathroom. On my way, I saw that Kira’s door was wide open and that her bed was neatly made. I guess she hadn’t been drunk enough to sleep in until whatever the fuck the time was now. I hadn’t even bothered glancing at my phone to check.

First things first, I brushed my teeth for five minutes to get the nasty taste out of my mouth. The taste and sandpaper feeling was faint now, dominated by the taste of toothpaste. Then I jumped in the shower, letting the hot water wake me up and wash away my hangover.

After I was done, I wrapped a towel around my waist and wiped the steam off the mirror so I could study myself. I’d only been here for a few days and after eating homemade comfort food every day, drinking with Finn, and not working out, my stomach was starting to look a little flabby.

Was there even a gym in this town? Where did Finn work out? Maybe I’d just have to swim a few laps in the Walshs’ pool and walk up and down their stairs for an hour to get my blood pumping. Or fuck Kira—that would definitely get my blood pumping.

Once I returned to my room, I checked my phone and saw it was 12:47 pm. I also saw a message from Finn.

S.O.S.

With a start, I grabbed the first clothes I could find—a white polo shirt and a pair of hand-aged treated, dark blue jeans. Pocketing my phone and wallet, I headed out of the room again and ambled down the hall to where Finn’s room was.

Not bothering to knock, I pushed open his door and walked inside. I’d seen the guy in more than my fair share of questionable positions in the last three years, including his bare ass as he fucked some random girl during the time when he and Cass had been on their break.

Once you saw your friend do that, you were pretty much bros for life and didn’t need to knock.

Finn’s room was dark, the blinds drawn as though he was allergic to sunlight. He was a tangle of sheets as he leaned over his bed to spit into an appropriately placed bucket on the floor.

“You look like shit,” I remarked, making sure I was out of ‘being puked on’ range.

And he really did.

I wasn’t sure how much booze Cass had gotten into him last night, but it was enough to turn him into a pathetic invalid. Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes were red, and his face was pale, like his skin hadn’t seen sunlight in a while.

Mole people. That was my term for Finn when he drank too much for his own good. I drank too much for my own good too, but alcohol was practically flowing through my veins that even when I did get wasted, my hangover recovery time was pretty quick the next day.

Anyway, this wasn’t the worst position I’d ever seen Finn in. A couple of years ago, he’d had so much to drink that he’d waken up in a pile of his own vomit. This was nothing.

Finn responded by flipping me off rather feebly.

“So what’s the emergency?” I asked, referring back to the S.O.S. text he’d sent me. “Other than your shitty physical condition.”

Normally, that was our code when we were out at a bar and needed back up immediately because a fight was about to go down. That usually only happened if we hit on a girl who was taken or if we’d run into a girl we’d previously fucked who was taken, and had blabbed to her guy about it to make him jealous.

But like I’d said, that was for emergencies because I avoided hooking up with girls who already had a man. A lifetime of seeing my parents act like immoral whores had been enough to put me off cheating.

“I think I’m dying,” Finn croaked, adjusting himself on the bed so he could see me better. “For real.”

If I thought I had a serious hangover, it was nothing compared to Finn’s. He looked so messed up that even Death had passed him over.

“You want me to walk you to the shower? You want some food? Pedialyte?” Yeah, I’d just asked him if he wanted Pedialyte—if you were a whiny baby with a hangover, it was a great cure.

“Yes.” He nodded eagerly at the mention of Pedialyte.

“Any chance your parents have a bottle here?”

Finn shook his head. “Go to the store.” He paused, as though he was struggling to speak. “It’s in town, farther down from the liquor store. You can’t miss it.”

There was probably nothing in this town that I could miss. I couldn’t recall seeing it, but it wasn’t going to be difficult to find. “Need anything else before I go?”

He shook his head, reclining in bed again.

“Next time, do not drink anything Cass offers you.” She’d only been back in his life for a minute, and the ass had already gotten completely shit-faced because of her.

Plus, she was so fucking psycho that I wouldn’t put her past trying to roofie Finn so they could have unprotected sex and she could get pregnant and make him be with her. It sounded like a huge exaggeration, but not when Cass was involved.

Finn didn’t respond, but I knew he’d heard me.

With quickened steps, I made my way out of his room and headed downstairs, making a detour in the kitchen so I could grab one of the chicken salad sandwiches on my way out.

For a sandwich, it tasted pretty damn good, as though it was from a high-end deli in town. That’s where my mother always bought sandwiches, but I was pretty sure Ripley didn’t have a high-end deli. It was more than likely that Theresa had made these herself, which was pretty impressive.

It was a little hot when I stepped outside, but not enough for me to bitch about it. One of my pet peeves: people who complained about the weather. Usually, people who had nothing better to do with their lives other than complain about something that was entirely out of their control.

My Ferrari was still parked on the street, not having moved since I’d gotten here a few days ago. Joe had assured me it would safe in this neighborhood, but I still glanced out of the window every day to make sure it was still there.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket before I slid inside the car and Googled where the general store was. There was no way I would get lost, but I wanted to see where it was for reference, anyway.

Google Maps told me it would take about six minutes to get there, so I threw my phone into the passenger seat and hit the gas. The drive into town was quiet and uneventful. I parked a little further past the liquor store and got out, locking my car.

I wasn’t Finn—there was no way I was going to leave my baby unprotected.

There was still a dull pounding in my head, but that was the only sign remaining from my hangover. Patron was fucking incredible, but it liked to remind you that it had infiltrated your veins.

The town was bustling, or at least what I assumed was considered busy in Ripley. There were families walking around, peering into the locally-owned stores, taking their time as they went about their day. New York City was chaotic, nothing at all like this small town that functioned at a leisurely pace. There was actually something kind of nice about it.

People waved at each other, some couples paused to talk. These people, they cared about each other. The city was a mean place with too much to do. Here, everyone seemed to take their time.

Slowing down a little, I passed the liquor store and caught sight of the general store a few stores down. As I drew closer, I saw it was called The General Store. How original. It was a lot bigger and newer than the other buildings, and I wondered if it had been built recently.

When I entered, there were a few people walking through the aisles, but no one at the register. Weird. Maybe they could get away with an unmanned register in this town.

I found the Pedialyte pretty quickly, and grabbed three bottles—one for myself—in grape flavor. Then I made my way back to the register, hoping someone was there so I could get the fuck out of here.

My steps slowed as I caught sight of a girl stocking a shelf with candy right by the front counter. Curly blonde hair fell down her back, resting just above a huge ass that had been squeezed into tight, blue jeans.

I’d know that ass and its owner anywhere. I’d thought about doing dirty things to that ass since the moment I’d seen it sticking out of a pair of lacy panties. It was Kira—the last person I expected to see working here.

“You sure you wanna bend that ass over like that?” I asked in a teasing tone.

Kira’s body went rigid, and she stood up too quickly and spun around. Her blue eyes narrowed when she caught sight of me, an easy scowl appearing on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Your brother needed a hangover cure.” I held the bottles of Pedialyte up as evidence as my eyes roamed her body, resting on her perky tits that were squeezed into a low-cut, white blouse. “He’s pretty fucked up.”

“Pedialyte?” Kira stared at the bottles suspiciously. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. You’ve never tried it?”

She shook her head. “I can’t say that I have.”

“Well, now you know.”

“Huh,” was her response.

We both continued to stare at each other, weighing the other up, wondering what to say. Considering the deep and meaningful talk we’d had last night, I figured Kira’s iciness towards me would’ve thawed a little, but she was still as cold as ever.

“Will you check me out?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrowed even further, as though I had said something terribly offensive.

“Check me out,” I repeated slowly, raising the bottles even higher so they were at eye level with her. “So I can get outta here.”

“
Oh
.” Her ears turned pink, and she look pretty fucking cute. “Sure, come over to register one.”

There were only two registers behind the counter, so I just followed after her to the one closest to the glass doors and placed the bottles on the glossy, laminate countertop. My stomach suddenly let out a growl, and I realized I was still hungry despite eating the chicken salad sandwich.

“Hey, is there some place I can get food? You don’t have a
Daniel
around here, do you?” I joked, glancing out the glass doors as though one of my favorite restaurants was going to suddenly materialize in front of my eyes.

“Daniel?” Kira frowned at me. “I don’t know any Daniels.”

“It’s a fine dining restaurant in New York,” I explained. “Best French food ever. Melt in your mouth foie gras, and the most incredible abalone dish I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not sure what foie gras is,” she admitted, reaching for one of the bottles. “But maybe one of your rich parents could have it flown in for you.”

Even though she didn’t realize the full extent of her words and was only giving me a hard time, I couldn’t help but feel a little sick at the mention of my parents. They were nothing like hers.

“Foie gras is a pate made from goose liver,” I said, choosing to ignore the part about my parents.

“Goose liver pate?” Kira made a face, sticking her tongue out in disgust as though foie gras had touched it. I wanted to touch that tongue. “That might be the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard. I’ll stick with my comfort food and chocolate-covered cranberries, thanks.”

Chocolate-covered cranberries. I filed that little piece of information alongside her love of history books.

“It’s an acquired taste,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Anyway, all I’ve had today was a chicken salad sandwich, which was pretty good, but I figured Finn might want to eat the other one when he eventually crawls out of bed.”

Kira looked momentarily pleased; a subtle smile crept onto her face, like a small sliver of sunshine was peering through blinds. “I made those sandwiches.”

Huh. Well, I hadn’t expected that. I figured her mom had made them for us.