Chapter 8

He leaves, but Nicholas doesn't. After following his friend with a long look at his back, he closes the door behind him and comes closer. Stopping in front of me, he asks:

"What happened here? What were you doing with him?"

I'm not close to my stepbrother, and I'm not going to explain anything to him. I need to survive what just happened myself. And the last thing I want is to discuss it with anyone, especially him.

Lowering my hands, I clutch my skirt.

"Nothing."

But there are tears on my face, and Nick doesn't believe me. He has always been suspicious.

"No, that's not how this is going to go, little sister." He narrows his gray eyes, glancing at the door. "I'm not an idiot. And I asked you a question."

Two strong guys, both dangerously close to me. That's too much for one day. I try to get around Nicholas, but he easily blocks my way with his broad shoulders. He pushes me back with his hands.

"Let me go!"

"Did he hurt you? Insult you? What?"

Why does it seem to me for a moment that hope is slipping through my stepbrother's question? As if he hasn't done it himself hundreds of times.

"Even if he did, it's none of your business!"

Again I try to get around Nicholas, but I can't. I hate touching him; it has always seemed to me that he is made of some substance foreign to me, sticky and suffocating, and I have to step back. But the moment I do, the familiar hissing notes appear in his voice.

I don't understand how girls can like him. I want to run from him without looking back.

"Wrong, Duck. I asked what you were doing here with Carter. And I want an answer. One Wright brother wasn't enough for you, so you decided to go after the other?"

"What?" I recoil from Nicholas, my eyes wide, reading so much incomprehensible anger in his gaze and hearing it in his words. And right away outrage rises in me. For this, at least, I definitely have enough strength:

"How can you say that? Don't you dare compare Alex to people like you! Like both of you, arrogant idiots!"

A shadow of realization crosses Nick's face, and he plants his palm on the wall beside my head.

"Like us?" he is not asking, he is clarifying, as if he has caught the words out of my mouth. "So I'm right, and Wright wanted something from you? What?" he exhales, sharp and insistent.

This is too much. I have enough of him at home without enduring him at school too.

"Nothing! It only means something in your sick imagination!"

Nicholas lowers his head for a second, biting his lower lip. He moves his hand so close that his thumb rests on my throat, and he slowly strokes my skin with it. And again the guy's touch is nothing like a caress. This time it is more like a warning, and it feels so unpleasant.

I try to pull away, but he doesn't let me go.

"Listen to me, Duck. Listen carefully…" Lowering his voice, Nick glances at the door and moves closer. "I don't have time to talk to you right now, but we'll definitely come back to this. Your Alex was spineless. A useless little wimp, and I looked the other way. He would have kept holding your hand for ages before he worked up the nerve to fuck you. But Carter is a completely different matter. He knows what a girl has between her legs, and I don't like that."

Out of sheer shock, I can't find anything to say, and Nick demands angrily:

"Forget him, got it? Forget him, or he'll trample you before you know what hit you. And then no one will need you. Not even…" He doesn't like what he's about to say, but he forces himself to admit it: "Not even me."

I freeze, unable to process what I've heard, and shake my head.

He has never said anything like that, and I refused to notice everything else. Why would he be interested in me? His father's wife's daughter, whom he barely tolerates?

"No. You're crazy, Nick! I don't want to hear this! You hate me!"

The guy gives a barely noticeable nod.

"Right, Teal. And it's damn funny to know you understand everything. Stay away from Wright. I'm not joking."

I finally shove him away from me and slip under his arm. I grab my backpack from the desk, backing toward the exit.

"You can't order me around. You're not even my brother! And Alex was never a wimp. He was better than all of you! And he is still better to me now, do you understand? I don't give a damn about you."

I try to run, but Nicholas is not an attackman on the most successful lacrosse team in school history for nothing. He easily catches my wrist and jerks me toward him. Forces my back against the entrance door and leans over me himself.

It is almost surprising no one in the hallway has heard the noise coming from the classroom. But that is most likely because all the upper grades are supposed to be gathering at the sports field now to welcome the school lacrosse team.

And Pilar, who is on the cheer squad for the first year and terribly nervous, has surely already changed and is getting ready to go out with the other cheerleaders. And looking for me, hoping I will give her confidence.

"Where do you think you're going, little sister? Stay put! I'm not done with you."

"Let me go! Right now, or I'll scream!"

My threats have never frightened Nicholas, and they don't frighten him now. It is unlikely anyone would be seriously surprised by a family fight. So what, big deal. Is it hard to come up with an excuse?

"Duck," he hisses into my face, "just try telling anyone you're not my sister, and you'll regret it. You will keep quiet along with your bitch mother, the same little slut as you, and thank me and my father for our kindness. Otherwise I'll make trouble for both of you."

I have been used to this for a long time, to Nick's threats. First I didn't dare sit in his chair, then take his cup or bother him with the sounds of my keyboard, so most often I played behind the closed door of my room, sending the sound into my headphones. Or go near the pool when my stepbrother's friends were there. Nick never said any of that in front of our parents, but alone, as much as he wanted.

When we were alone, he was always drawn to me as if by a magnet, and he started watching me like a hawk. Or maybe it only seemed that way to me, but I loved it when he went out in the evenings. And when he brought girls to his room too: then Nick forgot about me.

Over the last year, I have missed Alex terribly. With him it was always easy and free.

As I grew older, I understood why Mom had not wanted to return to Mark Holt: he controlled her every step and every action, demanded attention, but at the same time I didn't see much tenderness in his eyes. I think he simply wasn't capable of tenderness. Or he expressed feelings in his own way. Rather, he was ruled by his need for Adelie and an obsession he tried to hide behind irritation, silence, and the expensive gifts he showered on his wife. I understood very well that he needed her regardless of her wishes, but I still didn't have enough experience to get to the heart of their marriage and understand everything, and Mom tried to seem calm.

But I saw something in her beautiful eyes, something that held me back and didn't let me add to her grief.