Even after I took a nap at the dojo, exhaustion slams into me as I pull into the driveway. Falling into bed and sleeping for days sounds like an excellent idea. Sleeping away everything that has to do with death, revenge, Venom, and all thoughts of my enemy, even the way he touched me. It’s not lost on me that I separate him from Venom. Something I need to etch into my skull is that they are one and the same. And in twelve short hours, we’ll be face to face again.
Uncle Trey is lounging in the Adirondack chair on the back deck. Reggae music plays softly on the portable speaker on the side table next to him. The soft, lazy beats mingle with the waves crashing against the shore in the distance.
“Hey there. Looks like you’re enjoying the night.”
He glances up at me. “Life does not get better than this.”
“Paradise,” I say.
He lets out a long sigh. “Yep, paradise.”
“Thanks for letting us use the dojo. It’s all locked up.”
“My pleasure. I’m glad the place gets used even on a day off.”
As peaceful as the night is, I turn to leave. “I’m tired, and my body is sore, so I’m gonna take a long bath, finish some homework, and then go to bed.”
“Sounds good. Hey, there’s leftover Chinese food in the fridge if you want some.”
“Thanks, but Luca and I ordered pizza.”
I drop my bag on the floor of my bedroom. Before peeling off my clothes, I turn on the water for the bath. When the temperature is hot enough, I pour a generous amount of lavender-scented Epson salt to soothe my muscles. With exhaustion riding my ass like a hellcat, I sink into the steaming water. Thoughts of Edge and Venom plague the stillness and quiet I long for. Knowing they fight, they have to train. Where is their dojo? Tomorrow, I’m going to find out. I could just ask, but I doubt they would tell me. Besides, asking them outright could raise unwanted suspicion.
Just before the water cools completely, I get out and get ready for bed. I prop my pillow against my headboard and grab my phone. I should study, but my brain may explode if I try to comprehend biology or psychology right now. I check my social media sites, respond and like a few pics of people I follow, when a text pops up on my screen from a number I don’t recognize:
Venom’s bite is deadly. Back the fuck off.
Only two people would send this. The image of them fucking pops into my head. Brielle and Edge. And neither of them has my number.
That’s not how I want to end my day. I slam my fist against the bed. Was I wrong not to tell Luca what I’m up against?
Fuck off!
Is all I respond to the text.
Tomorrow is Monday. I’ll deal with all of them then. I turn my light off, along with my phone.
After what happened in the lifeguard stand, I assume Edge will be waiting for me.
15
KINSLEY
Morning comes way too soon.Streams of light fall along my comforter at my feet. I stretch out my screaming muscles. Luca did a number on my body yesterday. At least it was mutual. He’ll be waking up just as sore as me.
Remembering the text from the night before, I’m reluctant to turn on my phone. When I do, I regret it the second the screen comes on. Nine more texts from the same unknown number. The last one says:
Don’t be late!
I don’t bother reading the others before I erase them. However, after a few minutes, when the anger, confusion, and frustration lessen, I wish I had read them. But whoever it is doesn’t seem like they’re going to let up any time soon, so I’m sure I’ll be privy to more of their electronic abuse soon enough.
I take a quick shower before getting ready. After saying a hasty good morning and goodbye to my uncle, I hop on my motorcycle to drive to hell.
Monarch is the usual bustle in the morning. When I take off my helmet, I notice not only students sipping their lattes as they talk about their weekend but they’re pointing at me as they do it. Their whispers thread through the morning air like a poison fog.
Okay, I’m being way too judgy for the first thing in the morning. I mean, shit, I used to be that girl. I give myself a mental slap. By the sounds of some of the conversations I pass, the party seems to have been a big hit, especially after I left and everyone moved inside during the storm.
Doing my best to ignore the peculiar stares, I head for art. If it wasn’t evident that they were talking about me, it becomes very apparent when I pass the tenth or so group of people in the hall with their tight-lipped mouths and trailing eyes. With only hearing slivers of conversations on the way to class, I construct what the gossip is all about: I disappeared from Saturday night’s partywith Edge. We snuck away during the storm, and then he was the only one to return to the party house two hours later. What the fuck?
