Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
My heart slows in my chest as the final crack that split open all those years ago expands. I turn, snatch the keys out of Niko’s hand, and make my way back through the way I came in, shoulder barging past the idiot who whistled at me when I arrived. I pause. The anger in my veins now taking off like a jet heading for war.
I backpedal and grab him by the collar of his vest. He’s a big boy. Lean, but big. Older too and has tattoos all over his body. I don’t care in this moment. In this moment, all I want is all the pain that has resurfaced to be scrubbed away. Viciously. Until layers of my skin have gone with it.
“Next time you whistle at me, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to my cat. She has a liking for stale meat.” My eyes travel down his chest, past his enforcer patch—oops—and back up again. “And she’s not fussy on her macro count either.”
I push him away and pick up to a jog, back the way I came in.
I need to get out.
My chest feels heavy, my eyes closing. Deep breaths. In and out.
Past
I was panicking, I knew that. Nothing was done properly, and Aunt Jill was way too chill for my liking.
I paused at the entryway of our home. It was small and modest, with a cute little porch my father apparently built before he died. There were tiny rose gardens vined into the railing near the swing, and every sunset you would get the perfect view of burning embers through the sky. It was a cozy three-bedroom home, but not one that I’d found I felt at home, which didn’t make much of any sense since my aunt was about as maternal as any mother.
Luca was climbing out of his father’s Porsche, a smile spread wide over his face. He jumped up the stairs, wrapping his arm around my neck. “Stop freaking out, Mer. He’ll be here.”
“I’m—I feel weird.”
Luca rolled his eyes, directing us back into the house. My aunt was away for the weekend on a work trip and couldn’t sacrifice the money, so I figured why not be the cliché teenager and throw a house party.
“That weird connection thing you both think you have with each other isn’t a thing, Meraki.” Luca pulled open the fridge door and took out a carton of milk. He flipped off the cap. “I’m serious! It’s just some weird thing you and Niko created when you were children, which has now festered into your young adult life. It’s sort of like manifestation, but like, for feelings.”
I was six years old when Niko and I were connected. Ma had told us we had a red-thread connection, whatever that meant. When he was sad, I felt it. Pain, anger, resentment—love. I think that’s why we were so potent with our feelings, because we gave what we got, and fuck… did we give each other a lot.
“Maybe. Maybe not, because there have been times…” I wanted to say that he was in no position to judge mine and Niko’s weird bond vibe that we had going on and that his parents were literally believers of an old book that was honestly, probably written as a fictional thriller and then man came along and made it into something it wasn’t. That wasn’t very nice of me to say, considering I still was not sure about religion and all of that, and my aunt was a huge believer, but I’d always been skeptical. Not because I didn’t believe in God, but because I had questions.
Luca closed the fridge and shuffled onto the barstool beside mine. The kitchen was small, but it was even smaller with Luca in here. Don’t get me started on Niko and Ari.
“Look, you’re panicking for nothing. The party is going to be big, everyone is going to be here, and Niko will probably sing you ‘Happy Birthday.’”
“He won’t. There are too many people here to hear his voice.”
Niko had only ever sung in front of Jer, Luca, Ari, and me. Not even his mom or dad. He said he didn’t like to sing, even though his voice was a modern version of Kurt Cobain.
We busied ourselves with party prep, and it wasn’t long before Mira and Cece arrived with the kegs.
“Shot time!” Cece said, flashing her tits for us. I still couldn’t focus.
There was a whirlpool in my gut that wouldn’t stop spinning. My fingertips tingled and sweat beaded over my palms. Something was wrong, I knew it. I just couldn’t share it with my friends because they’d think I was crazy.
“I’ll be back…” I hit dial on Niko’s phone, and he picked up. My heart rate instantly calmed when I heard it being clicked over.