Perfect Enemies

14

Kane sneered. “If you’d been here instead of hiding from me, you would have seen that I removed Harper from beside me as soon as she sat down.” “Oh, yeah. And I just happened to come in during that thirty seconds when her hand was on your thigh. Look, you don’t have to explain anything to me. There is absolutely nothing between us that warrants an explanation.” I shook my head and tried to push forward, but Kane was rooted to the ground, blocking my way. Seconds passed, my ears ringing from the thunder of my own pulse, yet time stood completely still within the tomb of the hallway—a world away from the party raging under the same roof. Finally, Kane broke the tension with a murmured confession rife with turmoil. “Maybe it’s best if you hate me.” The words were barely loud enough for me to hear, but their impact rocketed through me, crumbling the resolute foundation I’d stood upon. “Best for who?” I breathed. My emotions were so tangled that I wasn’t sure how I’d feel even if I could understand what Kane was trying to tell me. Something dark—a ravenous hunger—flashed behind his eyes just before his lips collided with mine. I breathed him in, instantly clutching his shirt to keep him close as my tongue tangled with his. He kept his hands anchored to the wall on either side of me but pressed his chorded body against me so that I could feel just how affected he was. The taste of his whiskey mouth and the press of his marbleized hardness molded to my soft curves made my head spin beyond the effects of alcohol, but it was the knowledge that I caused him to lose all self-control that liquified my insides. Kane, the unflappable man who shrugged his way through life, was off balance because of me. I did this. Something about me drove him absolutely wild. While his lips were devouring mine, I ignored the part about how he hated that loss of control. When he pulled away, chest heaving with ragged breaths, his eyes widened with shock and horror. The disgust on his face doused my veins in buckets of ice. At that point, the truth couldn’t be ignored. He hated what he felt for me. His reaction made me feel dirty and wrong, and I hated him for that. He took a single step back, spun, and put his fist through the sheetrock with a string of cursed expletives. White dust and particulate scattered across the wood floor opposite me. My hand flew to my mouth, but Kane paid me no mind. He shook out his hand then stormed down the hall without a backward glance. OceanofPDF.com 6 OceanofPDF.com W REYNA hy on earth did I insist on going to this damn party? I hadn’t expected Val to up and disappear on me, for starters. She hadn’t gone totally MIA. She was somewhere in the crowd dancing her troubles away, but that wasn’t my scene. I was self-conscious enough on my own—grinding on a makeshift dance floor would only make matters worse. Without Val to act as my anchor, I felt adrift. I didn’t blame her for having fun. If anything, I regretted that she assumed such a heavy responsibility just by being my friend. She was incredibly thoughtful, always worried about how people or situations would affect me. I appreciated that she was taking an opportunity to let loose. I wanted to be able to slip in and out of groups, chatting with people and having fun, but just the thought of jumping into a conversation was painful. I found myself peeling away from the crowd and becoming one with the wall. I desperately wished I could be like everyone else at the party. Uninhibited and carefree. I glanced down at the drink in my hand, knowing it could give me the freedom I wanted, but I refused to lift the cup to my lips. Not after watching my mom lose her battle with alcohol day after day for years. I didn’t judge anyone for choosing to drink; it just wasn’t for me. Aside from the increased chance that I’d have a propensity to be an addict, I also couldn’t stand the idea of losing control over myself. I liked to have all my senses sharp in case I needed them. The only reason I had mixed myself a drink was so that I would fit in, or at the very least, not stand out. As the music transitioned from one high-energy beat to another and the people around me shed their inhibitions like an unwanted skin, I became more removed from the scene until I was no more than a ghost, able to see the living but unable to interact. My heart ached as it thudded heavily against my ribs. When a loud crash cut through the music, I startled so badly that half of my drink sloshed onto the floor. A glass lamp had been knocked off an end table and had shattered on the stone floor. A few people near the incident gasped or giggled, but the rest of the room never even noticed. The revelry continued around me while my pulse mimicked the rapid-fire release of an automatic weapon. I couldn’t do this. Coming to the party had been a mistake. I didn’t want to leave without Val or have to cut her dancing short, so I decided to wait outside where it was quieter, and I could hide in the solace of the shadows. I set down my untouched drink and hurried to the patio doors. Being invisible could be lonely, but it also enabled me to slip away without a chorus of questions, which was a blessing when all I wanted was to be alone. I took in a lungful of the cool night air to soothe my frayed nerves and moved past the crowd of people around the firepit without drawing any notice. A vacant heater sat near the edge of the patio, too far from the party for anyone to bother with. I would have stood in the cold if needed but preferred not to shiver to death if possible. I breathed a sigh of relief once I was alone under its radiant warmth. Glancing at the ocean of darkness beyond the trees, I realized that someone leaned against a nearby trunk. The man wore jeans and a black wool coat, hands stuffed in the pockets, and he was staring at me. Just enough ambient light from the patio illuminated the yard for me to see his features and feel a sense of recognition, but I wasn’t sure from where. He had the look of the Hispanic men back home, and his relentless gaze was unwaveringly trained on me. There could have been any number of explanations, but my fears hissed adamantly that the man worked for my father.