The Bad Ones (3 page)

She could've stomped off. She was pissed, Con realized. But he didn't want her to have the wrong impression of him. He roughly grabbed her arm, halting her movements.

“See, that's the problem. With me, it's not an act,” he warned her. She stared at him for a second, then stepped closer.

“There's a difference between being an asshole, and being a
monster
. One is much better at hiding his character.”

He was so shocked that when she pulled away, he let her go.

*

Dulcie stood out in front of the second hand store for a moment, her hand on the doorknob. She stared into the distance, up at a house that sat on a hill. At Constantine's house.

His father was the mayor, so
of course
they lived in the biggest house in town, the one with white pillars and green shutters. His mother was an interior designer, she traveled into Charleston and Huntington to work with clients. Rumor had it she'd been a big time designer in New York, but financial trouble had convinced her to marry Mr. Jebediah Masters, who really only wanted her for breeding purposes. Mrs. Masters had given her husband a son, and from that point on, was rarely home.

Constantine was clearly beyond anything his father could've hoped for, and then some. He was tall and strong, with brown hair and smiling blue eyes. He could throw a football like he was born to do it. Like wherever he wanted the ball to go, that was the only choice it had – Con Masters did not miss. He had strong legs, could run fast. Broad shoulders, could knock anyone down.

He was beautiful.

Con was a year older than Dulcie, which was part of the reason they'd never shared a lot of classes. He was also exceptionally smart and took a lot of AP classes. Dulcie took the bare minimum of requirements, then filled up the rest of her schedule with as many art credits as were allowed. He spent all his extra time on the field or with friends. She spent all her extra time either at work or at home. They had no reason to interact. Had gone to school together their entire lives, and had barely ever spoken.

So why do I think about him all the time?

“Did you need help?”

Dulcie was startled into the present when a store clerk pushed open the door. She managed a smile and shook her head no, then walked into the building. She began pawing through aisles, looking for anything that would work for what she had in mind.

She didn't usually wear a costume to the Halloween dance – she'd always taken pictures for the yearbook. It's what she'd planned on doing that year, as well. But ever since their little tête-à-tête in detention, she'd known she would be dressing up.

The clerk wandered over and smiled at her, then poked at the clothing Dulcie had in her basket.

“Shopping for Halloween, huh? How fun. Do you know what you're going to be?”

Dulcie smiled and grabbed a thick, felt, burgundy coat from off a shelf.

“I'm going to go as Little Red Riding Hood.”

It was dark, as dances tended to be, and she couldn't tell who anyone was, obviously. No one really noticed Dulcie, but she was pretty sure that was also because no one recognized her. Her dress was indecently short, matching a lot of the other girls' costumes, and she wore a demi-mask over her eyes, along with the hood of her red cape pulled low over her forehead.

After laughing and chatting with a few friends for a while, Dulcie broke away and slowly walked around the room. The organizers had really outdone themselves, going all out with the decorations. A mummy hung from the basketball hoop and every now and then, it twitched and writhed around. Other displays had been set up in the corners, and where the bleachers were stretched out, fake spider webs had been thickly stretched across either side.

A DJ spun remixes of old Halloween classics, and some upperclassmen spiked the punch. A fight broke out at one point between a Legolas and a Frankenstein. It was actually pretty funny, watching while a sexy cat screamed at both of them.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking around when she realized someone was watching her. She hadn't noticed at first because his mask made it hard to tell. And on top of that, she stupidly realized she'd been looking for him in normal clothes. How ridiculous. Con Masters was like the first son of Fuller, so of course he
always
dressed up for Halloween.

Dulcie wasn't sure what made her recognize him. She'd been in the act of turning around and had stopped mid-spin when she noticed the figure standing against a wall. He was dressed as a plague doctor, and absurdly, her first thought was to wonder who'd made his mask. It was gorgeous, crafted out of dark lacquer wood, with what looked like onyx for the eyes. A wide brimmed hat and black material clung to his head, completely hiding any trace of his identity.

But she knew it was Con. He wore a long black duster to go with the theme of the mask, and the belt was cinched tight around his waist, accenting his narrow hips. The material fell away from his shoulders in a cape, highlighting how broad across he was, and all the black made him look even taller; he was every inch the shadowy figure from her drawing.

It seemed inevitable that she should walk over to him. They had dressed to match each other, after all. When she went to step forward, though, someone blocked her path.

“Dulcie! Lookin'
hot
.”

Chuck Beaty stood in front of her. He was in her class, a junior, and talk around the school was saying he would be the new quarterback after Con graduated. That was still almost a year away, but he'd already started acting like cock of the walk – emphasis on
cock
. Like he expected the entire student body and staff of Fuller High School to fall at his feet.

“Um, thanks?” she managed a reply, then she glanced over his shoulder. The plague doctor was gone, replaced by a werewolf.

“How come you don't dress like this more often?” Chuck asked, his eyes traveling over her form.

“What? I should wear a babydoll dress and mask to school every day?” she snorted, looking down at herself. The thick petticoat made the skirt of the dress stand out from her body, barely clearing the tops of her thighs. Her cloak fell just past the hem in the back, leaving most of her legs on display.

“I wouldn't complain,” Chuck leered. She rolled her eyes and went to step past him, but he moved with her. When she tried to go the other way, he took a step forward.

“This is fun and all, but I'd like to get back to the dance now,” she said, moving back with every step he took forward.

“Sounds good. I'd love to dance,” he laughed. When he reached out to grab at her ruffly petticoat, she jerked backwards and bumped up against a wall. He'd trapping her between a corner of the gym and the bleachers.

“I don't dance,” she told him.

“C'mon, babe, what's the deal? I'm the quarterback, you're hot. Let's see what we can work out,” he suggested, crowding in so close she was able to smell the tainted punch on his breath. She pressed herself flat against the wall.

“If you don't get away from me, I'm gonna work out how to plant my knee in your nuts.”

“You're a fucking snob, Dulcie. Always walking around acting like you're better than the rest of us,” he suddenly snapped at her.

“What are you talking about? You're drunk, Chuck. Get out of my face,” she ordered, and she placed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away. He didn't budge.

“Shit, this is the first time you've ever even dressed up. You too cool for Halloween, Dulcie?” he snarled, then he surprised her by reaching out and ripping off her mask.

She should've been scared – she was in a dark corner with Chuck Beaty. There were all sorts of rumors about him, about how he treated girls, about how he liked to get drunk all the time.

But Dulcie wasn't scared. She was angry, and she was annoyed. As was apparently becoming her new habit, she didn't even think about what she was doing – she just launched her hand at his face, raking her nails down the side of his cheek.

I want to see his blood.

Chuck was shocked for a moment, then he looked really pissed. He grabbed the front of her dress and twisted the fabric in his fist before jerking her forward, then he slammed her against the wall. She immediately started slapping at his arms and yanking at his wrist.

It never occurred to her to scream. Not once. She wanted to rip him in half, she was so angry, but she never got the chance. A dark figure stepped out from underneath the bleachers and grabbed Chuck by the back of the neck, pulling him away from her. Constantine Masters had lost his mask, but he still looked haunting and formidable in his all black costume, and it seemed easy for him to hold the smaller guy in place.

“You wanna know why I lit your car on fire?” Con growled, and Dulcie watched as Chuck's eyes opened wide in shock.

“You fucking did that!?” he shouted.

“Because,” Con ignored him. “
I thought you were in it.
”

He moved forward and Dulcie leapt out of the way, tripping under the bleachers as Con slammed Chuck's head against the wall. He did it two more times, until the other guy was unconscious and falling to the ground in a lump.

Dulcie gripped onto the network of rails that surrounded her and tried to catch her breath. She was almost panting, and her heart was racing. She stared at Chuck for a moment, at his figure as it lay prone on the floor. Then she moved her gaze to Con. He was staring down at Chuck as well, and even in the dim lighting, she could see the muscle in the side of his jaw. Watched as it ticked away.

When he moved, Dulcie stayed still. He slid between the rails, moving undern the bleachers till he was standing in front of her. He looked a little crazy. His face was flushed and his eyes were wild. He moved so they were touching, so she could feel his chest as it rose and fell with his heavy breathing. He was so much taller than her, she'd never really realized. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him and her hood fell away from her hair.

“Are you scared of me?” he demanded, his voice hoarse sounding.

“No,” she answered straight away.

“I think you should be,” he warned her. She took a deep breath.

“I think
you
should be scared of
me
.”

When his mouth fell on hers, it felt natural. He needed to devour something, it was clear, and she was fresh meat. She wanted to split open for him and lay at his feet.

She moaned and grabbed the edges of his jacket, yanking him even closer. They stumbled backwards till they hit the wall, then Con's hands were moving over her body. Scratching across her chest, pulling at her skirt. When they slid around to her back, he grabbed onto the material of her cloak and yanked hard, causing the knot at her throat to pull tight. She gasped as her head was pulled away from him, but she still wasn't scared. As his teeth left bite marks down the side of her neck, she thought maybe she didn't need oxygen anymore. He could just breathe for her.

Dulcie had been kissed before, but not in the way he was kissing her – she was pretty sure no one had
ever
been kissed like that. She was still a virgin, but at that moment in time, she didn't care. She didn't care that she was young and stupid, or that they were in a gym full of people, or that she barely knew the boy who was touching her. She wanted his darkness to swallow her whole. She wanted to be a part of it. She wanted to give her own darkness back to him.

He let go of her cloak, allowing her to breathe again, but his hands didn't remain idle. They immediately moved under her skirt, pawing through all the ruffles, finally finding skin. Nails dug into the soft flesh on her thighs and she groaned into his mouth.

“Please. Please, I want this,” she assured him, though he hadn't voiced any questions or concerns.

“I know,” he growled back.

She would never know how far they really would have gone. Con was so much more experienced than her, maybe he would've had more self restraint. She certainly didn't have any – she'd been ready to start ripping off clothing. But then a series of flashing flights played across her closed eyelids and she blinked back to reality, holding up her hand as another bright flash went off.

“Whoa ho ho there! Dulcie! Now I see why you didn't wanna take the photos tonight!”

It took a second for her brain to stop spinning and recognize the voice. Gary was a sophomore who was on the yearbook committee with her. And the little asshole had just taken their picture. One of Con's hands was up her skirt, and both her arms were wrapped tightly around his neck.

“You little shit, I should make you eat that fucking camera,” Con started to threaten, and he moved towards the younger kid. A frightening gesture to be sure, and Gary quickly backed away. Then he stumbled over something and when they all looked down, they realized he was tripping over Chuck's unconscious body.

“What's going on here? What did you guys do!?” Gary yelled.

“Nothing, Gary. Just wait -” Dulcie tried to calm the situation down.

“Nothing he didn't fucking deserve, and you're gonna be next,” Con interrupted.

There was silence for about a second, then Gary took off running, yelling for the principal.

Well, shit. There goes the night.

“This is gonna be worse than detention, isn't it?” Dulcie groaned.

“It'll be fine, c'mon.”

Con didn't explain, he just grabbed her arm and began pulling. She stumbled as he dragged her down the length of the bleachers. When they got to the other end, he still didn't say anything, he just pushed his way through the fake spider webs before yanking her to a set of double doors. They led to the back parking lot, and Con pushed one of them open.

“What are you doing?” she asked, a little confused as he shoved her outside.

“I'll take care of all this,” was all he said, then he went to shut the door between them. She reached out and grabbed it, stopping his momentum.

“What is going on here?”

It was the million dollar question – and she wasn't talking about the dance. She wasn't even talking about the kiss. She was talking about the
feeling
she was having whenever he was near. She knew he felt it, too. She was pretty sure if they'd been out in the open, the entire student body would've felt it. That's why he'd pulled her into the dark to kiss her. If they'd been standing in front of other people, they might have seen their true forms.

Whatever those are.

“Nothing, Dulcie. Go home.”

And with that, Con yanked the door out of her hand and slammed it shut in her face.