Toxic Part One (Celestra Series Book 7) (24 page)

“I think it’s broken,” she wails, clutching at her nose.

“It’s not broken,” Em says, examining her swollen beak. “Get up. You’ll live.” Emily dispenses all of the compassion necessary for a sociopath in training.

Lexy strides over wearing a bright red bikini that glows on her already tan body. Her russet hair reflects the sun like bronze and is neatly cut right along her jaw. I should totally point out her hair to my sisters. They should make an appointment ASAP with whoever is providing Lex with a styling miracle. Apparently, no matter how many bowls you use as a template, it’s really difficult to make a home-bob look decent.

“Have you seen Logan?” Lexy continues to pan the vicinity. I know for a fact she’s got her hormonal sights set on him because she’s clued me in on the this fact many times in the past.

Before I can answer, a heaving sob erupts from behind, and I turn to find Nat bucking with her hands plastered over her face.

“What the hell happened?” Emily barks as the bitch squad descends to comfort one of their own.

“Pierce broke up with me.” She looks out at the tumbling waves with her mouth wide open, stumped by her own revelation.

Freaking Holden. I knew he’d be nothing but trouble.

A shadow covers me, and I look up startled to find a bare-chested stud standing before me.

For a second, my adrenaline surges, fully expecting that beautiful bod to belong to Gage, but it’s not. It’s Marshall.

“Your shoulders are pink, Ms. Messenger.” A lascivious grin builds beneath his paltry concern.

I pluck a bottle of suntan lotion out of my bag and wiggle it in front of him.

Marshall and I lay our towels side by side forming one giant sheet over the charcoal colored sand. The bitch squad settles in front of us and a bunch of people from both East and West pepper our ever-expanding circle. I take a seat and nestle into the towel, forcing the sand to contour to my body.

“Hard right. He’s walking with an angry gait. Don’t look,” Marshall says under his breath as gets on his knees behind me and begins to drain the lotion over his open palm.
Shall we put on a show?
He offers.

“Please.” I tip my head back and moan into the offer.

Gage lands his towel down about a foot from my own and offers me a plate with a couple of burgers on it. I must admit, they do look good. The buns look all fluffy and soft, and the smell of fresh-off-the-grill beef is making my stomach growl like a lion.

“Would you like one?” he offers sweetly. “I got it for you.”

“I’d advise against it.” Marshall gently places his hands over my searing flesh, and I wince at the effort. “I had one of those hockey pucks earlier. Trust me, you’ll regret ever setting eyes on the thing. Do yourself a favor, young Oliver, and eat the plate instead. Your digestive system will thank you.”

Gage glances down at the Styrofoam in his hand and wisely chooses the burger. He indulges in what looks to be a hot juicy bite and moans, affirming the fact he made the right decision.

“It’s delicious,” he assures. “You sure you don’t want one?” He reinstates the offer. “The buns came from the bakery.”

I knew they looked exceptionally tantalizing, but it’s the principle of the thing. I can’t go around accepting rides and burgers and love letters from the enemy—although deep inside it’s impossible for me to accept Gage as the enemy.

“Why don’t you come by the house later,” Marshall purrs as he pampers me with a fantastic massage. His ingenious smooth stroke maneuver, coupled with his feel-good vibrations, have me moaning just beneath my vocal abilities. The last thing I need is the entire island bearing witness to my quasi-sexual experience with faculty, and I use the word quasi loosely. “I promise to whip up a meal that will leave you breathless and panting for more.”

“You’re the only meal I’ll ever need,” I bleat. Dear God, I think I mean it.

Gage arches a dark brow in our direction.

“Anyway.” I bat my lashes up at Marshall for a moment. “Sounds heavenly. Of course, I’ll be there.” Really, it’s Logan I should be stoking the flames of my affection for. I wish he were here and not serving time in—

Crap.

I glance back at Marshall briefly to see if he’s listening in.

“I assure you the visit will be quite sinful in nature,” Marshall says to further incite Gage.
Now
where exactly is the Pretty One?
   

None of your business.
Damn. I keep forgetting my flesh is a porthole into every thought that crosses my mind.

Often a statement like that is followed by an intense plea for my services
.

Gah! He is so right.

I usually am
, he quips. “I’m counting down the hours until we shut out the world and indulge in the desires of our flesh.” Marshall says is with such vigor that all heads in a ten-foot radius turn in our direction.

Shit.

“Thanks for offering to tutor me over the summer,” I say stupidly, trying to save what little face I have left, which, by the way, totally refutes the effort of making Gage insane with jealousy. I’m pretty sure the thought of me knocking out equations does not a jealous rage make. 

A bird shatters the silence with a startled cry from above.

I scour the sky to find Nev circling the area, alerting me to the fact something is off. God—I hope Logan’s OK.

Marshall sighs.
I can hardly wait to hear this one
.

Principal Rice gives a friendly wave toward him and holds up a bottle of her own
fun
tan lotion. The way she slides her hand up and down the svelte bottle elicits all sorts of awkward penile implications.

“I’d better move along before a line forms.” He pats my back and ignites a sting radiating over my shoulders, welcome as an electrical current. Music cues up from a live band in the distance. “Save a dance for me,” he says, moving to his feet.

“I’ll save every dance for you,” I shout after him as he takes off.

I glance back at Gage and catch a bleak smile quickly dissipating.

He sits perched on his elbows. His bare chest is cut and chiseled like a marble masterpiece. If we were still together, if that were still
Gage,
I would offer to rub him down with oil by way of my thighs, hell I’d offer to lay my entire person over him as sun block.

He takes off his sunglasses, exposing those indigo marbles that glow against his ivory face as he catches my gaze. His beauty alone should have acted as a siren. How could someone so impossibly gorgeous be so inwardly perfect as well? Those two attributes rarely go together hand in hand, with Logan being the exception.

Logan has both inner and outer beauty, that there should be two of them in the same family would be practically illegal.

“I’m going to take a nap,” I say, trying to sound more annoyed by his presence than I am.

“Will you dream of me?” His dimples explode in a fit of seduction.

“God, I hope not.”

God, I hope so.

Chapter 34

Ready, Set, Eat

The gentle crash of waves slapping over the shore rouses me out of a comfortable slumber. A cool breeze brushes over my forearms and legs, soft as cotton. I lick the salt off my lips from the sea spray and roll my neck just enough to know I have a serious crick to contend with.

I struggle to open my eyes and observe my surroundings. The setting disorients me for a second before I realize I’m still on the beach at the Fourth of July celebration. I pull up enough to see the sun dip down over the horizon, melting into a cool sanguine puddle. A tangerine stain spreads over the ocean as it swallows down the ball of fire.

“Beautiful,” Gage whispers.

Only then do I notice he’s meandered onto my towel and is lying beside me like we’re a couple. Does he really think I’m stupid enough to keep bending over and asking for another when he’s already screwed me over so freaking well?

I muster the energy to sit up and something soft slides off my back.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he says, plucking away the beach towel that’s pooled by my knees, “I covered you.”

“Yeah, well, I do mind.” I’m not entirely sure I do, but I can feel him sucking me in emotionally—physically, to places I should never venture again.

A bullhorn goes off in the distance, and the annual hot dog eating competition is announced.

“Are you in it?” I ask, dusting the soot-like sand off my pale thighs. I look far too sickly to have ever seen the sun, let alone lived on a beach a good portion of my life. A year on Paragon is the equivalent of living under a rock.

“Nope. You?”

“Tad, Ethan, and Drake.” I nod. “I would have thought you’d be in it for sure.”

“Why’s that?” His lips curve a ruby smile.

“You seem to stomach all the bullshit Chloe dishes out pretty well without puking.”

He shakes his head. “Not true. I happen to have a powerful aversion to bullshit. That’s why I’m finding this whole thing hard to deal with.”

“What thing is that? The pact you made with Chloe and conveniently forgot to tell me about?”

“Skyla,” he says, darting a quick look around—for Chloe, I’m sure, “let’s go someplace where we can be alone. I want to tell you everything.”

“Words you should have used a year ago.” I wipe the sand off my bottom and head over to the annual Paragon puke fest where I hope to be entertained thoroughly by Tad’s foray into gluttony and regurgitation. The manner in which he chooses to bond with his spawn should set off all sorts of red flags for Mom. If she hadn’t already thought twice about that whole reproducing thing, perhaps watching the three of them wretch in a bucket together will sharpen her senses on what a profoundly dangerous idea she’s entertaining.

Speaking of the prospective procreator, I spot her over by Demetri and Darla. It sort of looks like he’s got an arm wrapped around both Darla’s waist and my mother’s.

I tilt my head to get a better angle, and freaking shit, it’s true. The fiend is in the process of feeling them both up. He’s not even trying to hide the fact he’s a pervert.

Mom caresses his hand before stroking his shoulder as she bursts out laughing. Why do I get the feeling Demetri just had more action than Tad has in a week. Eww and eww. And by the way, I’m a thousand percent sure the way to make nice with Darla is by not openly fondling her boyfriend. Not privately either, but that seems to be a different matter.

Gage pops up dutifully by my side as I make my way over to Marshall. He’s already positioned in the back of the crowd ready to ogle at the sausage spectacular. If Gage wants to be a third wheel, I’ll make sure to provide him with a more than an uncomfortable experience.

“Ms. Messenger,” Marshall growls with his affection for me turned up to maximum capacity. “Principal Rice implored me to teach two additional courses next year, Trigonometry and Chemistry.” He nods over at Gage acknowledging the fact he’s within earshot. “Isn’t that superb?” Marshall beams into me with his blood-stained eyes. “I’ll be the focus of your attention for two hours each day. Of course, you’re welcome to double up on evenings and weekends. I’d be more than happy to cater to your every whim.” He cuts a glance back at Gage before dipping into me again. “As the mother of my future children, I’ll be happy to supply you with nothing but the best.”

“Perfect.” I give a nervous laugh. I so did not think this conversation would go there, but then again, with Marshall, all roads seem to lead to my uterus. “Supply me with an A in trig. I don’t plan on doing any of the work either.” True story.

“Nonsense. You must do the work. How else will you grasp the material?”

“It’s useless and impractical. Everybody knows that,” I shout up over the announcer as the horn sounds and the contestants indulge in their wiener eating frenzy.

I watch with great interest as Tad and my stepbrothers begin their final descent into colon and artery congestion.

“What in heaven’s name are you talking about?” Marshall’s voice spikes as though he were genuinely surprised by my revulsion for all things mathematic. “Trigonometry is applicable in everyday life.” He goes on, proliferating our first full-blown argument, right here in front of the general public and Gage, who, by the way, keeps twitching his dimples. “How will you ever understand upper level theories if you don’t have a foundation to build on?”

“Oh, please, like I go around every day trying to solve for x. Let’s call a spade a spade, I could care less about x and all its problems. I’ll hardly
add
in real life, let alone waste my time trying to decipher relational values.”

“Trust me, you’ll be in need of far more than basic addition skills to navigate your way around the relational values you’ve embroiled yourself in.” He assures, settling his hands over my shoulders.

More like my mother has embroiled me in
, I say.
Get me a meeting with her, would you?

Already with the honey-do list
. He mocks a sighs before signaling for me to look up on stage.

I stand on my tiptoes to get a better view.

Oh my freaking shit.

Tad and his dancing primates are all skipping side to side, doing the worm or the snake or the
Landon
as this horrible, embarrassing stunt will be forever referred to. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if both Mia and Melissa fashioned a noose out of sausage casings and have already hung themselves on the nearest palm tree. Surely death is the only practical way out of the dishonor that Tad has brought to our family.

A blond head bobs directly in front of Taddy dearest. Her cheering fists pound high in the air. It’s Isis, the breast queen. And she’s swiveling like a belly dancer, shouting Tad’s name repeatedly in an overtly sexual manner.

“Dear God,” I mouth.

I glance back at Mom as the crowd erupts with laughter. She breaks free from the stranglehold Demetri has on her and begins to maneuver through a mob, nine deep, just to get to the front.

Tad stops all movement. He’s got a hotdog dangling in partial from his lips, and he’s openly staring at
Izzy
and her bouncing beach balls, speechless and utterly forgetting the task at hand.