Fearless Like Us (Like Us 9)

I almost smile.

My family did that.

For me.

“SULLIVAN MEADOWS!” My name ricochets off Manhattan buildings like a gunshot in the air. Ear-splitting shrieks pierce the night, pierces right through me.

And the last thing I see is my mom.

My mom in her golden dress that reflects the golden honey of her hair. But her eyes are what grip me.

Her beautiful green eyes.

And the sheer terror in them.

Like a flip of a switch, all the crowds congregated around my parents and my aunts and uncles suddenly converge on me. Onto us.

It’s a slingshot.

A snap of time.

Banks grabs my hand, but he’s being physically pulled forwards.

Akara has my other hand. And he’s being ripped backwards.

I’m in between like the center of a wishbone.

“SULLI!” Banks screams.

“SUL!” Akara yells.

Pain surges in my limbs, but I want to hang on forever. I don’t want to let go. Camera flashes are blinding, and the light goes in and out on the two men I love.

One second I can see their lips moving, screaming my name. The next split-second, they’re gone into darkness. Then they’re lit up again with urgency and viciousness in their gazes. Fighting towards me as they’re being wrenched back.

Flashes, screams, hands. I can’t see.

I can’t see!

Other hands start to latch onto my body as Akara and Banks are forced further away. Fingers yank at my hair.

I’m not letting go.

Take my fucking hair. I’m not letting go of them!

I try and force them back towards me. Hands still in their hands, my muscles sear as I pull and pull and use all my strength to bring them back.

Please.

Fucking please.

“SULLI!” My dad’s voice breaks me. The fear and pain.

I won’t…let go.

Lights and flashes. Shrieking. Hands. Hands. Their hands are still in mine. “Sulli, look here!”

“Sulli, sign this!”

“Sulli, you’re dating both guys?!”

“Sulli, who do you love more?!”

“Sulli, are you a virgin?”

“SULLI!” Akara slingshots back into me. My arm aches, and he pushes me ahead. Banks closes the distance. Somehow.

How?

I’m in a daze as they battle to get me through the door, and as soon as I step into the theatre, the venue’s security blocks the entrance. Paparazzi pile up and push against the glass doors to snap photos.

I can’t stop staring at the hysteria that builds.

“She’s in shock…” I hear someone say.

I blink. “What?”

“Sulli.” Banks has his hands cupped around my cheeks.

I blink harder. “How did we get in here?”

I don’t understand.

And then I look up and realize who’s standing around me. Farrow, Thatcher, Oscar, Quinn, Donnelly, Gabe. The six of them have made this little circle around Akara, Banks, and me. And we’re in the venue.

Akara explains, “They came outside to help.”

The magnitude of what we just went through is slowly catching up with me. “That should have worked, right?” I ask all of Omega. “The core six creating a diversion.” I use their fandom name because it reminds me how famous they are. Reinforces what I know to be fucking true. They’re more famous than me.

“It should have,” Farrow says into a nod.

Oscar and Donnelly share a wary look.

Thatcher’s concern drills into his brother. The sleeve on Banks’ suit is ripped at his shoulder. Akara’s tie is gone. No. My mind paints graphic details of what they just experienced, and sickness burns my throat. I know it’s their job to take that for me, but it doesn’t make it any less agonizing to see.

They keep sweeping my body, assessing for signs of hurt.

My dress is in one piece. Jacket is fine. Scalp kinda hurts.

And my arms are fucked.

I shake them out, muscles searing.

“You alright?” Banks asks, watching me.

“A little sore,” I say. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Akara refutes.

I’m about to reply when I hear my mom’s voice. “Where is she?”

“I’m over here?!” I wave my hand. Quinn backs up a little, and my mom and dad push their own security into my cluster. They sprint to me.

Immediately, they pull me into a hug. “Sulli,” my mom says like she almost lost me.

“It’s okay,” I tell her.

“But are you fucking okay?” my dad asks.

That breaks me completely. Like a hammer to glass, I shatter. My sob chokes me for a second, and my mom hugs me even tighter.

I don’t want to be more famous than them.

I don’t want it.

I don’t.

I’m not fucking ready.

Please.

I’m not fucking ready.

I was never going to be ready.

47

AKARA KITSUWON

If you loved her at all, you wouldn’t do this to her.

Ryke’s words rage and rage and rage inside my head. When I’m on-duty, I stay focused. No drifting, but shit, it’s hard to concentrate on the New Year’s Eve party around me. And I’ve cursed so many times in my fucking head, I’m surprised I haven’t launched into a string of profanities out loud and just welched on the bet that I lost back in November.

She’s safe from any hands now.

I hang onto that fact.