Forsaken Desires (The Deepest Desires 2)

Chapter two

Aston

A perfect way to end winter break. Parties at Crew’s house are always off the hook. We weren’t going to come back home until tomorrow morning, but Mom got sick, so we changed our flights, and I’m glad about it.

Well, not glad that she’s sick, but you know.

Forget Me Tooby Machine Gun Kelly and Halsey is blaring through the house when we step inside, the sweet smell of pot hangs heavy in the air, and some people are already three sheets to the wind.

Anderson goes to find Crew. They’ve been thick as thieves since we were in diapers, but they don’t get to see each other much since they go to different schools. I, on the other hand, make a beeline for the kitchen, wanting to get a drink.

For how crowded the house is, the kitchen is surprisingly empty, with just a few people passing through. There are several giant coolers on the counters full of beer, and I head over and grab one.

“Hey, hey, my dude!”

I look over in the dining room and see Kalen Finnegan walking in. He’s a townie, a few years older than me, and everyone’s favorite dealer.

Stepping over, I give him a hug. The scent of weed and whiskey permeate off him in waves. “Hey, fucker! How you been?”

“Can’t complain. Same shit, different day, but not too shabby. How’s college life?”

“Same shit, different day,” I retort, throwing his words back at him.

“I hear that, man,” he says, while digging for something in his pocket. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “Wanna go have a smoke?”

“For sure, man. Let’s go.”

Placing two cigarettes between his lips, he lights both, handing me one. I inhale deeply, enjoying the minty nicotine flavor that floods my taste buds. I don’t normally smoke menthols, but every once in a while I enjoy them.

We sit in comfortable silence for a minute, smoking and sipping from our beers.

“You tryna get into some real fun tonight?” he asks, after putting his cigarette out.

“Depends… What kind of fun did you bring?”

Kalen always has party favors with him. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a party where he hasn’t. Normally, I don’t party like that, but what the hell? It’s winter break, and it’s one night. Plus, I’ve been anxious all day, and this could help loosen me up.

Taking a small baggy of powder out of his pocket, he lifts it so I can see. “Molly, bro. This shit is so pure. I picked it up last week from a guy who was here from Texas. Real good shit.”

“I’m fucking down. You got capsules to put that in or…?”

“Nah, my man, but it’s cool. We can snort it. Come on.”

Breatheby Mako and Syris is playing through the speakers when we saunter back inside. He leads me back into the house, down the hall, and into the main floor bathroom. He locks the door behind us, and I go take a seat on the closed toilet while he gets to work cutting the lines.

Laying out four thin lines on the countertop, he hands me the rolled up hundred-dollar bill. It’s been a while since I’ve snorted anything, but I’m ready. My pulse kicks up as my insides vibrate in anticipation of the euphoric feeling I know is coming. I stand up and snort both lines, back-to-back.

Fuck, that burns.

Handing him the bill, he does the same, wiping his nose afterwards.

We look at each other in the mirror in front of us and bust out laughing. The molly will hit us quickly since we snorted it. I’m about to be feeling real damn good.

“Thanks, man.”

“Don’t mention it. Let’s go have some fun, maybe get into some trouble.” He slips me a tiny baggy for later, and with that, he wiggles his brows at me, unlocking the door and taking off.

A half hour later, and I’m flying high. Batman by LPB Poody is pulsing and vibrating through the speakers. The beat feels good while I dance with this cute chick I met a few minutes ago. She has a golden tan skin, dark brown hair that hangs straight down her back, and eyes so dark they look black. She’s thick in all the right places and wearing one of those jumper things that must be impossible to use the bathroom in.

She looks fucking good in it, though. She’s grinding her plump ass right on my dick and it’s doing all the right things to me.

Country Grammarby Nelly comes on next—talk about a fucking throwback—and she’s still dancing all over me, when something catches my eye. Or I should say someone. I look to my left and almost bark out a laugh.

Knox motherfucking Finnegan is standing in the corner. I hadn’t seen him yet, so I figured he wasn’t here. I saw Weston and Crew, but not him. His dark brown hair looks almost black tonight. Over the years, he’s gotten so many tattoos, and now they climb up his neck and down to his hands. He has a hoop in his nose now too, silver rings covering most of his fingers, and black chipped polish on his nails. Tonight, he’s wearing a black Motley Crue crewneck, faded skinny jeans, and chucks. And shocker, he looks as bitter and angry as always.

Fuck me, this should be interesting.

He’s hated me since that party in high school when he clocked me right in the jaw. I’ve always felt it was a weird grudge to hold, especially since he kissed me back. Things have gotten slightly easier this year. Our friends all hang out constantly, so we’ve come to an unspoken agreement to be civil. I’m still nowhere near his favorite person, and the feeling is pretty mutual.

The girl dancing with me—I think her name is Chloe—turns around, wrapping her arms around my neck, before resuming her dancing. The way her gaze keeps dropping to my mouth before returning to my eyes lets me know she wants me to make a move. Grabbing her ass, I pull her closer, before sliding my other hand into her hair. I bring my lips down to her mouth and slip my tongue inside. She fists my hoodie and instantly kisses me back, tasting like Truly Lemonades and some type of lip gloss.

Breaking the kiss, I swipe my thumb over her bottom lip, smirking. Chloe turns back around, so she’s got her ass in my crotch again and resumes dancing. I’m not sure if it’s because the living room got more crowded, but before I know it, we’re right beside Knox, who is now dancing with some other brunette chick. We make brief eye contact, and I can tell by looking at his eyes that he’s high as a kite. Well, if this isn’t some sick version of deja vu.

The two girls must know each other, because in the next second, they’re squealing and hugging each other in the way that girls do when they’re drunk. Now, all four of us are awkwardly dancing way too closely, and I want no part of it.

With Chloe occupied, I make my getaway. I’m not nearly as high as I thought I’d be, and my skin crawls being around all those people.

I go to the kitchen, grab a bottle of water, and head outside for another smoke. Once I’m able to take a breath of the crisp night air, I shoot Anderson a quick text, seeing if he’s as ready to go as I am.

Me: Hey, bro. You almost ready to go?

Lighting up my cigarette, I take a drag while I wait for a reply. I’ve always considered myself an introverted extrovert, because I enjoy parties like this, but only in low doses. They’re fun for the first few hours, but then it’s like the switch is flipped and I suddenly can’t stand being around people.

I talked to a therapist once, and they said I suffer from a mild case of anxiety. When my anxiety spikes, I want to be alone. It’s not bad enough that I need medication for it, but sometimes I wish there was something to take the edge off, especially times like right now, when the molly should be making me feel light and carefree. Instead, I feel restless and my stomach churns at the thought of going back inside the house full of people.

As I’m finishing my cigarette, my phone vibrates in my hand.

Finally.

Anderson: Sure, we can go. I’m in the kitchen with Crew. Come find me and we can head out.

Anderson is almost always the designated driver. He rarely drinks and he most definitely doesn’t do any drugs. I don’t even think I’ve seen him smoke pot more than a few times.

I take one more drag before tossing my cigarette on the ground, putting it out with my shoe, then head inside to find him. It looks like more people have shown up since I’ve come outside. Politely pushing my way through the masses, I’m almost to the kitchen when I collide with someone’s shoulder, causing me to drop my phone.

Picking up my cell phone, I turn around and apologize. “Ah, shit. Sorry, I—”

“Watch where you’re fucking going, Walker.”

Of fucking course, it’s Knox I run into. Why wouldn’t it be?

“Relax, Finny. It’s packed in here. It was an accident.”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And that’s weird. I’ve managed to walk through here without hitting anyone.”

“Who’s to say it wasn’t your fault that we bumped into each other?” I’m losing my patience.

“Fuck off, Walker.”

Rolling my eyes and refusing to give this prick any more of my time, I shove past him. I’ll never understand why he’s always so hostile. We could easily not speak to each other and things would be fine. It’s like he has to go out of his way to instigate shit, and it’s stupid. We hang out in the same group. Luca—my best friend—lives with him, for God’s sake.

“Hey, bro. Ready to go?” I ask Anderson as I walk into the kitchen. He’s standing by the counter, talking with Crew and Weston.

“Yup.” He studies me for a moment and can probably see the distaste written on my face. “What’s with you?”

“Just tired.”

******

It’s about noon when we get back on campus. We’ve been gone a little over two weeks now, but I didn’t miss dorm life one bit. Anderson and I are hoping by summer we will be able to find an off-campus housing option, and then we can say fuck you to the dorms. Luckily, we only share a room with each other, but it’s still crammed. We each have extra-long twin size beds, but when you’re six foot two, that’s still not enough space. If that wasn’t bad enough, we also have to share showers with a whole floor of guys, have a curfew, and our floor monitor is a bitch.

We return to classes in the morning, so I want to make the most out of the rest of my afternoon. Luca isn’t back in town yet, as his dad had a heart attack right before Christmas and is still not doing well, so I can’t go hang out with him. Anderson is chilling with some girl he’s into right now, so he’s out too.

Jesus, I need to broaden my friend group. This is pathetic.

Deciding to see if the art lab is open, I grab my backpack and head out. I’ve been painting for as long as I can remember. Some of my earliest memories include a paintbrush in my hand and a canvas in front of me.

It’s one of the very few things I don’t share with my brother. For the most part, we are very stereotypical twins, in the sense that we share a lot of the same likes and dislikes, hobbies, passions, but art isn’t one of them. Where I can spend my entire day getting lost in a vision, acrylic paint, and a blank canvas, he prefers a more physical form of therapy, like running, lifting weights, or boxing.

I’m the artist of the family, while he’s the jock. It’s always been that way.

The art building isn’t too far from the dorms, only about a five-minute walk. Jogging up the stairs, I try to open the door… locked. Ugh, of course it’s still locked.

I figured it might be, since we are still technically on winter break, but hell. What about the kids who don’t leave campus for break? They can’t have access to any of this? That’s kind of horseshit, if you ask me.

Not wanting to go back to the dorms alone yet, I pull out my phone and type out a text.

Me: Hey, bro, are you around?

Cash is the only one who could possibly be near campus that I could chill with. Seeing the text bubbles pop up immediately, I pull out a smoke and light it up while I wait for his response.

Cash: Nah, man. I’ll be home in about an hour.

Me: Catch you later then.

Fuck.

Out of options, I head back to the dorm while I finish up my cigarette. Not wanting to be cooped up inside, I decide to drop my backpack off and grab my weed, switching directions to go to the baseball fields. Since it’s winter, there are no practices being held there, and it’s the best spot to smoke and chill alone.

I’ve recently discovered how much weed helps keep my anxiety at bay. Last semester, we had to do a group project in one of my classes and I got paired with this guy, who was everything you’d expect from a stoner. One night, we met to work on the project and he brought some pot with him. I don’t remember how we got on the topic or how us smoking even came to be, but we did, and I’ve done it ever since.

I don’t smoke a lot. It’s typically every few days, but it helps tremendously.

I place the joint between my lips and flick the lighter, sparking the end as I inhale the earthy, strawberry-flavored weed. My lungs expand as I hold it in, and I’m already feeling better, more relaxed. I get lost in my thoughts in a cloud of smoke for a while, not leaving until I’ve finished the entire joint.