Broken Bond

2

VANESSA

I’ve never been a big drinker, but if all alcohol was masked by the taste of cherry Kool-Aid, I’d probably be a lush. I’m a big fan of cherry anything. Cherry lip gloss, cherry gum… even just straight-up maraschino cherries from the garnish tray at the bar where I work. I’m not sure what else is in this jungle juice, but it’s officially my new favorite drink.

Vienna has vacated her spot beside me in favor of joining Levi on the other side of the couch, and a blonde guy slips in to steal her place, tapping my cup with his own. “Want a refill?”

I turn to meet his hazel eyes, giving a little shake of my head. “Nah, I should probably pace myself,” I say, all too aware of how easily the first half of this drink has gone down. “I’m driving.”

“Fair enough,” he replies easily, reclining back on the couch and stretching his arms, not so subtly propping one onto the top of the cushion behind me. It’d be a smooth move if he wasn’t so painfully obvious about it. “I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Nessa,” I smile, nodding politely. Miles is cute in a boy-next-door type of way, but compared to his friend, it isn’t enough to hold my attention. I find myself swinging my gaze back to the boy seated on my left, my eyes catching with his.

I’ve never met anyone quite like Callum before. He’s got this beautiful, haunted quality to him that calls to me from behind those blue-green eyes; a dangerous allure that pulls me in a little bit more with every glance.

It doesn’t hurt that he’s ridiculously good looking, too. His jawline is so sharp that it looks like it was cut from stone, his roguish features startlingly symmetrical. His light brown hair is cropped close on the sides and longer on top, an errant strand flopping down over his brow carelessly. Callum is classically handsome, but he’s not a typical pretty-boy. There’s something grittier about him; something dark and mysterious. Something that excites me.

I should probably stop checking him out so obviously, especially when he's looking back at me like he wants to eat me alive.

Should that frighten me?

Probably. It doesn’t, though. I’m more curious than anything.

“Don’t mind Miles, he just assumes everyone’s a degenerate like him,” Callum snickers, looking past me to throw his friend a mocking smirk.

Miles rolls his eyes, unphased. “And you’re the picture of an upstanding citizen, right?” he tosses back as he drops his hand to my bare shoulder, his fingertips brushing my skin. “I’m surprised this guy hasn’t scared you off yet,” he mutters, leaning in closer.

Ugh, I hate when guys try to get handsy with me right off the bat. They often mistake my friendliness for interest, then accuse me of being a tease when I shut them down. Classic male sense of entitlement. I subtly shrug Miles’ hand off of my shoulder as my gaze flickers back toward Cal. “Guess I don’t scare easy.”

Our eyes meet, something passing between us while Callum’s lips curl into a sinister grin. “Lucky me.”

My heart pounds faster.

He doesn’t have any shortage of confidence, that’s for sure. I roll my eyes, chuckling to myself as I take another sip of my drink, savoring the sweet cherry flavor on my tongue.

Levi was right; this juice concoction is definitely dangerous.

The music switches to a bass-heavy Rihanna song and Cal lets out an audible groan, a hand coming to his temple. “Jesus, who’s running the music tonight?” he complains aloud.

friends seem too preoccupied with their own conversations to respond, so I guess I’ll bite. “What’s wrong with this song?” I query, arching a brow. He levels me with a look of disapproval, but I just shrug

how he can

as…” I lift a hand to make air quotes, “real

actual instruments that wasn’t butchered to all hell in a studio,” he

conclude with a resolute

me and narrowing

dark, tortured vibe going on,”

huh?” he grumbles, the corner of

slips past my lips, the alcohol already working its way into my system and lowering my inhibitions. “Hardly. But your musical tastes don’t exactly come as

not sure I’ve

tongue over his straight white teeth. “You’re a big

I snort,

and down my body, like he’s undressing me with his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong, babe,” he purrs. “Tell me you’re

all wrong.” I push up from the couch, tossing my long hair over a shoulder and

beat, Miles hops up to stand beside me. “Change

a quick shake of my

would’ve made his dang night to get me that drink. “Oh, uh, just down that hall,” he provides, pointing to a dark corridor branching

sea of staggering bodies is akin to tackling an obstacle course. I almost catch an elbow to the face when I try to slip past a drunk girl dancing with her eyes closed, and narrowly save myself from

to extend a personal invitation to Vienna, it felt like it was kismet. Not only has it been way too long since either of us had a decent

I do, too.

wait in line behind someone else before I can get in. Once I do, I take a quick pee and wash my hands, leaning over the sink to reapply my cherry red lipstick in the mirror as the voices of a couple girls

is she, anyways? I’ve never seen her at one of these

no idea, but I’ve been trying to get on Cal for months. If he’s

my gaze toward the closed door of the bathroom. Maybe they’re talking about someone

wish? Callum Conway is scary as fuck. He’ll probably chop

can eat me,

back on my tube of lipstick, slipping it in my pocket and smoothing my hair in the mirror. My heart’s banging against my ribs at a frantic rhythm as I digest their

have to work on getting him away from that other girl first. Just point her to someone else’s dick! Sluts don’t

grit my teeth against their titters of laughter, reaching for the knob and pulling the bathroom door open. As soon as they see me, the women waiting on the other side snap their mouths shut, the laughter dying on their tongues as they blink at me like a couple of deer caught in the headlights. Judging by their

Surprise, bitches.

worry ladies,” I say with a friendly smile, stepping out into the hall as they scramble backwards, wide-eyed. “I’m not planning on going home with anyone tonight, so have

hair whipping behind me as I spin

as I retreat, but their trash-talking doesn’t phase me. Maybe it’d bother me if there was a modicum of truth to anything they said, but those girls don’t know me, and they couldn’t be more wrong. If they actually knew me, they’d

Kill them with kindness.

kind. Even when it’s hard to do. Especially when it’s hard to do. It’s difficult to keep talking trash about someone who has been nothing but nice in

I return to the large U-shaped sectional at the far side of the living room, I pause for a moment