Authors: Coo Sweet

Loose (11 page)

BOOK: Loose

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She was wearing those earrings again, only this time their effect on Sage was hypnotic, not haunting. The casual circles he made on her back turned to sensual caresses. Raven closed her eyes, savoring a level of intimacy she hadn’t been accustomed to. She leaned into him and gobbled up that feeling.

Sage stroked her neck, her shoulders, kneading away all the tension that had taken up residency there. He inhaled the scent of her hair and skin like his lungs depended on it. They kissed...long, deep, tenderly.

Raven trailed her fingers along the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the lushness of his mouth.

"Sorry for the way I--" she started to say.

Sage shushed her with another kiss.

In her bedroom, the two of them made love in a pace and fashion reminiscent of soul mates reunited, not hormone-driven teens. Where he was tentative and awkward, she was polished, refined. Each stroke, caress, and kiss was seamless.

It was like a perfectly timed, well choreographed dance.

But what was even more astonishing was the fact that through the entire act, Sage struggled to mute the sound of Serenity’s tortured voice pounding against his eardrums.

Every time his skin pressed against Raven’s, Sage heard Serenity scream his name in agony.

When their climax came, and they echoed mutual satisfaction, Serenity’s wailing reached a painful level in Sage’s head. He gritted his teeth and fought through it. While he may have been powerless to stop the aural assault on his brain, he welcomed the waves of physical pleasure that washed over his body.

Moments later, they were back on the couch. With a full cushion-width of space between them, as if they could pretend what had just happened, never really did.

"We didn't use anything," Sage said, worry weighing his words down.

"It’s okay. It’ll be fine," Raven assured him.

"What do you mean it’ll be fine? How do you know it’ll be fine?"

"Just trust me. It's safe right now. What you need to worry about is Granny." Raven looked at the clock.

"She gets off work soon," Raven said.

Sage jumped up off the couch.

Raven couldn’t help but crack up laughing.

"My keys! Where'd I put them?"

Raven let him scramble around for a minute before she took pity on him and came clean.

"I'm kidding, fool. She's pulling a double shift."

Sage shook his head at her twisted sense of humor.

"Nice, Raven. Scare the hell out of me for nothing. I’m gonna get you back for that one. Just wait. For real though, I do need to go. I've got tons of homework," he said.

A hint of sadness shaded Raven’s face, but she didn’t complain out loud.

"Speaking of...would you consider getting some books from my locker tomorrow?" she asked, pointing to her bruised cheek.

"Make-up won't quite cover this yet."

Sage weighed her request for a few seconds before he answered. A good look at her bruises quickly swayed him.

"Yeah, sure. Give me your locker number and combination."

Raven stood near the porch waving to Sage. He threw up a peace sign and put the truck in reverse. When he pulled off, Raven looked across at her neighbor’s yard. The homeowner--one of those “it takes a village” types--was addicted to gossip.

Satisfied she wasn’t under surveillance, Raven retreated into the house.

Sitting there alone, she felt her throat and her chest get so tight it hurt. Knowing full well tears would come next she pinched herself on the thigh as hard as she could. Raven hated crying. To her it was nothing but a sign of weakness, and she was no punk.

Raven squeezed and twisted the spot on her leg until it turned red-hot and inflamed. Her little trick, a good dose of self-inflicted pain, almost worked. The ache she felt in her leg almost erased the excruciating gashes she felt deep in her soul.

Almost.

Until she started thinking about her time in foster care. Then the gashes opened up. Wide and oozing.

Raven was twelve when she began running away from Granny’s house. That was around the time all the anger she’d been swallowing started to churn and agitate in her stomach. Pair that with puberty’s gift of raging hormones and you had a disaster waiting to happen.

At that age, Raven knew only one way to relieve the pain she felt in her gut. Strike out; make somebody else suffer; then she could focus her energy on that, instead of what’s going on inside her.

Of course her negative behavior came with a price--the wrath of Granny. Raven’s grandmother disciplined with a heavy hand. That just compounded Raven’s anger. She had a few close friends who would usually agree to put her up for a couple of days. It was just a short respite from all the drama in her life. She figured that was all she needed to feel a little less damaged.

Celia put up with it a couple of times. She knew she was tough on Raven, but in her mind it was necessary. The way she figured, this world’s a cold, hard place, and somebody had to prepare Raven for that or she’d surely get eaten up by it.

So Raven would disappear for a few days. Granny would worry, let her come back home, and both of them would try to be more sympathetic to each other.

The third time Raven tried her disappearing act, Celia put her foot down. If Raven thought things were so much better somewhere else, then she could damn well stay in the streets for all her grandmother cared. Celia was done trying to rein the girl in.

Raven got popped for shoplifting the last time she ran away. Celia let her to spend a couple of days in juvie. It pissed Raven off so much that she refused to return to Celia’s care and ended up in a foster home for thirty days. They were the worst thirty days of her life.

Her foster mom cared about one thing, the check she got for taking care of Raven.

Everything else was just another pain in her ass. She also had a teen-aged son who took great pleasure in trying to tame the angry, headstrong girl who’d been dropped right into his eager hands.

More times than Raven cared to count, the young man violated her in whatever ways his sick mind, callused fingers, and smelly prick came up with.

The abuse stopped when Raven pulled a knife on him and threatened to “cut his fucking throat” if he touched her again.

Raven’s foster mom chose to side with her son. She called the cops. Luckily, a physical exam and Raven’s willingness to share all the embarrassing details proved to be her ticket out of that hell hole. She never ran away again.

Sitting there thinking about that miserable time in her life flipped some kind of switch inside Raven. For the first time she could remember, she allowed herself to feel genuine pity for the scarred little girl who lived in her head and dictated how she maneuvered the world.

Raven wrapped that little girl in her arms. She rocked back and forth. She cried real tears for her.

Back at Sage’s house, Nadine was fixing dinner. He strolled in, trying to look casual.

"Hey, Mom."

"Hi, baby. Where've you been?"

"Friend of mine wasn't feeling well. I went to see if I could do anything to help."

"That was nice of you. Anybody I know? Is he okay?"

"She. And no, you haven’t met her."

"Oh. Was it that nice girl your Dad was talking about?"

"Um, no. It was Raven."

"The one who was so rude to me on the phone?" Nadine frowned, sucking her teeth.

"She's not so bad, Ma. She was just upset that day. She really wasn’t trying to disrespect you."

"Um-hm. Well you know what they say about first impressions, right?"

Sage kissed his mother on the forehead to ease her concern and prevent a lecture.

"She's cool, Ma. Honest. I wouldn’t be friends with her if she wasn’t."

"Okay. If you say so," Nadine said.

Sage gave her another kiss for good measure then jetted out of the room. Nadine turned back to her cooking. She shook her head and ratcheted up the slicing and dicing.

Sage was fresh from the shower and in clean clothes. He started his homework, but couldn’t really focus. After a short time, he caved to his lack of attention and closed the book.

He went to the dresser drawer where he’d stashed Serenity's earring. He dug the box out and turned it over in his hands. Sage shook it, listening to the faint sound of the earring sliding around in the box, but he didn't open it. He just held on to it. Like an alcoholic clutching a forbidden bottle.

When he climbed into bed he set the box on his stomach. He watched it rise and fall with each breath he took. The motion of it lulled him to sleep.

Chapter 12

Sage and Peyton held court over a plate of fries in the cafeteria. Sage was distant, distracted. He dug around in his backpack, furiously searching for something. It appeared to be something really important--because he steadily cursed under his breath. It was like the object was hiding on purpose, just to piss him off. After a few futile minutes he gave up looking and flung the bag to the floor.

Peyton took full advantage of his friend’s inattention. He doused their fries with a big splat of ketchup, betting that Sage’s distaste for the condiment's resemblance to blood would work in his favor. It worked. When Sage noticed the condition of the fries he slid the plate right into Peyton's greedy fingers.

"I should make you buy another order," Sage scolded.

"What?"

"What, my ass. You know what I'm talking about."

"Dang, man. Why are you so touchy? It’s just fries. You on the rag or something?"

Sage winced at the reference to periods. He was still sweating bullets over his reckless hook-up with Raven.

"Fool, what do you know about being on the rag?" Sage asked.

"More than you. I have a sister. Remember?"

Sage perked up, fixing a hawkish gaze on Peyton.

"Yeah...you do. Hey, you think I could ask her something?"

Peyton's forehead creased, his eyebrows knitted together.

"Something about what?" he asked.

"Periods," said Sage.

"Oh, hell naw! Why? What'd you do? Knock somebody up?" Peyton asked.

Sage flicked a ketchup packet at him. Hard. It caught Peyton in the chest.

"Man, shut up! I just need to ask her a question."

"Well, you better Google that shit. You are not talking to my sis about sex," said Peyton, swiping his hands together like he was more than done with that conversation.

"Aww, quit tripping, Pey. She's twenty, not ten. What's the big deal? And it's not about sex. It's about periods." Sage drew the syllables out, in a feeble attempt to mark the distinction.

"Close enough. Answer's still no," said Peyton.

"Whatever. Calm your ass down," huffed Sage.

He absentmindedly picked up a bloody looking French fry. He almost ate it until Peyton cleared his throat and stopped him.

"Hey, isn't that your girl?" asked Peyton. He tipped his chin up and glanced over Sage’s shoulder.

Sage dropped the fry like a hot potato. He wiped his hand on a napkin...turned around to look. It was Jasmin. Sage spun back toward Peyton.

"That's not my girl," Sage told him.

"But I thought you--"

BOOK: Loose

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