Awful Intentions: Friends-to-Lovers Romance (The Celestial Bodies Series Book 2) Read online

  I needed to remember for myself—not anyone else.

  Nyx: You up?

  He was trying so hard to not be himself it was driving me crazy. He could effortlessly slip in and out of being the callus version I knew and fell for to just being this delicate version he thought I needed—while I was trying to just be one: myself. It was proving hard to know who that was when I didn’t even recognize myself anymore.

  Padding to the bathroom, I responded with a simple yes to his question. I didn’t want him to like any part of this new me, because she wasn’t sticking around. She was leaving once the guilt did.

  I tried to keep a safe amount of distance, but his grasp on me was so strong that I couldn’t gain much. He was leashing me to him and to his memory of who I was.

  Nyx: Still have an open invite…

  Confused, I pressed my lips together, wondering what he meant. Invited me to where? I wet my face cloth to wipe the sweat off the edges of my face and texted him back.

  Me: Invite to where?

  It wasn’t even a full minute before a new blue bubble popped up in response.

  Nyx: To ride my dick, baby.

  I could feel my cheeks burn up, and everything in me paused, like his words crashed into how turned on I truly was by anything dirty this man said to me—even virtually.

  I scooped my lip between my teeth rereading his text and feeling a familiar stir in the pit of the stomach. I swallowed hard before I attempted to respond. I wanted to cave and give him everything, even this bad version taking my place right now. I wanted to submit and let the good girl die.

  Everything in me was still, for all intents and purposes, virgin. With the introduction of the version of myself I was unfamiliar with, I still felt virgin in every way.

  Me: You know we can’t do that…

  It felt like the safe response, while hiding how I really felt. I felt my pulse turn quicker and my hips stilled, trying to not make it worse.

  Nyx: Are we still playing this game?

  Me: What game?

  I knew exactly what he meant, but I was playing coy. We had been playing this game of cops and robbers. He was trying to rob me of my virginity, and I was supposed to be doling out his punishment.

  Nyx: The one where you act like you aren't wet and contemplating fingering yourself over how hard you know I am right now.

  The old me would’ve damned him for being so vulgar. The new me wanted to tell him how many fingers and exactly how quick I could come for him.

  Me: I have to get ready for work.

  The innocent parts of me won this time. Maybe if he kept talking to me like that, it’ll expel the bad parts quicker.

  Nyx: Suit yourself, Little Lamb.

  Leaving my phone on the countertop near the sink in our large bathroom, I twisted the shower knob, turning it all the way to the hottest it would go, before pulling off my nightgown, which was really a t-shirt that was just too big and too long. It was Nyx’s; the gods knew I would die before telling him I slept in his scent.

  We all went back to Arcadia for our things, and Nyx’s shirt was the only piece of my belongings I really wanted. I had stolen it from him without him knowing one afternoon when we were fooling around. Maybe there had always been a little bad living inside me, after all.

  Bolton had caught me in the hallway when I snuck out, and to my surprise, he never used it as leverage. He never judged me or mentioned it, which I much appreciated from our calculated, cold, king.

  It was the only piece I let myself have of Nyx now: this t-shirt, which was now on the counter folded precisely.

  Nyx

  I was lying in bed with the blackout curtains still drawn and my blankets still balled up around my waist.

  Sleeping wasn’t as easy when Luna was just down the hall of the same building, not sleeping. She hadn’t so much as said that to anyone, but I noticed the dark circles that had suddenly appeared under her eyes.

  Her not sleeping was causing me to be restless—even with a hallway and dry wall between us.

  This girl was the epitome of innocence; doing something out of character was bound to shake her up into confusion.

  The open wound in my chest was empty and ached enough to keep me up anyways.

  I tossed my phone onto the mattress, trying to ignore how turned on I was, imagining Luna in my head, doing what we used to do at Arcadia. It was our little secret.

  No one else knew, not even our best friends.

  She would only act disturbed by all the dirty ways I had in my arsenal to make her wet. In private, in my room back at school, she was anything but disturbed.

  Nothing ever went too far, definitely not all the way—just enough for me to still remember what she tasted like, sounded like, felt like.

  Arcadia and our days of fooling around was months ago. I knew the most innocent innuendo would make her a mess in her panties. That was all I needed, to get under her skin, to get off.

  I looked down at what Luna essentially caused. My dick was trying to make its way out of my boxers without any help, and it would have escaped, if the band wasn't in the way.

  Letting myself spring out already had my breath hitching in my throat. Luna was killing me with her space-needing bullshit.

  I was gonna love her, good and bad. She might not be mine, but I wanted to play with the bad girl parts that had been bred out of that one bad night.

  Wrapping my hand around myself, I pushed my fist up to my tip painfully slow, imagining if this Luna liked different things.

  Maybe this Luna didn't coil up when I would smack her ass.

  Maybe this Luna liked it when I would shove my finger into her ass while I licked her glistening folds.

  My eyes fell shut, and I worked my hand over my length until I felt the pre-cum drip down, finding my knuckles. Every groan lodged in my throat husked out as my hand picked up the pace.

  Luna. My little scared lamb… fuck!

  It never took long when I thought of Luna. In fact, it was embarrassingly quick.

  I was harder than turned on—on the verge of exploding all over my own hand. I didn't care. In my mind, I was between her legs, filling her voids, just like she did mine.

  My mattress vibrated, and I smirked at the new element added to the pleasure already making its way through my limbs in a brush fire. Looking at the lock screen, I saw a message from Caellum, protesting me being late again to work.

  We all had normal jobs, normal apartments, normal lives that were so boring I thought everything royal coursing through me would get bored, up and leave, thinking I was normal for good.

  I had to drag myself out of bed. The heat was heavy, even though it was still early in the morning.

  Seattle wasn't boiling hot or overly sunny; it was moody and, at the highest, 70’s.

  Being born and raised in the Underworld seemed like a lifetime ago. Buried far enough in my memory to make me think the stickiness on my skin was unbearable.

  Pushing my fingers through my hair, I felt my long locks brush against my shoulder, and the necklace around my neck fell into place. The necklace had a small moon charm. I've always had it, but the memory of how I received it was still draped in confusion.

  I convinced myself it must be Luna’s out of sheer need to close the distance that she was forcing on me.

  In the hallway, I stared at Luna's door. I could hear her humming to herself. It only made me picture her small features competing with her full lips.

  Me defining her in my mind wasn't going to fix her, what happened, or us being stuck here... forever now, with an incomplete circle.

  We all landed at places with mythological ties, thinking these must be signs from our dead gods or some kind of cosmic intervention.

  Caellum and I were the only ones working at a Nike store.

  Nike is the goddess of victory. Silently, I thanked Alba, wherever he was, for teaching me something.

  Caellum being, well, Caellum… he landed a management position within a few weeks of us being
there—now making the pain in the ass my boss.

  At least I didn't have to wear an apron like Bolton. He landed at Starbucks serving coffee to the early birds of humanity.

  He had found his people: permanently grumpy and displeased.

  Every morning, I’d end up at the Starbucks where Bolton worked, just to taunt him. I didn’t even like coffee all that much.

  Caellum hoped to be in the passenger seat before I could really protest. Bolton and I were the only ones with cars—the same cars we stole when we left Arcadia. Humanity was expensive to be a part of, let alone acquire things.

  Without the influence of the gods, this life seemed pretty mundane. Wake up, work, sleep, work again… and if you're lucky, someone would indulge you long enough to make it seem less lonely.

  At least the gods would be intervening in fun ways.

  The Starbucks line was just as long as always. Perfect for sitting back and watching Bolton come undone one order at a time.

  I watched him argue with no one, just out loud to the air around him: “Are you serious? Who orders 10 pumps of mocha?”

  I didn't think anyone would respond; he looked unhinged. However, a woman in a blazer stepped forward. Standing flush with the counter, she looked ravenous for the cup in his hands.

  “This isn't coffee; it's diabetes.” His voice was tense as he shoved the words through his clenched jaw.

  The women looked just as displeased, and it wasn't lost on me at all. A smirk took over my face. I had to bite back a laugh, otherwise I would be his new target.

  “Can I have my coffee now?” The woman's voice was slick and demeaning, while she typed on her phone, not even making eye contact.

  I'm a savage, but humanity now? Downright sadistic.

  Why else would a whole race boil down to having the same attitude?

  Bolton's grasp on the cup looked tight, with the color fading from his knuckles. “You deserve to be punished. That's it… I can't do this. Fucking privileged asshole people with their fucking extra pumps… and no manners! I was a fucking king before this.”

  Bolton's new normal was a daily meltdown propelled by his fear of no longer being king.

  No one was royal here—not in the same way.

  This world required followers, instead of a kingdom; fake friends, instead of a royal court; and a skill for filtering your life to make it seem unblemished.

  Bolton refused to integrate into this world.

  He fought everything, even us, every step of the way. If we didn’t taunt him every morning, he would have cut everyone off as much as he had Arianna.

  The small, short girl behind the counter with the cotton-candy-colored hair snorted a laugh away, before she choked out: “He's gonna quit again.”

  Everyone knew Bolton could only take a few days of working there before quitting; it was routine now.

  At the counter, the same girl smiled at me, like she was undressing me in her mind, before asking what she could get for me.

  “I'm waiting for him to quit first…” I was glued to his show of the week.

  It was sad what passed for entertainment now.

  She pushed the end of her pen between her lips, and I swear I knew exactly what she was doing. She was balancing the scales. The death of Bolton was checked off, and sex was on the other side of my scale.

  Caellum ordered around me, impatient as always, “Espresso over ice with soy.”

  The girl didn't shift her gaze to him at all, still wrapping her lips around the pen, trying to entice me into wanting to see more.

  Caellum’s hand landed on my shoulder. “He normally gets a latte, iced, with caramel.”

  Her brown eyes weren't all brown; they had gold flecks drawing me in. “I know. He comes in every morning. Still hasn't asked me out yet...”

  Caellum looked disgusted at the whole exchange, and I pushed past him to the pick-up end, just in time for Bolton’s weekly storm out.

  His hand pushed out into a fist hanging in the air, until I bumped mine into his. “Work?”

  I nodded. It didn't need any verbalizing... yet. Luna was scolding me in my head.

  My head swiveled at Caellum speaking over the machines at the same girl: “He’s taken. Well, sort of. It's complicated. I'm free though.”

  This, too, was the new normal. Girls wanted me, but my friends were loyal to preserving what little was left of Luna and me.

  It was cute for a while, but now it was just a lie.

  The distance wasn't getting any smaller, and she wasn't ever even alone in a room with me.

  I couldn't blame her. She had become a version of herself I didn't recognize—a version willing to go further with me than she knew. This version indulged my every message, every request, every desire without any push back—push back my Luna would have no problem making a wall out of.

  Grabbing my coffee, I bumped my first against Bolton’s again before leaving. My sales job as an “athlete” was calling.

  Ironic.

  Nyx

  L una never expected me to pick her up. As long as I could, though, I would show up in front of the special needs school where she worked.

  Her bleeding heart was perfect for autistic kids, who wouldn't be able to tell she was overly nurturing. These kids needed someone like her, even if she was breaking her own heart just to put it all back together differently.

  I waited outside the car, with the leather melting my skin inside my skinny jeans and trapping hot air inside every crevice.

  Austin worked at the same school, teaching art classes, but they never shared the same schedule.

  Good. Driving her home was my thing.

  I watched Luna's smile descend the stairs to where I was before she saw me. I remembered all too well that same smile brushing over her big lips. She was leaving happy today.

  Not that she left unhappy any other day, some days were just harder on her than others.

  She wanted to fix everyone, and no one could fix her.

  I stood up taller, ready to say her name, when I watched her swivel on her heel as some guy followed her out.

  Dorian.

  Her co-worker.

  Her boss.

  Apparently the reason she was smiling.

  The guy was not exactly older than us, but his salt and pepper hair certainly made it obvious he wasn’t aging as well as we were.

  My hands in my hoodie were balled up into fists. I knew it was a bad move; I wasn't stupid. Letting my jealousy loose would only push her away more.

  I had to remind myself I had been friend-zoned until the old her made a comeback.

  I was kicking the stray rocks under my feet, the same way she did after she killed Cheyanne. Stalking up closer to them both, I watched her face flush.

  Rarely was I wrong, and right now, her face read embarrassment.

  I was embarrassing her.

  Seriously?

  I sported an Aussie accent, and I was dipped in a fresh tan at all times. My straight hair fell over my cheek bones and rivaled Kate’s gloss treatments. I was a catch, not embarrassing.

  They met me half-way, and I stared him down as his hand touched her elbow. “Well, you did amazing today. I’ll see you—”

  Cutting him off, I spat out, “You ready, Luna?”

  Dorian wasn’t royal. He didn’t have gods for parents, and he wouldn’t have registered on my radar at any other time. Today, though? He was all over my radar, and I was ready to press the small red button that lit him up.

  Being the gentleman he was, he pushed his hand forward and cocked a smile I already hated.

  Luna liked something in another man—a man that wasn’t me—and it was something that I didn’t do: smile.

  “Hi, I’m Dorian. Nice to meet you. Are you new to Seattle, too?”

  Let’s add that to the reasons I can, and will, hate him: she was talking to him more than me.

  “Sure… new. That’s what we’ll call it.”

  My voice was flat and unamused by his charms.


  He laughed, and his eyes squinted, like he wasn’t sure what that meant. Honestly, I didn’t either. My mind was processing, and her green eyes were boring into me, shouting silently to stop being me right now.

  Who I am was embarrassing her so wildly that her cheeks were a bright pink.

  “Well, my friends and I always do trivia night if you guys wanna join.” I didn’t have to watch his gaze bounce to Luna to know he was staring at her as she broke eye contact with me. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Amazing job today!”

  She moved around me swiftly to the car door and slid in without a word in my direction.

  This was the least amount of space between us in months.

  I would take the smallest inch, if it meant closing the gap more and even if it was with the stiff version of Luna slumped against the leather of my seats.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it,” she was seething under her pale skin, and all I did was speak one confusing sentence to the guy.

  “Talk about what, Luna? How much I clearly embarrass you or about your boss you’re very much into?”

  “You aren’t my boyfriend, Nyx.”

  I sat back after twisting the key in the ignition and letting the shock sink in.

  Luna doesn’t hurt people—not on purpose or otherwise. What happened with Cheyanne was forced.

  What was happening now? Beats me. Guess the bad side of her wanted to play, so that’s what I’d do.

  Play.

  “No, I’m not Luna. I’m the guy who isn’t forcing you to be all good or all bad like the rest of the world, but the next time you can’t sleep, don't crawl into my bed.”

  Those were the glimpses of my Luna I wouldn’t trade for anything—those moments of weakness when the nightmares would force her to actually need others the way we all needed her. She’d crawl into my bed and be so still that she hoped I wouldn’t notice.

  She always left before the sun came up, really perfecting the sneaky parts of herself.

  Luna didn’t know I knew. That was our exact problem: I saw her for what she was, and she hated it, because that meant I could see the bad parts she wanted to kick to the curb.