Chapter 51: BONUS 3 | Rejected Hearts

B O N U S 3

Rejected Hearts

Malia Jafari-Carrington didn't cry.

Tears never saved her before, and they certainly wouldn't save her now.

She'd spent many nights and years shedding tears alone in her bedroom, but nothing ever changed. Nothing got better. So why bother now?

And besides, when you play a large part in bringing destruction into your own life, do you even have the right to cry about it?

You did this to yourself, Malia.

Despite how loud and clear his scolding was in her head, she knew it was simply that—in her head. He wasn't here. This might've been his beach house and his money used to throw the party, but he wasn't actually here, and that was a small blessing in itself.

Blessings like that rarely occurred in her life, and on the slight chance when they did, she surely always found a way to ruin it.

"You wanna go first?"

Jalen's low, deep voice broke her out of her thoughts. That was their usual question when leaving, both knowing going separately helped them escape their schoolmates' questioning. She breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that they finally graduated—they'd be done with all of this high school stuff.

But that heavy weight on her shoulders didn't lessen.

She shook her head, remaining on the bed and slowly reaching for her phone. She couldn't go out there now. Not like this. There was only so much inner turmoil she could hide.

"No, you go first. I'm gonna hang back for a few."

"Just long enough so it's not obvious, right? You're not gonna stay hauled up in here?"

She could hear the panic in his tone, and she silently thanked the universe for granting her another small blessing—a best friend who disliked talking about their problems as much as she did. Jalen knew enough already, and he must've known that this wasn't the place or time to get into it.

"I'll be out in ten minutes, like we always do."

The smile she sent didn't seem to ease his worries at all, but the blue eyed boy nodded his head and turned anyway. "Alright, I'll see you."

Her grip on her phone tightened, the sadness in Jalen's voice reaching her. She hated burdening him with her own issues—a main reason they never talked about it. They both had so much of their own mess going on, that the second their troubles were out in the open, it was too hard to sit there and psychoanalyze everything. Unless a new problem arose, there was no point in discussing what was already wrong when neither of them could offer a solution.

As badly as Malia wished she could solve every one of Jalen's issues, she knew she had no way of doing so. She'd choose to fix his problems before her own, simply because for the last seven years, he'd truly been all she had, and their bond was sometimes the only thing keeping her going.

"See you," she said in a low voice, unsure if he heard her or not.

The slightest pressure built behind her eyes, but Malia blinked hard. She wouldn't cry. Not here, not now, not like this.

Hoping to distract herself, she placed her attention on her phone, and suppressed the urge to groan in annoyance when she noticed she had a missed call and text message from her mother.

Why did I think I'd be granted a second of peace on my birthday?

She slowly opened the message, instantly regretting it as she read it over.

Mom: Kendrick got you the job at Carring-Co. I know you seemed against it when we first discussed this, but I promise, this'll be good for you. Think of it as another birthday gift.

Malia couldn't think of this as a gift or as anything remotely good for her. All working at Kendrick Carrington's company would do is give him another way of watching her.

That might not have always been his goal, but for a few years now, all Kendrick cared about when it came to her was watching her, silencing her.

Malia sighed and exited from the message, choosing not to reply, at least for now. She saw another unread text, this time from someone more pleasant.

Lynnie: this might sound weird, but its ur bday so fuck it. sleepover?

Malia felt herself grinning, both at the ridiculous nickname and her cousin's antics. The girl hadn't changed at all, just as her contact name in Malia's phone hadn't. Being called Lynnie by Noah always annoyed Lyndon when they were younger, and Malia had purposely saved the girl's name as that when they first got phones in the middle of fifth grade.

That playfulness didn't last too long, though, because the girls barely had their exciting new phones for a few months before Lyndon's family moved. In a matter of seconds, Malia's cousins, aunt, and uncle left, and she gained a stepfather and stepbrothers.

She felt emptier than she should have with the new additions to her family, and that same hollowness consumed her now as she reread Lyndon's text.

Lyndon might have remained the same—just as aggressive and impulsive as Malia remembered—but Malia had done a whole one-eighty. Things had completely changed between them, and she knew Lyndon felt it. As much as Malia wanted to go back in time, redo so many things that happened, and fix this relationship with her cousin... she couldn't.

Just seeing the familiar sleepover? text they'd send one another at family gatherings before running to their parents to ask for permission caused Malia's throat to tighten. Too many other memories of the last time she'd truly been happy flooded her, and she worried being around Lyndon would just be more pain.

Losing Lyndon when she moved was the first bad thing to happen to Malia.

Well, other than her dad leaving, but that nonexistent relationship and sting of abandonment wasn't something she ever wanted to think about.

But despite all the bad feelings that came along with thinking of her childhood with her cousin and wanting to distance herself to lessen some of that pain, Malia always cared for the girl. It was why she truly wished Jalen and Lyndon could have worked their relationship out.

Right after Malia lost Lyndon and their bond, she gained Jalen and theirs. She knew they were almost the same exact person, had a lot of the same tendencies. She figured they'd work because of the fact that they were so alike.

Now, she figured they didn't work because they were so alike. Maybe two people that were so similar couldn't actually be together.

Everything good and bad reflects in the other person—and sometimes, when you're so unhappy with your own self, it's hard to look at someone that's your mirror image.

Malia wasn't sure how Lyndon felt about herself and her life, and she knew better than to guess or judge someone based on the little that she knew. After all, she knew it was easy to hide behind a facade.

But Malia knew Jalen to a certain extent, and she knew he hated himself almost as much as she hated her own self.

And she should've already known that two people who were eerily similar couldn't be together. She experienced it firsthand, having had her own relationship—or, nonrelationship, for that matter—that was torn apart before ever truly beginning because he was too much like her.

Then again, Malia found her complete opposite after that, and he ended up being another nightmare she'd have to fight off.

Her phone buzzed again, and Malia glanced down, faster this time. She felt guilty for not already answering Lyndon's text. But this next text wasn't from her.

Mom: Will you take the job? For me?

The guilt she'd been feeling hadn't subsided at all when she realized it had been her mother texting again. Instead, the same rush of guilt that'd been coursing through Malia for years now grew stronger.

Mom: Do it for Kendrick? I know he'd love to have you at the company, just like he always wanted the boys there.

Malia's eyes rolled on their own accord, like they always did when her mother pulled this card. She could handle the guilt tripping when it came to her mother and the strain Malia put on her marriage to Kendrick, but to mention the man himself? Make it seem as if he truly cared about having a relationship with her?

And then to mention his sons.

What, did her mother think taking the job would help Malia fill the void Kendrick felt over losing his children?

She knew she'd never be a daughter to Kendrick, that he never wanted her to be. She didn't want to be his daughter back then, and she sure as hell didn't want to be his daughter now.

Even her twelve year old sister didn't consider the man who'd been in their lives for seven years to be a father. He never tried taking on the role, so why should they—why should she—take on the role of daughter?

Another glance at her mother's text, however, reminded Malia that she did have a role as a daughter. It might not have been to Kendrick, but it was to her mother, and after all the problems Malia had forced her mother to face, maybe she did owe her this.

Okay, she slowly typed back, I'll take the job.

Her stomach swarmed with regret the second she hit send, and when a schedule followed by rules for this new job came her way seconds later, she felt like throwing up.

But this could've been Malia's way out of her house. She had no college plans, she had no idea what she even wanted to do with her life. Every other decision hadn't ever truly been hers, so why not allow her mother to establish this career for her?

Her voice never mattered anyway.

The door swung open, causing Malia to drop her phone and look up.

Part of her hoped Jalen was back, maybe he could've talked this decision over with her. She was sure he wouldn't offer up any real advice—he never did—but just bouncing the idea off of someone, and venting out her worries over taking this job, could ease her in some way or another.

But it wasn't Jalen standing in the doorway. It was his other best friend, David Williams.

A barely consumed bottle of Patrón was in one of his hands, while the other maintained a grip that seemed to be tightening on the doorknob. His dark brown eyes met hers, and it was quiet for a moment, until a devious smirk overtook his face and the loud sounds of her ongoing birthday party returned.

"Why do I always find you like this?"

Malia slowly rolled her eyes and reached for her phone again, quickly losing interest in the conversation that had barely begun. "Probably because you have a nasty habit of barging in without knocking."

A light chuckle escaped him, and she could hear him taking a small step into the room, but her eyes stood trained on her phone. "You know all about my nasty habits."

She made a sound of disgust. "Get over yourself, David."

"I'd rather get over you... or under. Whichever you prefer," he said, and she looked up in time to catch the sly wink he sent her way.

"I'd need the rest of that bottle before that happens," she quickly replied, mimicking his wink.

Another laugh came from him, this one sounding lower than the first. "We both know that's not true."

She swallowed hard, tempted to look away but determined to show how unaffected she was. "Maybe it wasn't back then," she said, rising from her spot on the bed, "but it certainly is now."

His eyes followed her as she stepped back into the dangerously high heels she kicked off earlier. "You sure about that?"

Malia bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from replying. This was typical for them—a few snarky remarks, harmless flirting, and they'd both move on with their day. But something about this felt different than those times, and all too familiar to... Well, to times that they had both sworn to leave in the past.

The noise of the ongoing party seemed to fade once more. Everything else sounded further away, and if Malia closed her eyes, she could almost feel like they were back at the beginning.

But she kept them open, knowing that was a risky slope she didn't want to fall down again. Not with him, or anyone else.

"You shouldn't be hiding away," David continued, seeming to brush over the fact that she hadn't answered his question. "Not on your birthday."

Malia's eyes narrowed as his hand slipped off the doorknob, letting the door almost fall closed. "You know birthdays mean nothing to me."

He hummed, eyes glancing around the room before coming back to hers. "Yeah, birthdays never mean shit when you don't have anything worth celebrating."

She refrained from rolling her eyes at the dig he'd thrown in there—purposely pointing out that she truly had nothing. "You know all about that," she replied, grinning when his eyes slightly hardened. "Especially now that we've graduated. No more games."

David stepped closer and smiled down at her. It was an innocent smile, one that rarely ever came to his face. It was almost kind and gentle. Completely misleading, because those were two things David was definitely not.

If Malia hadn't known him so well, she'd have brought it. Started to think he purposely came here looking for her so they could be alone, so they could talk.

"That's true," he said softly, eyes roaming her face. "High school's over, so I guess my days spent playing games are too."

She glanced down at the bottle in his hand, wondering if that was his first of the night or if he'd already downed another, and that was why this one was still almost full. He sounded too honest and too sincere to be sober.

"Or," he called out teasingly, still smiling down at her, letting his white teeth shine against his darker skin. "I can have one last high school experience."

Malia let out a humorless laugh. "And does this high school experience entail hooking up at a classmate's party?" she asked, though she already knew the answer from the way his grin grew larger.

"Oh yeah," he said with his own laugh. "What's more high school than making one last stupid, drunken mistake?"

"Nothing, I guess," she replied, eyes moving to the door. Maybe it was time to go.

When she looked back to him, she realized he had followed her line of sight. "You don't wanna help me with my last high school deed?"

She scoffed. "Despite how much I'd love too," she said with a very dramatic eye roll, "I'd rather check up on my guests and see how everyone's doing."

Just as she went to step around him, he blocked her path, leaving them closer than they were before.

Closer than they'd been in a while.

"Come on," he said jokingly. "Everyone knows the best way to end high school."

"And what is that?" she asked in the most uninterested tone she could muster.

A smirk came to his full lips, making him look more handsome than usual—despite how ugly the intentions behind that smirk always were.

"You have to hook up with the prettiest, most popular, easiest chick at the party."

And there it was—the ugly intentions, the ugly words.

His laugh flooded the room, and Malia could smell the liquor on his breath, confirming her previous thoughts that he was in no way close to sober right now. He hardly ever was at these parties, and despite how alarming that was for someone so young, she didn't give one single fuck right now.

Not when he just said that.

Malia didn't want to be the prettiest. She didn't want to be considered popular, and she certainly didn't want to be called easy. Yet, that was how everyone saw her. That was the title given to her. Jalen got to be King and David got to be his right hand man, and Malia was given this.

She took a step back, and suddenly David's laughter stopped. Usually, when he picked at the right wound and truly got to her, a victory smile coated his face. But this time, he actually looked worried, or maybe it was the liquor getting to him.

"Malia, I..."

"What?" she asked harshly, practically spitting the syllable out. He said nothing else, grip tightening on his bottle. "That's what I thought."

Taking a step forward, she purposely bumped his shoulder with hers, then yanked the door open with much more force than necessary.

"Malia, come on," he called out behind her, sucking his teeth in what sounded like annoyance. "It was a fucking joke. Lighten up."

She turned, glancing at his glossy eyes and that barely touched bottle. "I'm sure it was," she told him, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. "Just a piece of advice: before you go around telling jokes, you should sober the fuck up."

She walked out, slamming the door behind her. Once she was further down the hall, she leaned against the wall and took in a deep breath.

She hadn't been this angry in a while, she didn't allow herself to get so worked up over every harsh thing said about her, because there were just so many going around. A lot of times, David himself was relaying those rumors with a laugh to her, adding his own jokes. Maybe he was always just playing around, maybe he wasn't. It didn't even matter to her anymore.

The truth was, for a moment, something felt different between her and David in that room. And she was honestly more upset with herself for ever thinking she meant anything more to him than sex, than she was angry at what he actually said.

You'll never learn, Malia.

Her phone buzzed continuously in her hand, and she'd almost forgotten that she still had it with her. She glanced down to see who was calling, but all she saw was an unknown number.

Kenneth?

She shook her head, ridding herself of him and any worries she almost let herself feel at the thought.

Even if he did somehow get her new number, she definitely wasn't going to answer.

The phone buzzed once more, this time indicating a text was sent from the same number that had just called.

Unknown Number: Happy birthday, kid.

Only three words, yet Malia knew it wasn't Kenneth, and had a good guess as to who it was.

Unknown Number: Don't get creeped out, but... I'm outside the beach house.

Unknown Number: Mind gracing me with your presence and coming out back to talk?

She was more confused than anything. If her guess was right—and judging by the messages, she was certain she was—he should be in France right now. Not here, in New York, apparently right outside.

She took another second to think it over, before replying okay and heading out. There was a small hallway that led to the backdoor. There was another, but in order to reach it she'd need to pass everyone still here from the party earlier.

Despite the fact that it was her party in her house for her birthday, she felt like a mere stranger to the place and everyone there.

As she opened the door and stepped out into the muggy air, she took in the cobblestone pathway that led to the enormous backyard that was packed with a pool, many lounging chairs, and another pathway to reach the private beach most of her lingering guests had moved too.

Again, familiarity filled her, just as it had earlier—but this time, it was with someone else. Many spring and summer nights she spent coming up here with Jalen and their friends, just to get away for a bit. But her most prominent memories included Jalen using the time to be with Elena, and inturn, Malia spent her time with Elena's best friend.

She spotted his figure standing by the makeshift waterfall that flowed into the large pool, and her steps slowed as she approached. His light brown eyes found hers, a kind smile following, and on instinct she grinned in returned.

There was Anthony Rousso, standing in her backyard—somewhere she never thought either of them would be again.

She had tried avoiding them seeing each other again, mainly because of her annoyance at him, but apparently, he wasn't going away—not that easily.

"Of all the beach houses, in all the towns, in all the world, he walks into mine," she said in greeting.

A larger smile came to his face, clearly remembering the line from a movie they'd watched together, something Elena had picked and that the rest of them suffered through. Secretly, though, Malia enjoyed the movie, and Anthony quickly picked up on that fact—even going as far as to call her kid in honor of the here's looking at you, kid line.

"How many years later, and you're still quoting Casablanca?"

"It's a classic," she defended with a shrug, unable to keep her smile off as she once more remembered Elena defending the movie in the same way.

Her smile stood intact as she pictured those days, with the four of them coming up here on their own, and how for the briefest moment, they'd been happy. Or at least, they all thought they were. Truth was, only Jalen had truly been happy. Malia had told herself she was, because what else was there for her?

Anthony Rousso was King of Arlin, and she'd already spent a year and a half of high school with people talking about her, her looks, and spreading rumors. That was what mattered to them, what mattered to the king, and what should've mattered to her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, figuring that was enough reminiscing.

Anthony seemed to have different ideas, eyes flickering over the entirety of the backyard before coming back to hers. "It seems like a lifetime ago, huh?"

Malia remained quiet, not in the mood to think about the past anymore. Each time she did, she was hit with reminders that she'd never get those times or anything similar to them back.

"How've you been?" he asked, smile dropping and tone filled with sincerity. "I hate that it's almost been two years since—"

"Why are you here?" She felt rude for talking over him, but the new tone of voice and look in his eyes confused her.

He seemed taken aback for a moment, before quickly recovering. "I didn't think a phone call or text would be a good way for us to talk after so long."

"I meant why are you here, as in, here in America," she clarified. "What happened to taking off for France and never coming back?"

Anthony remained quiet, seeming to carefully pick his words before speaking next, and in that moment, Malia questioned his true intentions for coming here.

"I wanted to talk," he finally answered, eyes watching her every move.

"To me?" she questioned. "You came to America to talk... to me?"

He stood silent again, and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't know what to say or this wasn't going as he planned, but she quickly realized what was happening.

There was a chance he had feelings for her, and they must've developed after he left, because he never showed that back then. It was merely fun, and convenient, since their best friends were dating and always together. She didn't have feelings then, and she didn't have any now. Being with him was what she was supposed to do, not what she truly wanted.

But did her wants matter? Did they or would they ever?

She wasn't even sure what she wanted. She just knew it wasn't this.

"It sounds a little ridiculous when you say it like that," he said with a light chuckle. "But, yeah, I really came back just to talk with you. I had to see my family, of course, but this was always the goal."

Malia refrained from laughing, not wanting to hurt his feelings that he was subtly putting out there. But the whole thing was almost laughable. Not once did he show any interest in being in a real relationship, and maybe that was because he was fighting off engagements from his parents every other week, but privately he could have said something. Given any sort of hint that he cared about her in some way.

But instead, he'd played his role as King. And if his antics while keeping up that title weren't enough, he'd done another thing that caused Malia to never have the ability to truly develop feelings for him—he hurt Jalen.

Anthony left Jalen with the burden of marrying Cortney, the title of King, and a broken heart. Malia knew he encouraged Elena to move on too fast from her previous boyfriend, and Jalen's heart got played in the process.

Elena eventually realized what Malia always knew: it didn't matter if it'd been a year or two or ten. Travis Carrington's death was... indescribable. It left too much of an impact on both of them, in very different ways. Jalen's love—no matter how pure and honest—wasn't going to mend Elena's pain, just as nothing would ever mend Malia's.

And Anthony knew all of this as much as Malia had, and yet he still encouraged the relationship anyway. He pushed for it for reasons Malia didn't care to hear.

Anthony's eyes shone with understanding under the bright stars, and he nodded while taking a step back from Malia. "I guess I wasted my time then."

She looked to the ground and kept silent, again not wanting to cause him any pain, but not having enough energy to try soothing him. Rejection stung—she knew that, and she could only hope his feelings didn't run deep enough that this would bother him any longer.

"I knew I'd regret not saying anything before I left," he said in a low voice. "I was going to. But you were with Jalen."

Malia looked up at his words, finding Anthony's brown eyes once more. She ignored how similar they were to Cortney's, and how being with the girl's brother had probably caused more of an unnecessary rift between them.

Another mistake to add to the long list.

"It was right after Elena... you know," he said, eyes flashing to the ground as if remembering.

It was clear in Malia's mind. The memorial dedicated to Travis outside, the stories of him told during what was supposed to be his prom, and Elena's eventual breakdown that led to Jalen's eventual heartbreak.

"You were comforting him, and I... I couldn't get myself to go over. I couldn't see him like that." Anthony's voice sounded full of sincerity, honesty, sorrow. Even pain. "He never mentioned it or blamed me, of course, but... I know the part I played in it."

Malia nodded, still not feeling the need to voice anything. She always knew the role Anthony played.

"We'll always have Paris," she chose to finally say, hoping he'd get her subtle goodbye with the movie quote.

He chuckled, despite the sadness creeping onto his face. "Yeah," he agreed with a nod. "And truthfully, if you ever find yourself around there, know you're always welcomed at my place, kid."

She couldn't see herself taking him up on the offer, especially anytime soon, but it felt nice to know that despite every other relationship—romantic or not—in her life, at least one got proper closure. Or, the closest thing to it.

She only wished she could do this with everything and everyone else. Maybe then the weight on her shoulders would disappear, or at least lessen.

"Before I go," Anthony called out just as Malia took a step back. "Could you... say hi to Jalen for me."

Malia narrowed her eyes, knowing the boys had spoken and were fine at Jalen's birthday party in November. As she passed by them, trying and failing to make sure Anthony wouldn't see her, she caught snippets of their conversation—engagements and games had really been all she heard, both agreeing that they hated them.

Why couldn't Anthony talk to Jalen himself now?

"And can you tell him that I said sorry," he added lowly, refusing to meet her eye. "For everything I sent his way, and how it's still affecting him today."

"If it ever comes up, then sure," she replied.

She'd make no promises to mention any of this to Jalen. Whether Jalen knew the extent of Anthony's involvement or not, it didn't matter. Mentioning it would most likely open old wounds for the boy, and Malia was almost one-hundred percent sure that the broken heart he had after Elena never truly healed. Even after everything with Lyndon.

It seemed like there was just something about a first crush, first love, first heartbreak that would never really go away—no matter how much time went by.

Malia walked back up the pathway toward the house, feeling firmer in her decision to turn Anthony away with every step she took. Even he admitted he caused Jalen's pain, that he knew he was as he did it, and she couldn't look past that.

After heading back inside, she walked down the hall and paused when she heard footsteps.

She instinctively followed them, and then froze as she found Noah patting Lyndon's back—a little rougher than necessary—before heading down the opposite hallway, leaving Lyndon standing in front of her room.

"Lyndon?" she called out, voice barely above a whisper.

The girl turned, pale blue eyes coming into view. She wasn't crying, but something about those eyes screamed that she wasn't okay right now.

Malia guessed it was Jalen related, but she wouldn't dare say that out loud. She and Lyndon weren't in the same place they'd been in before—sharing and talking about it wasn't what they did anymore.

She felt her chest clench at the reminder, and despite her unexpected and short reconciliation with Anthony, she knew that was all she'd be getting for tonight—and probably for forever.

Every other messed up relationship in her life was so much harder to mend.

From the second Lyndon moved back, Malia wanted nothing more than to go back to how they were. But the more she was around her, the quicker she realized that wouldn't happen, and so she kept her distance as best as she could.

But tonight, catching Lyndon looking on the verge of breaking, it was almost impossible to turn away.

Almost.

Malia slightly shifted, ready to say goodnight and be on her way. But she heard Lyndon step closer.

"You didn't answer my text," she said in a low voice. Surprisingly, there had been no anger or bitterness in her tone. "Did that mean no?"

Malia blanked, having forgotten all about the message with everything else that happened since she'd read it.

Her eyes scanned Lyndon, taking in her slumped shoulders and frown. "If you want to, we can."

Lyndon sighed, seeming unpleased with the reply. "No, it's fine. I have to be up really early to leave anyway. I thought I'd stay for breakfast, but..." she paused, eyes glancing down the hall as if checking for someone. "I don't think I can."

Malia listened intently, wondering if Jalen was around the corner. Had they spoken after he left the room? Did they fight? Surely they didn't make up or have a productive conversation, otherwise Lyndon wouldn't be standing here looking so... broken.

Was it a fucking family trait to be this miserable all the time?

"I was thinking..." Malia began, not taking the time to truly think it over despite her words. "Since you're gonna be in Miami for a while before heading off to Brown, maybe I could... visit?"

Lyndon seemed to perk up at that, a rare smile coming to her face. "You know what," she began, laughing as she said the words, "I think I'd really like that."

"Good," Malia said with a nod, letting out her own laugh, even if it came off a little awkward.

If Lyndon caught it, she didn't acknowledge it, instead continuing to smile at Malia. Then she stepped closer. "Don't be alarmed. I'm gonna hug you."

Her lanky arms were thrown around Malia seconds later, and she chuckled, loosely hugging her back.

The hug was brief, and the girls pulled away with small, matching smiles after.

Maybe they couldn't get back the relationship they lost, but maybe they could rebuild a new one.

I missed you, Lynnie, she was tempted to say.

"Well, I'm heading to bed," Lyndon called out with a grin. "Night, cuzzo."

She was in her room and shutting the door behind her seconds later, but Malia still smiled anyway.

And then, that familiar loneliness hit, stronger this time now with the reminders of everything she had lost.

As she passed through part of the living room to reach the opposite hallway, she poured herself a glass of scotch and downed it—hating the taste, but savoring the burn.

She hardly ever drank, only giving in on special occasions—like her birthday, or the anniversary of her stepbrothers' deaths. Two days she hated more than anything.

They both reminded her of what she'd lost, just as this terrible night had.

Anthony had left two years ago, but a proper conversation between them didn't happen until now. Now, she could tell he was truly gone. Travis was a loss she couldn't even stand to think of. Lyndon, it seemed like they could eventually be okay, and then David. Had she lost him?

Can't lose someone you never had.

Did it even matter? David was always an asshole, especially to her, and he had been from the moment they met. She always saw it as jealously over having to share Jalen. Malia entered the group last, and she could tell that Eli and Danny were a pair while David and Jalen were one. But that didn't stop her and Jalen from becoming close, and she knew he considered her to be his best friend as much as she considered him to be hers. She always guessed David's stupid and sometimes harsh comments came from feeling left out.

But the old, stupid saying that boys are mean to the girls they like echoed around her mind once they'd all reached high school, and Malia had begun to wonder if the saying applied to David.

It took her too long to understand that this saying and boys will be boys wasn't the right way to view those things. But that didn't make them completely wrong. She'd learned that boys did horrendous things, sometimes even to the girls they claimed they wanted.

Even when the girl didn't want them at all.

A shiver crawled down her spine at the thought, and she shook it away before allowing it to go any further.

David was someone she had actually wanted. She could pinpoint the exact moment she had realized that, and the same feeling that drove her to wanting him back then was the same feeling driving her to want him now.

I'm tired of being alone.

Finding herself back in front of the room she'd left him in earlier, she both hoped he was still in there and that he wasn't—so she'd have a reason to not do this.

This was a dangerous thread to pull at. They weren't merely young teens figuring out their feelings anymore. They were practically adults, now officially eighteen. This wasn't the time for silly mistakes.

But when the door swung open before she could even knock, revealing David standing there staring down at her, she couldn't ignore the heat pooling in her stomach.

"Thought you were getting out of here?" he asked slowly, taking his time to get the words out as his eyes drifted lower.

Malia fought the urge to just push him into the room. Despite showing up here, she still couldn't be the one to make the first move. She wouldn't make it easy for him, or any other man.

After all, her body had been all men wanted, something proven to her time and time again, even proven to her years ago by the one currently standing in front of her. She figured she might as well make them work for it.

David casually leaned against the door frame, not making any movements other than raising a brow at her, expecting an answer.

He knew her too well, and sometimes it worried her. While Jalen was both of their best friends, the one they enjoyed actually being around and sought out for company, he didn't get them the way they got each other.

And sometimes, getting each other so deeply the way she and David did was scary. They knew all the good, the bad, and the in between. They were too alike, everything wrong with them showing in the other.

The same way she saw Jalen and Lyndon as the same soul, she felt she and David were, and that was why trying to be together—even just like this—was messy.

She shook the thought away, deciding that it was time to shut off her mind—like she usually did at times like this.

Instead she jutted her hip out a little further, turned her full lips into a pout, and looked up at David through her lashes, knowing not many could resist the look.

And no matter how much David hated her, even he couldn't resist it. She learned that long ago.

Malia watched as his eyes swept over her once before settling on her lips as he clenched his jaw.

"Well, I'm not sure why you're back here," he spoke first, eyes back to hers with a deeper voice that caused the heat she was feeling to spread lower. "But I hope you plan on staying for a while."

Malia let her lips turn into a small smirk, taking the smallest step closer, but not daring to pass the threshold. "If that's what you really want me to do."

David's eyes went lower again, before finding hers once more. "I want you to do a lot of things."

Rather than giving Malia a chance to reply, his arm shot out and gripped her waist, tugging her in the room.

She expected his next action, but even then, she still couldn't help but gasp when her back roughly hit the door in an attempt to shut it. David was in front of her a second later, leaving barely any space between their bodies as one hand remained low on her waist and the other slammed against the door by her head.

"Care to share some of those things you want me to do?" she teased while reaching out a hand to lightly trace his bicep.

His eyes stood on hers, licking his lips before replying. "I'd much rather show you."

The wicked smile that came to his handsome face after had her toes already curling, and he hadn't even touched her yet.

Then, for a second, it looked like he was going to say something else, and she instantly worried what'd come out of that mouth.

Despite how talented those beautiful lips were, when they were doing anything other than pleasuring her, she hated them.

It was no secret that she and David knew how to verbally go after each other, each taking advantage of the fact that they were practically the same—meaning they knew how to cut deep and draw blood when needed.

She hoped he would just shut up, and not say anything to ruin this. If he decided to be cruel now, of all times, she'd have to try scraping at the little bit of self-esteem she had left and convince herself to leave the room.

But thankfully, whatever bullshit David was going to say left his mind, and he instead tucked a strand of Malia's hair behind her ear.

It felt a little too intimate and gentle for them, causing Malia's brows to furrow. Her eyes fluttered around the room, trying to locate the bottle and see exactly how much David drank, but when she looked to his face again, those sinful lips formed another wicked grin, and all other thoughts left her mind.

He finally pressed his lips to hers, and it felt good, like they were back at the beginning—at least for now.