Revive (A Redemption Novel) Page 3

  “I wish I was best friends with those Michaels twins like you are,” Bethany says. A little bit taller than I am, she rests her elbow on my shoulder and chews her gum loudly in my ear. Like every lunchtime, we’re all circled around the edges of the handball courts while all the boys try and outplay one another.

  It’s a pit of teenage hormones, where the girls watch like vultures, and the boys perform for us. Showing off who’s funnier, smarter, and stronger. But it’s all a charade and completely unnecessary. All the boys know there’s only two of them all the girls want; Hendrix, and Jagger. My boys. My best friends.

  I’ve lived next door to Jagger and Hendrix my whole life. Hanging out on the decrepit streets of Sydney’s South West, we became inseparable. Through the years the dirt and grime of our surroundings faded away, as we replaced them with a solid foundation of friendship, trust and loyalty. To everyone else they’re deprived of positive influences; rough, misguided, and unpolished. To me, they’re boys who stand proudly as men in spite of all that. They’re my protectors; walls of steel hiding their truths, and gladly accepting the judgement, and labels; waiting for the moment where they’ll show the world just how wrong she can be.

  “I would be happy with either one of them,” she continues.

  Since we all came back from our summer holidays, school has been filled with endless amount of conversations of who’s with who and who wants to be with who. Namely how the Michaels twins filled out, and how every girl is suddenly ready for them to be their first.

  Looking straight ahead, I watch Jagger and Hendrix standing side by side, commanding all the attention around them. Animatedly they tell a story, throwing their heads back with laughter, and earning high fives and cheers from the boys who so desperately want to be them.

  Their physical traits are too similar for anyone to notice how different they are. Jagger is night, and Hendrix is day. One can’t function without the other, and together it’s a beautiful blend of everything they have to offer. And the older we get, the more time we spend together the, harder it is to ignore.

  “I’m going to talk to them.” Bethany rights herself and starts adjusting her clothes; opening the buttons on her school shirt, allowing the top of her boobs to peek through. “Come with me,” she murmurs, her mouth open, and a cherry flavoured lip gloss circling her plump lips. Bethany is like a dog with a bone. A gorgeous dog with a bone that’s impossible to ignore. She can be obnoxious and annoying, but how she looks on the outside is enough to turn all the teenage boys inside out. She won’t let her obsession go until she has a reason too, and for now, she’s dug her claws into the idea of her hooking up with either of them.

  In the blink of an eye, irritation consumes me. “Do you have to chew so loudly?” I shake her arm off me and bend to pick up my bag.

  “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing,” I lie. “I need to get to class.”

  Just like everybody else, I’m consumed by those damn Michaels twins. An unexplainable sense of protection and possession draws me to Jagger. A desperate need to keep his beauty to myself because nobody else deserves it. But with Hendrix, it’s a selfish obsession. One where every day starts with applying subtle hints of mascara and lip gloss in the mirror. Wearing my hair a little different, my clothes a little tighter. A little shorter. For him, I’m desperate to cross lines and break out of the friend zone. But the fear of rejection and losing my best friend fuels my insecurities. It’s a matter of what I want versus what’s right.

  Bethany walks toward him, and jealousy begins to simmer underneath the surface. I can’t watch her flirt with him, and him enjoy it. I need to leave before my blood boils, and my best-kept secret overflows from my mouth and into the wrong ears.

  Turning away, I head in the direction of my next class. Even though I'm unsure of what to do next, I do know it’s beginning to impact our friendship. I’ve been avoiding him, instead of admitting my feelings, and it feels like the loss and change between us is inevitable.

  “Sasha, wait up.” My feet move faster. “Sash,” he repeats, his voice closer, his body beside me in no time. “My legs are twice the length of yours, where do you think you’re getting away to so fast?”

  “Drix. Hey,” I respond nonchalantly. “I didn’t hear you.”

  He shakes his head and smiles. “Why do you even bother lying to me? What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head and shrug, for the first time feeling defeated that he knows me so well. We step together in silence. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Eventually, a loud sigh leaves my mouth. Resigned by his patience, the words tumble out quicker than I’d like, the familiarity of telling him everything coaxing the truth out of me.

  “I just needed to get away from everyone, Bethany was talking my ear off and I wasn’t really in the mood for it.”

  “Tell me about it, she was doing my head in too.”

  I look at him expectantly, wanting more of an explanation.

  “She’s just becoming so obvious.”

  My eyes narrow together. “Obvious?”

  “Yeah, you know? The arm touching, the fake laughing. It’s kinda hard to miss.”

  “Oh.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  “The attention is nice, but it would be better from the right girl. Bethany’s more Jagger’s type.”

  Stopping outside my class, I let my backpack fall to the floor and lean my back on the rendered brick wall. He stands beside me, his shoulder brushing up against mine. My stomach flutters at his closeness. “I thought a girl that looked like her was everyone’s type.”

  He turns his head toward me, his golden brown eyes holding my attention. “Not mine.” His voice is steady and certain. His admission should mean nothing to me, and if he was anyone else I would read between the lines and take this moment as a hint; surrender to the attraction and tell the boy I’m in love with the truth.

  I purse my lips together to stop the questions. Who is your type? What is she like? Could it be me? Instead, I spin the conversation as far away from me as possible. “I don’t think it matters who your type is, Bethany plans on wearing you down.”

  “I’ll just tell her I’m interested in somebody else.”

  “Are you?” I blurt out.

  The side of his mouth rises in a slight smirk. “Maybe.”

  My gaze bounces between his mouth and eyes, and it takes all my restraint not to touch him. It wouldn’t be unusual, but it doesn’t come with the same innocence and freedom it used to. Biting the inside of my cheek, I lower my face and hide my shy smile.

  “What’s that look about?” he queries.

  I shake my head, refusing to look at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t.” The bell signalling the end of our lunch break shrieks through the hall, breaking our moment. He pushes off the wall, and begins to walk backward, away from me, and to his next class. He doesn’t say a word, but his stare might as well come with its own siren, because I hear it calling to me louder than any of the background noise that’s begun to surround us. He calls out, and I have no choice but to give him the attention he deserves. “We walking home together?”

  “When don’t we?”

  “I’m just checking, you know? In case something’s changed.”

  He knows.

  “Has it?”

  He stops in the middle of the corridor like we’re they only two people. “Only if you want it to.”

  He winks. My face heats up and my heart stops beating. Is he saying what I think he is?

  3

  Hendrix

  Two Months Later

  Casually, I push open Emerson and Jagger’s front door. Slightly ajar, I figure they’re inside busy settling in and setting up their new place. After spending all of yesterday packing and unloading both of their belongings from their separate houses, they’re finally taking the next step.

  A quick look around shows there’s no one in sight. “Honey, I’m home,
” I call out into the empty space.

  From behind the kitchen counter, a messy bun of blonde hair pops up, a familiar face attached. Nude, glossy, full lips pull up into a come-hither smile. Placing her hands on the Caesar stone counter, she leans forward. Pressing her breasts together, her cleavage peeks out from the top of her loose tank. My eyes flicker between the glimmer of mischief in her gaze and her perfectly situated body.

  A low whistle echoes throughout the room. “Well if it isn’t sexy twin number two. Honey is home, and she would love a kiss.”

  My head shakes in disbelief as my chest rumbles with laughter. “The name’s Hendrix.”

  “Oh, I know your name, but I like my name for you better.”

  Taylah is Emerson's best friend. Forced together a few times, all of our previous meetings have been fleeting, and filled with Emerson and Jagger drama. As first impressions go, she’s loud, outspoken and unapologetically unfiltered.

  She walks around the bench, and the full length of her body comes into view. Her black jeans grip her body tight, accentuating every curve perfectly. Her tank is shorter in the front showing off her porcelain midriff, and I kick myself for being too self-centred to notice what a delectable package she is.

  Lifting herself up on the edge of the kitchen bench, she crosses her legs, and leans back on her hands, like she’s waiting for me.

  I oblige.

  It’s probably been nine or ten months since I’ve seen her, but this definitely feels like the first time. I’m not sure if it’s because the environment is different, and the interaction isn’t fuelled with tension, but I’m finding it difficult to keep my eyes focused on only her face. Stepping forward, I make my way to her.

  Taylah’s never hidden the fact she finds me attractive, and as my strides get wider and the distance between us shortens, I let the gorgeous girl with desire in her eyes inflate my ego.

  Holding her seductive pose, she radiates confidence. My large frame envelops her, an arm on either side of her thighs; her expression refusing to waver at my closeness.

  “So you’re still crazy, I see.”

  The slightest hint of a dimple in her cheek appears as a small sensual smirk graces her face. “Me?” she questions dramatically, pressing her hand to the middle of her chest.

  I raise an eyebrow at her antics, and she leans forward, bringing her mouth closer to my ear. “I prefer pandemonium in the flesh.”

  Her voice, those words, they travel straight to my dick. She knows what she wants, and after years of indecision, is there anything sexier than a woman who owns everything she is and makes you want it? “How about this?” I pull back and let my fingers discreetly graze her covered thighs. Her eyes follow the trail before we both look up at one another cravingly. “You can call me sexy twin, and I’ll call you crazy.”

  “If you fuck as good as you look, you can call me anything.”

  She continues to stun me into silence. I have had my fair share of women throw themselves at me, but this isn’t like that. It’s not fake or attention seeking. There’s no playing hard to get, mixed signals, or a worry about consequences. “Do you mean it, or do you say that shit for shock value?”

  “Ha. There’s always shock value, but it isn’t intentional, it’s just who I am.”

  “So, you want to fuck?” I study her face as the last word leaves my mouth, looking for a sliver of doubt or surprise, but she doesn’t miss a beat.

  “Are you offering?”

  “Umm, should we come back?” Emerson’s high-pitched voice breaks the spell, and we both turn to see her and Jagger in the doorway.

  “If you don’t mind us christening your house before you do, then yes, come back in a couple of hours,” Taylah’s responding to Emerson, but her eyes don’t leave mine, and her smart mouth moves just for me.

  “Hours?” Jagger scoffs. “Drix can’t last that long.” Straightening up, I turn away from Taylah and look at the two amused faces staring at us. Taking a deep breath, I give myself a small window of reprieve. A moment where I’m not thinking about taking her up on her offer and imagining us fucking in every room of Jagger’s new place.

  “Fuck you,” I jest.

  “While this thing between you all” —Emerson’s hands gesture between the three of us— “us very entertaining, can you continue it later? The four of us are going to IKEA.”

  “Really, Em? You know that place scares me.” Taylah hops off the kitchen counter, walks around me and plops her body on a piece of the dismantled couch. “You can only enter and exit one way. What’s their fire safety plan, huh?”

  “Don’t worry Taylah, Drix will carry you,” Jagger goads.

  She looks up at me and bats her eyelashes. “Promise?”

  Rolling my eyes, I stick my hand out for her to hold. “Come on, stop being so dramatic. There won’t be a fire.”

  “I can’t help it.” She takes my hand. “Crazy and drama are cousins. And since—”

  “You’re crazy. I get it.” I catch Jagger grinning like a smart arse, and I flip him the bird knowing very well what he’s thinking. “Let’s go,” I say to nobody in particular. “I’m driving.”

  “Shotgun,” Taylah shouts.

  Yep. She’s fucking crazy.

  “Babe, do we really need two of these trolleys?” Jagger asks Emerson, pushing one in my direction and grabbing another one for himself.

  “Yes, we need the extra one for Dakota’s room. I want to make sure she has all the necessities before she comes over.”

  “She’s coming over tomorrow.”

  “I know, so we better get cracking.”

  I mimic a whip hitting the ground in my brother’s direction, getting him back for his joke earlier. He sticks his finger up at me and I laugh at how lucky I am to have this back with him. I’m comforted that time and age don’t matter, he’ll always be my brother and we’ll always be in one another’s life, no matter what the world throws our way.”

  The flatbed trolley jostles underneath my hands, and I see Taylah sitting right in the middle of it. Legs crossed, comfy as fuck. “What are you doing?”

  “Sitting,” she responds casually. “This is the only way I’m going to feel safe. If there’s a fire, you’ll just mow everyone down with the trolley while running to get us out.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Come on sexy twin number two, you know you want to.”

  “Only if you drop the number two. I’m the only sexy twin.”

  “But you’re identical,” she challenges.

  “You wanna ride with me or not, Crazy?”

  She smiles. No sarcasm, no seduction, just a genuine smile that lights up her whole face. “Well then, sexy, let’s go spend Emerson and Jagger’s money.”

  We follow Jagger and Emerson who are arm in arm, constantly looking up at one another, and kissing each other whenever they can, like the thought of not touching for even a moment is too hard to bear.

  “They’re ridiculous but adorable, right?” Taylah interrupts my thoughts, the scene in front of us playing on both our minds.

  “I wouldn’t call my brother adorable, but happiness suits him.”

  She turns her whole body, so she’s facing me, her back to the rest of the store. “I can’t imagine not seeing my brother or sister for that long.”

  “You have siblings?”

  “No. Emerson is the closest thing I have to a sister and if I don’t talk to her once a day, my day doesn’t feel complete.”

  Twelve years without my brother by my side, was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever lived through, but I don’t say it out loud. That’s not who I am. I let others share their weight and burdens, but I don’t share mine. I take what I’ve been given, and do with it what I can.

  When Jagger went to prison, I learned the hard way what alone really meant. Doing the right thing by him meant I sacrificed a lot of me. He’s my brother, I have no regrets, but while Jagger might have been missing out on life behind bars, I was out, free, and feeli
ng as locked up as he was.

  “You and Emerson that close, huh?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “That close and then some. Before your boy here took up all her time, we were inseparable.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “What? That he takes up all her time?”

  I nod, answering her question.

  “Fuck, no. Look how happy she is.” We both stop and watch them laughing at one another while they look at different bookshelves. Taylah brings her focus back to me, our eyes back on one another. “You’re not the only one who can be selfless, Sexy.”

  “She’s going to love the way you’ve set up this room for her.” Jagger and I are finishing off setting up the last piece of furniture in Dakota’s new room. Accompanying her new bed, there’s a bookshelf, a desk, and a huge cork board that she can use to stick all her photos up on. It’s missing her personal touch, but I know once she sees it, she’ll do everything she can to make it her second home.

  “I just want her to know wherever I go, she goes.”

  “You’ve been doing a great job, bro. She loves you.”

  “I still can’t believe I have all this. I’m out and here with you, and Em and Dakota. It’s almost been a year and it still feels like a dream.”

  “It’s real. You’ve earned every bit of happiness you have. And this isn’t the end, more will be coming your way.”

  “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

  “Even though I think you’re wrong, it doesn’t matter because you’re here. Right now. And that’s what’s most important.”

  A knock on the door sounds before Taylah’s head pops in. “You guys down for pizza and beer or Chinese and beer?”

  “Pizza and beer,” Jagger and I respond in unison.

  “God, how often do you two practice that?” she asks before walking out and shutting the door behind her.

  Scanning the floor, I pick up loose plastic, nuts, bolts and whatever tools we used to assemble the furniture.