Ky awoke alone. He lay in bed on his side with eyes cracked open blearily to the morning light, and tried to get his bearings. He dreamed the oddest thing. It was so very strange. Strange and, well, amazing.

Very amazing. Hot and crazy good. Still, it was really strange.

Ky squinted at the curtains and sighed softly. He felt weary and tired still. There might be something wrong in his head. Seriously, it was a really messed up thing to dream about. It was probably a sign he needed to get a boyfriend or something. It was one thing to have a wet dream about a guy. It was totally another to have one about a guy who he wasn’t certain was fully human.

He took him hard, completely, then held him until he drifted to sleep. Tasted and cleaned him all while purring soothingly. He was like some strange animal, human but not. Damn, it was good.

Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with his head.

Ky forced his sluggish limbs to move and rolled out of bed. The blanket dragged behind him around his waist. He was exhausted. Maybe his days of running up and down the stairs with heavy boxes were finally catching up.

Ky frowned and his stomach twisted as something hot and wet dripped down his thigh. He untangled from the blanket to find he was completely nude. Ky swallowed hard and looked around for his boxers. He could have just kicked them off in his sleep. Just got overheated. It didn’t mean he…

He found them in the sheets torn to shreds as if a wild animal clawed them. “Oh, fuck.” Ky gnawed on his bottom lip painfully as he thought. He hesitantly touched the wetness on his thigh and followed it up. His fingers brushed over his dripping pucker, and he groaned lowly. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, it wasn’t a dream.”

It had to be a dream. It had to be. His hole was leaking cum, and Ky had not, to the best of his knowledge, put his own up there, so there really was only one explanation. “Oh, dear god.”

He refused to look at the bed. Ky walked quickly to the bathroom, shut the door tightly behind him, and locked it. It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t some sort of humanoid creature living under his bed. Fuck, there better be. Otherwise there was just a weirdo human under his bed, and somehow that would be totally creepier. Especially with the rat eating.

What the hell did he do?

Ky stepped into the large shower and scrubbed himself pink while he tried to make sense of what he could remember of last night. The dark. Whatever the creature was, it lived in the dark. Almost like it crossed a portal or something.

Ky gasped and closed his eyes with a whimper when he washed between his crack. It felt good. No matter what the creature was, he felt so damn good. Ky slowly pushed a soap covered finger inside his entrance and groaned from the sensation of his flesh opening. Lovely felt big inside him. Powerful and forceful. Ky didn’t know he wanted to be taken, but after last night…

Hell, why couldn’t it have just been a dream?

Ky whimpered a mix of agony and despair, and pressed his face against the cool tile wall. The shower streamed hot water down his body while he pushed a second finger deep inside his hole. He gasped into the water as he stretched his sore entrance and cum dripped out around his thrusting fingers. He should be horrified. Disgusted. Hell, he should be looking for a shotgun, or knife or something to protect himself. He wasn’t any of those things. He was apparently really fucked in the head, and even more than that, horny as hell.

With eyes closed, Ky listened to the sounds of his muffled cries and beneath that, his fingers moving in and out of his hole with the wet noises of slapping flesh. He wanted the creature to own him. At that moment in the dark with Lovely sliding so full and thick inside him, Ky wanted truly to be owned. He didn’t know what it meant, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it now as he pushed a third finger inside his hot flesh and moaned loudly.

He came fast, surprisingly so. He was painfully aroused from thoughts of last night, and his fingers rubbed something spongy and maddening inside him that made him cry out. Ky stared blankly down at his cum streaked over the shower wall while he kept his fingers buried deep inside. God, what was wrong with him? He got off on, on something. What was it? Who was he?

He should go see. He should go into the bedroom, grab a flashlight, and see whoever the hell it was living under his bed.

Ky finished his shower reluctantly. The water turned cold and finally convinced him to pull away. He dried off slowly. His hair was slick on his head as he wrapped up in a towel and stepped into the bedroom. He stared at the bed but indecision made him hesitate.

What if nothing was there? What if he was just a crazy person who was having really vivid hallucinations? Wouldn’t that be a better answer than thinking there was some sort of monster under his bed who had, damn, fucked him last night?

Ky turned from the bed, his head spinning. He needed coffee. This would all make sense after some coffee. He pulled open the wardrobe and stifled an annoyed growl when the strange darkness again flooded the space. He glared toward the side corner challengingly where he felt eyes peering back, and carefully reached his hand for a shirt.

Nothing. No scratch, no nothing. Fine, he was losing his mind.

He grabbed a pair of jeans and dressed in them, then ruffled his hair with the towel. He scowled when he pulled his shirt down over his head. There was a huge rip in the front. Nope, make that four rips. Ky stepped to the bureau mirror and stared at his reflection. It actually looked kind of hot. The wardrobe was eating his clothes, but at least it looked good.

Ky scooped the empty bowl of milk up and brought it with him downstairs where he switched it out for a fresh bowl and fresh milk. His mother was nowhere to be found, but he could see his dad in the yard talking to a neighbor. Ky wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to Marcus, but he felt like he needed to say something about all this craziness. With a sigh, he walked back up the stairs and pushed into his room.

When he bent down to place the milk next to the bed, he paused, and ducked lower so he could see into the darkness. He could hear breathing, faint and calming. He almost called out, almost went to say something to acknowledge he was pretty sure he was losing his mind and he really wanted whoever was there to answer. He bit his tongue and stayed quiet.

There was a creaking behind him and Ky quickly stood. He turned as the wardrobe door swung open wide. There was nothing to see, his clothes in a shroud of black inky darkness. Ky wasn’t sure what the hell was in his wardrobe, but he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t Lovely.

Right, it was time to talk to his dad.

“So, what do you think?” Livia Scion pushed the door open, waved her arms and did a slow turn. It was Ky’s new room, and with one look he knew it was beyond perfect.

“Mom, it has to be the biggest room in the house,” Ky exclaimed as he looked around with wide, silver eyes. The space was massive and felt more like a studio apartment than a room in the family manor where they just moved. There were hardwood floors stained chocolate black, floor to ceiling windows that let in dazzling sunlight, and a luxurious king sized bed that didn’t even make a dent in the space. Even with its matching wardrobe, bureau, and desk. There was a leather couch and armchair by the fireplace—because there was a fireplace in his bedroom. It was crazy; a bedroom, living room and office all in one, and through the door across the room he could see a full sized master bath. Awesome.

“Mom, it’s too much. You and dad should take this room. I’m sure I’ll be fine in something, well, normal sized.” It killed Ky to say it, but he knew in a few years he’d be done with college and out of the house anyways.

“Tut, you. This room just screams ‘Ky,’ and dad agrees with me.” With a grin, Livia pointed up to the ceiling. Ky followed her gaze and gasped when he caught sight of the four large stone gargoyles leering down from a ledge, one on each wall of the room. “Marcus could never sleep with those things in here; you know how he gets. Look at the windows. Just think how much art you can make with light like this. And the space! Ky, you could do all your painting in your room with the right ventilation. Heck, you might never leave the house again.”

His mom was very, very persuasive and Ky really wanted the room. It was perfect. He crossed to the windows and looked out into the backyard. Down below, an ancient wrought iron fence glinted dark among the overgrown shrubs; both wrapped around the manor and yard. Roses bloomed erratic red explosions among the wild green. Behind the bushes was a neglected orchard with twisted pear, apple, and peach trees tangled among vines and grass. The place truly was beautiful in a worn down way.

The dilapidated Scion Manor had been empty for years with none of their relatives willing to live there. Ky didn’t remember his grandfather, but he did recall being young when he learned he disappeared. Anselm Scion had left no specific will as to who was to inherit the manor among his five children. Ky’s Uncle Alex took ownership of the home as the eldest son, but none of Anselm’s children wanted to live there for long.

Ky’s dad, Marcus, recently decided it was time to give the huge place a shot. Coincidentally around the same time Ky found family dinners consisted of canned beans and pasta most nights. It was why he chose not to complain about being ripped out of his home of many years in the suburbs to be stuck in the small, backwater town. Apparently, his parents were trying to make it up to him with an amazing act of bribery. It was working.

“Mom, it’s too much. I love it, I do, but it’s nearly the entire floor.” It was literally half the third floor; the bedroom and bathroom took up the length of the back of the house. Still, Ky couldn’t pull away from the view of the sprawling mountains and fluffy clouds on the horizon even as he told himself he couldn’t keep the room.

Livia walked over to the wardrobe; the large oak furniture dwarfed her petite height and slim form. She threw the doors open wide, and glanced back to her son. “Too late. We already put your clothes away. Nothing can be done about it now.” She flashed him a cheeky smile. “You can store your finished art in the room across the hall, or paint there. Or you could turn it into a gallery. You’ve got a lot of options in a place like this, and Marcus wants to give you the whole third floor. And really, Ky, there’s so much room where we’re sleeping. You’re not taking anything from us. We’ll never need all this space.”

When he caught sight of his black clothing, studded belts, and silver chains hanging in the large wardrobe, Ky couldn’t help but beam. “Well, when you put it that way. Let me help you get all your stuff in.” He tore himself from the window but Livia stopped him at the door.

“Hold on. Something else comes with this room.” Livia pulled a jangle of silver from her pocket and smirked at her spiky haired son. “It’s going to be hard to get into your room without your keys.”

“Sweet!” Ky grabbed the metal key ring enthusiastically, only to blink when he saw it properly. “Three?”

“Yup. House key, garage, and bedroom.” His mother pointed each one out. “They’re pretty cool, right? They look ancient.” The manor keys were longer than normal, narrow and odd shaped, almost like skeleton keys.

“They’re beautiful. I’ve never had a lock on my door before. Not that I need it,” he added. Still, Ky loved the idea. His parents always gave him his privacy, but there was something empowering about being able to lock his door whenever he was painting.

“Well, I imagine you’ll want to bring someone home one day,” Livia said teasingly.

“Mom.” Ky blushed and turned to escape. “I seriously doubt that’s going to happen while living in Blackstone Falls. I’m probably the only gay guy in the whole damn town.”

Livia crossed her arms over her chest. Her smile turned sad as she followed Ky down the hall and to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone at the college. I know it’s a community college, but you still get students coming in from all over the state. Your world is going to be a bit bigger than this little town.”

Ky nodded but he didn’t quite believe her. They moved to Blackstone Falls so his parents could start a landscaping company. Everyone in the town was either farmers, hippies, drunk, or the wealthy who chose to dwell there half the year with their large houses left empty during the winter months. The area was a sprawling mix of extreme poverty and wealth, including the towns around them. Most of the inhabitants were dull and hostile to what Ky was; it was something he found out quickly when he visited his uncle and cousins while they tried to live in the manor a couple of years ago.

First Ky was ostracized for being a city kid. Then it was for being a weirdo freak who believed in magic, dressed in black, and wore makeup. Once the locals figured out he was gay, it was just the icing on the shit cake for the redneck bigots his cousins hung out with. He wasn’t expecting college in the area to be much different.

It didn’t matter. Ky was going to become a skilled artist and move to the city. He didn’t need to be famous; he couldn’t really stand much attention as it was. He just wanted to make a living with his art. No one looked at his eyeliner and nail polish twice in the city. Some definitely liked how he looked in black lipstick. He knew a few farm boys had, which only made their taunts all the more ironic when they were hard over him. Ky didn’t care. There was a place out in the world where he fit, and he was willing to wait to get there.

“Hun, before you run off. Can you bring some things down to the basement? The stairs are steep, so be careful.”

“Sure, Mom.” Ky followed Livia down the main stairs to the first floor where boxes were waiting outside the closed basement door. There were more than a few, and he decided to have a glass of water before dealing with more lugging.

“Hey there, kiddo. What do you think of your new digs?” Marcus asked when Ky stepped into the kitchen. His brow was furrowed as he tore through a box in search for silverware. With gray just starting to frost his short, dark hair, Ky’s father looked more like an advertisement for outdoor living than the engineer of many years he once was. Fit and tanned, he adapted to being laid off quickly, and rose to the challenge of working with his hands like he had in his teenage years.

“I love it. Still, I think you’re going to regret giving me the biggest room in the house.” Ky went straight to the pack of water on the floor and grabbed a bottle.

Marcus shook his head and peered up with a serious look from behind his glasses. “I don’t say this to be dramatic, Ky, but this place, in particular Anselm’s old room, gives me the willies. The last place I want to sleep is up there. Even Uncle Alex didn’t sleep there.”

Ky tried not to smile. His father was very ‘sensitive,’ as Livia liked to put it. He was frightened of anything occult, to the point Ky used to fight his dad just to watch movies about magic when he was younger. Marcus may have relaxed a bit over the years, but he still got freaked out over everything from ghost stories to Ouija boards. Marcus’s extreme fear was what first sparked Ky’s interest in the occult. It also kept him only scratching the surface, respectful of the powers that could harm him if mishandled.

“Well, I’m glad you get the willies dad, if only because I get that amazing room. The view is spectacular, and I already know what I’m going to paint.”

“The gargoyles?” Marcus asked knowingly. He frowned at the idea of canvases of the ugly creatures littering the house.

“Exactly.” Ky thought they were beautiful, if not a bit grotesque, and couldn’t wait to unpack all his equipment. Even if he only found his sketchbook and did some graphite work that night, he’d be happy. “Mom asked me to drag some things down to the basement. Anything else here that needs going down while I’m at it?”

Marcus shook his head and his jaw tightened. “Ky, be careful in the basement. I don’t like it down there.”

Ky kept his smile to himself. His dad was an overgrown toddler. “You know the washer and dryer are down there, right? You’re going to start smelling if you never go in the basement,” he called cheerfully to his father while he made his way down the hall.

Ky went to open the basement door, only to find it jammed. The wood was expanded, most likely from moisture. He wrestled with the door and finally managed to pry it open with a loud wrenching noise.

A dank smell greeted him, and he wrinkled his nose and peered into the absolute blackness of the unknown space before him. The dim afternoon light of the hallway only penetrated a foot or so past the door. Ky shivered and the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. It felt like something was staring back at him, level with his height. His eyes began to adjust enough to see a thin chain hanging down connected to a bare light bulb.

Ky wasn’t sure why he hesitated. When he stepped forward and reached for the chain, the floorboard creaked in warning under his sneakers. There was a sudden puff of hot air, almost as if someone or thing was breathing on his face, followed by the overwhelming scent of blood. Startled, Ky yanked the cord roughly. The light blinked on to reveal he was alone on the top step. The only thing in sight was a dizzying flight of stairs leading down to a concrete landing below. Clearly his dad’s superstitions were getting to him.

Ky stood on the top step for a moment, and tried to shake the feeling someone was just out of reach, breathing in his ear. He was being stupid. He huffed at his foolishness and turned and picked up a large box. He carefully stepped down the steep wooden stairs and looked around. Patches of darkness filled the dim space where the bare light bulb was blocked. Tall, thick columns created the perfect hiding places for murderers and nightmares. Ky muttered his idiocy under his breath, and walked the spacious, bare cement floor so he could place the box next to the table set up as a laundry station.

He went back and forth up the creaking stairs, his heart hammering in his chest the entire time. He smelled blood. Ky was once in the back room of a butcher shop to pick up an order for the restaurant he worked at. He knew the smell of blood. Currently, it was thick in the air, and with it, the underlying scent of rot. When the last box was piled high, Ky turned to make his escape. He stopped, his foot raised in mid-air when he heard the clink of chains.

There was a space behind the water heater where a small wall held the device in place in the middle of the room. The light didn’t reach behind the wall. Ky’s eyes turned to the inky darkness, certain the sound came from there. Again he thought he heard breathing, low and strained, and so close it could have been next to him. It sent strange, hot tingles shivering down to his toes. His heart beat louder in his ear.

It had to be the water heater. The old pipes and settling house. There were no chains to rattle. Even if chains were in the dark, they would only move because he left the basement and front doors open, which would create a breeze for anything very real to rattle.

“Oh, crap!” Ky slapped his hand over his mouth when the chains rattled again. This time something slithered over the concrete floor. Like a foot… Very much like a foot. Ky stepped backward, his eyes fixed on the darkness where he was certain something was staring back, and skirted toward the basement stairs. Once his heel hit the raised concrete platform, he whirled and ran up the stairs two at a time. He tripped twice and bruised his hand but refused to stop. He didn’t care if he was acting like an absolute idiot. There was something in the basement that smelled of blood, and he wasn’t going to hang around to meet it.

Ky shut the door behind him, and slammed it with his full weight until the swollen wood fit back and finally latched closed. He rested there while panting and trying to calm his racing heart. He was apparently going to smell as bad as Marcus because there was no way in hell he was going down there again.

Ky stared down at his sneakers, paused, and raised his right foot. There was blood all on the white wall of his rubber sole. “What the…? Eww.” He jumped away from the basement door where half a rat stared blankly up at him. It was dead and wedged in the gap at the bottom of the door. He killed a rat while slamming the door! “Shit… Shit!”

Marcus peeked his head out of the living room, and made a face when he saw what Ky was cursing at. “There’s a cat living around here. At least, there used to be when Dad was here; I never saw the damn thing. It should take care of any rats.”

“Didn’t Anselm die almost fifteen years ago?” Ky reminded. He scraped his bloodied shoe on the floor and tried to shake his unease now he was in the calming light of the main house. “I doubt the cat is still alive.”

Marcus shrugged, and his eyes took on a faraway look. “My father had a lot of strange creatures we never saw. He loved that cat, had it before I was born. I’m sure it’s still around. He used to feed it a feast every night. Usually of something still alive…” he trailed off with a frown and left to find something to clean up the dead rat.

Ky shook his head in disbelief. Marcus didn’t talk much about Anselm, except to remark Ky looked a lot like him with his dark hair, colorless gray eyes, and pale skin. Since there were few pictures, Ky had to take his word for it, and the insistence of his aunts and uncles who always seemed unnerved when he visited. Anselm was a very odd parent. Reclusive and stern, he left his wife to raise his five children. When she died, Anselm rarely made contact with his family. Then, one day he disappeared.

Ky sometimes wondered if his dad was expecting Anselm to just show up out of the blue, even after all this time. It was crazy when he considered the old guy had to be in his late nineties by now. They assumed Anselm grew confused in his last days, maybe even touched with dementia. The authorities were sure he went for a walk, only to be lost in the wilds surrounding the house. They suspected his unfound body was picked apart by animals. Anselm was a recluse for so long it was easy enough to imagine.

Marcus came back with a plastic bag and bent over to scoop the pieces of flesh and fur up. Ky helped wrench the door open and stared warily with his father down into the illuminated basement. The bottom half of the rat was nowhere to be found. There was a trail of blood; it streaked down the stairs and ended abruptly. With a glance at Ky, Marcus reached forward and tugged the cord to the light. He shut the door firmly after the darkness returned. Ky tried not to think of how he felt the weight of eyes on him right before the door closed.

“There’s a laundry mat in the center of town,” Marcus said quietly as he wrapped up the rat with a rustle. “Alex and his family used it all the time.”

Ky shivered, his eyes fixed on the bloodied form being entombed in plastic. No one wanted to sleep in Anselm’s old room. His new bedroom. Suddenly it seemed important since none of his relatives liked the basement either. Ky wanted to say something to his dad about how he heard the chains and smelled blood downstairs, but decided against it. Marcus had enough to worry about with getting his business to pick up and bills covered. It was probably best if he made things as pleasant as possible for his parents. Things were difficult enough already.

It’s the last Valentine’s Day I’m going to have to endure at school. Somehow it seems to be mocking me, starting from the horrible amount of red and pink everyone’s wearing. Even the other guys are wearing the garish colors while I’ve resolutely dressed in my normal black.

I can’t stand the holidays, Valentine’s Day especially. It has nothing to do with the forgotten religious saint or the fertility festival the damn thing originally represented. No, it’s the way couples just disregard all decency and once again shove their happiness in my face. Like being single means I should automatically be miserable? Like a relationship is the end-all of being a satisfied human being? Fuck them. At least I’ve never had to listen to some girl tell me off for not calling her every hour.

I have no interest in being in a relationship. Seeing everyone acting like it’s the only thing a guy could want is really annoying as fuck.

Dropping my book bag on the floor, I take a seat for my first class of the day, trying to ignore the obnoxious amount of snuggling going around. When exactly did Valentine’s Day become an excuse to ignore all acceptable forms of public displays of affection? I might be running to the bathroom soon to vomit if this keeps up.

“Aiden, you look like someone pissed in your cereal this morning.” Ben, my best friend, sits down next to me, his hands smacking on his desk. He flashes me a toothy grin, clearly not actually caring that I hate today with a passion.

“What are you so happy about?” I finally ask when he insists on smiling at me.

“I got Vanessa a rose. I even wrote her a bitchin love poem.” His smile somehow manages to grow. “If that doesn’t get her to agree to go out with me, nothing will.”

Scowling at my terribly happy friend—Seriously, it’s Valentine’s Day; happiness is not welcome today—I pull out my math book and notebook. “What exactly do you mean by ‘bitchin love poem?’ Is this like some modern art thing?”

“Nope, even better. I wrote it myself.”

Nodding slowly, I duck my head so he can’t see me wince. “That sounds… um, bitchin.” Hideous. Seriously repulsive. God, I hate Valentine’s Day.

“Wanna read it?”

I bite my lip, knowing if he so much as shows me anything he’s written that’s supposed to convince anyone he’s in love with Vanessa, I’m going to laugh my ass off. “I’m good. For real.”

Ben smiles obliviously, his hair brushing into his eyes. “So?”

“So?” I repeat, folding my notebook open and wondering when the hell Mr. Jacobs is going to get here so the idiots will finally sit their asses down and stop making out around me.

“So, who did you get a rose for?” Ben asks, sounding even chipper than when he first sat down.

I glare at him sideways. He looks ridiculously young and happy and I sort of hate him right now. “No one. You know I don’t buy into this stupid holiday.”

“Pssh. You’re just mad because you haven’t found your ‘one’ yet,” Ben says with all the conviction of a hormonal eighteen-year-old that hasn’t had a relationship last more than three months. “When you fall in love, you’ll totally love Valentine’s Day.”

I debate whether I want to tear his love theory apart verbally to pass the time. I’m in a terrible mood, but I don’t know if I want to take him with me. He’s got that hopeful puppy-dog look he gets right before his heart is broken—This time by Vanessa, who has been looking at Ryan H. for the last month. Seeing as Ryan has a car, Ben is so outmatched. I settle for grunting noncommittally and scribbling doodles in my notebook.

There’s a commotion at the door and I sigh. Finally, the teacher is here and we can start. Except it’s not Mr. Jacobs, it’s a ridiculously cheerful girl carrying an armful of roses. I glare, realizing I’m going to have to go through the receiving, squealing, and all around vomit inducing lovey-dovey crap that comes along with girls getting flowers from secret and not so secret admirers. Fuck my life.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ben says, grabbing my arm before I can get up and go hide out in the bathroom.

“What—Why the fuck should I stay around for this shit?” I mutter but sit down. Most of the girls are swarming the doorway anyways—There’s no getting by them to escape.

“Cheer the fuck up, Aiden. It’s just Valentine’s Day. It’s not like people are going out of their way to make you unhappy.”

“Aren’t they?” I snap, pointing at the group of giggling girls. “If I never have to hear that noise again, I’d be happy.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Nothing makes you happy. Not the many holes in your head, your punk music, or even those funky combat boots. You are determined to be unhappy and you shouldn’t go blaming the rest of the world for your state of being.”

Glowering, I hunch over my desk, deciding to ignore him and the class until the stupidity dies down. Having eyebrow rings and a tattoo on the back of my neck isn’t some statement in being unhappy, it’s just a statement in being me. Ben wouldn’t understand, always wasting his time and energy trying to get with the next pretty, vapid thing he sees instead of figuring out himself.

Something flashes out of the corner of my eye, a red rose landing on my notebook. Blinking, I looked up in disbelief as Callie—super smiley cheerleader—hands me a white card. “Looks like you have a secret admirer, Aiden.”

“What?” I say dumbly, glancing sideways to find nearly everyone in the classroom suddenly looking at me.

She continues as if I hadn’t said anything, the card landing on top of my desk when I refuse to take it from her hand. “You know, you’re the first boy that’s gotten a rose this year. Usually guys send them to girls,” she says with a slightly accusing look.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Am I not good enough for a rose now? Or… is she saying a guy sent me a rose?

“Hey, just because Aiden’s a guy, doesn’t mean he can’t get a rose,” Ben speaks up before I can actually ask what she’s implying. Throwing her bleach blond hair over her shoulder, Callie gives a bored huff and just steps away to the next person on her list.

“It’s the fucking twenty-first century. Geez,” Ben mutters before pasting another huge smile on and smacking me on the back. “Well, what does it say? Who sent you the rose?”

“What?” Scratching the back of my head, I look at Ben warily. My friend of forever has been acting weird ever since he spent his summer in New York with his cousins. I’m not sure exactly what he’s got in his head all of a sudden when it comes to me, but he’s been saying a lot of stupid shit like how I don’t need a girlfriend if I don’t want one, and he’d never judge me no matter what. It’s been really getting on my nerves but I don’t know if now is the time to bring it up, especially when half the class is trying to snoop over my shoulder to read the stupid card on my desk.

Shaking my head, I flip the plain white notecard open, glancing briefly at the one line before flipping it shut and pocketing it.

“Well?” Ben asks, curiosity clear in his voice.

“Well, what?” I go back to scribbling in my notebook, pointedly ignoring him.

“What did it say?”

Sighing in annoyance, I glance his way, finding two other people looking at me just as curiously. Fuck this stupid shit. “Nothing.”

“Like fuck—They wouldn’t have given you a card if it was blank.” Ben isn’t going to let it go. Actually, he looks about ready to wrestle me to the ground so he can get the thing and read it himself. That I’m only five foot ten, and slender will not stop my taller friend. That I also fight like a crazy bastard and enjoy biting will probably keep him from trying it.

“It’s just a time and place for a meetup. No name,” I finally grunt out, looking down at my desk. “I’m sure they just got me confused with someone else. There are like seven guys named Aiden in the grade below us.”

“Aiden…” Ben just sighs, something else I choose to ignore. He can tell me till he’s blue in the face and I want to beat the fuck out of him that I’m actually a likeable guy, but I know better. I barely tolerate people and people, well, they keep their distance. I might have a cute face but with the right scowl and mean enough piercings, they back the fuck off. It’s how I like it. I don’t want people in my life—My life is difficult enough.

“When is it?” Ben asks when I relax enough to think he’s dropped the subject.

“When’s what?”

“Stop fucking with me. The meetup?”

Grunting, I pull the note from my pocket and hand it to him. He reads it, his brows furrowed as he gives me the card back. “That’s a weird place to meet someone.”

I shrug. “I’m not going.”

“Yes, you are. Someone bothered to write you a card and buy you a rose. You’re fucking going—Stop being such a dick. What if they really like you?”

“Then they’re fucking dumb.” I shove the note back into my pocket, eyes falling on the rose. It’s actually kind of cool looking, the edges of the blood red petals blackened like they’ve been burnt. I reach out, letting my fingers brush over a silky smooth petal. Even the thorns are tipped in black. Do they dye roses now?

I pick it up, pressing my thumb against a thorn. It certainly feels real. Ducking my head, I give it a hesitant sniff, a small smile stealing across my lips.

Fine, it’s a cool rose. Not one of those girly pink ones or I would have tossed it already. But it’s not like you can fuck up a flower. Whoever had the nerve to send me one doesn’t automatically get a meeting with me just because the rose doesn’t suck.

The pack of girls finally leaves the doorway, the sound quieting down as the last of the class trickles in. Observing the way the black edges make a spiral pattern as they wrap around the rose, I’m pulled away by the weight of someone’s stare. It’s the new kid, the foreign transfer that showed up a month ago, currently standing halfway in the room and staring at my rose like he’s never seen one before.

Gavriil Strife is a weird one. He has golden blond hair, weird violet eyes and looks like some fucking model out of a magazine. He’s tall, built, and just has this ease about him with his stylish hair and graceful walk. Every girl in the school is chasing him hardcore, his nickname being ‘the golden prince.’ Annoying enough, but he doesn’t talk, like ever. I think I might have heard him say something once when answering a teacher, and his accent was so thick, I didn’t understand a word. No one can understand him but everyone loves him. It’s bullshit.

That he’s staring at me now, those weird eyes rimmed in black piercing into mine is unsettling as fuck and I find myself biting my lip. But I refuse to back down; he’s staring, and it doesn’t matter where he’s from, it’s still rude. Then the jackass grins at me, his expression turning mischievous like he’s got some fucking secret before he looks away and crosses to his seat. He’s seriously annoying. Weird and annoying, and I’ve caught him staring at me before. Like every class we share.

“What was that about?” Ben leans over to whisper in my ear.

“Fucking weirdo,” I mutter flatly, looking again at the rose and trying to fight the urge to glance over and see if Gavriil’s still staring. Maybe he’s pissed his didn’t get a rose, seeing as he’s a total pretty boy… Hell, maybe his ex sent me the flower? Has the kid actually taken any of the swarms of girls up on a date? He doesn’t speak a word of English yet he’s in my English class. I chance a peek, violet eyes meeting mine for a moment before I look away.

Weirdo.

The idea of Gavriil dating anyone is annoying as fuck too, like the weird boy himself, and I huff and turn to another page of my notebook so I can draw myself a maze. I take small joy in adding spikes and pits filled with vipers for any wanderer to get stuck in. It’s a shit day and only promising to get worse.

***

I’ve dodged Ben’s incessant questions throughout the day about if I’m going to the stupid meetup. The only reason I’m even considering it is just because it’s on my way home. If some idiot wants to wait out in the fucking freezing cold in the middle of February after a damn snowstorm, that’s really their problem, not mine. Throwing a $5 rose in my lap doesn’t mean I’m required to freeze my ass off.

I’m actually pretty angry about the whole thing. Seriously, what stupid idiot got me a fucking rose? Who the hell thought that I’d be into some stupid romantic rendezvous on the sappiest fucking day of the year? I was embarrassed during class, everyone keeps looking at me, and the questions will not stop. If I do go, I’m probably going to do it just to tell the person off for making my Valentine’s Day even worse than normal.

Scowling into my locker, I pull my black jacket on, hunching into the heavy material. It has a few holes but layered with my sweatshirt it does the trick for the fifteen-minute walk home. Tugging my slouchy on over my shaggy dark hair, I glare sideways at Ben who is, of course, waiting for me to tell him if I’m going to meet my ‘secret admirer.’

Fuck, even the name annoys the fuck out of me.

“Well?”

“Fuck off.” I slam my locker shut, ducking around him.

“Stop being an ass, Aiden. It’s just one little meeting. Just give the guy a shot—Shit.” Ben stops short as I whirl, his hands held up defensively.

Guy? Glaring at the cringing brunette, I stomp back. “What the fuck do you know?”

“N-Nothing, it just sort of slipped…” Ben sucks at lying, especially to me. I take a quick look around the hall, way too many of my classmates staring at me. Growling, I grab Ben by his collar and haul him into the empty science room.

“Tell me. Now.”

“Really, it’s nothing. A guess…” Ben coughs awkwardly while I stare him down. I’m not buying it and he knows it. “Fuck… Fuck, stop snarling at me.”

“Tell me, you jackass! Who is it!”

Stumbling back, he ends up sitting heavily on the teacher’s desk. I glare as he smiles at me sheepishly. “I don’t know his name. I just… I’m pretty sure it’s a guy.”

“Why?” I growl when he feels the need to stop at that fucking revelation and not explain. Why the fuck would a guy be looking at me? I’m an asshole to everyone, and I’ve never shown an interest in hooking up with anyone, especially guys.

“Well… um… Someone asked me if you’d… might be interested…”

“Oh my god—Fucking whore, Ben! Why? Why would you tell someone that I’d—Fuck.” I whirl, pacing away before I do something uncalled for, like punch the idiot. What the fuck is wrong with him? Why would he do that? Does he hate me or some shit? He’s like my only friend—Do I have to worry about him spreading fucking rumors about me liking dick or something? Fuck.

“Aiden, you have to understand. I just thought, well… Well, I just thought,” Ben finishes lamely, wincing when I turn and glare his way.

“You think I’m gay?”

Looking uncomfortable, he gives a weak shrug. “It could explain a few things.”

And what the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Like what?” I growl, my hands on my hips as I wait expectantly for whatever stupid is going to come out of his mouth. There is nothing remotely gay about me. Fuck, if I’m anything, it’s asexual, but I hate fucking labels so I wouldn’t even say that. I have no interest in being with anyone, period.

“You don’t date,” Ben points out.

“So? You know my fucking home life. You think I want to bring anyone into that shit?”

“Bullshit,” he says, standing up and glaring back at me. “Do you think I’m blind or something? Like I can’t see when you’re checking a guy out? You spent nearly half of last class staring at Chris.”

“He was cheating off of Duley,” I snap, really not liking where this is turning. I do not check out guys.

“Was his ass cheating? Cus that’s where you were staring.”

“Are you shitting me—Did you just seriously accuse me of…?” There are no words. “Ben, I’m not gay!” I yelp in frustration.

“Whatever, jackass,” he mutters, like I’m fucking lying to him or something. “I’m not the only one who thinks it, man. Ever since Gavriil transferred in, everyone has been talking about it.”

Blinking dumbly, I hold up my hand. “What? What the fuck does that weirdo have to do with anything?”

Ben growls in exasperation. “Dude, you stare at him all the time!”

“Only because he keeps staring at me!” I turn away, my hat coming off in my hands as I grab my hair and tug. Stupid Gavriil Strife—Of course that fucker is to blame for all this. The damn pretty-boy came in here acting weird, and the second I glare at him everyone just assumes I have a thing for him because he’s gorgeous. The fucking bastard.

“Who did you tell?” I ask, spinning back to Ben. “Who fucking asked?”

Huffing, he folds his arms over his chest. “I’m not sure.”

“Like fuck you’re not—”

“I never saw the guy before. It was a couple of weeks ago during that football game you left early from.” He gives me a look and I wonder if he’s going to start accusing me of staring at their asses too. “He came up and asked if you were into guys. He had long black hair, green eyes. Tall. Really good looking.”

“Why the fuck do you feel the need to tell me he’s good looking?” I hate him so much right now. “So you just told this absolute stranger that your best friend is into guys?” I say in frustration.

“No,” he snaps back, his jaw squaring defiantly. “I told him it was a possibility. That you’re not the dating type so there was really only one way to know for sure.”

God, my life sucks so much right now. My mom is probably home drinking our fucking food money away, and here I am standing, listening to my best friend explain how I could be gay.

“Did you ever once think to ask me?” I can’t stop my angry growl. He winces and I feel a mild satisfaction that he at least feels guilty. It’s extremely mild.

“Aiden, I watched you eat half a raw potato before you realized it wasn’t an apple.”

“So—What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“So, you’re fucking oblivious, man. If I was going to ask someone about you, I’d ask me first because, fuck, I know you better than you know you.”

Scoffing, I glance away. “No, you don’t.”

“Oh yeah? Favorite food—Cheeseburger with extra pickles, but on a grill because you like the burn but still pink in the middle. You’re two homework assignments away from failing Mr. Pincer’s class. You spent all of yesterday with a pink barrette in your hair because you didn’t notice I put a fucking barrette in your hair. Dude, you’re a fucking space case,” he says with a wave of his hands.

I pause at that, remembering vaguely something pulling on my hair yesterday when I took my hat off. Fuck. “Pink? You jackass.”

“Do you even know how many people check you out?” he continues sternly. “Like every fucking day? I have chicks asking all the time if you’re, like, not allowed to date or something. I see guys looking at you all the time, and hell, I’m as straight as they come, but even I can admit you’re totally sexy, man.”

I splutter, glaring at him while my tongue refuses to work. I am not sexy. I am angry and unapproachable, and that is how I want to be.

“Aiden, go meet the fucking guy. For once in your life stop wandering around aimlessly after cleaning up your parents’ mess, and just live a second for yourself. People want to get to know you, so give them a fucking chance already.”

It probably would have been more poignant if my best friend wasn’t trying to send me off because he thinks I like dick. As it is, I’m just more annoyed that there are at least two people on the planet determined to make this day as fucking miserable as possible.

“I’ll go,” I finally growl, glaring him down as he beams in reply. “But only to tell this guy that you were mistaken. Bad enough he’s so retarded he thinks I’m dating material to begin with.” Seriously, you’d have to be a fucking idiot to think I was worth hanging around for any amount of time. I’m pretty sure Ben’s an idiot, and he’s well aware of my opinion on the matter.

“Seriously, dude, if it’s the guy from the game, he’s hot. I’d never do you wrong like that.”

I shake my head. There are really no words for how dumb he is today. Fucking Valentine’s Day.

“Did Vanessa like her rose?” I grunt out, feeling spiteful. Ben gives a heartfelt, woeful sigh. Answer enough. Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot and now I have to go let some really confused gay guy down on Valentine’s Day. Fuck my life.