The Outcasts Book 5
Author
Ruth Robinson
Reads
63,8K
Chapters
70
Chapter 1
Book 5: The Nurse
HARLEY
Murmured condolences swirl around me, sticking to my clothes and hair like the damp morning mist. The cloying scent of freshly dug soil hangs heavy in the air. I canāt remember a time when it didnāt fill my nostrils, when I wasnāt standing at this graveside.
āHarls?ā A heavy hand on my suit-clad shoulder startles me slightly. I look up into the gray-blue eyes of my friend, Hugo. Iāve avoided eye contact all day, not wanting to see the looks of pity. However, all I see in his eyes is worry. āYou want to come back with us?ā
I shake my head. The last thing I want to do after burying my sister, the last member of my family, is go and eat finger food and make awkward small talk with people at the wake my friend Rebecca has organized.
Hugo pats my shoulder again, and I watch him join Becca and her boyfriendāhis cousin, Max. The three of them give me sad looks as they traipse down the muddy slope of the cemetery and slide into the sleek black Jaguar with tinted windows and a hat-wearing driver that Hugo has at his beck and call.
Iāve brought Heather back home, to be buried next to our parents. Most of the mourners that have shown up are old friends of the family. My friends have made the trip with me, and while Iām grateful for their unwavering support, I really need to be alone right now.
I stand for another few minutes alongside the granite headstone that has my parentsā names engraved on it, and the deep hole next to it, which now houses my big sister. The cemetery workers are hovering nearby, trying to be respectful, but I know they want me to go so they can finish filling in the grave.
I give them a wave, tuck my hands deep into the pockets of my borrowed black suitāsome designer thing Hugo has loaned meāand trudge through the gravestones toward the wrought iron gates of the entrance.
Without much thought, I wander aimlessly for a while, until the mist turns into a drizzle. I duck into a shabby-looking bar. Ordering a double shot of some cheap whiskey that burns my nose before I even get my lips to the edge of the glass, I sink onto a wobbly stool and start to drown my sorrows.
Iām on my third glass when she walks in. A gorgeous blonde. Tight body, pouty lips, and sky-blue eyes. Sheās wearing a tight burgundy pencil skirt and a cream blouse that makes her porcelain skin look almost translucent. The black heels on her feet accentuate her defined calf muscles and peachy-looking ass.
The look of despair in those baby blues is one I recognize, even though Iāve never seen her before.
āVodka. Straight.ā Her voice is rich, as if her voice box is dipped in honey. While she waits for the bartender, her pale pink nails tap impatiently on the stained wooden bar.
āThatās mighty annoying, darlinā.ā I scowl at her as I lean over and cover her hand with mine.
She gives me a scowl right back as she pulls her hand out from underneath mine. She grabs her drink, downs it without a wince, places it down, and taps the edge to signal to the bartender to pour her another one.
āI donāt give a fuck if you think itās annoying, darling.ā She pauses to shoot another vodka. āIām having the shittiest day imaginable, and all I want to do is get drunk and forget about it all. Annoying some rich d-bag at a bar is the least of my worries. Now, be a good boy and buy me a drink.ā
With one last withering glance my way, she grabs the bottle out of the bartenderās hand and sashays over to a booth. āI guess Iām paying tonight, huh?ā As I hand over my credit card to the guy, he shrugs, smirking.
āSo,ā I start as I drop onto the seat opposite hers. āWanna trade war stories?ā She gives me a questioning look over the edge of her glass. āIāve had somewhat of a shitty day myself. Maybe wallowing in our combined grief would be cathartic.ā
I snatch the bottle from the table, taking a generous swig straight from it as she shakes her head.
āI donāt want to talk. Iām not in the mood for a heart-to-heart with anyone, especially not a stranger. If you want to stay and get drunk with me, fine, but donāt expect any deep and meaningful connection tonight.ā
The corner of my mouth rises a littleāthe first hint of a smile since Heather diedāand I clink the bottle against her glass. āOkay, darlinā, you got it. Tonight, weāre just drinking buddies, nothing more.ā
***
As it turns out, a bottle of vodka can turn drinking buddies into fucking buddies.
Iām so drunk that my feet stumble over nothing as I lead Blondie down the corridor of the hotel where Iām staying. One huge benefit of being best friends with a hotel mogul is the free hotel stays. Hugoās hotels are luxurious without being too ostentatious.
I fumble with the key card, dropping it twice to the amusement of my drunken new friend, before I finally get the door open, and we tumble inside. She falls onto the bed with a sigh, the sad look that had started to disappear from her face over the course of our drinking slowly creeping back in.
āNope,ā I say, and she slowly rolls her head my way, her eyes unfocused with booze. āTonight was about drinking to forget, so stop forgettingā¦I mean remembering to forgetā¦I mean, Iām not sure where I was going with thisā¦ā She giggles with a playful roll of her eyes and reaches out her hand.
I take it, flopping onto the soft sheets next to her and giving her a goofy grin. āHey.ā
āHi,ā she replies softly. We roll onto our sides, facing each other, and I tuck a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, gently tracing my thumb down her jaw, and over her lower lip. Her pink tongue runs slowly over the path my thumb just took, and I feel a twitch in my pants.
I lean forward, capturing her full lips with mine, our tongues dancing with each other against the soundtrack of racing hearts and heavy breathing. I sit back, looking down at her blushing face and swollen mouth. āYou taste like sin and bad decisions, darlinā.ā
She grabs the lapels of my suit and pulls me down into a searing kiss again. I lose myself to the familiar tussle of foreplay, the rustle of clothes being removed, the grasping of naked flesh. I grind my hard dick against the hot apex of her thighs, relishing in the moans that pour from her wicked lips. I reach down and wrestle a condom from my back pocket, rolling the rubber down my length and repositioning myself pressed back against her pussy.
She cups my face with her hands, her fingernails scratching lightly down my cheeks. Pressing a chaste kiss to my lips, she whispers, āPunish me.ā
āI donāt do gentle, baby, so if you really want this, youād better hold on damn tight.ā I slide all the way up to the hilt in one thrust, and she gasps, clutching my biceps tightly, her back arching off the mattress.
By morning, sheās gone, the bed beside me cold, the room an echo of the small amount of time I let myself forget all the bullshit that my life has become over the past few weeks. I stretch out the kinks in my back, disturbing the gentle sweet scent of the girl I just spent the night inside of, the girl whose name I now realize I never even found out. Thatās low even for my whoring ass ways.
Thereās a thump on my door, and Hugoās voice drifts through the wood. āHarley? Itās time to go.ā
