The Other World_A Reverse Harem Series Read online

  He steps toward me.

  I step back.

  Grinning, he rushes at me.

  I may be tough, but with him, I don’t even stand a chance. Still, I whirl around and run toward the house.

  Two steps in, he wraps his arms around my waist. But unlike Masie, I’m not going down without a fight.

  Writhing my body, I kick and try to wiggle free. My skin is still wet from Masie’s splash, and his hands nearly slip off me, but he manages to hold me tightly, carrying me over to the pool and tossing me into the air.

  I let out a string of curses that get cut short as I splash into the water. I suck balls at swimming, so it takes me a moment to kick back to the top. Right before I surface, a body dives into the water beside me. Blaine, I’m sure, which means he’ll have his shirt off and be all hot and sexy and dripping wet.

  Okay, maybe being in the water isn’t too terrible.

  Breaking through the surface, I suck in a huge breath of air. It takes me a couple of breaths to get my bearings, and by the time I do, Blaine is popping up through the water beside me.

  I get a brief, yet not nearly long enough, glimpse of his wet chest before he sinks back down, leaving only his head and shoulders out of the water.

  “That wasn’t very funny,” I tell him as I paddle my arms to stay afloat.

  “You’re right.” He grins cockily. “It was freaking hilarious.”

  I mimic his cocky grin, splashing water into his face. “So was that.”

  He curses, but laughs, wiping his face with his hand.

  Before he can pay me back, I blast him with a sassy smirk then swim toward the edge. I don’t climb out, mostly because, when Blaine threw Masie into the pool, she had my towel in her hands. So, I don’t have anything else to cover up with at the moment.

  Masie swims up beside me and grips the edge of the pool with a big, old grin on her face. “Holy shit! He’s totally flirting with you.”

  I roll my eyes. “He so is not. If anything, he’s flirting with you.” It hurts like a motherfucker to say it, but I manage to keep a neutral expression.

  Yep, that’s me. Unfeeling, emotionless Alexis.

  She rolls her eyes. “Like Blaine would ever flirt with me. Please. I’m not even his type.”

  I snort a laugh. “Yeah, right. You’re exactly his type.” My words ache with truth.

  She rolls her eyes, her expression carrying a drop of uneasiness. “Blaine doesn’t have a type. I mean, sure, he’s dated a lot of blondes. But, so what? I’ve seen him check out brunettes and redheads, too.” Her eyes pop wide open when I frown. “I so didn’t mean he checks out other girls all the time. I’ve just seen him do it occasionally … when he’s drunk … really, really drunk.” She’s a babbling mess of lies. That’s okay. She’s only trying to make me feel better.

  “Masie, I’m fine,” I insist, back paddling toward the ladder so I can climb out of the pool, so over this water thing. “I know Blaine checks out girls. I’m not fucking clueless.”

  She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe partially.”

  I flip her the middle finger. Then, with a deep breath, I hoist myself up onto the ladder and climb out. Water rivers off my body, and even though it’s hot as a devil’s flame, goose bumps sprout across my skin. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shuffle toward the back door of Masie’s house.

  “Hey! Don’t you dare drip water all over my floor,” Masie shouts after me.

  “That’s what you get for ruining my towel,” I throw back, gripping the doorknob.

  “Alexis …” she whines. “Please don’t. I just had the floors cleaned.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you ruined my towel.” I’m totally fucking with her. I turn around, grinning, but my smile promptly fades.

  Blaine has swum up to her and is saying something with his head tipped close. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the position they’re in looks very intimate.

  Is something going on with them?

  Masie catches my eye and rolls hers, nudging Blaine away. Her lips part, but Blaine grabs ahold of her and swims farther into the pool. Masie screeches like she’s upset, but her laughter reveals otherwise.

  “Blaine, stop!” she gripes through her laughter.

  Shaking my head, I turn around and enter her house, not wanting to see, or apparently feel, any more of their flirting moment.

  Because I’m not a total bitch, at least not to my friends, I remain in the washroom until I’m not dripping water anymore. Then I go into the guestroom to change into my clothes. I more than happily peel the bikini off, then put on a pair of cut-offs, a black tank top, and then tie a plaid shirt around my waist. I leave my wet hair down, and tug on a pair of clunky boots. When I check my reflection in the mirror, I pull a face. I look like a mess. A big, old, hot mess. So, yeah, I pretty much look like I always do.

  I comb my fingers through my tangled, wavy hair a couple of times, then sigh and turn away from the mirror. I grab my bag, my car keys, and the wet bikini before heading back outside.

  I was supposed to hang around at Masie’s then go to a party later tonight with her, but I think I’ll go home to shower and wash the chlorine out of my hair then meet up with her later.

  However, the instant I step outside, all thoughts of parties and showers go bye-bye, see ya later as I spot Masie and Blaine making out in the pool. He has her pressed up against the side, his hands resting on the edge, her head pinned between them. She is gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer as she kisses him.

  I want to look away, but my damn gaze is being a little uncooperative motherfucker.

  This can’t be happening. I must be reading the situation wrong.

  Still, no matter how many times I try to convince myself, the truth is hard to deny when it’s right there in front of me.

  Move, Alexis. Move your damn feet and walk away before you get even more hurt.

  I start to turn to go back into the house so I can run out the front door, when I end up tripping over my own feet. I manage to catch my balance, though not before accidentally kicking a flowerpot off the back porch and onto the barbeque grill below.

  “Oh, shit.” Masie lets out a string of panicked curses. “Alexis, wait.”

  Panic radiates from her, but I don’t even look behind me as I rush into the house and haul ass for the front door. When I barrel outside, ready to get the hell out of here, I slam to a screeching halt when I reach the driveway.

  “Shit, where’s my car?” Even though I know I parked it in the driveway, I still stupidly glance around, looking inside the open garage and at the curb in front of her house. Nope. No such luck. And my car is really hard to miss, too. A beat up 1969 Chevelle I recently bought with some of the money my parents left me when they died.

  I cried like a wimp when I bought it, mostly because my dad was into classic cars. It was the one moment I let myself cry since their deaths, and I want it to be my last.

  “Shit, did someone steal my fucking car?” The thought makes my anger boil even more. “I’m so going to kick the ass of whoever took it …” I trail off at the sight of something in the driveway.

  Tucked underneath a rock where my car was parked is a bright red piece of paper with my name scrawled across it. Bending over, I slip the paper out from under the rock and turn it over.

  If you want to find your car, you need to follow the clue. If you don’t find it by sunset, we’ll tell Blaine how you feel about him. And make sure not to go to the police, or again, we’ll tell Blaine your secret.

  Printed below the note is a strange circular symbol with a series of patterns and shapes.

  What. The. Fuck. Is. This? And who the bleep left it here? And what freakin’ clue?

  My detective instincts kick in as I skim the ground in search of a clue that might reveal who the jackass is that jacked my car. Except, the driveway is completely clean, and so is the grass beside it.

  That’s about as far as
I get before Masie burst out the front door. She has a towel wrapped around her and panic in her eyes.

  “Alexis, please just wait a second. I can explain.”

  For a brief second, I consider running up and kicking her ass. But, since I’m still in a little bit of trouble for the last fight I got into, I run like hell down the driveway and into the road. I keep running and running without looking back, wishing I never had to look back again. Wishing I could forget it all—Masie, Blaine, my friendships with them both. I want to forget either of them exists.

  I want to forget everything, except the pain flowing through my body won’t let me.

  Alexis

  Instead of running on the side of the road where Masie and Blaine can find me—that is, if they’re even looking for me—I take a shortcut through the park nestled in the heart of countless cul-de-sacs enclosing Masie’s neighborhood.

  I have the strangest feeling I’m being followed, but every time I glance over my shoulder, the trail is empty. I chock it up to being paranoid because of the card in my pocket.

  When I reach the playground, I flick a glance over my shoulder, and then my heart bottoms to my stomach. Blaine’s truck is driving down the road. Shit. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now. Well, Masie might be on the bottom of the list since she knew about my crush and Blaine didn’t.

  Picking up my pace, I sprint toward the playground then duck into the top of a plastic tunnel that leads to a series of slides. Out of breath, and completely out of shape apparently, I peer out one of the oval, plastic windows and at the road.

  Blaine’s truck is creeping down the street at the pace of doped-up snail. I worry he’s spotted me, but then the truck moves past the park and disappears down the street.

  Releasing an exhale, I sit down and prop my feet on the wall in front of me. I sit in silence, completely alone. Well, at least I think I’m alone. For some reason, I feel like I’m not. However, I can’t see anyone else around.

  To distract myself, I fish out the note from my pocket. After reading it several times, I feel as lost as ever. I mean, what am I supposed to do? Go back to Masie’s house and search for a clue? No way is that going to happen. I need another starting point, and I think I have an idea.

  I dig out my phone to do some research, frowning at the seventeen missed messages displayed on my screen. Ever since I ran away from Masie’s, my phone has been buzzing in my pocket like a crazy lunatic running away from her two best friends. Most of the messages are from Masie, while a few are from Blaine. My twin sister, Zhara, has also texted me, which is weird. We barely talk anymore, not since our parents died and I decided to leave my good, sweet girl persona behind while she latched on to hers.

  Zhara: Call me ASAP, please! I need to talk to you about something super important!

  I sigh heavily. More than likely she wants to talk about my behavior and how I need to change into a better person. It’s a conversation we’ve had a lot. I can’t deal with that right now, though.

  I blow out a breath and decide to message Zhara a bit later, after I’ve calmed down. Then I check the rest of my messages. I have a text from Loki, my older brother who got guardianship of our brother and sisters after our parents passed away.

  Loki: Are you coming home tonight?

  Such a simple message, but to me, it says so much more. Like, how he’s tired of me coming home late. Tired of me in general. I don’t blame him. I’m a tiring person. I feel bad, but I just can’t be the girl I was before our parents’ deaths. That girl felt too much.

  Still, I send him a message.

  Me: Probably to take a shower, but then I’m leaving again.

  He doesn’t respond, his silence showing how agitated he is with me. Now that I graduated, he doesn’t chew me out as much. Still, I can tell I annoy him whenever I disappear and don’t tell him where I’m going, or when I refuse to set plans of going to college, or whenever I get fired from a job. Deep down, I know I need to make a decision about college, but the truth is, I don’t think school is for me. I love art. I love painting. I love creating. That isn’t really a career. At least, according to a lot of people.

  Sighing, I move on to see who the rest of the messages are from.

  Strangely, I have one from West, Blaine’s best guy friend and my arch nemesis since grade school. Sure, the two of us hang out a ton, but only when we’re both with Blaine. We clash like a fun, dancing pixie and a grumpy troll. The main reason we butt heads is West knows how to push my buttons, and I know I do the same to him. He constantly teases me like a douche, and I do the same. But hey, at least we both keep the douchiness even.

  Things have gotten so bad that Masie and Blaine made up a rule that we aren’t allowed to stay in the same room together alone, like they think we’re going to beat the crap out of each other. West thought it was funny when they made that rule and joked that they were probably worried we were going to screw each other’s brains out. I was unamused. Well, sort of. Fine, I kind of laughed, but only at the idea of having sex with West.

  Sure, he’s hot, in a blond, Gothic prince sort of way, with his chin-length, blond hair; pierced tongue; and he always has studs on his dark clothes. But Blaine is more my type, which is weird because, looking at us, you’d think West and I went together. Looks aren’t everything, though.

  I swallow hard at the reminder of Blaine, which instantly leads to thoughts of Masie and the two of them kissing.

  Don’t think about them! You don’t cry over your parents, and you’re not going to cry about this.

  Ignoring the messages, I tap the internet tab and do a search on the card, starting by typing in the message. Nothing. Then I do an image search of the symbol. Again, nothing.

  “Crap, what am I going to do?” I sigh, massaging my temples. “This sucks balls.”

  “Hey! My mom says balls is a bad word.” A little kid pops his head around the corner and scowls at me. He has what I’m hoping is chocolate all over his face and leaves in his hair. “I’m going to tell.”

  “I meant balls as in tennis balls,” I tell him. “And I don’t really care if you tell.”

  “Well, you will,” he says, throwing a twig at me. “And you shouldn’t even be in here. You’re too old.”

  “You’re never too old to play on a playground.” I’m so not in the mood for this. “Now go away and leave me alone.”

  He throws another twig at me, and it pegs me in the eye.

  My hand flies to my face. “You little sh—”

  He cuts me off with a wicked laugh then bails down the slide.

  My eye burns like a motherfucker. I pull out my phone to use the camera to try to see the damage. Great. Now I look like I have pink eye.

  I sit in the slide with my hand pressed to my eye until I hear the boy heading back up again. He’s chatting to someone about a crazy girl who lives in the tunnels. Clearly, it’s time to say peace out to my hideout.

  I glance out the window to make sure Blaine’s truck isn’t in the parking lot or on the street. Then I run out and hike across the grass toward the road. By now, the sky has started to grey as the sun descends behind the shallow hills surrounding Honeyton, which means I’m running out of time to find my car.

  Part of me wonders if I should sneak back to Masie’s to play detective. Or maybe I should just call the police. But the note said not to. Besides, I don’t have the best track record with the police.

  Before I can make up my damn mind, a dark blue, 1968 GTO rolls up to the curb in front of me.

  My frown deepens.

  Like my Chevelle, a GTO is very rare vehicle around town, especially one all fixed up. Seriously, I’m a little jealous. In fact, as far as I know, only one exists in this town. And I know the owner.

  Very well.

  Too well, probably.

  West.

  Great. Just what I need.

  West

  I’ve been helping Blaine and Masie look for Alexis for the past hour after Masie called me, hysterical,
sobbing so hard I could barely understand her. To be honest, I almost hung up on her. Not because I’m a dick—okay, well, sometimes I can be—but I’ve never been a fan of Masie, at least not enough to deal with her drama. That’s always been Blaine’s thing. Ever since high school when Alexis introduced us to her, Blaine’s had a thing for her. And Alexis has had a thing for Blaine from even before then.

  It’s a whole drama-filled love triangle that, thankfully, no one talks about. Honestly, I don’t think Blaine realizes it even exists. I have no fucking idea how he doesn’t. If he paid attention for two fucking seconds, he’d be able to tell Alexis has been in love with him since the beginning of high school. But Blaine, while he’s my friend, has always been a self-centered dumbass. He sees what he wants to see, and a lot of what he sees is himself.

  How Alexis can be in love him is beyond me. Even I can barely tolerate him sometimes, and I’m supposed to be his best friend. Then again, I’m not sure we’ve really been best friends since junior year. Sure, we still hang out, but things changed when he became a football god, while I focused on grades and smoking a lot of pot. Plus, Blaine joined a different agency than the one I did.

  Yeah, it might sound a little weird, but Blaine and I work for a special undercover agency that we refer to as The HR Guardian Agency. It specializes in strange occurrences and illegal activities that happen around the world. We work secretly to protect people from stuff they believe only haunts them in their nightmares: dangerous organizations, powerful and unheard-of drugs, people with strange and deadly gifts, and the occasional created creature, which the agency refers to as Monsters.

  Blaine and I have been part of the agency since we turned sixteen, but we’re not in the same team, which has been causing friction between us. We try to ignore it, though, yet it’s always there, like a big, old, wrinkly werewolf drooling in the corner of the room, which yes, I’ve actually run into a werewolf before. They’re rare, but they do exist.

  People who are part of the agency don’t have superpowers. However, some of us possess certain gifts—those who have escaped drug facilities and joined the agency. I’m not one of those people, but a guy on my team is.