Freestyle (Academy of Stardom Book 1)

“Hey, Pen. You awake?” Zayn asks me as he pops his head around Xeno’s bedroom door, looking ruffled from sleep.

I yawn, peering at him from beneath the duvet that smells so deliciously of Xeno. I’ve spent all day in bed wrapped up in his scent of spiced musk. Now I feel rested and calm. By the looks of it, Zayn has been sleeping all day too.

“Where is everyone? What time is it?” I ask. Wondering at what point Dax and York left me to sleep after our encounter. My cheeks heat and my skin flushes at the memory of York’s hand between my legs and both their cocks in my hands.

“It’s five in the afternoon. York had to go home before his mum called the cops, and Dax is out getting us some pizza.”

“Five? Fuck, I’ve slept for like twelve hours or something.”

“Yeah. You needed the rest,” Zayn says, stepping into the room.

“I…”

My words are lost as he saunters over to the bed, topless, with just his jeans hanging low on his hips. A smattering of dark hair covers his pec and a line of softer hair runs downwards from his belly button, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Zayn is older than me by almost a year, and just like the rest of my Breakers he’s already a man even though his age would suggest otherwise.

“What’s up, Pen?” he grins at me, his night-time eyes sparkling with mirth and something a little darker as I sit up, the duvet revealing my bruises and my bra covered tits. “Fucking Christ.” His mirth disappears as he looks at the damage caused by David’s fists.

Sighing, I give him a tumultuous smile. “They don’t hurt so much now,” I lie. They still hurt like a bitch, but I don’t want his pity and I see so much of it in his eyes right now.

“York told us what he’s been doing to you, Pen. I’m so sorry…” His voice trails off as he pulls back the covers and climbs into bed next to me.

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t do this,” I respond quietly as he shuffles close to me, pulling me into his arms. I rest my cheek against his chest, my fingers reaching for the dark hair growing across his skin. Breathing in, I draw in his familiar scent of honeyed bread and weed.

“Because he hurt you. Because I feel fucking helpless to do anything to stop it. Because… because I love you, Pen,” he admits, his arms circling me, holding me close. Zayn has always been honest with me, and his honesty now is the biggest gift I could ask for. It means everything.

Shifting in his hold, I sit up, straddling him. My hair falls over my shoulders, the ends tickling his chest as I lean forward and press my forehead against his. “I love you too.” It feels so easy to say those precious words. I like the way they make me feel, and I like the happiness that lights up Zayn’s face when I say them back.

“We tried talking to Jeb about David…” he suddenly blurts out, his fingers caressing my spine.

“And?”

“And he didn’t want to listen.” Zayn breathes out a long sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Pen.”

I nod, and I know he isn’t just apologising for not being able to persuade Jeb to do something about my brother. He’s apologising for everything else too. He’s apologising for the fact they’re part of the Skins crew. He’s apologising for the fact that they’ve bad done things to earn expensive motorbikes, that the rumours about them are true.

My Breakers break bones.

But like last night, I don’t want to think about David, about Jeb or the Skins, about who these boys will eventually turn into. I want to live in the now and hang onto our friendship because it’s the only good thing in my life besides Lena.

Zayn rests his head back on the wall and looks up at me, watching me carefully as I inch closer. My fingers trace his lips as I stare into his oynx eyes, loving the way his dark orbs drink me in.

“What are you doing, Pen?” he asks, a rueful smile playing about his lips as my fingers lower, tracing the length of his neck and feathering across his collarbone.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” I whisper, leaning closer to him and brushing my lips against his forehead.

“I didn’t say I love you to get you into bed…”

“You’re already in bed, Zayn.”

“You know what I mean. This isn’t about that,” he says, looking up at me.

“I know, but this is what people in love do, right? They kiss, they make each other feel good.” Memories of York and Dax filter back in, and I react, rocking my hips against his dick that is growing between us.

“Pen, I’m not sure…”

“I want to do this. I want to kiss you, Zayn. I’m not a feeble, weak thing. I bear the evidence of my strength right here,” I say, pointing to my bruises. “David hurt me, and I want to erase every bruise, every punch, every bad word, every snide comment from my skin and my heart. I want you to help me to do that.”

I’m fully aware that in the early hours of this morning I professed the same to York and Dax, but I don’t feel guilty about it. They all know how I feel, and aside from Xeno, they’ve not pushed me away despite knowing I love them all. This is how I want to heal.

For the first time, dance isn’t enough.

“Then I will make sure every last memory of that bastard hurting you is replaced with ones of love,” he responds fiercely, grasping the back of my head and slanting his lips over mine. His mouth parts on a sigh as his hands find my hips and dip beneath the waistband of Xeno’s joggers that I’m still wearing, minus my knickers. I took them off after they left, feeling uncomfortable in the soaked material.

“Pen!” He mutters against my mouth, shocked at my bare arse that his hands are so firmly clutching now.

“Zayn!” I mock, smiling as I rock my hips and slide my tongue between his parted lips, searching for his words of love, wanting to taste them, swallow them, needing them to satiate the hunger and appease the starvation I’ve endured for so fucking long. Yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect, what might happen, but now York and Dax have shown me the way, I know what I want and it might be more than just a kiss.

With one hand firmly grabbing my arse, his other finds its way to my bra strap and with deft fingers, has unhooked it. It’s actually quite impressive how he manages to do that so easily, though I suppose he’s had plenty of practice. I push that thought away, not wanting to think about how many girls he kissed and touched before me. My bra slides off my shoulders as our tongues, lips and teeth, search, soothe and bite.

Our kisses become more and more intense as his fingers find my breasts and his thumb rolls over my nipple, teasing me and sending bolts of sensation right to my core. I react, pressing myself against the length of his cock, thick beneath his jeans. With a slick pussy and a full heart, I reach between us, my nails trailing down his chest and abs, desperate to hold him in my palm.

“I knew I should’ve fucking come upstairs myself,” a dark voice says from the doorway.

We break apart, panting, and my cheeks flush a deep pink. I almost reach up to cover my bare breasts, but think better of it. Tipping up my chin, I look at Xeno defiantly. I won’t be made to feel ashamed. I appreciate him letting me stay here, I really do, but I won’t stop loving these boys just because he says so. The thing is, when I meet his gaze, I don’t see anger or disappointment. I see something else. Desire.

Hot, molten, raging desire.

He’s turned on. I’m sure of it.

“Xeno… I love her,” Zayn says calmly. He’s firm, sure of himself in the moment, and he doesn’t let me go. In fact he pulls me tighter against him, resting his lips against my collarbone and running his tongue over the mound of my breast.

“I know,” Xeno bites out, shutting the door behind him.

With my head turned to the side, I watch Xeno as he leans against the door, his hands stuffed into his pockets, staring at us both.

“You gonna stand there?” Zayn asks. I note the missing but implied word, just.

“Yeah, I am.” Xeno’s is acting stubborn even though his eyes are dark and full of glittering promises, like jewels locked away in a glass cage. He gives me glimpses of the riches he could bestow if only he would let himself.

Zayn shakes his head. “Why torture yourself, man?” he asks before grasping my face in his large palms and gives me a kiss to rival all other kisses. His tongue swirls and dips, his teeth nip and bite, his lips soothe and caress. It’s a hot, messy, glorious kiss that burns me white-hot and turns me inside out. When Zayn’s mouth closes over my nipple and his fingers slide between my legs, I turn my head to Xeno and let out a low moan. Heat builds within me, around us. Emotions swirling in the torrid air, conjured up by our love and our lust.

Through the haze, I can see Xeno push off against the door, his body rocking on his feet as though he’s fighting every instinct to come and join us. Our eyes lock and he drags a hand through his hair, a frown marring his beautiful face.

“Xeno,” I mouth, but the sound is ripped from my lips when Zayn presses his thumb against my clit and I orgasm, my eyes falling shut and my chest heaving.

When I finally open my eyes, blinking back the stars, Xeno is gone.

The next morning it’s just Xeno and me in the house. The rest of the Breakers are coming back later in the afternoon and we’re going to have a movie night, making the most of our time together before I have to go back home tomorrow. Right now, Xeno’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“Hey,” I say, giving him a wave and then mentally kicking myself for being so awkward. I’ve changed back into my own clothes and I’ve got the ones of his I borrowed folded up in my hands with my dirty underwear tucked between the folds. “Could I use your washing machine? I need to wash your clothes.”

He glances at me, his gaze moving between my face and his joggers and back again. “Sure, laundry detergents under the sink,” he indicates, jerking his chin towards the cupboard before returning his attention back to his phone. I see red spots heat beneath his tan skin, and feel my own flush at the memory of what happened last night. I came on Zayn’s hand and all over Xeno’s favourite pair of jogging pants.

This isn’t awkward, much.

“Did you speak to your mum?” I ask, picking a fairly neutral subject to try and ease the growing tension in the room whilst I throw the clothes into the washing machine and switch it on.

“Yeah, they’re back the day after tomorrow. I’m going to have to make sure this place is tidied up before then. Mum’ll blow a gasket if she sees the mess.”

“I’ll help tidy up. It’s the least I can do after you’ve let me stay. I really appreciate it, Xeno. It means a lot to me.”

“Sure,” he mumbles, returning his attention to the mobile phone and whatever he’s so engrossed in watching on it. Feeling like I need to clear the air, I pull up next to him and peer over his shoulder. He’s watching a dance battle on his phone. A couple of the guys are doing insane flips, jumping over each other, and wiping the floor with their opponents.

“Impressive,” I comment. It would take a lot of skill and strength to do what they’re doing and not faceplant onto the floor or collide. “It looks tricky.”

“We could totally ace this move. I’ll show it to Zayn later…” he replies, flicking the screen upwards and placing his phone face down on the table. He sits stiffly beside me as silence descends. I feel more awkward than ever around him.

“We’re still doing it… the competition, I mean?” I ask him, surprised, honestly.

“Of course we are. Why do you think we wouldn’t be?”

“You’ve been busy…” I point out.

“And you’ve been avoiding us,” he retorts. “I guess that makes us equal.”

I don’t respond because I can feel the beginnings of an argument forming, and I really, really don’t want to fight. So we sit in silence until I can’t deal with it anymore.

“Are we okay?” I ask eventually, worrying my lip like I tend to do when I’m anxious.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” he answers way too quickly for my liking.

“Because you’re acting weird, because you’re looking at everything in this room bar me.” And because I feel like I’m losing you.

At that he shifts in his seat so that our knees bang together, and the heat of his gaze is fixed firmly on my face. “Is that better?”

“Not really,” I mutter, wishing I hadn’t said anything.

“You didn’t seem to mind me staring last night.”

Puffing out my cheeks, I decide to grow some lady balls. “You’re right, I didn’t. But that was different. You looked at me like you wanted me. Now you’re looking at me like you don’t know who I am. I’m still me. I’m still, Pen and I love Zayn.”

“So is it him? Is he the one you’re going to choose?”

“You’re still adamant about that, after everything that’s happened?” My voice is sharp. It angers me that he’s still so determined to break us apart. I’m not any nearer to knowing what I want. If anything, being intimate with York, Dax and Zayn has made this harder.

He puffs out his cheeks, then blows out a steady breath. “I never change my mind about anything once it’s made up.”

“What, never?” I ask, placing my hand over his, my heart battering like a piston against my rib cage.

“Never.”

“Have you ever considered the possibility that I won’t have to choose, that they might choose me?” I whisper, feeling both hope at the possibility and agony at the thought.

Xeno meets my gaze and I see the truth in them. He has thought about it. He’s thought about it a lot. Xeno opens his mouth to respond, but slams it shut when his phone starts ringing. Snatching it up, he strides from the kitchen. By the time he returns, the moment of honesty is gone and neither of us bring up the subject again.