Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Thirty-Three

I watch as Taisley shuffles her deck of tarot cards, biting down on her bottom lip to keep her concentration. Once satisfied that the cards are sufficiently shuffled, she places them down in front of me in a spread known as the Celtic Cross.

"What do I do?" I question her. I'm educated in a lot of things. Tarot—or anything occult-related, for that matter—isn't one of them.

Taisley flashes a wicked grin and picks up the first card. "Ah, the High Priestess. Interesting first choice."

"Interesting?"

"The first card is your present situation. The High Priestess is calm, passive, and patient. However, she's also mysterious and intuitive. She's the epitome of untapped potential."

"Okay...." I reply, struggling to understand.

"The second card," she explains, "is your conflict. An immediate challenge."

Silently, I watch as the turns over card number two. I'm greeted by a picture of a man with seven large sticks.

"Seven of Wands. How fascinating," she muses. "This guy right here symbolizes aggression and defiance. He's fierce, fiery, and combative."

I stifle an eye roll. It doesn't take an occult specialist to figure out that I am the High Priestess, and Daddy Dearest is the Seven of Wands.

"Now the third card," she goes on, "is your distant past. Something that happened a long time ago which still affects you." She selects another card and holds it up for me. "Ten of Wands. Experience any life-altering struggles as a child?"

I chuckle to myself. "Yeah, you could say that."

She purses her cherry red lips and raises her eyebrows. "I'm going to have to grill you on that later. Nothing interests me more than the psyche of Layla Dodds."

I give her arm a playful smack and say, "Keep going, will you? What's the next card?"

"Card four is your recent past. Something that occurred months, weeks, maybe even a few days ago." She reveals her selection—a picture of an unclothed man and woman. "The Lovers. I'm guessing this has to do with that hottie ex-boyfriend of yours."

"Jose," I whisper, my voice dripping with melancholy. Just the sound of his name cuts me like a knife.

I recall our conversation the other day. He said he wanted to get together and talk. He said he would call me. To no one's surprise, he hasn't called, and we haven't talked, and it still hurts to think about the way things fell apart between us. I miss the way we used to be.

I miss him.

"Tarot cards again, Taisley? Still pretending to be a little witch bitch in your spare time?"

I rotate my head toward the unfamiliar voice. Standing in the doorway of Taisley's bedroom is a boy who doesn't look much older than me. With ebony hair, olive skin, thick eyebrows, and cheek bones that could slice through diamond, he could be a model.

Taisley, however, seems to disagree. She rolls her sapphire eyes and says, "Oh, Zane. Don't you have a girl to impregnate or something?"

"Why? You volunteering, Tais?"

"God, you're vile! Get out of my room!"

"Introduce me to your friend first." His eyes, which are as dark as night, linger on me. His lips twist into a lascivious grin. Immediately, I feel myself blushing.

"Layla, this is my skeevy step-brother, Zane," Taisley informs me with another dramatic eye roll. "I mean, 'step-brother' is kind of a lie. Daddy hasn't been married to your whore mother in... what? Four years?"

"Five years," he corrects her.

"That's right. You were only twelve when she walked out on you."

Zane's face contorts in pain—a pain I'm all too familiar with. His mother abandoned him and never looked back. Mine did the exact same thing.

"I need a sparkling water," Taisley announces, rising to her feet. To Zane, she adds, "You better be gone by the time I'm back."

He smirks. "You got it, witchy."

Taisley leaves, but Zane doesn't. He continues to stare at me, wearing his sardonic smile like a badge. I notice that he smells of cigarette smoke—an odor that usually disgusts me, but not right now. Not on him.

"Why are you friends with her?" he asks suddenly.

"With Taisley?"

"Who else?"

"Oh, I don't... I don't know. I mean, she's been nice to me," I stutter awkwardly.

"She's a crazy bitch," he replies. "Her dad's no better."

"You mean your step-dad? The man who took you in after your mom walked out on you? Seems like a decent guy to me," I defend my boss.

"You don't know him like I do," Zane snarls. "Trust me, I might live with this psycho family, but I'm not a Bishop."

"I guess you're not," I mutter.

He moves closer. Heat rises to my cheeks with every step he takes. By the time he bends over and picks up 'The Lovers' card, I'm crimson with embarrassment.

"My favorite card in the deck." He extends his hand and runs his callused thumb over my trembling lips. "You okay, sweetheart?"

I muster a feeble nod. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"You're shaking."

"I'm not."

He chuckles. "Liar. Do I make you nervous?"

"Is that your objective? To make me nervous?" I inquire.

He shrugs his shoulders. "And what if it is?"

I swallow the lump in my throat and give a firm shake of my head. "No, Zane, you don't make me nervous. Now, if you would excuse me, I need to go find your sister."

A/N:
Zane is... something. He was inspired by every "bad boy" I knew when I was younger. Let me know what you think! 😉