Toxic Siren: Awakening by Lauren Gage

Author:Lauren Gage [Gage, Lauren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nebulosus Litore Press
Published: 2020-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

“Dylan?” I spoke into the line. He made me nervous and I played with the phone cord, twisting the little rings around my pointer finger. It was an annoying habit that sometimes tangled up the cord. Drove mom nuts when she had to fix it.

“Hi, Shell.” It sounded like he was smiling. I could see the image clearly in my mind.

“What’s up?” A smile formed on my own lips, hearing him speak my name.

“Wanted to hear your voice.”

“We’ll see each other tomorrow.” I chuckled, feeling it absurd that he couldn’t wait a matter of hours to hear my voice.

“Just wanted to hear your voice.” He confirmed. Well, alright.

“It’s nice to hear your voice too.” I admitted, heat burning my cheeks.

“So, I was thinking about what your friend said this morning…” He started and I immediately began to wonder which friend he was talking about and what had they said.

“What thing are you thinking about?” I asked, heart beating faster.

“Your type. Dark and psychotic.” His tone lowered and I giggled. Wow, I actually giggled, like a girl. Crap.

“I wouldn’t exactly agree with him.” I had the phone cradled between ear and shoulder as I rubbed my scars. I’d been trying to push Dylan away, and now felt anxious that he might be drawing away.

“So, dark and psycho?” He asked again.

“There were only two and they may have looked dark, but only in looks. Psycho is relative.” My voice drifted as thoughts of Carlo floated into my brain. He’d been a little possessive, had issues with breaking up, and some stalking behaviors. Did that qualify as psycho? Perhaps. Ted wasn’t psycho, but at times was dark and broody.

“Relative?” He asked for clarity.

“I’m not a nice person. I’m more psycho than any of the guys ever were.” I explained. My opinion of myself was pretty low, especially since the accident. I had traumatic brain injury, amnesia, and nerve damage. I’d been on lots of psych meds for a while. I thought that qualified as a little clinically psycho.

I heard nervous laughter on the other end, “You don’t seem so bad.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I said, voice flat.

“So, what’s the story with the last guy?”

“Before Ted? Not that interested, and I was the villain.” As in, I wasn’t that interested after finding there was no chemistry, and he decided I was the villain when I tried to break up with him. I really didn’t want to talk about Carlo, but now he was running through my mind.

“I’m definitely interested now,” his voice strong and conspiratorial.

“Ok, but you have to tell me about your last girlfriend too. Quid pro quo.”

“Squid what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” I said. He wasn’t as stupid as he liked to play. “Basically, I give, you give. An exchange of information,” I clarified. There was a certain cunning behind those eyes of his that I’d caught glimpses of in our short exchanges.

“Deal.”

“Carlo lived a couple of blocks over. I knew he was a senior, I was a sophomore. He drove a motorcycle, had the leather jacket and boots, wore black.

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