And he tried to survive
Wearing his heart on his sleeve

Chapter 01 ~ Two Worlds Collide

Trey Carter

I woke up on the floor.

My eyes widened, vision focusing on the wide room. From the assorted baseball cards scattered all over my pristine, white, plush carpet, I could tell I was in my room, which was a good sign. As I attempted to lift myself from the floor, a sharp pain ripped through my neck and back, confirming that I hadn't slept so comfortably, and I fell to the floor again in defeat—which was not a good sign.

"It's about time," a voice called out, "I was beginning to think you died."

I looked around until my eyes met none other than Scar Patterson, my best friend since grade school. He was sat at the edge of my bed, staring straight ahead, and dangling his car keys between his fingers.

"Fuck off," I murmured, feeling slightly annoyed with the throbbing pain growing in my temples. It had been Scar's stupid idea to throw this party in the first place. Just because my parents were away for business, he thought it would be suiting to have a grand party for my 18th birthday. At the time, I was all for it, but now that I couldn't feel my toes, I deeply regretted it.

Scar didn't speak for quite some time, the only noise sounding from the soft ticking of the clock on the far wall.

"So, how's the breeze?" Scar asked with a silly smile on his face.

"What are you—" My breathing stopped altogether when I looked over my shoulder and noticed I was completely and shamelessly nude. My eyes traveled to the king-sized bed beside me, my mouth falling open when I saw the severely scattered sheets and unmade bed.

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to piece together what happened. Everything from the previous night was just one huge blur in my mind, but there was one thing I knew for certain—I got laid last night.

I cursed silently to myself as I crawled to my bedside table and retrieved a pair of boxers to relieve me of my current, unfortunate situation. When I was half-dressed, I stood to my full height and stretched my arms wide, giving a full, loud yawn.

Scar's silly smile was still a permanent feature on his face. "Who was it?" he pried with a raised brow.

I scratched my head in confusion. "I don't know. I think it was a boy, but it might have been a girl. I don't remember."

His smug smile turned into an even cockier grin as his blue-green eyes danced with utter interest and intrigue. "Nice."

I sighed, shaking my head in disbelief. One of the reasons why I agreed to this party was because Scar swore he would look out for me to make sure nothing like this happened.

"Where the hell were you?" I voiced my thoughts. "What happened to sticking by my side to ensure that I didn't get drunk and carried away?"

A glimmer of guilt shone in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "That was my plan," he began to explain as he waved his finger in the air, "but I got distracted."

"By what?"

His grin was back. "Big booty Judy."

A chuckle escaped my lips before I could stop it. Even though Scar was currently in a gay relationship, it didn't stop him from lusting after certain girls with big assets.

"Speaking of big booty Judy," he cleared his throat, "she disappeared last night. You didn't happen to have sex with her, did you?"

I turned away from him and ran a lazy hand down my face, groaning as I did so. It was going to be next to impossible to forget about my one night stand. "I told you I don't remember," I snapped at him. "Besides, why does big booty Judy matter when you have big booty Jamie?"

Scar's face hardened, any hint of amusement had completely vanished. "Don't talk about my boyfriend's ass."

"Then don't talk about big booty Judy's ass," I replied with a short laugh.

Scar opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, carefully debating his next choice of words. "Okay, well Jamie is in this weird mood where he doesn't want to have sex, and if I'm gonna go weeks without sex, I need to live vicariously through my best friend."

I clamped my lips shut, refusing to say anything else on the matter. I just wanted to forget that night ever happened, and that wasn't going to happen if Scar kept talking about it.

"But enough talk about that." As though reading my mind, he changed the subject. "I still got one more birthday present for you."

I reached into my dresser and shrugged on a plain tee over my bare chest. "What could be better than this?" I asked with an accompanying sarcastic smile.

Scar lifted himself from the bed and stalked over to me, hands falling heavily on my shoulders as he shook me, and turquoise eyes wide with wonder. "We're gonna get you inked!"

My mouth fell open. "Excuse me, w-what?"

It was clear this subject excited him."You're going to get your first tattoo and I already scheduled an appointment, so you can't be a pussy."

"But, I never-"

He sent me a glare that told me I couldn't back out. "You're going," he insisted.

We stared at each other for a while, before I finally gave in with a sigh. Scar could have asked me to jump off a cliff with him and I would, because he was my best friend and I happened to be kind of in love with him, which is the sick part of it all. Scar was my first love and I swore he would be my last, until I met Max. They were both great guys, but because the universe was obviously against me, they were both taken. It was apparent that I wasn't going to be lucky when it came to the world of love, and I finally accepted that.

Up until I ruined it by having one night stand.

"Fine," I said between gritted teeth, finally agreeing to his crazy demand.

A devious grin curved Scar's lips in response and I simply rolled my eyes at him, turning my full attention to getting dressed. When I was finished, I followed Scar out of my bedroom, down the grand ballroom staircase, and through the wide, main foyer that just so happened to be littered with spilled drinks, loose articles of clothing and beer cans. I was momentarily thankful that I had the entire weekend to clean up the house before my parents returned.

I'm definitely never throwing another party again.

It wasn't long before we were both situated in Scar's old, beat-up Jeep, heading to our destination. Although I wasn't on board with getting a tattoo, I enjoyed times like these. Ever since Scar had gotten a boyfriend, we spent less and less time together. I knew it wasn't on purpose, but it made me want to cherish every moment I had with him.

I laid back into my seat, carefully observing the rushing traffic.

"So," Scar spoke up, breaking the silence, "you told your parents about SHC, yet?"

As if this day couldn't get any worse. I growled in irritation, turning to give a glance at the brown-haired boy. "Don't remind me."

It had been a dream of ours to play college football together at Notre Dame. Scar was well set to receive a full-time scholarship before he fucked it up for himself. Because he didn't qualify for any of the merit scholarships and he wasn't doing as well financially, he decided to attend Summer Hill Community College in the fall. He could've chosen any other college, but he claimed he wanted to stay close to his boyfriend, Jamie. I, on the other hand, had already gotten accepted into Notre Dame, but I knew it wouldn't be the same without Scar.

So like the foolishly stupid idiot I was, I decided to go to SHC, too.

And my parents had no idea.

"They'll kill me if they find out," I said, dryly.

Scar glanced over at me. "No, they won't."

"Yes, they will," I insisted, "my dad already bought 'my son goes to UND' shirts."

A frown creased his forehead as he returned his eyes to the road. "Well, it can't be as bad as them finding out you're gay," he added with a forced laugh, "amirite?"

I looked at him, a scowl creeping onto my face.

"And I'm not helping," he mused as an apologetic smile crept onto his face, "sorry."

We drove for quite a long time. I was pretty sure we left Summer Hill and crossed a bridge at some point. There were plenty of functional tattoo parlors back home, but somehow, Scar had an indescribable need to go out of town. When he finally stopped the car and pulled the key out of the ignition, we were pulled curbside of an ominous alley in between two tall buildings, one of which was a store for adult sex toys.

Scar had already started to amble into the dark alley while I was still busy listening to my subconscious telling me that something wasn't right about this. "Um," I called out rather loudly, "can we go to another place?"

Scar spun around, a grin growing on his face, and he continued to walk backwards into the alley. "Can't, I already made an appointment here."

It was a little past noon when the sun was the highest in the sky, but the streets still seemed to look dark and scary, like a place you'd only see in vampire movies. My mind knew this was a bad idea, but Scar obviously didn't care.

He kept backing into the alley, having no concern for how wrong this scene was. "You just turned eighteen, but you still act like a thirteen year old!"

My hands involuntarily balled into fists. "Fuck you," I spat at him.

He cupped his hand behind his ear. "What? What was that? I couldn't hear you behind all the whining."

Anger boiled just beneath the surface of my skin and I could feel my body temperature rising from the dig to my manliness. "I'm going to kill you, Patterson," I shouted loud enough for him to hear and reluctantly followed him into the alley.

As soon as we came across a large steel door built into the brick wall of one of the buildings, my gut feeling of pure terror heightened. "You know, this is probably one of those places where they reuse their needles."

He scoffed. He was obviously finding too much pleasure in this. "You'll live," he said to reassure me, but it only succeeded in frightening me.

"Yeah, sure, I'll live..." I gulped, "...with HIV."

Scar rolled his eyes and knocked on the steel door, giving me a side glare as he patiently waited for an answer. "Relax, I got my second tattoo here and I'm HIV-free."

My brow quirked upward. "Second tattoo? You got a second one and you didn't tell me?"

He shrugged. "I forgot."

A short amount of time passed by and I broke into full laughter. "What was it this time? A tattoo of Jamie's face?"

He was all smiles before, but now his facial expression had grown hard and serious. "Funny, but no. It's a music note."

"Seriously? Lemme see."

"Can't."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"It's not in a place that I'm willing to show," he replied.

It took me a while to understand what that meant, but when I finally did, I shook my head in disbelief. "You're gross."

Before Scar could respond, the steel door swung open and a large, intoxicating cloud of smoke blew into our faces, immediately swelling my lungs. A tall, large, heavily-tattooed man with several face piercings emerged from the smoke, wearing a not-so-friendly expression. "You Patterson?"

Scar nodded. "Yes, and this is my buddy, Trey."

I attempted a small wave, but the man looked at me like he was going to kill me. After a moment's hesitation, the man stepped into the darkness of the room, urging us to follow.

Scar was the first to walk into the bootleg tattoo place, and I had no choice but to follow. It was a relatively small room, about the size of an office cubicle, and it was filled with pictures of crazy tattoos. A tattooed girl with red hair greeted me with a smile.

"You must be Trey," she mused.

I gave her a slight nod.

"Your friend tells me that this is your first tattoo."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I wasn't even aware I was getting a tattoo until an hour ago."

The female didn't get my sarcasm and continued with, "Cool, just follow me to the back," she beckoned with a finger.

Before I could leave, Scar slapped a hand on my shoulder, holding me back. "Don't get anything stupid."

"Like anything could be more dumb than your tattoo of Jamie's name," I retorted.

Scar's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "In my defense, I was really into my feelings that day."

"Uh huh."

* * *

After an hour of pain and a sharp needle piercing my skin, my tattoo was finally finished. The female tattoo artist gave me her card and instructions on how to care for the ink in the next few days. As I stood from the reclining chair and began to make my way back to the main room where Scar was waiting for me, she spoke up.

"Feel free to call me at that number anytime," she added with a wink.

"Oh, uh, okay," I said, and then I bolted out of there as fast as I could.

When I returned to the waiting room, Scar glanced up from his phone and pulled his lips into a wide grin. "What'd you get?"

I clutched onto the bandaged area. "A football."

He seemed put off for a moment, but he eventually smiled. "Not bad." He opened his mouth to add something else, but his cell phone vibrated in his hands, causing him to bring his full attention to it. "Shit."

I tried to get a peek at the message on his phone. "What?"

He read over the message, groaned, and then stuck the phone into his back pocket. "I need to pick up Amy from her date. I swear, she needs to get her own car."

My lips twitched into a smile. "Well, think about it. If she had her own car, then she'd probably never come home and she'll spend all her nights with that boyfriend of hers." I paused for a moment, then continued, "Kinda like you."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Whatever, let's just go. I'll drop you on the way."

I followed him out of the tattoo place, but I stopped in my tracks when I remembered that I still had no idea who I slept with last night. The not-knowing would continue to gnaw at my brain before it drove me absolutely insane.

"Actually, I'm gonna stay behind."

He glanced over his shoulder. "What? Why?"

"I want to run some errands," I lied.

Scar eyed me skeptically. "How are you gonna get home?"

I shrugged. "Uber?"

He wasn't so convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Scar stared at me for some time, probably debating whether it not he should leave me alone. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "All right, text me when you're home." We exchanged smiles and he was on his way, trudging through the alley an heading to his Jeep.

I stayed put until I was absolutely sure he was gone, and headed toward the nearby adult store by the name of 'Toy Box'. Before I could even think it through, I tugged on the handle and threw the glass door open, breezing into the all-white store. I scanned the shop, taking in the sight of the assorted sex toys hung on the wall. Some of them had obvious uses, while others were a bit more ambiguous.

A man with rainbow colored hair, who was probably in his mid-thirties, popped out from behind the main counter with an eager smile on his face. "Welcome to Toy Box! Is there anything I can help you find?"

It seemed as though I was getting bolder with each second of my existence as an eighteen year old. "Um, yeah, I want a dildo."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A dildo?" he questioned like he didn't hear me the first time, which I'm certain he did. "Hmm, that's always a personal favorite."

I gave him a weird look. "Um, okay?"

The cashier must have sensed my blatant discomfort, because he cleared his throat and tapped the glass case in front of him. "Here, we've got dildos of all sizes, shapes, and colors. Which one interests you?"

I lowered my eyes to the glass case, letting them linger over each sex toy. Sure, I was gay and sure, I liked dicks, but this had to be the most uncomfortable thing I had ever experienced.

Finally, I settled on one of the dildos in the corner of the case. "That one."

He wiggled his eyebrows as he ducked under the counter separating us and opened the glass case, grabbing one of the boxes behind the dildo I chose. "Excellent choice," he commented, "may I ask what the occasion is?"

I was weary of telling him, but figured it wouldn't hurt. "I had sex last night and I'm not sure if I was the giving or the receiving end."

"And you're hoping the dildo will bring back suppressed memories?" he interrogated.

I nodded. "Somewhat."

"Honey, trust me, if you were a bottom, then you would know." He leaned in closer to me and smiled. "Is your ass sore?"

This conversation had taken such an unfortunate turn. "No."

He flailed his hands in the air in a carefree manner. "Then you have nothing to worry about!" he exclaimed, but paused for a quick moment to add, "unless you wanted to bottom."

"No, no, I didn't. I just—" I stopped myself when I started to wonder why I was trying to explain myself to someone I didn't even know, "—I'll take the dildo, please."

The cashier studied me for a brief moment before shrugging. "All right, that'll be twenty six, fifty."

I dug my hand into my pocket to retrieve several crumpled dollar bills and shoved them at him. He gave me back my change and a receipt along with the packaged box inside a fancy paper bag. "Enjoy," he said with a uneasy smile.

I tipped my head in gratitude and turned to leave, walking swiftly enough to escape him before he decided to say anything else that made me feel uncomfortable.

As soon as I walked outside, I was greeted by the warm, summer breeze. I walked for a little while, in search of anymore shops that might interest me, but I soon got tired. The sun was beginning to set and I really didn't want to be in this risky place when the night came.

I propped myself against a wall, drawing my leg up, and pulling out my phone to call a taxi. One minute, I was standing perfectly still with my phone pressed to my ear and the next minute, I was being dragged into the nearest alley by three tall men. They wore black masks so I couldn't see their faces, but I could hear all the derogatory names they called me as they punched and kicked me to the cold asphalt.

I yelled, I pleaded, I cried for them to stop, but it kept coming. I'm pretty sure somewhere in the middle of the attack, I started to bleed because I tasted something salty on the tip of my tongue.

A pair of strong hands landed on my shoulders and lifted me to my feet. I prepared myself for another punch, but it never came. Instead, I was shoved against the brick wall, hard, and the person began to fight off my attackers. Everything happened so fast that I couldn't really see what was going on, but I knew by the time he was finished, my attackers were rolling on the floor, howling in pain.

"You okay, kid?" my savior questioned as soon as he spun around to face me.

He was probably a half inch taller than me, because I had to look up at him once he was close enough. His spiky black hair stuck out in different directions, like he had just woken up and didn't bother to groom it. His dark, forest green eyes stared back at me in curiosity, and it was then I realized that I hadn't answered his question.

I cleared my throat. "Yeah, m'fine."

He looked like he didn't believe me. "They sure did a number on you."

I touched my forehead and when I pulled my fingers away, they were tainted with a dark, red liquid. Oh, fucking great.

"I should probably go to a hospital."

The man's lips tugged into a slight smirk. "I don't do hospitals, kid. Come with me, and I'll stitch you up."

I knitted my brows together as I knelt to the ground to pick up my paper bag. "What do you mean you don't do hospitals? Hospitals aren't something you do. They help you get better."

I was talking, but I was pretty sure he wasn't listening. Before I had time to register it, the dark-haired man roughly grabbed onto my shoulders and dragged me out of the alley, showing that he didn't take no as an answer. I glanced over my shoulder at the injured men on the asphalt, and decided not to protest in fears of him doing the same thing to me.

He approached the pickup truck parked along the curbside and swung open the passenger door. Reaching into the glove box and rummaging through all the stuff in there, he retrieved a small first-aid kit and a silver flask.

When he was done, he looked back at me. "Sit," he ordered, gesturing toward the passenger seat.

Reluctantly following his orders, I brushed past him and slid into the passenger seat, letting my legs dangle out of the truck. He stood there for a while, assessing my head wound with careful eyes, and taking occasional sips from the flask.

My eyes widened as I inquired, "You're drinking?"

"Yeah, takes off the edge." He eyed me skeptically for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk, and he waved the flask in my face. "You want?"

I swallowed a lump in my throat and shook my head, not believing that I was going to let an intoxicated man give me stitches.

"Relax," he said as though he had just read my mind and began to thread the needle he had gotten from the first-aid kid. "I'll be done in no time."

I did as I was told and sucked in a large breath of air, trying to prepare myself for what was about to come. The pin of the needle felt cold of my skin and I flinched when I felt the thread slip through my skin like butter. When he had pulled the thread through a few times, I asked, "How many times, exactly, have you done this?"

"You're my first."

I swear my heart dropped to my knees at that very instant. "What!" I knew this was a bad idea from the start.

"Keep still," he urged, "I'm almost done."

I decided to keep still, not because he told me to, but because I didn't want him hurting me any more than I already was.

As I waited for him to finish, I stared down at my fingers and absentmindedly played with them. "What's your name, anyway?"

He finished stitching me up and tied the end of the thread. "Owen."

I nodded.

He cocked his head to the side. "And yours?" he prompted.

I huffed. "I'm not telling you my name."

Owen was silent for a brief moment as he folded his toned arms against his chest and gave me a challenging stare. "Why not?"

"I don't know you," I said. "You could be a cannibal for god's sake. How do I know you didn't save me from those jackasses just because you wanted to kidnap me and eat me or something?"

Something I said amused him, because he let out a hearty laugh. "I'm not really into dark meat, kid, but if you're offering..."

My eyes went wide.

"Kidding," he tagged on quickly, "it's a joke."

This dude had a weird, twisted sense of humor and I didn't like it one bit. "Well, thank you, Owen, but I'll be on my way now." I leaped out of the truck and tugged my black hoodie over my head. Even though I had no idea where I was going or how to get there, I refused to admit that I needed Owen's help. My parents taught me never to talk to strangers when I was little, and there was something oddly strange about him.

I didn't get far when Owen caught up to me, latching his hand onto my arm and gaining a tight grip. "Are you shitting me," he spat as a statement rather than a question, "you're gonna walk in the streets of this part of town with a hoodie? Are you stupid or dumb?"

I yanked my arm out of his grasp. "Fuck off."

Owen stared back at me in disbelief, mouth agape, like I had just insulted him. A period of silence came between us and it was mostly filled with him staring at me like some psycho. I wanted to turn away and run for the hills before he snapped into his psychotic break, but I couldn't find the power in myself to do it.

Which was a huge ass mistake because Owen launched himself at me and wrapped his strong arms around my neck, putting me into a choke hold. I struggled and twisted against his grip, but it was no use. He was much stronger than he looked.

In the matter of seconds, he was dragging me back to his truck and throwing me into the passenger side. My hands scrambled for the door knob, but he slapped it away. "Stay fucking still, kid!"

I fought against him, but I was already too weak from the beating I received earlier, so I gave in. If this was how I was going to die, then I accepted it.

And I never got to use my dildo.

When he shut my door, Owen hastily rushed to the driver's side and started up the car. He drove off almost instantly, not giving me the time to jump out of the car at the last minute.

We sat in silence for the majority of the drive, aside from him occasionally asking directions to my house. At some point in the drive, I reached out to fiddle with the radio dials to cut the silence between us, but music never came out of the speakers.

"They don't work, kid," he notified me.

I scoffed and sunk back into my seat. "Stop calling me that. I'm eighteen."

Owen laughed. "You look like a kid to me."

A low growl bubbled in the back of my throat. "You don't look that much older than me."

He was silent for a second, his lips pursing as he thought up a response. "Right, well, I obviously act older than you. Only kids would do something as stupid as walking around in one of the most dangerous towns in the state with a black hoodie on. You were practically asking for a beating."

I turned away and looked out the window. "Whatever."

As soon as we pulled into my driveway, I felt an instant wave of relief. My first night as an eighteen year old was enough for me to stay away from anything slightly rebellious for a long time.

"Holy shit, this is your house?" Owen asked in disbelief as he stared up at the eight bedroom mansion.

"Yeah," I replied weakly.

"Damn, I didn't know you people lived like gods. No wonder you're so naive."

I snapped my gaze to his. "You people?"

As though realizing what he said, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "No offense, but—"

"Do you get off on being an asshole or something?"

A sly smirk played at his lips. "Wait, I thought I was a cannibal?"

I stared at him with wide eyes and a tightly closed mouth, jaw tense. When I was sure he knew how pissed off I was, I propped open the car door, jumped out, and started the long tread up the long, extended driveway.

But of course, I heard Owen's voice call out from the truck. "Be careful, kid! I'm not gonna be around to save your ass next time."

I balled my hands into fists and continued to walk to my house, trying my best to ignore him.

________

a/n: And there you have it folks, the first official chapter of the third book in the KB series! I'm sorry that it was incredibly long and boring at some parts, but I needed to build a background on Trey because a lot of you guys don't really know him as much as you think you do. And now I'm wondering why I'm apologizing for writing a long chapter.

Anyway, please let me know what you think of this so far. Your feedback would mean a lot to me, especially at the beginning of a new story. Also, if you have any questions about this chapter as I'm sure things aren't clear as yet, then feel free to ask.

This chapter kind of acts as a teaser, because I won't be fully focusing on this book until Addicted is finished, which has just a few chapters to go.

Also, this book will be named after Demi Lovato songs and there's a gif of Trey to the side. He is black, okay?

Until next time,
Lara <3