The Third Strike: Rogues of Everly Prep Book Three

by Wendi Wilson

  “Seriously? Not even your period is private?”

  I said it with over-exaggerated horror, and it worked. A laugh burst from Stella’s lips, and some of the tension drained from her shoulders. I shot her a warm smile and gave her hand a squeeze.

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yes. Thanks, Chaz.”

  “Okay, so when you get home, burn this,” I said, holding up the picture. “Or I can take it home and do it myself.”

  She plucked it from my fingers and slid it back into her pocket. “I’ll do it. It’ll give me some satisfaction to see his grotesque, lecherous, child-bride buying face go up in flames.”

  “Good,” I said, nodding. “And I’ll have Seth get you one of those phones tonight. He’ll bring it to you tomorrow. If he can’t get a minute alone with you because the Roguettes are up his ass, then I’ll have him give it to Simone. She’ll find a way to get it to you.”

  “Thanks. You’re a good friend.”

  “Right back at you, babe. We’re going to get through this. And once we reach the other side, the victory will be that much sweeter.”

  Her face relaxed even further as she nodded in agreement.

  I just hoped I wasn’t lying, and our happily ever after wasn’t some kind of pipe dream.

  I was late to my first class, which of course, resulted in a detention slip. Which of course, put me in a foul mood the rest of the morning. First, they didn’t want me here, and now they’re making me stay longer?

  I stomped through the entrance to the dining hall at lunch, and even the bravest of souls refused to make eye contact with me. They had reason to be scared—I was known to do some erratic and horrible things to people who pissed me off.

  I just wished that badass reputation would supersede the current porn star one making the rounds.

  I slid into the seat across from Josh, who thankfully pushed a tray of food in front of me. I nodded my thanks, and shoved a tater tot into my mouth with a growl.

  “Rough morning, Dear?” he asked, shooting me a wink.

  I rolled my eyes. “You could say that. Stella’s parents found out she’s been talking to Seth and gave her a picture of the old fart they want to sell her to as a reminder to keep her obedient. I was late to first period after taking the time to talk her off the ledge, and now I have detention.”

  “Oh, my God,” he said cringing. “What does he look like?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I groaned. “Dude was like seventy with a comb-over and nasty teeth. It was terrifying, to say the least.”

  His whole body shivered as he imagined it. Then he straightened, and shot me a half-smile.

  “The good news is, Jasper is holding detention in his class this semester. So, at least you know you won’t spend the whole hour being mad-dogged by some bitch that hates you.”

  “I guess that’s good news,” I replied, shrugging, “if you’re a glass-half-full kind of person. I’ve been feeling a little more pessimistic these days.”

  “Come on,” he said, winking. “I bet he’d even let you leave early if you bat those baby greens at him.”

  “Ha. Or blackmailed him into it by preying on his guilt over everything that happened last year.”

  “Either, or,” Josh, shot back, smirking.

  “No, I think using him to get me partnered with Mason on that project finally made us even. I’m can only stretch his guilt so far.”

  “Whatever,” Josh said. “At least it’ll be more relaxing than detention with that old hag Willows.”

  I pictured our American History professor from last year, and had to agree with Josh. Jasper would be my top choice if I got to pick a teacher to serve detention with. And I did feel a little less angry and aggressive.

  Josh was good for me. And the tater tots were good for me, too. I popped another one in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully as I turned my eyes to the table where my guys sat.

  Mason watched me with unabashed enthusiasm. A surprised breath caught in my throat, and I held it as I stared back at him. A small hand waving in front of his face broke the connection, and I noticed Charlotte for the first time, sitting way too close to him as she tried to murder me with her eyes.

  I lifted my chin and shot her the middle finger before turning back to Josh. He was chuckling as he read something on his phone, so I nudged him with my foot to get his attention.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  He wiggled his phone in the air, saying, “Theo thinks it’s hilarious that you flip people the bird when you’re mad. It’s so nineteen-eighties.”

  My eyes darted to Theo, who was grinning back at me. His white-blonde hair was styled to perfection, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. Having Josh back in his life had done wonders for him. It was like he was actually living again.

  I flipped him off, and he laughed—loud belly laughs that echoed through the dining hall. The room fell silent, eerily so, as everyone stared at Theo’s blushing face. He was always so stoic, so reticent, that it shocked the shit out of everyone to hear him laugh.

  It was kind of sad.

  When the noise level picked back up, I arched a brow at Josh. “That was weird.”

  He shrugged, saying, “He laughs with me all the time. He has this serious persona he wraps around himself for protection when he’s with others. We’re working on it.”

  “Obviously,” I said, shooting Theo a wink when I saw him still smiling at me and Josh.

  His smile fell as Isla threaded her fingers in his hair and whispered something in his ear. All signs of life drained from his face, making him look like the statue he usually portrayed.

  I frowned as my eyes drifted across the faces at the table. Theo, Seth, Mason, and Stella all looked miserable. The Roguettes looked smug as they hung on the guys and shot looks of satisfaction in my direction. Cooper and Simone whispered to each other between frowning at Charlotte and sending me sympathetic looks.

  I shook my head and tried to smile, letting them know I was okay. Then I turned back to Josh and shoved another tater tot in my mouth. Chewing, I talked around it.

  “These need cheese sauce.”

  “And chili,” he added, snatching one off my tray and popping it into his mouth.

  “When is this going to be over, Josh?”

  “Seven months, three weeks, and four days,” he said. “Or when we’ve had enough and commit justifiable homicide.”

  Oh, the homicide would be justified. I bet I could get off the hook completely claiming uncharacteristic distress as a result of mental and emotional torture, or some shit like that.

  But for now, I had to bide my time. Eventually, I’d get the upper hand—dig up some kind of dirt I could use against the Bellamys—and they would pay for this. A cruel smile tugged at my lips.

  I couldn’t fucking wait.

  13

  “Hey, honey.”

  “Hey, Mom.”

  I threw my bag onto a stool by the bar and strode to the fridge, looking for a snack. I found a chocolate pudding cup hidden in the back, and grabbed a can of whipped cream from the shelf on the door. Pulling off the foil lid, I sprayed a mountain of cream on top.

  “Do you want some pudding with your whipped cream?” Mom asked, smirking at me from where she was arranging a vase of bright flowers.

  I looked her dead in the eye, tilted my head back, and sprayed the whipped cream directly into my mouth. Swallowing it down, I popped the red lid on and stuck it back in the fridge.

  “Okay, what happened?” she asked, turning her back to her flower arrangement and crossing her arms over her chest.

  I dug a spoon into my pudding and sighed.

  “Nothing. Nothing happened. One day is the same as the next. Go to school, endure taunts from the masses, get ignored by Mason, come home. Do it all again tomorrow.”

  “Chastity.” She flinched under my harsh look and corrected herself. “Chaz, we can transfer you to another school, if you want.”

  “No. Mom, that’s not what I
want,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I finished off my pudding and dumped the container in the trash. “If I leave, they win.”

  “It’s not about winning or losing, sweetie. It’s about living the life you want to live and being happy. That’s what I want for you.”

  “I know,” I replied, my voice soft and gentle. “And one day, this will all end, and it will all have been worth it. I will be happy.”

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” I shot back, forcing my hackles down.

  “You’re so young, Chaz. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted when I was eighteen. When you came along, I had to grow up, fast. I just don’t want you growing up before you’re ready. Enjoy being young. Explore your options.”

  I nodded as if I agreed with her and said, “Thanks, Mom. I’ll think about it.”

  She gave me a quick hug as I left the kitchen, and I hugged her back. I might not have always agreed with her, but I knew how lucky I was to have her.

  As I climbed the stairs to the upper floor, I thought about what she said. She was talking about Mason and me. That much was obvious. We were seniors in high school and fighting like hell to be together when everyone else wanted to keep us apart.

  Like a real life Romeo and Juliet.

  And we all knew how that story turned out.

  I strode into my bedroom and closed the door behind me. Dropping my bag to the floor, I slumped down onto the bed. I threw an arm over my eyes as images of the future flashed through my mind.

  The day the twins turn eighteen and tell their parents to go to hell.

  Mason heading off to college while I… what? Go to a different school? Stay at the Kincaid mansion because Headmaster Swain blocked my every attempt to get into a decent college?

  Seth and Stella having a double-wedding with me and Mason—

  “What?” I gasped, sitting upright and shaking the image from my head.

  I was not going to daydream about a wedding, for Christ’s sake. I was eighteen years old. Mason was only seventeen. I was way too young to be thinking about getting married and starting a family. Shit, Mason and I weren’t even technically dating. Not anymore.

  Maybe my mom was right. Maybe I was so focused on getting the better of the Bellamys that I wasn’t focused enough on my own happiness. Once the challenge of taking them down was gone, would I still feel the same way about Mason? Would I still want him? Love him?

  I was fairly certain I would, but anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if I wasn’t in love with him, what his parents were doing to control him and Stella was wrong. As someone on the outside looking in, I could see that and felt a moral obligation to help them escape the shackles of the Bellamys controlling expectations.

  Whatever would happen after, would happen. Mason and I could decide to resume a normal relationship and be happy. Or we could decide it didn’t work for us once the drama is gone. Either way, I’d know I did my best to help them.

  I didn’t think I could live with myself if I just walked away and left them to the fates their parents had designed.

  And even a chance with Mason was worth it.

  My phone chimed, and I dug it out of my pocket to see who was texting me.

  Hey beautiful. Just wanted to say I miss you. I wish you were here, in my arms right now.

  It was from Mason’s burner phone, and just the reminder I needed to give me strength to fight another day. Mason Bellamy was worth it, no matter how difficult things got.

  Me, too, I texted back. I want to feel you.

  Feel me how?

  His response came back so quick, it made me blink. Did he want to sext? I’d never really done it before, but the idea of doing it with Mason intrigued me. I leapt to my feet and strode to the door, locking it. As I walked back to the bed, I ran through several sexy replies in my head, discarding them all.

  I typed and deleted several responses, my teeth scraping against my bottom lip.

  It’s okay if you don’t want to play.

  Mason’s text popped up as I was debating the perfect words. I quickly tapped out a reply with my thumbs and hit send.

  I want to, but I don’t want to sound totally lame.

  Just say whatever pops in your head. Tell me how you want me to touch you, he texted back, and I felt my body temperature start to rise.

  Then it crashed back to normal as a terrible thought occurred to me.

  Before I say, how do I know this is really you?

  There was no way I was going to carry on a sexting conversation with someone who might have confiscated Mason’s secret phone and is trying to trap me or get some juicy material for another bullying attack, like Charlotte.

  Or Gwyneth Bellamy. I shivered at the thought.

  My phone rang with an incoming video call from the number as I stared at the screen. Taking a deep breath, I answered it, and Mason’s gorgeous face appeared.

  “It’s me,” he whispered, holding a finger against his lips to warn me not to speak, “but I can’t really talk.” His eyes darted to the left before focusing back on his screen. “The walls have ears, but I just wanted to put your mind at ease…and set your body on fire.”

  With a devilish grin, he pointed the phone down so the camera panned across his naked torso. Down and down it went, only stopping when the view on my screen was of his cock. His free hand gripped it, pumping ever so slowly.

  Suddenly, the camera pointed back at his face. He winked, and the call ended. A second later, before I’d even blinked, another text came through.

  How do you want me to touch you, Chaz?

  Oh, shit. We were really going to do this. I squirmed a little to get comfortable as my core muscles clenched in anticipation.

  I want you to rub my clit.

  I tapped send quickly, before I lost my nerve. His response came quickly.

  Use your hand, and pretend it’s me. I’m imagining your sweet, hot mouth on my cock right now, and it feels so good.

  Sweet baby Jesus.

  I did as he said as we texted back and forth about how it felt, what we wanted next, and how much we wished we were actually together. It didn’t take long for me to explode into a million tiny pieces, with Mason texting a few seconds later that he, too, had finished.

  Thank you. I needed that, I sent him.

  I need you. Always. I love you, Chaz.

  I love you, I responded. Always.

  Always, he sent back, and I smiled at the word as I drifted into a deep, refreshing sleep.

  14

  “I got my dress last night. Mason is going to want to rip it off of me.”

  Son of a bitch. Can’t a girl ever just pee in peace?

  I finished my business and was about to flush as the words flowing out of Charlotte’s stupid mouth registered. What did she mean, dress? And I highly doubted Mason would be ripping anything off her plastic body.

  “What color is it?” Isla’s voice rang out, echoing off the white tile walls of the girls’ restroom.

  “Firecracker red,” Charlotte gushed. “It’s got a halter-style top that makes my boobs look like ripe melons.”

  I barely repressed a snort as those ludicrous words came out of Charlotte’s mouth. Ripe melons? Who talks about their tits like that?

  “Mason is going to drool all over them until I offer him a taste,” she continued, her voice confident to the point of smugness.

  “Did he even ask you to the dance yet?” Amelia asked. I hadn’t even realized she was there.

  “Who else would he go with? The trash-whore?”

  Her laughter rang out around me, and I had to grit my teeth and ball my fists to keep from slamming out of the stall and confronting her. She was really fucking cocky for someone who was hanging onto a man with threats and blackmail.

  “He might skip it altogether,” Isla offered, her voice quiet and meek.

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Isla,” Charlotte growled, lashing out at her supposed friend. “Just
because Theo prefers sucking cock to your hairy, gaping vag, you think I can’t hold onto my man? I’m exactly what every guy wants, and after the dance, Mason will realize how lucky he is to have me.”

  My head reared back at her words. I wasn’t worried about Mason realizing anything, but her crude insults of Isla made my head spin. I knew they were raging bitches behind each other’s backs, but I never imagined Charlotte would say something like that to Isla’s face.

  “You’re right, Charlotte. I’m sorry,” Isla murmured, her voice even meeker than before.

  My mouth fell open. It wasn’t the first time Charlotte had berated Isla, if her practiced, placating answer was any indication. Shit, I probably did this girl a favor, breaking up their little trio last year.

  If I were a betting girl, I’d wager that Isla had been relieved when I posted the footage of Charlotte and Amelia trash-talking her on social media. With everyone seeing what assholes they were, Isla had the perfect excuse to publicly distance herself from them.

  So, why did she allow herself to be drawn back in, only to suffer this abuse?

  “Mason and I will be Homecoming King and Queen, and everyone in this fucking school will see us as the royalty we are. It’ll be the beginning of the rest of our lives, girls. With you two, Seth, and Theo, we will rule this goddamn town, just like the guys’ parents do.”

  “What about Cooper and Simone?” Amelia asked.

  “Cooper is part of this, but we all know that nerdy bitch Simone has a soft spot for the trash-whore and Joshua Fairbanks. She will never be one of us. His parents like her and are pushing Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy to let him keep her, but they listen to me and trust my judgment. She’ll be gone by winter break.”

  Oh, hell no. I zipped up my pants, heedless of the noise, ready to rush out the stall and lay a verbal beating down on Charlotte. But they must have been already heading for the door, because as I slammed the stall door open, the exit door was swinging shut behind them.

  I turned back and flushed the toilet, grabbing my things before stalking to a sink. I scrubbed my hands vigorously, hoping the motion would dispel some of the angry energy coursing through me.