With a nod, I turned and walked away, forcing myself not to look back.
Monday started in much the same way it always did. I got to school, parked, walked to class. As usual, some students made a point of turning their backs to ignore me, while others openly sneered in my direction. But I made it to my first class without anyone trying to prove he was a big man by shoving me. No one smacked my books off my desk in my classes; a few people even got out of my way as I headed to lunch.
I’d been planning to go off campus for lunch but decided against it, turning right toward the cafeteria instead of left toward the doors at the end of the hall. I hadn’t seen Donna all morning, and I wanted to remind her of our little chat, test if she was taking it seriously.
I walked in, head held high, and smacked my gum loudly. A few people turned in my direction at the sound, but I ignored them. My full focus was on the girl in the perfectly neat uniform, not a blonde hair out of place under her teal headband, the smeared black makeup gone.
Donna was sitting in her usual spot, Harlow on the table with her feet on the chair next to her. The other girls weren’t there yet, but some of the other assholes they hung out with were.
I looked right at her as I passed but kept my expression neutral—doing the whole pointing-at-my-eyes-and-then-her bit felt like overkill. She glanced up, met my gaze, and looked away again as if I didn’t matter. As if I hadn’t brought her to orgasm sixty hours earlier. As if we hadn’t struck a deal in the rain right after.
I had to hand it to her—she had impeccable self-control. If only that trait weren’t driving her to do stupid-ass shit just to feel alive.
Not my problem. Not my problem.
I forced myself to look away, grabbed some gluten-free paleo salad thing and a drink from the food counter, and picked an empty table.
No one flipped my tray. No one even said anything to me.
By the end of the day, it was clear everyone was leaving me alone. Donna had done what she’d promised. As if there was ever any doubt she could accomplish whatever she set that pretty little head to.
I had exactly what I wanted.
Except I no longer had any excuse to speak to a certain infuriating blonde, and as I drove home, the victory felt hollow.
Chapter Nine
Donna
Mom turned sideways in front of the ornate mirror by the front door and smoothed her midnight-blue cocktail dress.
“How do I look?” she asked no one in particular.
“Gorgeous, as always.” My auntie Eleanor smiled at her, then shoved her out of the way with her hip to take up the mirror. “How do I look?”
“Like me. So gorgeous, as always,” Mom shot back.
Mom was older than her sister by two years, but they were as close as Harlow and me. I knew there was a period of time—when I was a young child—that they didn’t speak. It had something to do with my aunt moving away to marry a man Grandmother didn’t approve of and ending up without an inheritance, but every time I tried to dig more up about it, Mom shut me down with some version of “Leave the past in the past.”
I just wanted to know everything. It was interesting: shoot me.
But Mena’s family had moved back to Devilbend just before we all started high school, and our moms reconnected. They looked really similar, and even though they were teasing each other in front of the mirror, they were smiling and laughing.
“You’re both stunning.” Dad came down the stairs, fiddling with a cuff link. “Brad, back me up here or we’ll never leave.”
“Yes. Absolutely ethereal. We’re the luckiest men on earth,” my uncle Brad deadpanned, but I could see his lips twitch as he fought a smile.
While my mom and aunt started smacking and berating him for his attitude, Dad came to a stop next to me.
“Help me out, sweetness. I can never get the right one.” He held out his right wrist, and I fixed the cuff link in place. “Thank you.” He kissed the top of my head. “You girls have fun. And call us if you need anything.”
“I will.”
My parents had both stopped bothering to warn me to be safe and make good choices. It was a given. I was their perfect little girl. I’d make sure everything was fine, and I’d take care of the others.
It was Mena’s birthday, and we were throwing her a party. She’d originally insisted on a small gathering, maybe at the diner where she worked. But when we sat down to write a list of who to invite, she was the only one surprised to see over twenty-five people on the list. The girl just wasn’t used to having that many friends, and I was pretty sure she’d never had a real party to celebrate her birthday.
It didn’t take much to convince her after that, but the guest list had grown . . .
During the afternoon, we’d had a family lunch together and opened presents. Now our parents were graciously leaving for the night. They planned to go to dinner in San Francisco and stay at our apartment in the city. The staff were given the night off, although cleaners would be arriving at ten in the morning to make sure the house was pristine before my parents returned. Everything was nearly ready.
As soon as our parents disappeared outside, I rushed to the back of the house, where the others had been listening out for the sound of the front door closing.
“Freedom!” I yelled, sliding across the kitchen tiles with my hands in the air.
Everyone whooped, and Turner pushed the button on the blender, getting the first batch of margaritas going as Mena grabbed glasses from the cupboard. Harlow pushed a few buttons on her phone, and music started pounding through the speaker system installed in the ceiling.
“Thank fuck.” Amaya headed straight for the back patio, lighting a cigarette before she was even fully out of the house.
Harlow handed me a margarita, and I took it absentmindedly, mentally running through the checklist.
The staff had put up balloons and streamers in the main areas and cleared away some of the expensive, breakable items.
It was too cold to go in the pool in October, so the party would be in the main living area and on the patio where Amaya was smoking. A fire pit with chairs and blankets was set up and just waiting for the strike of a match.
Magda had prepared mountains of food.
I had a cake with eighteen candles ready to go in the fridge.
Drew and Will were bringing enough beer and spirits to give us all alcohol poisoning.
“Harlow, is the playlist ready to go?”
She nodded and planted her ass on the island counter next to the blender. “Yep! All of Mena’s faves mixed in with some bangers!”
“Amaya!” I called out to the patio as Turner poured the drinks.
She startled me by leaning over my shoulder and stealing my untouched margarita. “No need to shout. I’m right here.” She took a sip, giving me a teasing look over the salted rim.
“Guest list update,” I demanded.
“Should be just over a hundred. There’s always a few last-minute additions though.”
Mena choked on her drink. “A hundred?! We don’t even have that many people in our senior year. I don’t even know that many people!”
“You can’t have a Devilbend Dynasty party and expect under a hundred people.” Amaya shrugged and took another sip.
I stole my drink back and glared at her before addressing my cousin. “It’s just one of those things. If you invite certain people, certain others expect an invitation too. Then word spreads, and everyone wants to come so they can be seen at one of our parties, and it just kind of snowballs. Don’t worry about it. All your friends will be here, and we’ll have a great time.”
“Yeah, baby. Just enjoy it. You deserve a fun night.” Turner wrapped an arm around Mena’s shoulders and kissed her temple.
Harlow, Amaya, and I made a loud, over-the-top aww. They were so cute it was making me sick. Will never made me smile the way Mena was smiling at Turner now.
I finally took a sip of the margarita, and my eyes widened. “Jesus, fuck!”
Harlow had been the one putting the ingredients in the blender when I’d gone to the foyer to see our parents off. I frowned reproachfully at her.
“What?” She smiled sweetly.
“This is really strong.”
“So?”
“So let’s not write ourselves off before the party even starts, OK?”
“Yes, mom.” She rolled her eyes, and the others chuckled.
I glared at them but chose to let it go. This was Mena’s day.
We hung out for a bit, chatting and laughing, then headed upstairs to get ready.
A few hours later, I felt as if I could declare this party a success. Music was pumping, and a dance floor had been established in the living room. The cake had been presented to the birthday girl as a hundred people sang her “Happy Birthday.” People were drinking, laughing, and talking around the firepit, some of them smoking pot.
I’d hardly had time to have two drinks all night, but now I could finally take a bit of a break. My indigo dress rode up my thighs as I leaned over the island. Amaya had helped me pick it out the last time we went shopping. It clung to my curves and had long sheer sleeves and a completely sheer back. Careful not to knock anything over, I grabbed the vodka bottle.
Someone came up behind me, beer breath washing over my cheek as their hands landed on my hips. “You look smokin’ tonight, princess.”
I gritted my teeth but made sure my voice was even when I answered. “Thank you, William.”
When he called me princess it was an endearment, an attempt to make me feel special. When Hendrix said it, it was delivered with derision. But why was I thinking about that asshole now?
I poured the vodka and searched the absolute mess in front of me for some kind of mixer, trying to sidestep out of Will’s grasp. “Are you having a good night? Where’s Drew and the others?”
He moved up next to me and slung an arm over my shoulders. “Who cares? I was hoping I could steal you away. It’s been a while since we . . . caught up.”
There were a lot of people in the room. I had to be careful about my reaction.
I was probably going to marry Will. He was the son of a prominent businessman and planned to follow in his father’s footsteps, and his mother was on the board of every charitable organization she could find. Our parents were friends and approved of us being together. Our life plans matched. He’d be the perfect husband, and I the perfect wife.
We’d dated exclusively for about six months in junior year, but I put a stop to that. I made it clear to Will I needed some time. It was around then that I started going to Davey’s. As much as I’d made peace with my future with Mr. Carboard, I couldn’t commit to it fully just yet.
We’d hooked up a few times since, but I’d made it very clear I wasn’t interested in anything serious until maybe a few years into college. I needed to focus on my studies.
I did need to focus on my studies and my volunteering and all the other things that would help me achieve my goals. But the truth was, Will was about as interesting in bed as you’d expect. He had an average-sized penis, he liked to do it missionary, and he had no idea what a clitoris was.
Maybe I was being a bit harsh, but Will just couldn’t give me what I needed.
“Hendrix?” Will sounded half-confused, half-angry.
Shit! Did I say something out loud? I wasn’t even drunk. “What?”
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Will took another swig of his beer as I whipped my head around.
Sure enough, there he was, making his way through the crowd and craning his neck as though he was looking for someone. He was in tight ripped jeans and a plain white tee under a dark green zip-up jacket, his hair messy in that intentional way. As he reached the other side of the island, he spotted me and froze, his eyebrows slamming into a frown.
I stiffened, ready to shrug Will off, but then Hendrix noticed his arm around me. When his eyes narrowed just a fraction, I decided to lean into my future husband’s side instead.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He asked the question that was on the tip of my tongue.
“It’s my house, asshole. What the fuck are you doing here?” I crossed my arms and cocked my head.
He looked even more confused “Clearly I had no idea. Otherwise I wouldn’t have willingly put myself in your proximity.”
“Clearly. So why are you still here?” I leaned on the counter, getting out from under Will’s drunken slouch. He was starting to lean a little too much weight on me.
“Turner invited me. I had no idea the girlfriend he can’t shut up about is Mena. Although I should’ve known. The two nicest people in Devilbend—of course they’re together.”
I snorted, failing to contain the smile. He was so right. “They’re so cute together it’s sickening.”
“Right?” He laughed.
I wiped the smile off my face, remembering we were in a room full of people who thought we hated each other. Because we did. Will kept looking between us, trying to solve some puzzle, but he was probably too drunk to even remember why he’d come over to me in the first place.
“Go find Drew and the guys, Will. Your beer is nearly gone.” I gestured with my head toward the back patio, and he gave me a smile.
“Good idea,” he slurred and stumbled away.
“Good boy,” Hendrix cooed after him once he was out of earshot. “Now fetch your balls.”
I bit my tongue to stop myself from laughing. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I didn’t even want him here. But this was Mena’s birthday—it wasn’t about me. “Fine. You can stay. But only because it’s Mena’s special day. Just don’t steal anything.”
He smirked. “Lighten up, Mead. It’s a party—and you don’t even have to find a way home. Have a drink or five. It might make your personality bearable.”
“I was just about . . .” I looked for my half-made drink, but he was already walking away. “Asshole.”
I downed the vodka in my cup straight, then spotted the bottle of OJ in the sink. Naturally. I poured myself another stronger one, then added the juice.
I would never admit it—not even to save the human race from extinction—but Hendrix was right. I wanted to lighten up and have a drink. I also needed one now that he was here.
I sipped my vodka and OJ as I mingled, trying to ignore the fact that he was in my house. Will had passed out in a chair by the fire, Drew and the others keeping an eye on him.
“Don’t let him puke in my house.” I pointed to him and raised my brows at Drew.
“On it.” He took another puff of what was clearly not a regular cigarette and passed it to Amaya. Harlow was in a fit of giggles next to her, she and Nicola losing their shit over something on her phone. Laughter bubbled up in my chest too. I had no idea what was so funny, but their mirth was infectious.
I was about to find a spot and join them, but then I noticed Hendrix just a few feet over, talking with Mena and Turner. They looked as if they were really getting along. And the mirth in my chest died. He was in my house, with my friends, in my life. And I wanted him gone . . . but I also kept trying to remember if my room was messy or not and what he’d think of it if he made his way up there. And that was just . . . ugh! Insane!
Shoving some skanky chick in platform heels out of the way, I headed back inside and downed the rest of my drink, dropped the empty cup into the mess on the counter, and located the vodka.
With the smooth glass of the bottle clutched firmly in my hand, I made my way back outside. Keeping my gaze ahead, I avoided everyone and took the stone steps down to the path leading to the pool.
As soon as I was away from everyone’s judgmental gazes, I could finally take a deep breath. The cool night air filled my lungs as I walked the manicured path, leaving the raucous sounds of the party farther behind me with every step.
It was chilly but still, and the water in the pool looked black—smooth glass reflecting the stars above. I sat at the edge and crossed my legs. The cap ca
me off the bottle, and I took a swig, the alcohol burning my throat on the way down as much as the cool air had soothed it. The thumping bass and cacophony of laughing, talking voices in the background grew fainter with every sip.
I’d been looking forward to hanging out with my friends, having some fun now that the party was pretty much taking care of itself. But then he showed up and ruined everything. I couldn’t think about anything else with him so close.
The way he’d worked my body at the back of Davey’s just one week ago . . . if I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to go there, I could still feel his fingers on my rain-slick skin, still feel the ecstatic oblivion he’d provided without wanting anything in return.
He’d given me one of the best orgasms of my life, but it was what happened after that I couldn’t seem to work out. Hendrix had taken care of me. He’d met my physical needs, then taken me into his arms and made me feel . . . safe? I couldn’t quite put my finger on the warm, fuzzy emotion it had brought up.
Then, naturally, we’d argued. He’d gone right back to the asshole he’d been from the start, and I knew there’d be no repeat performance, even if I wanted one.
So, when I wasn’t fighting memories of how good he’d made me feel, I was obsessing over how he could ruin me with one carefully worded sentence delivered to anyone in my orbit.
How had I allowed myself to get into a situation where a man like Hendrix fucking Hawthorn had that much power over me?
I sighed and took another swig. At least the alcohol was making it easier to not give a shit for a little while.
Setting the bottle on the ground, I pulled a cigarette and lighter out of my cleavage. I’d stolen it from Amaya’s pack earlier in the night when no one was looking. I didn’t really smoke, especially not where anyone might see me—not that I judged my friend for doing it, but I couldn’t afford to have anyone think I had any bad habits. When people thought you had one bad habit, they tended to start wondering what others you might have. If they only knew . . .
Like You Hurt: A Standalone Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devilbend Dynasty Book 2) Page 8