“You know I’ve never cared that you have a micropenis!” I scream after him. “It’s not your tiny dick that I have a problem with: it’s your personality.”
Parrish stiffens up, but when he lazily throws one of this pouty rich boy looks over his shoulder, I almost die. Don’t let your shitty teenage hormones get to you, Dakota, I tell myself, but I can’t seem to help it. There’s just something about Parrish that breaks down all of my boundaries.
“We both know I don’t need my dick to make you feel good,” he says, making a crude gesture with his fingers and flicking his tongue out. I end up quite literally throwing a book at him—a paperback that I snatched from Whitehall’s admittedly impressive library—and then balking as he picks it up and actually bothers to look at the title.
One should only read a novel titled Stepbrother Inked on their phone or Kindle if they don’t want said real-life stepbrother to see it. Maybe, also, one should not throw said book at said stepbrother.
The words hot mess come to mind when I consider going off on an internal diatribe against myself.
“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs under his breath, taking my book along with him as he sweeps down the hall. I grit my teeth, but there’s no point in going after him and drawing attention to the novel of my choice. To be fair, I wasn’t lying when I told Danyella that I’m not fetishizing his role as my stepbrother. I was just … curious.
“Wow. Please spend the night at my place on Friday. We have a lot to unpack.” Danyella pats me on the arm and then leaves me to my next class: Beginning Japanese.
I’m surrounded by freshman which isn’t surprising, but which is also remarkably embarrassing, especially considering my only knowledge of the language comes from manga, anime, and video games. I can pretty easily say, I’m embarrassed, I’m home, and goddamn it in Japanese, but not much else.
Fortunately, my teacher—which just so happens to be Ms. Miyamoto—is kind enough to pretend like I’m not a total failure as she offers me extra guidance through my first lesson. I keep myself going with the mantra of one more hour to go, just one more hour.
Mr. Volli (took me three tries to pronounce—it’s voh-lee), the instructor of my next class, Software Tools: App Development, seems nice enough. He lets me sit in a spot in the back and use my phone to look up any terms I don’t understand (meaning: all of them). Interestingly, my first day at the school is his as well; he’s taking over for the previous instructor who got into some sort of hiking accident (told you these Pac Northwesterners were obsessed with hiking). When Mr. Volli talks about coding, I decide that he has a pleasant, comforting voice, even if I don’t understand a damn word that he’s saying.
I am so behind.
So fucking behind.
There is no way in hell that I’m going to pass my classes here, not without help of some kind.
After class, Lumen finds me again and introduces me to a group of her friends. It’s highly likely that I won’t remember any of their names: there are a lot of them. They do, however, take my phone and pass it around, ensuring that everyone has plugged their number into my contacts.
Parrish overhears on his way past and gives me a look that seems impossible to interpret.
“Desperate, much?” he murmurs as I scowl at him. It’s like, every time we share a moment that seems to mean something, he goes out of his way to make sure that it doesn’t.
“Don’t be jealous just because I like girls better,” I tell him which isn’t necessarily true, but which gets me the reaction that I wanted. Parrish frowns hard and knocks me with his shoulder as he passes, eliciting whispers and gossip from the surrounding students.
“He likes to be the center of attention, just ignore him,” Lumen tells me with a shrug, but her eyes follow Parrish’s back as he heads down the hall anyway. With a sigh, she smooths her palms down the front of her uniform, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. She pulls the look off so well, in a way that I’m envious of, like the uniform was made specifically to complement her style. Personally, I’m suffering from imposter syndrome like nobody’s business.
I don’t understand the curriculum, and I’m not used to such a bloodthirsty and gossip hungry populace.
Already, I feel overwhelmed.
“So, are you coming?” Lumen asks, and I blink a few times as I try to reorient myself.
“Coming?” I repeat as Parrish pauses nearby and opens a locker, removing a bag of gym clothes and a gaming laptop that makes my own look like an ancient relic. “Coming where?”
Lumen just laughs at me.
“Danyella’s on Friday?” she repeats, raising two blond brows in question. “She said she invited you.”
Oh.
I didn’t realize it was like, a sleepover or something?
“We go way back,” she continues, like on top of everything else, she can read my mind. I wouldn’t doubt it. On top of being gorgeous, she’s apparently battling it out with Danyella for one of the top academic spots in the school. I should ask one of them to tutor me.
“We’re still grounded, remember?” Parrish calls out from down the hall. I let my gaze fall past Lumen to land on him. He’s posed like a model, one shoulder leaning against the now-closed locker, legs crossed at the ankles. He looks like a cat: bored, apathetic, but with this slight edge of annoyance that you could blink and miss. It’s all in the little tells: the way he slits his eyes, the way his hand plays with his tie, the slight tapping of his foot against the floor. “I thought we were going to spend our isolation … together.”
The word drips with innuendo, yet another tidbit for passing students to glom onto.
Lumen gives Parrish a dark look and then turns to me with a smile.
“Just say yes and we’ll make it work,” she adds loudly for dramatic effect. Her gaze drops back to mine, and she smiles before waving goodbye and taking off down the hall with her friends in tow.
“Thanks for trying to ruin that for me,” I tell Parrish, glancing back at him. He ignores me, turning and leading the way down the hall. It’s easy to catch up to him; Parrish strolls everywhere he goes, like he has all the time in the world. Fucking sloth.
“Ruin what? Your relationship with your new girlfriend?” he asks, gaze straight ahead, hands tucked into his pockets. “Since I turned her down at the party, I’m sure she’ll be all over you, don’t worry.”
“What happened between the two of you?” I ask, even though I know I probably shouldn’t. Parrish gives me a weird look, like I’m overreaching like crazy, but I don’t take the question back. We have to live together. Shit, we have to live across the fucking hall from one another. We may as well be pals.
“And that matters to you, why?” he drawls, pushing open the front doors of the school to reveal Kimber and a handful of other students. Nobody looks particularly happy to be out here while all the other students pile into fancy sportscars and take off on their own.
Doesn’t matter much to me. I’m not ready to drive the new car that Tess bought me, so I figure Parrish will be responsible for taking me to school once our grounding is over. Yippee.
As soon as she sees me, Kimber pops her second earbud in, ensuring that I have no viable way of communicating with her. She jacks her music up so loudly that I can hear DJ Khaled playing. Gross. Sorry, but I could never get past his bullshit commentary about how women need to go down on their men, but that it’s disgusting for a man to return the favor. What a fucking misogynistic loser.
Let’s just say, my new sister’s taste in music is abysmal.
Parrish leans back against the wall, propping one foot against the stone while he pretends to be interested in his phone. Rising up on my tiptoes, I bite my lower lip and try to steal a glance at the screen. It’s dark. Honestly, I’m not sure his phone is even on.
Those gold-flecked brown eyes of his swing my way immediately and he scowls, shoving his phone in his pocket and turning his attention to the manicured grounds on our left. What little of the campus I’ve seen is beautiful;
it’d be nice to spend an afternoon exploring it.
“The hedge maze is cool,” I say absently, turning back to the gravel driveway in front us as a limo pulls up and a student climbs inside. One of my brows goes up and I let out a low whistle. Good god. I’ve always found excess wealth … like, disgusting, I guess is how I’d phrase it. Now that I’m embroiled in it, I’m not entirely sure my views haven’t been exacerbated.
“You think so?” Parrish replies, surprising me, and a smile begins to bloom on my lips. We’re making progress here. Who knows? Give us six weeks and we might actually be civil toward one another. Maybe we’ll even be—le gasp—friends?! “Students go there to fuck.”
Or … never mind then.
Yep, still hate him.
With a huff, the smile slides off my face and I turn back to the driveway with a frown in place. My book bag is slung over my shoulder, my fingers absently teasing the metal heart pin that Tess gave me.
Tess.
She’s supposed to pick us up today. I assume she’ll be grilling me about my first day at Whitehall. Granted, I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would, but I still miss home. Almost desperately so. High school is supposed to be at least a little bit fun, right? I’m exhausted from my first day here; the academics are so far above my head that I feel like I’m drowning. Sex in the hedges, I think, biting my lower lip again as my eyes slide in that direction.
As soon as I see that Parrish is watching me, I tear my attention away and stare out at the horizon, waiting for Tess’ Mercedes to appear in the direction of the gate. Instead, a few minutes later, it’s Chasm’s sportscar that pulls up.
Kimber lets out a small sound that I’m almost positive I wasn’t meant to hear, practically falling over herself to get in.
“Tess isn’t coming,” Parrish tells me, holding up his phone to reveal a text message. Sorry, meeting with my editor ran long, can’t make it. I asked Chasm to bring you home. Tell the girls. And that’s that. A strange surge of disappointment runs through me, but I do my best to ignore it. It’s not like I wanted to be grilled by my bio mom, right? Actually, I’m relieved.
“Can I ride shotgun?” Kimber is asking flirtatiously as Chasm slides a lazy glance in her direction and smirks.
“Are you fucking kidding me? No. Get your ass in the backseat and stop hitting on my best friend. Don’t you have any shame?” Parrish snaps, shoving Kimber into the back as she mutters insults and curses under her breath.
“Why don’t you let Chasm answer for himself?” Kimber bites out as I slide in beside her and she scowls at me, her expression almost disturbingly similar to her brother’s. Her brother. My sister. Parrish and I might not be related, but we share four blood-related siblings. Is it weird for me to pretend to date him?
I decide the only weird part about it is how goddamn rude and dismissive he is. I don’t glorify bad behavior from boys, so what is it? Why? Why am I doing this to myself?!
“I don’t date freshman,” Chasm replies, some Podcast about modern day serial killers playing on his car’s stereo, which isn’t even remotely something I expected from him. “Sorry, Kim.”
“Whoever said I wanted to date you?!” she gasps, like the thought’s so abhorrent to her that she’d rather die than admit her crush aloud. “That’s disgusting.”
With a sigh, I lean my elbow against the window and park my chin in my hand.
“Fucking hell, Kimber,” Parrish scoffs, looking back at her with disdain marring his pretty features. “You’re almost as bad as Dakota.”
I kick the back of his seat hard enough that he grunts, and Chasm gives this annoyingly self-satisfied chuckle.
“I’m under strict orders to take you kids home,” he says, heading for the Whitehall gate at a speed that’s at least twice that of the legal limit. I check and double check my seat belt, just in case.
“How are you able to hang around the house so much if Parrish is grounded?” I ask as Chasm lifts his pretty amber eyes to the rearview mirror so that he can smile at me.
“Just consider me part of the family,” he says, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror. We hold each other’s gazes for a disturbing amount of time before he turns back to the road. “Did you hear that Gavin is fucking some actor twice his age? He was sharing dick pics with anyone that would look.”
Mindless gossip. I don’t even know who ‘Gavin’ is.
For the love of god, I think as I suppress a roll of my eyes and lean back against the seat, trying to listen to the Podcast instead of the day’s gossip. The hosts are discussing the latest rash of disappearances and murders in Seattle, most of them involving teens around my age. It’s too depressing to listen to, so I stuff my own earbuds in and close my eyes for the rest of the drive back to the ice cavern.
I slump onto my bed and cover my face with my hands.
What a long-ass day.
“Knock knock,” Chasm drawls, slouching in my doorway and smoking a cigarette. I swear I locked the door, but he probably just picked the lock. I sit up, so that I can glare at him.
“What do you want?” I ask him, but he just laughs and continues to smoke. I’m assuming that Tess isn’t home then or else he wouldn’t be quite so blatant about it.
“I wanted to check on you, after such a wild first day and all,” he says, sauntering into my room and looking around with a wistful nostalgia on his face that’s clearly crafted of bullshit and arrogance. He’s just come in here to annoy me, clearly.
I lean back, planting my hand on the bed only to realize that I’ve just put it in something … wet? With a frown, I lift my palm up and notice the blood. What the hell?
“You’re the talk of the school, you know that, Little Sister?” Chas asks, seemingly oblivious to my predicament. I blink a few times as I stare at the red on my palm and then surreptitiously flip the comforter back, revealing a small red stain underneath. Huh. I remember stripping my sheets this morning. At least … I thought I did?
I must be losing my mind.
“Am I? I hadn’t noticed.” Only, I had. And I’m not sure whether it was a smart move on my part—or a huge mistake, playing this game with Lumen and Parrish. I move into the bathroom and wash my hands, heading back into the room and systematically stripping the bed while Chas watches, still smoking his cigarette.
He pauses at the sound of footsteps in the hall and we both turn to see Parrish in the doorway. He narrows his eyes on his friend.
“Why are you in her room?” he asks, this biting edge to his voice that gives me pause.
“What do you care?” Chasm retorts, tilting his head slightly to one side as Parrish flicks his attention my way, noticing the bloodied sheets and comforter. He frowns slightly, like he, too, remembers the exchange this morning. I kick the pile of blankets into the corner until I can get rid of both boys.
I’m not ashamed of my period—no girl should be—I just want them both to go away.
Parrish doesn’t respond with words. Instead, he slits his eyes in that way of his, the one that seems to say I expect everyone around me to know what this means, to know what I want. I roll my eyes at him and grab onto Chasm’s arm, intending on dragging him to the doorway. What actually happens is that as soon as my hand makes contact with him, there’s a fluttering in my stomach that causes my fingers to clench tight, wrinkling the fabric of his Whitehall Academy dress shirt.
Chasm pauses and looks down, a frown tracing his mouth that seems impossible to interpret. Is he upset that I’m touching him? Is he upset that he likes me touching him? It could be either/or in this case. I pretend like I’m not feeling anything at all and attempt to drag him toward the door anyway.
“I was just congratulating Little Sister here on her first day at school. Impressive, for someone who comes from nothing.”
“If you came here to insult me, it won’t work.” I yank on his arm, and he takes a small step forward, either by choice or because I’m just strong as hell, I’m not sure.
“Won’t it, thoug
h?” he asks, and then he leans down and whispers something in Korean in my ear. The temptation to kick him in the nuts is strong. “Don’t think I haven’t heard you watching your shitty K-dramas in here. Shall I play the hero and save you from Parrish’s wicked claws?”
“Get out of my room,” I grind out, doing my best to drag him out the door. I need time to prepare myself for Tess. There’s just no way I’m lucky enough to escape a first day of school grilling. Chas just laughs again as I finally succeed in shoving him into the hallway. As I go to slam the door on the two of them, I notice the way Parrish and Chasm are looking at each other, like there are a million unsaid things they’re playing at right now.
I shove the door closed and flick the lock with a groan, turning around and putting my back to it. My eyes stray briefly to the bloodied sheets in the corner, but I don’t think twice about it. I haven’t had an easy month; there’s no lack of reasons that I might’ve been confused this morning.
Tess never comes by to ask how my day went; she doesn’t even bother to text me.
So much for building a mother-daughter relationship.
There’s a breeze teasing chilly fingers across my skin, and my bed feels wet. At first, I just assume that I’ve overfilled my menstrual cup again. But as I crack my eyes open, something strange happens. I find myself lying on my side in the woods.
“What the fuck?” I blurt, sitting up suddenly and feeling an icy chill take over me. My first thought is that this is a dream because, like, what the actual hell? The night is pitch-black and freezing-cold, so cold that my skin is pebbled with goose bumps and my teeth are already chattering.
As I scan my surroundings, I try to figure out if this is a dream or … not. A quick pinch on my arm hurts like hell, and when I close my eyes and try to will myself awake, nothing happens. Opening them again, I force myself to my feet, staggering slightly and cursing as pine needles and small rocks dig into my bare feet.
My first reaction is to assume that the boys dragged me out here. How they managed to move me from my bed into the woods without waking me is a mystery for another day. But really, what else could this be but a prank?
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