by E. M. Snow
“I’m done with this shit!” He scoots backward with so much force our flimsy table slams into the wall and his plate shatters to the floor, breaking into dozens of pieces. He steps around them, his jaw set in an angry line as he stalks toward the doorway. I try to block him from leaving, but he grasps my shoulders and shoves me aside.
Like I’m nothing.
“Jasper,” I whisper, but he keeps going, heading straight for the front door like he doesn’t even hear me. Rage boils through me, hot and savage. “I’m fucking talking to you, Ghost!”
He stiffens. Swivels around to look at me like he’s seen a real ghost.
“The fuck you just say?” he rasps, barreling toward me.
I meet him halfway. I’ve never used the nickname, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know what he’s called when he’s outside this house. It was a joke at first—something the boys at school had mockingly called him because his first name is so similar to the friendly little ghost. The nickname stuck. And Jasper’d always used his fists and smart-ass mouth to make sure they knew he was anything but friendly.
“What did you say?” he repeats.
“You heard me. You don’t think I remember all the shady people that used to show up looking for Ghost? I do. I remember the way they stared at me and how they scared Nina. You don’t think I’ve heard the rumors about you?” I pause to take a breath. “So, I’m asking you again, Ghost. What. Did. You. Do?”
“So, you’re brave now, huh?” He laughs at me, even though a vein pulses beneath the tattoo on his neck and it’s obvious he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny. “I don’t owe you shit, you worthless bitch.”
Whoa.
He’s never talked to me like this, and the air whooshes right out of my lungs. “I’m not worthless,” I manage, but my stomach heaves. “And you do owe me because I love you and I’m worried about you. If that makes me worthless...”
I can’t even finish. Some of the rage fades from his eyes, but it’s replaced by a weariness that shreds my heart to ribbons. He drags a tattooed hand over his face and shakes his head. “Yossy, I—”
I shake my head. “I don’t want your fucking apologies, Jasper; I just want the truth.”
In an instant, that weary expression is gone, and the ice-cold mask takes over his features again. “Go to school,” he orders, his voice hard. “Stay out of my business.”
Before I can utter a word of response, he’s gone.
My brother dominates my thoughts the entire day.
I shuffle around campus like there’s an anchor is tied around my ankle that’s not only dragging me down but cutting off my circulation, too. Like a fool, I text him during lunch, but he doesn’t get back to me. It’s not surprising—after all, he’s gone weeks without answering my messages—but it highlights a bitter truth: We’re so toxic, it’s absolutely sickening.
Family’s not supposed to be like that.
As I’m walking from lunch to Spanish class, I’m so distracted by my thoughts, I don’t see the person directly in my path until it’s too late. We collide hard enough to push a gasp of air from my lips, and I stumble back, more than a little dazed and confused as I slam into a locker.
“I’m so sorry,” I immediately blurt out, bracing myself for a scathing retort.
“You should be, you crushed my way out of gym,” a soft voice informs me, but it’s laced with amusement. I push strands of black hair out of my face and watch as Reina wrinkles her nose at the broken cigarette she’s holding. “Looks like I’ll have to rely on old-fashioned bitchery instead of setting off the sprinklers.”
“Sorry?”
“I swear you get off on apologizing.” But a grin splits her face. “It was a joke. I actually had no plans to go to class this afternoon and was headed to the beach.”
“Oh.”
“I—” She rolls her hazel eyes toward the ceiling when the bell interrupts her. I start to walk away, but she stops me by grabbing my wrist. “Hey, do me a favor and say something to your friend?”
I frown. “Which friend and what am I saying?”
“You know, the redhead who sticks her pancake ass out when she walks. She is your friend, right?” I give a slow nod, so she continues, “Can you let her know she’s making a fool of herself with my cousin?”
“Your cousin?”
She regards me with an arched brow, as if this is information I should already know. “Phoenix.” The duh is clearly implied.
“Wait, he’s your cousin?” I squeak.
Clamping her eyes shut, she shakes her head. “I don’t know whether to be disturbed by the fact you literally look nobody up or impressed that you take that staying in your own lane shit to extremes.” She looks at me again, her expression dead serious. “Yes, Josslyn, he’s my cousin, and that’s why I’m warning you. I don’t particularly like your friend, but I dislike him more. He’s that prick who’ll go out of his way to find, maim, and ruin just because he’s bored. I’ve seen him do it because I’m forced to live with him.”
I blink and Reina snorts.
“Yeah, I got it, you didn’t know I lived with the Townsends. I swear to God I’m going to print you a dossier on everyone in this school. Me, orphan.” Pausing, Reina points to herself. “Phoenix and Gideon, dick cousins whose family took me in. What I’m getting at is your friend is expendable to Phoenix. She will do something that pisses him off and you’ll be guilty by association. Even you saw what he did to Daria Howard yesterday.”
The promise ring girl. I hadn’t seen her today, but I’ve admittedly been in my only little world and mentally invested in the train wreck that is my brother.
“In case you’re wondering, she left,” Reina informs me. “Her parents pulled her after that demon-bitch Kallista posted the whole sordid exchange on Insta.”
Damn.
“Do you think—” I start, but the tardy bell rings for fourth block and mayhem unfolds around us as everyone rushes to class. Casting Reina a parting look, I promise, “I’ll talk to Margaret.”
“Please do. I actually like your clueless ass.”
Coming from her, that’s a compliment.
Once I reach Spanish, I make a beeline for my seat, avoiding gazing around the room. It’ll just annoy me to see everyone throwing themselves at Phoenix—who’s in the center of everything, like the sun itself.
Taking my seat, I duck my head and wait quietly for Mrs. De León to start class. She sweeps into the room a few minutes later and shoots a disapproving glare at the chattering and commotion happening all around Phoenix’s desk.
“Silencio,” she orders, and everyone does what they’re told, though there’s plenty of grumbling and eye-rolling. Phoenix lounges back in his chair, an expression of pure boredom taking over his features. I can’t help but steal a few glances his way as the lesson begins and Mrs. De León starts a film about making cultural connections.
“I’m going to pair you up, and you and your partner are going to brainstorm a list of ten true and false questions based on what you just watched,” she announces halfway through class, once the presentation ends. “En español, por favor.”
I tense up as she starts to choose pairs and hold my breath, waiting to see who she forces on me. When she announces my partner, it’s the shit topping on my already terrible day. “Señorita Luna, you’ll be with Señor Townsend.”
Shit, shit, shit.
After she finishes giving everyone their partners, she instructs us to get to work. Phoenix green eyes land on me and narrow, but I don’t move. He waits a few seconds, then squares his jaw. Unfolding his tall, muscular frame from his seat, he prowls toward me, grabs a chair from a neighboring desk, and spins it around before settling in it. This gives me a whiff of his cologne—something warm and woodsy with a hint of caramel. Whatever it is, it works for him. Makes me want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck just to get another hit.
My throat goes a little dry at that thought, so I clear it, which arches his eyebrows.<
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Then, unloosening his gray, white, and navy uniform tie, he sits in total silence.
My hand trembles as I grab my pen from the corner of my desk. “Okay, maybe we should start by—”
“You don’t know how this works, do you?” he suddenly demands, his tone deep and rough. I freeze, and he offers me a lazy grin as he lowers his eyes to my open binder. “I supervise. You let me know when you’re done, señorita.”
The song is wrong—I hate it when he calls me that. Hate the goose bumps that pebble my skin and the way my pulse flickers, almost like this is the first time it’s come to life in months. Disdain, I tell myself. Because he’s a foul person.
My erratic pulse has zero to do with the rumble of his voice or the way he smells or the fact I was just thinking about sniffing the evil bastard because of said aroma.
“What are you waiting for?” Slanting me with an impatient look, he traces a P on the edge of my blank paper with his fingertip, as if he’s branding my belongings. “Shit’s not going to write itself.”
I swallow around the dryness that’s still in the back of my throat. “Wh-what?”
His expression is borderline patronizing. “Fuck, the bar at Ravenwood must’ve been six feet under the school. Isn’t this your sort of thing, Luna?”
“You expect me to do all the Spanish work because my last name is Luna?” I come close to pointing out that it’s also Italian, but I stop myself since I’m both. He doesn’t need to know that. In fact, the less he knows about me, the better. Before my brain has a chance to catch up with my mouth, I add on a hiss, “Isn’t that pretty screwed-up, even for someone like you?”
For the briefest moment, he looks somewhat surprised—his full lips part and his green eyes widen. His frigid veneer slips firmly back in place before I can blink an eye. This time, he tosses in a mocking smile.
“Aren’t you just full of dumb-fuck assumptions? Sadly, you’re giving yourself too much credit because I don’t give a shit about the results of your 23 and Me. I’m telling you to do the assignment because someone like me has no interest. That’s what you’re here for.” He flicks the frayed cover of my used textbook. “Where do you think financial aid comes from, Luna?”
Holy shit, I completely underestimated the ego on this guy, which is really saying something. I swear I can hear the plastic of my pen cracking beneath my fingertips, so I drop it on my binder. “You know nothing about me.”
He crosses his arms and regards me like I’m an annoying bug he’s trying to decide if he should bother squashing. “You’re depressingly easy to read. You’re here because this is your way out, so you’ll do everything you’re told and pray you won’t be seen. It’s all there, Luna. In the way you won’t meet my eyes half the time because engaging isn’t in the doormat field guide. In the way your lips quiver and how you’re whispering because you’re afraid Señora Whatever-The-Fuck-Her-Name-Is will come over. How you’re playing with that cheap ass bracelet.”
For the first time, I realize I’ve probably been clutching my charm bracelet ever since I dropped the damn pen. The bracelet belonged to my mom, so Phoenix’s insult makes me want to punch him right in his perfect, evil teeth.
Except, I’ve never punched anyone in my life.
And I have a sinking feeling that if I were to hit him, he really would flatten me.
Releasing my bracelet, I place my hands on my desk. “If I’m so worthless, what makes you think I’ll do your work for you?”
The second I say it, I know I’ve made a mistake. His dark eyebrows furrow, then release, and a slow smile creeps across his features. “Never said you were worthless. You must be getting me confused with someone else in your sad, proletariat life. Besides, we’ve discussed why you’re going to do the work—you’re won’t risk the bad grade because Thornwood is your out.”
I flare my nostrils. He’s not wrong, technically. When my tuition was a perk of Nina’s job, I had to maintain a certain GPA. Now that Jasper has somehow paid my tuition in cash, I’m not at as much risk of getting kicked out if my grades slip. Still, I can’t slack. Basically, what that all amounts to is an empty threat on my part, and he’s just called me on it.
“And you’d just bomb it, is that it? Let yourself fail because you just can’t be bothered?”
His blazer tightens around his wide shoulders with his shrug. “There are much better things I could be doing with my time.”
“Like what?” I don’t know why I’m bothering with him. It’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, and people with little money mean absolutely nothing to him. Besides, he’s right about one thing—I typically wouldn’t take the bait.
So why can’t I seem to stop?
“Well?” I probe. “What else could you be doing with your precious time?”
He doesn’t answer right away and instead rakes his eyes all along my body, lingering on my lips and breasts. My cheeks heat and I fight the urge to cover myself with my arms.
A long beat drags by before he casually says, “You.”
My breath leaves me in a rush. Holy shit, I hadn’t expected that, and damn my body’s instant response to his words. My spine stiffens and my fingers curl slightly. That flickering in my pulse goes wilder, just like my heartbeat. Why is this happening?
Phoenix’s green eyes flash and he unfolds his arms and moves just the tiniest bit closer. When he addresses me again, his minty breath ghosts across my skin, blowing wisps of hair out of my face. “You like that idea, don’t you, señorita?”
“Stop calling me that,” I say, my face hotter than ever. “Just … stop.”
“Why? Because it turns you on? Makes dirty, ungodly things happen inside those cheap panties?” He trails the tip of his thumb across his upper lip as he takes in my flushed cheeks and broken breaths.
Finally, he snorts. Laughs.
“Don’t worry, I’m not interested." Reaching out, he chucks me under the chin, and to my shame, his touch finishes scrambling my senses. “Don’t get me wrong, Luna, you are … mmm.”
It’s not even a real word, but that “mmm” is my undoing. Because he gives me another slow, appraising gaze. He lingers on my curves, his head tipping back and his eyes darkening. Nobody has ever looked at me like this. Even after I lost weight, no guy has ever stared at me the way Phoenix is doing now—not even Alaric—and it turns my world upside down.
His Adam’s apple dips as he draws away from me, and he ruins my trance with less than ten words. “You’d be a pity fuck at best."
“Well, good thing that is never going to happen,” I reply in as dismissive of a tone as I can muster, but my bottom lip trembles. What he said hurt like hell. “I wouldn’t touch you if my life depended on it because even my pitiful ass has standards.”
His mouth sinks into a scowl. It appears I’ve struck a nerve, which is strangely satisfying. Resting his arms on my desk, he levels me with a hard stare. “You should be careful how you talk to me.” His tone trickles ice down my spine. There’s no humor whatsoever in his voice. No actual emotion that I can detect. It’s cold and harsh.
Dangerous.
This is the real Phoenix. The vicious persona I glimpsed at the party that’s usually masked by a cocky arrogance. I’m more intimidated by him now, and I hesitate for a moment. “You don’t scare me, you know,” I eventually say, and I nearly cringe at my tinny voice.
He offers me a hint of a smile, and I can’t help but think of a viper preparing to strike. “You’re playing with the cheap charm bracelet again,” he murmurs. “Because you’re afraid.”
“All right, everyone, let’s finish up those questions before the bell rings,” Mrs. De León calls out, breaking through the tense bubble that’s formed around him and I.
I blink, then peer down at the empty paper sitting on the desk in front of me. We’ve done no work, and I feel a small twinge of panic. His earlier assessment of me is right, after all. I can’t just take the hit to my grades. Every fiber of my being is urging me
to do the work, even if it means doing it alone.
Phoenix has realized this as well because that smugness is back to taunt me. “Better get going. You’re going to run out of time.”
I resist a few moments more, praying that he’ll spontaneously combust or something equally as painful and fatal.
In the end, though, I can’t stop myself as I grab my pen and begin to work, saving both our asses as he chuckles in an evil sort of triumph.
5
I think about Phoenix Townsend all the way home.
The way he looked at me. The words he said. It’s all haunting me and not even listening to music is enough to exorcise him from my head. So many emotions pour through me—fury and disgust and something else I can’t quite pinpoint—that I can’t seem to focus on anything else. Even my worry for Jasper has taken a back seat to Phoenix.
As far as I’m concerned, the king of Thornwood is the scum of the earth.
Before, I only thought he was a dick. A mean, entitled prick who used his wealth and good looks to bully his way through life. Now, I’m sure I hate him. I really need to talk to Margaret and convince her this fucker isn’t worth her time. We need to stay as far away from him as humanly possible. People like Phoenix—people that dark and venomous—they only ever try to drag others into their darkness with them.
As I climb out of the van, I acknowledge that my frustration is a waste of time. He’ll forget my name by tomorrow, and he likely hasn’t even thought about me since class. I got our assignment done and handed it in just before the bell rang, with no help from Phoenix, though I didn’t dare say a word to Mrs. De León. By the time I turned back to my desk, he had already slithered from the classroom.
I take a small amount of comfort in the realization that I won’t cross his mind again. It allows me to push all thoughts of him aside so I can focus on the things that are actually important in my life right now.
Like my brother.
When I reach the front door of the house, I square my shoulders as I unlock the door because I know I’ll have to confront him again. He needs to explain what the hell is going on with him, and I refuse to let him dodge me this time. I’m sure he’ll resort to emotional manipulation, but I’m prepared for that. Hell, after my encounter with Phoenix, I’m ready for the argument that’s bound to happen. Either Jasper tells me the truth, or he gets the hell out of Nina’s house. I don’t need him around if he’s going to drag dangerous bullshit along with him and not even tell me what I should be watching out for.