Ruthless (The Privileged of Pembroke High #4)

by Ivy Fox

  Another fifteen minutes pass by before they finally call Saint’s name for his race. He struts onto the deck, looking confident in a speedo that leaves very little to the imagination. His sun-kissed skin gleams under the fluorescent lights, his defined abs and strong thighs are all a testament to the long hours he’s dedicated to swimming.

  My heartbeat accelerates when his gaze begins to scan the audience in search of something. Or someone. When his black eyes land on me, my heart leaps into my throat at the smirk that plays on his lips.

  “God, he’s cocky.” Elle groans, exasperated.

  “That’s Saint for you.” I grin.

  But my smile is stolen from me when loud shrieks start calling out his name to get his attention. I follow their sound and see a bunch of barely dressed girls jump up from their seats, holding up cardboards with his name in pink glitter.

  “Oh, look. He even has a fan club. I wonder how that happened?” Elle asks sarcastically.

  I know how it happened.

  Everyone in the school does.

  In his first few months at this school, the halls were abuzz about Saint’s sexual prowess. Although he hasn’t come out and told me about his hookups, I know that most of the girls shouting out his name have found their way into his bed. All of them wanted a piece of Pembroke’s new self-proclaimed bad boy, and that piece just happened to be his dick.

  I shouldn’t feel bitter, but I do.

  All Saint and I shared was one kiss at a party. Not exactly the beginning of a wild torrid romance or a reason for him to put on a chastity belt. Still, disappointment hits me hard that we never even broached the subject of our kiss.

  It was as if it never happened.

  But it did.

  The way he kissed me will be forever burned into my memory, haunting me.

  But I guess I’m the only one who thinks that since he’s never mentioned it since.

  “Chad? Are you okay? You seem distant,” Elle questions, her golden eyes taking on a forlorn hue.

  “I’m all good, babe. Just been a hell of a week,” I lie, kissing her temple to soothe her worry.

  When I look back at the platform, Saint’s black eyes slant, and his expression turns into a frown.

  I wish I could read his mind as easily as I can Elle’s. Even after all these years, I can never grasp what he’s thinking. He’s still a mystery to me. One that I can’t help but want to solve.

  The whistle blows, and Saint dives into the water, everyone cheering while my heart races. I get up from my seat, cheering him on, hoping he can hear my voice above all others.

  He’s fast.

  Real fast.

  Faster than all his competition.

  The rest of the swimmers are still lagging behind, when he slaps the edge of the pool, calling the end of the race.

  “He won! He won!” I shout out euphorically.

  Everyone is on their feet, just as ecstatic as I am with the win.

  Well, not everyone.

  I look down at Elle, who is still in her seat with a meek smile on her lips.

  “He did it. He won, Elle.”

  “He did.”

  “Hey, are you okay?” I ask worriedly, sitting back down next to her and squeezing her knee.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yep. I was just thinking how Ridgemont High never saw Saint coming. They never stood a chance, did they?” She blinks twice at me.

  “No, I guess they didn’t.”

  “They should have done their homework on their rival. A mistake they won’t make again, I’m sure.”

  Her ominous statement confuses me, but before I have time to ask her what she means, she stands up.

  “Actually, I think I’m more tired than I thought. Would you mind if I went home early? Asher and Ollie will understand.”

  “Of course. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “Just stay here and watch your boy win. You never know how many victories he’ll get. Let him enjoy it.”

  She pecks my cheek with a kiss and leaves without a further word.

  I’m conflicted, wondering if I should follow Elle home or stay and wait to celebrate Saint’s win with him as she suggested. My gaze goes to her retreating form and to Saint’s glowing triumphant smile.

  In the end, my decision is made when Saint disregards his loud fan club to throw me a mischievous wink and smile.

  “So, this is how the other half lives, huh?” Saint jokes, nudging my shoulder when we enter the Hurst’s penthouse apartment.

  “What are you talking about? I’d have thought you’d be used to it already.”

  “Nah, Boy Scout. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” he says, pointing to a picture where Reid’s folks are talking animatedly with the President of the United States.

  Hmm.

  Saint’s right on one account.

  It’s not every day we get invited to the Hurst’s home. The senator isn’t keen on having people over, but I guess since he and his wife Claire are in Washington this week, Reid took advantage of their absence by throwing the team a victory party.

  Honestly, I’m just happy we’re not over at the Manning’s to celebrate the team’s win. Last time Saint and I were there, things only got more complicated, and my mind is conflicted enough without adding more shit to the equation.

  “You guys want a drink?” Reid asks awfully chipper when he sees us, handing Saint and me beer bottles. “If you need something with a bigger kick, the hard booze is in the kitchen.”

  With a wide smile planted on his lips, Reid goes back to his guests while Saint and I continue to get acquainted with his home.

  “It never ceases to amaze me that people really live like this,” Saint says, taking a sip of his beer.

  “Like what?”

  “Come on, Boy Scout. Like this! Look around. Half of the shit here could pay my mom’s rent for a year.”

  I maul my lip, looking around at the lavish living room with kids dancing, talking, and having a good time, completely oblivious to the Picasso and Rembrandt paintings on the walls. I guess, from an outsider’s perspective, it really doesn’t seem fair that some should have so much while others live in squalor.

  “Yo! Saint!” someone calls out, making us both turn simultaneously.

  Asher’s got his arm around some junior, walking our way.

  “Man, you completely blew everyone out of the water tonight. I’m going to have to work double time to close in on you.”

  “Guess that just means you’re lucky we’re not in the same year. Otherwise, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Aren’t you a cocky fuck?!” Asher laughs, not one bit bothered by Saint’s remark.

  “Just telling it how it is.”

  “Well, keep doing what you’re doing. The team needs guys like you on it.”

  Saint gives him a clipped nod as Asher’s girl—for the night—whispers something in his ear and starts pulling him away from us in favor of a dark corner.

  “You don’t take compliments very well. You know that, right?” I tease, walking away from the kissing duo.

  “Not used to hearing them, that’s all.” Saint shrugs nonchalantly, taking a swig of his beer.

  “Well, get used to them. The school loves you.”

  He stops mid-step, his black eyes staring into mine, successfully speeding up my pulse.

  “Where’s your girl? Princess couldn’t stay up past her curfew or something?”

  “Elle wasn’t feeling up to celebrating, that’s all.”

  “You mean she wasn’t feeling up to celebrating me?” he mocks bitterly.

  “No. She was just tired. But I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles, gently moving an errant lock of my hair away from my eyes. “You’re the only one that means a shit anyway.”

  My throat clogs at his statement, as well as the te
nderness in his gaze. But all too quickly, his attention subsides now on the dancefloor.

  “I’m going to mingle. See if I can get something softer to celebrate my win with.”

  “You’ve been doing that a lot.”

  “What? You mean, hooking up? You jealous, Boy Scout?” He smirks triumphantly.

  Yes.

  I’m definitely jealous.

  “Of course not,” I lie. “You do you, Saint. I’m just happy you’re getting along so well with everyone.”

  “Hate to burst your bubble, Boy Scout, but not everyone loves my ass.”

  “What do you mean?” I arch a brow.

  He laughs, putting his arm over my shoulder, his warm skin and scent invading my senses.

  “Look there,” he orders, pointing across the room.

  My gaze lands on Trevor and the football team, all of whom are looking at Saint as if he were a cockroach in need of being squashed.

  “Those assholes have given me the side-eye everywhere I go. And those fuckers right there,” he says, pointing at the lacrosse team, “have left some cute little love letters in my locker, telling me to go back to where I came from since the first week I started at Pembroke.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?!” I ask in outrage.

  “What could you have done? Defend my honor or some shit? I got it covered, Boy Scout. I’m a big boy, you know?” He laughs, drinking the last of his beer. “Going to grab me another. You want one?”

  I’m still nursing mine, so I shake my head.

  “Suit yourself.”

  He turns around to go search for more beer when he smacks right into Roman.

  “Hey. Don’t I know you?” Rome asks, his brows pinched together.

  “Nope,” Saint replies, walking past him in a hurry.

  “Who’s your friend?” Rome interrogates me, staring at a retreating Saint. “I swear I’ve seen him before.”

  “He’s new to Pembroke. I’m sure you’ve seen him in the halls.”

  “Nope. That’s not it. But I don’t like him.”

  “You sound just like Elle.” I laugh at their shared animosity but then stop my chuckling when Rome’s expression turns from curious to downright lethal.

  “That’s where I know the shithead from. Keep that asshole away from my sister, Chad. You hear me?” he orders through gritted teeth before clipping me on the shoulder.

  I shake my head, knowing not to take Rome’s behavior personally. He’s always been protective of his kid sister. But I do find it odd why he would dislike Saint from the get-go, without so much as an actual conversation with him.

  A few minutes later, Saint returns with a new bottle in hand, his expression not as festive as it was before.

  “Damn fucking Graysons. It’s like I can never outrun them,” he mumbles the last part into his bottle.

  I’m about to ask what he means when Ashley and one of her plastic besties come over and sweet-talks Saint onto the dancefloor.

  “I don’t dance, but I can watch if you girls give me a show.”

  “We can do that,” they singsong.

  “Come on, Boy Scout. Let’s have some fun.” He smirks with that playful twinkle in his eye.

  My stomach twists in knots, not really looking forward to witnessing Saint hooking up with anyone.

  “I just need to make a pit stop in the bathroom. I’ll be right with you.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” he says before swinging his arms over both girls’ shoulders.

  There are no two ways about it—Saint’s a player.

  When he went to his other school in East Harlem, I never got to see how he acted around girls. But now that I have a front-row seat, I’m not sure how I feel about it.

  I walk to the back of the Hurst’s penthouse in search of a bathroom to have a quiet moment to myself. But after opening a few doors and finding undressed couples getting it on, my anxiety only amplifies, wondering at what point in the night Saint will be pulled into one of these rooms.

  I’m about to call it quits on my search but end up opening one more door.

  “Maya?” I blurt out in surprise.

  Maya looks over at me and then at Reid, her cheeks tinged the deepest of red.

  “Does Saint know you’re here?”

  “Saint’s here?” she asks, her jade eyes going wide.

  I nod, still confused by walking in on such an unlikely pair.

  “I gotta go,” she utters, hurriedly running past me.

  “Maya! Wait!” Reid runs after her, but she’s already lost in the crowd.

  “I didn’t know you two were friends.”

  “We’re not. She’s just helping me out with an English project.”

  “She’s helping you out?” I can hear Saint’s voice in my ear calling bullshit.

  “Hmm.” He nods guiltily. “I… hum… Look, Chad. Just don’t tell Saint you saw Maya here tonight, okay? He wouldn’t like it, and I don’t want to get her in any kind of trouble.”

  “What he wouldn’t like is knowing that Maya is going back to the East River projects all alone on a Friday night.”

  “Shit! You’re right. I have to go,” he says, horrified. “Just keep this to yourself, yeah, Chad? I’ll owe you one, buddy,” he adds before taking off like a bat out of hell.

  The fuck was that about?

  And why was Maya really here? In Reid’s bedroom, of all places?

  I walk back to the party, intent on telling Saint about Maya—Reid be damned—but when I find him, he’s already two sheets to the wind on the couch. His eyes are half-mast, his arms stretched out wide on the couch, taking in the numerous girls who are dancing just for his amusement. There’s no use in me telling him anything tonight. In his condition, he wouldn’t even remember it. I look around and see Reid hasn’t returned yet, which leaves me to conclude he’s doing the right thing and getting Maya home safely.

  “Boy Scout! Took you long enough to get here,” Saint shouts belligerently, slapping the seat beside him so I can sit down.

  “I was gone for less than thirty minutes. How did you get wasted in such a short amount of time?”

  “That kid right there had some party favors.” He points at one of the guys on his swim team.

  I’m about to reprimand him for taking drugs when his head falls on my shoulder.

  “Today was a good day,” he whispers.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I don’t get many of those.”

  “You do now.” I squeeze his knee.

  My breath halts in my throat when he places his hand on my thigh.

  “I only started getting them when I met you. You make all my days good.”

  My heart swells in my chest as he snuggles into my shoulder and closes his eyes. The girls on the dancefloor are still putting on a show for him, but he doesn’t care.

  “I think maybe you should sleep over at my house tonight,” I rasp, my voice sounding deeper than it should.

  He laughs under his breath.

  “Not tonight, Boy Scout.”

  “It’s late. I don’t want you to go home alone at this hour.”

  “Saved some money for an uber,” he replies, patting his pocket. “So, I’m good. But I’ll take a raincheck on the sleepover.” He winks.

  “Save your money and come home with me instead,” I insist, not knowing why I have this burning need to take care of him when he’s this vulnerable.

  He tilts his head up, placing his chin on my shoulder, his black eyes piercing mine.

  “Not tonight, Boy Scout. I’m too out of it to make good decisions.”

  “You’re never one to be cautious.”

  He gently swipes some hair away from my temple, a meek smile on his lips.

  “Some things are worth the extra care.”

  Chapter 16

  Elle

  He lied to me.

  Chad promised me everything would stay exactly the same before w
e started high school, on the same sacred spot my mother took me to picnic in Central Park. I believed every word that came out of his gorgeous mouth that day, but each empty promise was nothing more than well-intentioned lies to soothe my anxious heart.

  Our freshman year at Pembroke High should have been the beginning of something epic in our lives. A new milestone we would face together, like all the ones we had conquered before. Since I could remember, it had always been me and Chad against the world, so why would attending Pembroke High be any different?

  But it was.

  And all because of him.

  Instead of only having to deal with Saint sporadically when I visited Chad’s house, the black-haired heathen became a permanent fixture in my everyday life. There was no way of avoiding him. He was everywhere.

  In the hallways.

  In class.

  In the cafeteria.

  In the library.

  Even when I had to do my sisterly duty and cheer the twins on at their swim meets, I found myself having to be supportive of his athletic accomplishments, too. Saint was everywhere, and as much as I tried, I couldn’t escape him. The only way I’d be done with the pest would be if I let him have what was mine—Chad.

  And no way was I going to let him go without a fight.

  It served me right, though.

  I underestimated his importance. I thought he was just going to be a phase in our lives, yet he became the very center of them. Everywhere I turned, there he was.

  Saint.

  Saint.

  Saint!

  Argh!

  In my Lit class, we studied Dante’s Inferno and his Nine Circles of Hell. The whole time the class debated which circle was worse, I couldn’t help but envy Dante Alighieri and his naiveté. Because if he had to endure a whole damn year of having to put up with this school’s lovefest over Santiago García as I have, then he’d reconsider his beliefs on what constitutes a hellish experience.

  The only person who didn’t seem to jump on the Santiago bandwagon was none other than my other nemesis, Trevor Manning.

  What’s that saying?

  The enemy of my enemy is my friend?

  Yeah, that’ll never happen.

  As much as Saint gets on my last nerve, Trevor makes my skin crawl. He’s only grown more bitter and resentful of my family throughout the years. God knows why, though. It’s not like the Mannings don’t have a presence of their own in this school. Lace took to high school like a fish to water, with Kim as her trusty sidekick, ruling over their popular freshmen clique. Even Trevor has made a name for himself on the football field, showing off his letterman jacket every chance he got as if it’s some kind of trophy. Still, the way his ominous gaze leers over at my brothers and me has me on high alert any time he’s near. The only person he hates more than us Graysons is Saint. And that’s probably because his ego is still bruised after Saint got all up in his face that one afternoon back in middle school.