Beautifully Yours: A High School Bully Romance (Voclain Academy Book Three)

by Jordan Grant

  “Nothing yet,” she says as we fall into step behind a group of lowerclassmen.

  We all frown at her response, and I regret having asked the question. This is the day we’ve waited for all damn semester, since the night of the party and Ian’s arrest. Either the case gets dismissed or moves forward. I lost everything I held dear, but my friends haven’t been unaffected either. Raven had her boyfriend carted off across the Atlantic thanks to Finn’s shit. Her parents were surprisingly chill about the entire thing—I guess nothing compares to the crap her sister, Aurora, has pulled over the years, most recently when she was publicly exposed last semester for cheating on the SAT—but right now, Vixson’s return is still up in the air, and I know it’s bothering her. Molly has known Ian since they were in elementary school, and watching her friend go through this has been hard on her. Her fears about his future are the same as mine.

  As we approach the building, we find Ian, Archie, Chase, and Everett outside, waiting for us. Ian’s gaze finds mine and locks, but he doesn’t scowl or storm away, which is his normal response lately. Instead, he appears mildly annoyed before he checks his phone, which is also very un-Ian. He doesn’t wait for anyone. He sets his schedule and expects others to follow it.

  Chase takes a drag from his vape pen and offers it to Ian. Ian accepts it and takes a deep pull. He breathes out white vapor that dissipates in the air, leaving only the slightly sweet aroma lingering.

  “What time does this start?” Archie complains, tilting his head back against the marbled wall. He’s dressed like the rest of the guys, all in varying shades of black suits, all tie-less, and all looking less than pleased at being here.

  “Two o’clock,” Raven says, eyeing her phone. “Still got like thirty minutes.”

  Archie groans like the boredom is literally killing him. For someone who’s always on the go—looking for the next party, the next girl, the next dubiously legal distraction—maybe it is. Ian steps away from us, answering his phone, and my heart kicks into high gear.

  This is it.

  This is when I can tell him and make it all right and fix everything.

  Ian ducks behind a Doric column with a frown. A group of girls passes by, cackling at something one of them is playing on her phone, and I can’t hear. What is he saying?! I inch closer as we all stand in silence, waiting. Even Archie is uncharacteristically quiet at the moment. Everett and Chase both stare at the back of Ian’s head, frowning.

  “Yeah, fine,” I hear Ian bark before he disconnects the phone. He turns around to face us, and a cannonball materializes dead-center of my stomach and sinks. His gaze is sharp steel, piercing and deadly, and by his scowl, he looks like he wants to kill someone.

  “I’ve been indicted,” he says, his lips pursing together.

  “What?” I breathe, but Everett asks it at the same time, drowning me out.

  “I thought your dad took care of this, bro,” Archie says, his cheeks flushing red with his anger. “Didn’t he sue all their asses or some shit?”

  Ian shrugs, leaning back against the pillar like this news isn’t bothering him. He answers Archie, but I don’t hear his words.

  I am lost in my head.

  Indicted.

  Not guilty, but there’s been no trial yet.

  It’s enough to drag this out for another six months at least, months when he’ll continue to hate me as Finn continues to hold this over our heads like we’re both strapped down at the guillotine and he’s holding the release lever.

  I stumble away. I don’t know where I’m headed, but it can’t be here, with Ian’s future darkened for another six months at least and mine along with it.

  “You okay?” Molly asks, walking up behind me.

  “This isn’t the way it was supposed to be,” I murmur.

  “I know,” Molly agrees, placing a hand across my shoulder. “We’re all worried about him.”

  “No.” I shake my head quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders like a crazy person and squeezing tight. “You don’t understand. I did what Finn said! This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

  “Harlow,” her kind brown eyes go wide, “what do you mean you did what Finn said?”

  I swallow hard. I’ve said too much, and now the words are out there, dangling in the air like tiny bombs waiting to go off.

  “I’d like to know that too,” Ian agrees, narrowing his gaze at me.

  Molly and I both startle. His dark eyes latch onto mine and wait for a response. His fists are balled at his sides, his jaw clenched, his brows knitted together.

  “I…I…” I look to Molly for help, but she’s just standing there, patiently waiting for me to answer. “He told me… He said I had to…”

  Ian takes a long stride forward, everything around him seeming to darken, from the black of his suit to the shadow behind him, like he’s the moon eclipsing the sun.

  “What did he make you do, Harlow?” he asks, and I can feel the rest of our friends watching now too.

  My gaze flits to them, and Ian steers me back to him, his thumb and index finger gripping my chin as I face him again.

  I swallow, trying to coat my dry mouth, but the words climb up out of my throat regardless.

  “He said I had to break up with you,” I say, the words strangled with my sob. “He said I had to ensure our mutual misery.”

  Molls sucks in a gasp as Raven off to the side goes, “Holy shit.”

  Ian stares at me, and I think I see relief there, relief and anger both vying for top prize. He is still staring at me when he says to the rest of our group, “Leave us.”

  “Come on,” Molly says, ushering our friends away. “Give them space.”

  “That’s why you did it,” Ian says when they are gone, closing his eyes with his words.

  I nod. “He said if I did that he would go to the police and tell them he was drunk and couldn’t remember what happened.” Tears stream from my eyes, and my vision swims before me.

  “I’m so—“ I begin, but he cuts me off with two fingers pressed tightly to my lips.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he says. “Not another word.”

  My heart tears open and bleeds. I am drowning from the inside out. This isn’t how it is supposed to be. This isn’t how he is supposed to react. He’s supposed to understand, but now I think that he just hates me even more.

  He takes a step forward, and there is nowhere else for him to go, unless I back away. The sun hits his hair just right, making it gleam like flakes of flint. He reaches a hand out and runs the back of his knuckles across my cheek, his touch tender. I missed this part of him, the part he doesn’t share with the rest of the world.

  “It’s okay,” he says, wiping my tears away. “It’s okay.” His arms wrap around me, bringing me in for a hug. I sob against him as he shushes me.

  “It’s all going to be okay,” he says, but I can’t believe his words, not with the looming indictment.

  I shake my head, the denial not wanting to surface because maybe if I say it aloud, then it’ll be real.

  “I’m okay, Harlow,” Ian tells me, drawing away from me, his hands planted flat on either side of my face. “We will be okay.”

  “I’m sorry for everything,” I say, “for all of it.”

  His eyebrows knit together. “I am too.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask him.

  “The lawyer told me to not worry about it. We’ve got slander suits out against half of Berkshire’s family, the due process lawsuit going, and the state lab confirmed only Berkshire’s blood and Berkshire’s prints are on the knife. It may take a while, but it’s going to be okay.”

  I sob harder, my attempt to fix this seeming even more pathetic now.

  “Hush,” he murmurs. “Don’t cry, sweetness. Please don’t cry.”

  His lips start at my forehead, then my cheeks, across my nose, and down over my chin before they slant over mine. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am whole.

  30

&nbs
p; Harlow

  He tastes like salt and feels like safety. His lips meld against mine, and it’s the kiss I’ve ached for, the contact I’ve craved all these long months. There’s no hate or anger or bitterness in this kiss, not for each other at least. I pour everything into it, and he swallows it, the pain, the devastation, the sadness. He takes it all from me as my tears slide down my cheeks and between our lips, salting our tongues.

  His fingers hold me tight against him, pinning our bodies together, and I relish the pressure, the solid feel of him against me, keeping everything wrong with the world at bay. I run my hands across his shoulders and around his arms, delighting in the solid feel of him against me. He is everything I have missed and what I never want to let go.

  He growls into my mouth, deepening the kiss. His fingers bunch the fabric of my dress at my back, knotting the lace there, before he breaks away. We are both breathing heavily as we stare at each other, my hands on him and his on me.

  “I fucking love you,” he says.

  “I fucking love you too,” I say, and he grins wide.

  “Come on.” He grabs my hand, “I have to watch my father get an award.”

  “I thought you didn’t care about these ceremonies,” I tease.

  “Normally, I don’t,” he agrees, “but I’m about to hold the hand of the most beautiful girl in front of the entire campus and rub my freedom in Finn Berkshire’s face.”

  I purse my lips, fighting a frown. “But wouldn’t that be bad?” I chew on my bottom lip. “You need him to recant. It’s his word against yours.”

  Ian shakes his head. “It won’t go to trial. The lawyer was suspicious about the repeated delays, and he had a PI put together a list of Berkshire’s suspected connections, ranging from the cop who arrested me to the district attorney all the way up to the judge. Apparently they haven’t even bothered to hide the money Finn’s father has thrown their way. Expensive cars, boats, jewelry, you name it, and they have it. The lawyer reported them to the attorney general’s office, and every last one of them is on thin ice. He thinks the cases he just filed against all of them will probably put the nail in the coffin of their careers.”

  I don’t buy it though, not yet. It seems too good to be true.

  “But what about all the work he put in? Everything he and his family did to stack the odds against you?”

  He grins, but there’s nothing happy about the expression. “That’s where it gets even better. The PI looked into it. Finn transferred in like six years ago, when we were all still at Pennington. He told everybody his boarding school in Europe followed a different calendar, but the PI said that’s not true. Berkshire transferred in from California after losing his shit on some kid there, same situation except they were in a locker room. Finn slammed a locker door into his own face, breaking his nose, and tried to blame it on the kid to get him expelled. His dad tried to clean up the mess, sealed all the records, and I guess part of the plea deal was sending Berkshire out of state.

  “His dad bought into all the counties neighboring Voclain but not to fuck me over. The lawyer thinks it was because he worried his son would try something again, and then he’d have to buy Finn’s way to freedom. The PI found the kid, and I think he’ll testify here, corroborate the pattern of behavior.”

  “Oh my god,” I murmur, my mind reeling.

  “Yeah, I’m pissed this is still ongoing, but I’m not worried,” Ian assures me. “Also, it turns out Finn’s dad’s company isn’t doing so great. They had to pay out a big product liability case a few years back and still haven’t recovered. My father just bought the controlling share too, right from under his nose, though it won’t be announced until their board meeting next week.”

  “Why?”

  “Even if the Berkshire reputation remains intact, he won’t be able to afford to come back next semester.”

  “Whoa,” I say, and I think maybe I’ve underestimated Oliver Beckett because now I understand where Ian gets it from. He plays the long game, and his final move is downright lethal.

  “If I had known…” I begin, my mind wandering back to all the wasted time, all the unnecessary fighting, the humiliation for both of us.

  “Shh,” Ian consoles. “I should be the one apologizing, and I am sorry, Harlow. I’m sorry for everything. I fucked up. I let myself humiliate you and hate you, and that shit in Collins’ class was just unaccep…”

  “It’s okay,” I say, cutting him off with a finger pressed to his lips. “I forgive you, Ian. You didn’t know, and I hurt you. On top of that, I kept giving you mixed signals. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  A frown purses his lips. “You did what you could to protect me, Harlow. I can’t blame you for that. I would have done the same.”

  I snort. “But you would have been smarter about it.”

  “About being blackmailed?” Ian laughs, and God how I missed his laugh. It’s happiness and effervescence come to form. He shakes his head. “No, I doubt it. If the situation was reversed, we’d both end up going to jail because I’d kill the fucker.”

  I laugh, but it fades quickly because of my lingering fear that’s exactly what’s about to happen to him.

  “What about the indictment?” I say as he leads me by the hand toward the performing arts building.

  “What about it?” he asks, like it’s completely normal to be walking around with violence-related charges against you. “It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it. My lawyer filed everything three days ago, and they’ll be served soon. Then he said they will all be shitting their pants to scramble away from this mess. No amount of money is going to save any of them now because whatever they throw at it, my father will double.”

  He looks over at me.

  “So let him see, sweetness,” he says as he opens the door to the building for me and a rush of air falls over us both, warming my cool hands and legs. “Let them all see how they will never break us, not for good.”

  He takes hold of my hand again as we walk down the hall, his warm fingers intertwined with mine, into the memories of us here.

  The first time we played together, him on the piano, covering the missing accompaniment, unplayed since my brother’s death.

  When he found me here last semester in the exhibition hall, mid-panic attack, and brought me back to reality, holding me until it finally passed.

  When he pushed me to the brink earlier this year with his demand that I get on my knees, and I accepted his challenge.

  It’s the place where we are torn apart and rebuilt again, where we find each other at our darkest and pull the other back to light.

  The hallway is empty right now, my heels clicking against the tile as we walk toward the main exhibition hall. We enter at the back of the room, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark before I see that the ceremony is packed with donors, alumni, parents, students, and faculty everywhere, with the Board of Supervisors sitting onstage.

  We sneak over to the section reserved for students, but there are no open seats in the back. We have to walk all the way down to the front row to take a seat, but the entire time, Ian holds my hand. Headmistress DuMonte stands on the stage, driveling on about the amount of grants, endowments, and donations the Academy received this year.

  We take our seats as she continues speaking to the crowd, standing at the solid wood lectern placed in the middle of the stage. Ian’s thumb caresses the pad of my thumb, sending tiny firecrackers popping along my skin. I want to skip this whole affair and rediscover what he can do with both hands. I want to kiss him until I can make up for all the lost moments these past few months, and if I can’t make up for them, then I want to kiss him until we both forget the bad times ever existed. He massages small circles into the pad of my thumb as Headmistress DuMonte switches from kissing donor butt straight into bragging.

  “Our students have done so much this semester, and we couldn’t be prouder,” she says, her ruby-red painted lips nearly kissing the microphone. “From winners of the Google
Science Fair to recipients of the President’s Award for Academic Excellence, our students have done it all. They’ve excelled academically, physically, and in the performing arts across the country.

  “We’ve had a lot of firsts this year. This semester marks the first time our chess team has reached the North American high-school semi-finals.” There’s a small round of applause before she moves on to the next bullet point. “This fall, one of our sophomores, Elleanor Vervine, was invited to play the cello across Europe as part of an outreach program with the Vienna Philharmonic. We’ve not only made sure that America recognizes our institution as the leading college preparatory academy in the continental United States but as one of the top institutions in the entire world as well. In our 179 years on this hallowed ground, I daresay we have never accomplished so much across so many endeavors at one time. Let’s give a round of applause to everyone in this room because each of you helped earn the awards being given out today, and without you, none of this would be possible.”

  Applause ripples through the audience because even the wealthiest people in the world appreciate a good compliment. Rather, they expect it. Headmistress waits until the applause dies down before she continues.

  “Now, without further delay, ladies and gentleman, let us begin with our appreciation and acknowledgment section for this year’s top donors,” she continues.

  It feels like I’ve been here glued to this chair forever before she finally finishes the list of donors, including giving Ian’s mother and father a crystal sculpture to recognize their generous charitable contributions this past semester. Then it’s on to the performing arts section, where even Chase gets an award for his recent single debut, “Broken Blood,” topping the Billboard charts in the United States and Europe. I’m starting to think we are going to be here all day because it certainly feels like we are before we continue past academic accomplishments and then finally onto the athletic commendations.