by Nina Lincoln
Melissa pulls me away, and we grab a drink before sitting down by the fire. I’m determined to enjoy myself, even though I caught Colt lingering in the kitchen with Dirk and George taking shots.
His eyes lit up when he found me crossing the room, and I gave him a smirk and raised my brow, ignoring the way my nipples tightened in my shirt at his attention.
Beside him, George gave me a friendly grin, which I returned, but I ignored the others altogether. Despite their newfound acceptance of me, I’m still angry and admittedly hurt by their willingness to participate in my misery.
I don't see Sarah, which is just as well. The bitch deserves more than a punch to the face, and if she gets in mine, it might be me who starts the shit this time. Part of me is still pleased she lost out on prom queen, even though it was not my intention to be the one to take it from her.
Apparently, our peers voted for me, despite the fact I was no longer a student at North and the desperate look on her face when she realized it wasn’t her will live with me for some time to come, especially because she cruelly rubbed Colt’s betrayal in my face.
The crown and sash now have a place of honor on my dresser, and every day when I get up in the morning, I spy them and smile grimly.
I didn't plan it, but I sure got my revenge against the girl who craves attention like a whore in need of dick. Still, I think she deserves a little more of my consideration. Was she in on it? Were they all? I still don't know, which is why I need to bide my time and wait. Let them think I’m complacent, more fool them.
“How’s Southie?” Melissa grunts, turning her faded blue eyes my way.
Shrugging, I dip into my drink and say dryly, “It was better before Colt showed up.”
She chuckles evilly as I would expect her to do, and I give her a good glare, which she ignores, much as she ignores most of my antics. When I was at my lowest, when Colt kicked me to the curb in front of everyone, declaring we were done and oh, also that I was boring in bed, Melissa picked me up on the side of the road.
What ensued was a weird-ass interlude in the woods where she convinced me to scream my rage into the world, and I’ll never admit it to her, but there was a catharsis in there somewhere.
Since then, she’s wrangled me into parties and hooked me up with Hayden in a good, not sleazy way.
Because before that, she wanted to kick my ass, I’m able to trust she’s genuine in her interest. I sense that much like me, she’s tired of being judged, and maybe in that, we've found our kindred spirits. That and she’d kick my ass if I said anything otherwise.
“Colt’s had it bad for you since you walked in the door in that dreadful shirt,” she snorts, taking another gulp of her drink.
I grace her with a death glare, but she’s too into her cups to care, and she just guffaws, in my face, loudly.
“Whatever,” I grumble.
Apparently, I need to catch up because whatever she’s feeling has transformed Melissa from a scary beast to a laughing, joking human being. Who knew?
“It's true,” she says, sobering up slightly. “I’ve known Colt since kindergarten. He’s changed. Back then and up until a few years ago, he was fun. I mean, he’s always been an ass who will challenge anyone for a chance to pound some flesh.”
She says this in an admiring tone, to which I roll my eyes.
“And?” I ask, no longer caring if I sound too eager. She knows I’m eager.
She confirms my thought with a knowing look, and I just stick my tongue out at her.
With her own eye roll, she continues, “I don't know, it was right around when Sarah was here. He changed, lost something. Went dark. Haven't seen a spark since you came along.”
“A spark? What’s in that drink?” I demand, reaching out for it with my hand.
She pulls it away heavily, and it spills down her arm, to which she laughs and laughs. I’m still staring at her bewildered when Colt strolls up, pretty as you please, with a calculated expression on his face.
“Ladies,” he greets us, and our eyes clash.
If I thought his icy stare from before did strange things to my insides, this new heated version makes me burn, and as if he knows, which he probably does, his mouth pulls up in a smirk.
Glancing away to hide the heat in my cheeks, I contemplate another hate fuck. I get what I want and mess with him just the same.
Turning back with an assessing eye, I catch him looking me over and smirk myself. Boring, hm? We’ll see about that.
Setting my drink on the ground, I turn to Melissa and ask, “You wanna dance with me?”
She gives me an appalled look, and chuckling, I turn away without glancing at Colt.
Making my way closer to the music, I begin to swing my hips - I’m buzzed enough that this isn't awkward. It also helps that I just don't care what these people think of me anymore. Ironic, considering they now apparently like me.
Ignoring everyone around me, I sway to the sounds, dancing to my inner muse, lost to the sensations. I’ve almost forgotten about Colt but for the fiery trails that burn over my skin, where I suspect his gaze is caressing me.
Warm hands grab my hips, and chuckling, I allow myself to be pulled into a large chest. I think it's Colt for a brief moment, but then I turn and open my eyes, spying Hayden grinning down at me.
It's just as well, I don't need Colt’s brand of crazy. Giving him a smile in return, I place my hands on his shoulders and allow him to lead me along with the music. He’s not half bad, considering he’s badass - most guys don't want to be seen dancing with a rep like his.
When he pulls me closer, I turn around, brushing my ass against his erection, and oh boy, does he have an erection.
I’m considering if I should continue our little dance, knowing it's turning him on and possibly teasing him when he leans into me and says, “Relax, I’ve got plenty of pussy. Let’s give Colt a show, hm?”
I shiver with disgust at his words, which works to my advantage when I turn my head to the left and spy Colt standing to the side with a weird expression on his face. Where before, up until the night of prom, he would’ve barged right in and pretended to be jealous, this time, he stands by and allows it to happen.
His nonchalance, as though I’ve lost the last bit of him that cared, causes something to pinch in my chest but again, I’m fooling myself. He never cared to begin with - right?
Ignoring the ache in my heart, I slide my eyes closed and concentrate on the feel of Hayden’s body dancing around mine.
We lose ourselves to the music for a few more songs before he slides away, but not before whispering in my ear, “If you ever plan to ditch Theroux, come find me.”
Bewildered, I stare at his retreating back pondering his words before shaking them off. I don’t need another Colt, and Hayden, for all his flirting, has many layers I’d be afraid to peel back.
Turning away, I see both Melissa and Colt have gone, and with a grimace, I search her out, finding her in the kitchen, downing shots.
When the crowd parts and invites me in, I spy Colt standing with her, and it's with no little hesitation, I give in because not so long ago, I was lamenting that I was the outsider in this scenario, and now that I’m invited, I can hardly spurn them.
Dirk gives me a wide grin when I nod and hands me a glass full to the brim with alcohol. I suspect, much like Melissa and Ramie before her, he expects me to drink it like a rich bitch Princess.
And apparently, so does Colt because he eyes it disapprovingly before trying to swipe it from my hand.
Giving him a good glare, I move out of his reach and down the shot in one go. It’s whiskey, and it goes down harsh, so not the expensive kind, but I keep my face straight and hold out my hand for another.
Smiling wide, Dirk grabs the bottle, pouring me another drink, while Colt swears behind us and ignoring him, I toss back the amber liquid, hiding my grimace behind a gasp as I slam the shot glass down on the table.
Dirk chuckles evilly, and a glance at Colt reveals him glo
wering.
The alcohol burns through my system like fire, and a small smile curves my lips, to which Colt’s eyes become molten and my core pulses sharply.
All of which grinds to a screeching halt when Sarah appears looking fresh and pretty in a tight dress and heels – it’s a little overdone if you ask me, but plenty of the guys give her a passionate once over.
With a curl to my lip, I ignore the hatred pulsing in my chest, and Colt for good measure, grabbing the third shot from Dirk’s hand.
He leans in as I drink it back, whispering, “For a rich bitch, you take your alcohol well.”
Giving him a sour look, I grab the bottle out of his hand and stalk away, saying over my shoulder, “You’re a middle-class dick. I expected you to have better alcohol.”
His laughter follows me from the room, and I spy Sarah standing in front of Colt as I exit, but I refuse to look further. Whether they’re together or not, I have no use for the games they like to play.
Her presence is a reminder to stay the fuck away.
Disappearing around the side of the house, I lean against the wall and sigh. I can’t resist the pull of Colt despite his reprehensible behavior, which rankles. I need to get my shit together, like pronto.
Absently, I pull my phone from my back pocket when I feel it buzz against my ass, the letters blurry on the screen because I apparently tossed back too many.
Be careful how much alcohol you drink, sweet Finn. We wouldn’t want you to do something stupid
Glancing around with a creepy feeling, I tap out a response to the unknown number, ice sliding down my spine.
Who is this?
Ah, my sweet Finn, now we can truly get to know one another. I believe you refer to me as your...fan
What the fuck? Dropping my phone to my side, I inch toward the door and peer inside. It’s crowded, but I can see Colt standing at the counter, Sarah pouting beside him as Dirk pours another round of shots, and everyone hoots and hollers around them.
Who are you really?
I watch the dots form on the screen and turn to look inside, but Colt’s not on his phone, and I don’t even see it in view.
As you said, your biggest fan. Stay away from the dick tonight. You’re mine, sweet Finn. I’m always watching
Shuddering, I glance around again, but I’m against the side of the house. I can’t see for shit.
With the fine hairs standing at attention on the back of my neck, I step into the clearing and gaze over the groups scattered throughout, but none are looking my way.
Some guy has his phone out, and when he looks up and finds me watching him, he smirks and striding forward with a grim expression, I slap the phone from his hands.
“What? Bitch!” he exclaims as I pick it up from the ground to read the screen.
Opening his texts, I find some rather gross pictures of a girl he’s communicating with but nothing to indicate he was texting me. Giving him the once over, I stare at him blankly as he shouts obscenities at me.
“What the fuck! Gimme back my phone.”
“Is there a problem here?” Colt asks icily behind me.
Slapping the phone back in the dick’s hand, I mutter, “Girls like to be treated as more than a piece of meat.”
“Fuck you,” the guy hollers at me. “Oh, you, fuck off! Where’s your richie brother? Sucked any dick to be in your dad's good graces?”
Wincing, I walk away, ignoring the sounds of fists meeting flesh. Maybe my big reveal had an impact after all.
So, my fan is stepping up his game, and unless Colt got someone else to do his texting for him, it’s not him. Now what? This is all so much of a cluster, and I don't know what to believe anymore. I’m tired. My heart hurts. And, I admit, I’m scared.
When it was Colt doing the stalking, it was brutally cruel, but it wasn’t dangerous, and if it’s not him, then I still have some deranged dick out there gunning for me.
Opening my texts back up, I save the unknown number under creeper and text back.
Fuck you
All I get is silence in return.
Weaving my way back into the house, I find another bottle of alcohol and proceed to drink myself into oblivion. Somewhere along the way, I notice in my bleary-eyed state Colt’s ignoring Sarah, and she’s pouting like a little bitch, and although it pleases me to see the discord, it doesn’t change the facts.
They’re both sick in the head, and I’m better off staying far away - thoughts of which hurt my chest, so I continue to drown my woes until I pass out, waking sometime later to Colt lifting me out of a group of people.
I’m snuggled between a pudgy freshman and some dude I don’t recognize, all of whom are wasted and sleeping it off.
“What?” I mumble, brushing my hair out of my face.
My stomach is roiling, and I can feel a headache brewing at the back of my skull. Lovely, when will I ever learn?
“C’mon,” he mutters, “I’ll take you home.”
“Why,” I mutter petulantly. “Isn’t it enough to leave me to my misery?”
“Misery?” he asks with an amused glint in his eyes.
Scoffing, I stand and move away from his helpful grip, brushing off imaginary dust as he chuckles and pushes me toward the door.
“Melissa-“ I start, stumbling before him, but he cuts me off.
“She’s sleeping it off. I thought you might like to get home before Maggie,” he says, looking at me pointedly. Um, yeah, good idea.
With a curious detachment, I watch as he gets me situated in his truck and rounds the hood to get in on his side. I feel utterly wretched from the alcohol, and the text messages from earlier left me numb.
I’ve no clue what to do, and I don’t trust anyone but Maggie with the information. If I could just figure out who it is, maybe that would help. But even then, if I have no proof, what can I possibly do? Ask the creeper nicely to stop with the fucking threats? Highly doubtful.
Colt drives home quietly, not so much as sparing me a glance. I’ve got a severe case of nausea and leaning my head against the headrest, I hum under my breath, hoping I make it home before it makes an appearance. Then again, maybe puking in Colt’s truck is what he deserves.
“What?” Colt asks, glancing my way.
His usually cruel look is absent, in its place a quiet fatigue that jumpstarts my heart out of numbness and into painful.
“Nothing,” I say, turning away.
I don't need this. I never needed this. Colt, whether he’s vulnerable or sad, is not my problem.
“Why are you bringing me home, anyway?” I say snarkily. “Where’s Sarah Bitch Fremont?”
He chuckles, his eyes lighting up, and again, my heart palpitates in my chest. When he doesn't answer me quickly enough, I keep going, desperate to see the hostility I’ve come to expect from this mercurial guy.
“Tired of her already? What's the matter? Did she ask for undying declarations of love from the fucking tin man?”
His brows slam down around his dark eyes, and I suppress a victorious smirk, gazing at him wide-eyed while I wait for him to come at me.
“If I wanted Sarah Fucking Fremont, she’d be here. As it turns out, I don't. Why? You offering Princess?” he sneers.
Bingo. “Nope, I thought we covered this. I’ve found your way of thinking to be just what I need. Hate fucks are much more up my alley.”
“Is that right? And who have you hate fucked recently?” he asks, silkily.
“Again, this is old news,” I say, praying Hayden doesn’t hate me for this, “Hayden gets the job done just fine.”
“Princess,” he says darkly, causing a shiver to race down my spine, “if it’s a job, then he’s not doing it right.”
“Ha!” I exclaim, at a loss for words, every part of me loose and heated, as liquid fire pulses through my veins.
My body’s telling me in no uncertain terms we want Colt Theroux, and fighting with him is an aphrodisiac that beats painfully through me in anticipation of the real thing, but unfo
rtunately, my heart knows the drill. I’ve been burned enough.
“Tell me,” he says curiously, his face turned toward the windshield, “when you told the entire group at my birthday party that I was just like my dad, what did you mean?”
Huh? Tracing my thoughts back to that night, I do remember spewing as much hateful garbage at him as I could find. I don't regret it, and it would seem if this sticks out for him, it hit its mark.
Shrugging delicately, I say, “Just what I said. How you treat women is no different than the guy you hate. Just because you don't make undying declarations of love,” I sneer, “doesn't mean you’re not using and abusing them.”
There's a protracted silence before he says between gritted teeth, “I’m nothing like my father.”
“If you say so,” I shrug.
Pulling his truck to the curb in front of my house abruptly, Colt turns to me with a glare and grabs my chin, saying heatedly, “I’m nothing like my piece of shit father. I promised you nothing. I can't help it if you panted after me like a bitch in heat.”
Smarting, I pull my chin away and glare right back. “Fuck you, Colt. You played with my emotions in a bid to what? Get back at me? What’s Daddy doing every day, Colt? Playing with your mom’s emotions. Shit, he’s even playing with his real wife’s.”
Colt’s face drops to icy cold disdain, and I cringe away uncomfortably. I’ve never seen this look before, not even when Colt stood before the whole of our peers and declared he was dumping me because I was boring in bed.
“Don't mention her, don't ever mention her,” he replies, the air around us frosty with his anger.
Eyeing him uneasily, I say into the quiet, “Your mom?”
“No, her...rich bitch. She’s a fucking cold-hearted piece of shit. Never speak of her again.”
He’s so cold, so icy, a shiver races down my spine. Turning away so he can’t see my unease, I say over my shoulder, “Whatever.”
Exiting the truck, I let myself inside, unarming and rearming the alarm while he watches from the curb. Although I don't look, I know he stays long enough to see the light come on in my room, the rumble of his truck fading after that.
With a raging headache, I drop into bed and clutch my belly, resigned to another night of purging, damning myself for drinking too much alcohol.