King of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Honestly, I would just prefer to kill them.

  That muttered comment earns me a frown along with a gentle rebuke.

  Whatever.

  Her tune would change mighty fast if she spent a week at Hawthorne Prep.

  I help cook dinner Saturday night—fish tacos, a family favorite. Once night falls, I grab a blanket and head outside to get lost in the stars. It’s one of the few reprieves I have.

  On my way across the yard, I hear voices coming from the next-door neighbor’s property. Raucous laughter mixed with shouting. With a flash, I remember the red convertible Mustang that zipped past us the first day of school. With everything else going on, I had forgotten about him.

  Hmmm. My eyes narrow. Is he one of the assholes that egged my SUV?

  I really hope not.

  Sunday morning, I finish my homework and help Austin with a few assignments. He still won’t tell me about the blackeye or if there have been any other problems at practice. It’s beyond frustrating.

  While unpacking the last few boxes of my belongings, I come across my running shoes and decide that now is as good of a time as any to get back into it. I search through my drawers and find a black crop tank that hugs my chest, camo mesh running shorts, and a pink cap to shade the sun from my eyes. Then I grab my AirPods and head to the front door.

  “Going for a run?” Mom asks, carrying a vaseful of fresh flowers to the black Steinway by the staircase.

  “Yup.”

  “Good.” She nods before setting down the Waterford crystal container and rearranging a few stems. “I think that’s exactly what’s needed to make you feel better.”

  “We’ll see,” I say evasively.

  My mother is an eternal optimist. I was too before moving to this hellhole.

  “Use your GPS if you get lost.”

  “I will, but I don’t plan to run that far,” I say before closing the front door behind me.

  As I leave the house, I shove the buds in my ears, choose a playlist, and move through some quick stretches. Then I hit the driveway before turning onto the tree-lined subdivision road. I don’t have a particular route in mind as I set out. After about a block, I pick up the pace and explore the entire subdivision. It’s one monstrous mansion after another, which is strange, given that the town of Hawthorne is in the middle of nowhere.

  Do all these people work for Hawthorne Industries or are there other businesses in the area? When I find a second way into the sub, I head out onto the main country road. After about a mile, I hit the front entrance that Austin and I take to school.

  By the time I wrap around, I’m winded and have to push myself to finish strong. It’s been months since I laced up my running shoes. My chest is tight, and the muscles in my legs burn with fatigue. The endorphin high has hit me hard and I’m zoned out as the music blasts in my ears. From the corner of my eye, I notice a car pull alongside me. I glance at the driver and nearly stumble when my gaze locks on Kingsley. He’s wearing the aviators I recognize from the beach along with a scowl.

  As much as I want to turn away and ignore him, I’m powerless to do so. Even though I can’t see his eyes, their intensity burns a hole in me.

  After a handful of seconds, I realize there are three other guys crowded into the convertible with him. The blond sitting behind the driver seat makes lewd gestures with his hands as he leers. It makes me wish I’d worn looser fitting clothing. I gnash my teeth together and curl my upper lip at him. Not put off by my reaction, he grins.

  The tires spin as Kingsley floors the gas and takes off. Gravel spits up from the road, spraying my legs.

  “Fucker,” I mutter, keeping my gaze pinned to the red Mustang as it zips through the neighborhood.

  Oh no.

  Red Mustang.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  A burst of adrenaline shoots through me as I pick up speed, pushing my legs so I can keep an eye on the sports car as it screeches around a curve before whipping past my driveway.

  Keep going.

  Just keep going.

  I hold my breath, hoping it’ll zoom past the neighboring property, but deep down, I know that won’t happen. My feet slow as I watch him zip into the driveway next to ours. I’m slammed with the realization that it was Kingsley and his friends I’ve heard partying it up.

  Goddamn it!

  Kingsley is my neighbor.

  Ironic how I spent most of the summer wishing I could see him again. Just one more time. And now...

  Now I wish I’d never met the guy.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday rolls around much too quickly. I wake with a pit the size of Texas sitting in my gut and nothing I do banishes it. My new plan of action—or inaction—is to keep my head down, my mouth shut, and hope that people forget about my existence. When I make it through the first two hours relatively unscathed, the thick knot of tension gradually loosens.

  The bell rings, signaling the end of second hour and the beginning of a five-minute passing period. Mr. Demsky dismisses the class with a reminder that there will be a calculus quiz on Wednesday. A wave of groans ripple through the room as I gather up my books before hustling through the crowded hallway to third hour.

  An unexpected shove from behind sends me careening forward. My arms pinwheel to break my fall as I slam into the marble tile with a grunt of pain. Students stare but keep walking. No one offers to help me or pick up my books, which are scattered throughout the hall. I’ve seen enough movies to realize this is usually when the attacker gets in a few vicious kicks to the ribs.

  Even though sharp shafts of pain shoot through the palms of my hands and knees, I quickly flip over onto my backside, hoping I didn’t flash everyone my panties.

  The humiliation around here is never ending.

  A pair of navy-colored lace up heels come into view. My gaze moves up the matching knee-high socks, over a blue, green, and gold plaid skirt, white button-down shirt, only to find Sloane scowling at me.

  Her upper lip is curled in a snarl like I’m the one who shoved her. “Stay the fuck out of my way or you’ll end up on your ass every time.”

  “I wasn’t in your way,” I mutter.

  When she shifts from one hip to the other, I tense and wait for her to kick me with her pointy toed shoe. For reasons I don’t understand, this girl has been nothing but hateful since the first time she laid eyes on me at Rothchild’s.

  When a pair of beat up brown loafers step beside her, I stifle a groan. A one-on-one fight I can handle. Unfortunately, my odds of coming out of this intact dwindle significantly if more people join in the fray. My gaze shifts, locking on Kingsley.

  Of course he’s here to partake in any kind of embarrassment or hazing that involves the Hawthornes. Humiliation burns my cheeks as he glares down at me.

  Why can’t they leave me alone?

  Sloane’s pink slicked lips lift into a smug smile as she loops her arm through Kingsley’s before pressing her breasts against him.

  Not only do I hate this girl for being a major bitch, but it’s become painfully obvious that she and Kingsley are an item. I’ve seen them walking together in the halls and talking in the cafeteria at least half a dozen times. Even though his recent behavior should have killed everything that was kindled on the boat, it hasn’t.

  That knowledge only makes me more of a pathetic loser than Sloane thinks I am.

  “Can I give you a piece of advice?” she sneers.

  “I’d prefer if you didn’t.”

  Ignoring me, she continues. “Go back to wherever you came from. No one wants you here.”

  She’s not wrong, that does seem to be the general consensus.

  “You know,” I retort, “I was kind of wondering about the lukewarm reception I’ve received. Thanks for explaining it to me.”

  That response wipes the smile off her face. “Hawthornes aren’t welcome here,” she growls.

  My voice grows stronger. “I guess that’s what you’d call an ironic s
ituation considering that the town, company, and school are named after us.”

  A few tinkers of laughter erupt in the swelling crowd. Sloane glares, and the sound dies a quick death. When she steps toward me, I scooch back as Kingsley grabs her around the arms and drags her away.

  “Let’s go.” His cool gaze falls on my person, freezing me on the spot. “She’s not worth your time.”

  His indifference sends a bolt of pain shooting through me.

  As if realizing that Kingsley has his arms wrapped around her, Sloane melts against his body, giving him her full attention. “You’re so right.” She flicks her narrowed gaze at me before smiling at him. “Hopefully, the trash will take itself out.”

  Ouch.

  In this scenario, it’s obvious that I’m the trash she’s referring to.

  After they vanish through the sea of gawkers, everyone disbands. I draw in a breath and rise to my feet before picking up my books. My shoulders collapse when the bell rings, signaling the start of third hour.

  No matter what I do, I can’t seem to win. Relief rushes through me when I spot a bathroom down the hall. I need a few moments to collect myself in private. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

  Once safely inside the small room, I fight back the tears that sting my eyelids before splashing cold water on my face and patting it dry with a paper towel. After my emotions have been locked down tight, I glance at the mirror above the sink.

  I’m disturbed by the reflection that greets me.

  There’s a hollowed out look in my dark eyes and my face is thinner than it was a couple of weeks ago. Most days, my stomach is tied up in knots, making it impossible to eat breakfast or lunch. At dinner, I pick at my food, pushing it around my plate to cover up how little I’m fueling my body. And I’m running more. Other than stargazing, it’s the only thing that allows me to forget about how shitty my life has become. It’s a bit of a shock to realize that I’m slowly becoming a shell of my former self.

  I grip the sink basin with my fingers as my head rolls forward.

  Keep it together.

  Thoughts of skipping out for the rest of the day flood through my mind. More like the rest of the year. But I refuse to allow these assholes to jack with my future. So, as much as I don’t want to go to third hour, there’s no other choice in the matter. With a huff of breath, I push out of the bathroom door before skidding to a halt.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Icy cold tendrils of fear squeeze my heart when I find Kingsley leaning against the lockers with his arms crossed against his chest. The anger simmering in his eyes intensifies as his gaze pins me in place.

  How is this cruel boy the same one I fell for at the beginning of summer?

  He doesn’t say a word as he pushes away from the bank of lockers before sauntering toward me.

  Run!

  Instead of listening to the voice inside my head, I remain paralyzed. When he’s close enough to reach out and touch me, I blink to awareness and take a hasty step away. The need to put as much distance between us pumps through me and I retreat until my back hits the bathroom door with a painful thud. Panic slides through me when I realize there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped in a small alcove by the bathroom. Even if a teacher stepped out of their classroom and looked down the hallway, they wouldn’t see us.

  A merciless smile lifts his lips as he invades my personal space until I’m flattened against the door.

  He leans one arm against the wood, partially caging me in. “Afraid, Hawthorne?”

  “No.”

  Deathly.

  I have no idea what he’s capable of. And that’s a scary realization.

  He chuckles before picking up the thick length of my ponytail and playing with the blunt end of it. “You should be.”

  My mouth dries, making it impossible to swallow. When my tongue darts out to moisten my parched lips, his gaze drops to the movement. Desire flashes in his eyes and I find that more unsettling than his hostility.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” The question tumbles from my lips before I can stop it.

  His jaw clenches and a muscle twitches in his cheek. The arousal that had flared to life in his eyes is snuffed out as quickly as it was ignited.

  “Feigned ignorance won’t absolve you,” he sneers, his grip tightening on my hair.

  What the hell does that mean? It sounds like a riddle. It’s obvious that everyone hates the Hawthornes, but no one will give me an explanation as to why.

  “What are you talking about?”

  His gaze carefully examines mine. It almost feels like he’s able to pick through all of my thoughts and feelings. “You don’t know anything about your family, do you?”

  It’s only when I shake my head that I remember the hold he has on me. I wince and hastily still my movements. “No.”

  He presses closer, tugging my ponytail so that my chin lifts.

  “You’re hurting me,” I whisper.

  “Good.” A slow grin spreads across his face. “That was the intention.”

  I whimper when he yanks it again, my chin jerking up with the movement. Only then do I notice how close his lips are to mine.

  “Even now you still want me.” Voice full of scorn, his breath drifts across me.

  Images of us kissing on the boat and in the car flicker through my head like a slow-motion picture show. Again, pain radiates through my scalp when I try to shake my head.

  “Are you a liar on top of everything else?”

  On top of what?

  If I could get a few straight answers, then maybe I could figure out what he’s talking about. What everyone at this stupid school seems to allude to, but no one will come out and say.

  When his lips ghost over mine, everything rioting inside my head empties. I’m mortified by the bolt of lust that shoots through me before exploding in my core.

  After the way he’s treated me, how can I possibly be attracted to him?

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  His lips crook as if he knows how deeply the realization bothers me.

  “Should I kiss you, Summer? Like I did on the boat?” There’s a pause as his voice dips, turning husky. Seductive. It strums something deep inside me. Something I don’t want to acknowledge but find impossible to ignore. “Do you ever think about how good it felt?”

  Not only do I think about it, I’ve touched myself to memories of him dozens of times.

  I squeak in surprise when he nips at my lower lip. Pain floods through the plump flesh before he sucks the fullness into his mouth as if to soothe the dull ache he caused before releasing it with a soft pop. His gaze stays locked on mine. My brain turns fuzzy with the hormones that have ignited a firestorm throughout my body.

  With one hand wrapped around my ponytail to secure me in place, the other grazes my bare thigh below the hemline of my skirt. I inhale a sharp breath as his fingertips trace lazy patterns against my leg. Each arc brings his hand dangerously close to the apex of my thighs.

  “You could scream for help.”

  A whimper leaves my lips as his grip tightens on my hair.

  “Go ahead,” he encourages, “yell.”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I can.”

  My eyes widen when his fingers brush over the thin cotton of my panties. Another round of explosions burst in my core. Confusion tumbles through me. As much as I want him to stop, I want him to continue even more.

  The tip of his tongue darts out to trace my lips as his fingers stroke my heat. He focuses the pressure on my slit and I have to stop myself from widening my legs so he can touch all of me. Instead, I do the opposite and press my thighs together.

  With a jerk of his hand, he yanks my ponytail. “Open for me.”

  A hiss leaves my lips as pain radiates throughout my scalp.

  I tell myself that I have no other choice but to obey his commands, but deep inside, I know it’s a lie. I could scream and fight him off, but I remain silent, craving his
touch as my body burns with fire.

  The moment I suck in a shuddering breath, he thrusts inside my mouth. Our tongues tangle as he caresses my pussy. It doesn’t take long for my hips to gyrate against his hand, matching the rhythm. As wrong as this is, I’m powerless to stop it from happening. When he lifts his lips from mine, his eyes are hard and unforgiving.

  Even as he strokes me closer to orgasm, he says, “Did you know that your great-great-grandfather didn’t start the company alone?”

  There is so much pleasure pumping through my system that it’s almost impossible to focus on the sound of his voice, let alone the words tripping off his tongue.

  “What?” It takes effort to fight my way out of the thick fog that has descended, clouding my better judgment.

  “Or that Herbert Hawthorne tricked his partner into signing the company over to him?”

  Wait a minute...Hawthorne Industries was co-owned? I don’t remember hearing that part of the story.

  As my body tenses and I’m about to splinter apart, the pressure of his fingers disappears, and a harsh whimper of protest falls from my lips before I can rein it in. My heart thumps under my breast as I fight to catch my breath.

  “Here’s what you don’t understand,” he murmurs against my mouth, “the entire town was ecstatic when the last Hawthorne finally kicked the bucket. We don’t want anymore in our town.”

  The lips of my pussy throb with painful awareness as the orgasm that had been moments away from crashing over me dissipates, leaving behind a deep achiness to take its place.

  The hold on my hair disappears as he steps back so we’re no longer touching.

  “Disappointed?” A nasty sneer curves his lips as he says with faux pity. “And you were so close to coming.”

  An avalanche of humiliation buries me alive. Thankfully, he doesn’t wait around for a denial. My knees nearly buckle as I sag against the door in relief.

  Or maybe it’s regret rushing through my veins. I don’t know.

  If I hadn’t already realized it, I do now. Kingsley is dangerous. Even more so than Sloane. Or anyone else at Hawthorne Prep looking to hurt me. I need to stay as far away from him as I can get. What I don’t know is if that’s possible.