A Gorgeous Villain

by Saffron A Kent

  And it hurts even more when Conrad looks away from me and addresses Reed. “Are you aware that my sister wanted to go to Juilliard?”

  Clenching my eyes shut, I bow my head.

  “Yes,” Reed says from behind me.

  But he doesn’t stay there.

  He comes forward. He stands toe to toe with my brother, both tall and strong.

  “She’s wanted it ever since she was five,” Con tells him. “I took her to all her dance classes. I attended all her recitals and shows. And then I watched her get kicked out of her ballet studio.”

  My eyes are on my brother but I know the lines around Reed’s mouth have tightened. I can feel it.

  “After me,” Reed says in a low voice.

  “After you,” Conrad continues as he stares at Reed. “I also watched while she got arrested. I went with her to the police station. I watched while her future hung in the balance. But you know that part, don’t you? You brought me the deal.”

  “It wasn’t enough.”

  “No, it wasn’t. She still had to go to that school. She still had to live in a dorm, follow all the stupid fucking rules. Because of what you did to her. How you used her and abused her trust. For a sport.”

  “I know.”

  Reed’s voice has gone threadbare. It has become a series of gruff syllables and grunts and I fist my hands at my sides. Because for some reason I want to touch him.

  I want to take his hand in mine and give it a squeeze.

  But I won’t.

  I can’t.

  Definitely not in front of my brothers. I’ve betrayed them so many times. I can’t keep making the same mistake.

  “Now, Callie tells me that you gave up soccer for her. To get her freedom. That correct?”

  Reed’s bruised jaw tics for a moment or two before he replies, “Soccer was just a means to an end. And yeah, I gave that up. I’d do it again though.”

  I have to part my lips at that, along with digging my nails in my palms and curling my toes.

  I have to breathe through my mouth as I watch Reed standing up to Conrad like this.

  For me.

  “Means to an end,” Con murmurs. “Something to do with your father, I presume.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your father is an asshole.”

  Reed throws Conrad a short nod. “Something we agree on.”

  Conrad nods too. “But I don’t care about that, you understand?”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “Good. Because I care about my sister.”

  Another short nod. “I know.”

  “Are you aware,” Conrad says and shifts on his feet, “that she’s going to quit school and get a job. An apartment. She’s also thinking of quitting ballet. So apparently, you’ve ruined her life. You’ve broken her dream, a dream she’s had since she was five.”

  “Not yet.”

  Conrad wasn’t expecting this answer. I wasn’t either.

  “Care to explain that?”

  I see Reed’s chest undulating, his nostrils flaring as he shifts on his feet. “I know you hate me. I get that. I respect that. I respect how protective you are of your siblings. How you’ve always been protective of them. I’d watch you, you know. Back then. Back when I was a kid. I’d watch how you always walked a step behind them. How you’d always keep an eye on them when you were around town. How you sometimes rode the bus with them to drop them off at school. I watched you. And then you became my coach and I saw how protective you were of your players. Of the game. The integrity of the game, of the players. I both liked and hated that about you. Especially when it interfered with my agenda. When I wanted to do things my way. When I wanted to win. Not the game. I mean, yeah the game but it was more about sticking it to my asshole father than anything else.

  “So if you want to take a swing at me right now, break my bones, rearrange my face for being selfish and reckless and exactly what you always thought I was, then you’re welcome to it. But I want you to know one thing. I want you to know that I’m going to make sure her dreams are safe. I broke her heart once. But I’m not going to break her dreams too. I haven’t done much in life for other people. I’ve always been too wrapped up in my own shit. Besides, the world can go to hell, I don’t care. It’s full of crap anyway. But you and I, we can both agree on one thing at least: Your sister is one good thing in this world and I screwed her over. But I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m not going to fuck her up more than I already have.”

  When I go to draw a breath, I taste salt on my lips.

  I taste water. My tears. I taste my broken heart.

  It doesn’t taste broken though, not really. A broken heart tastes sour and bitter. This tastes sweet, like sugar.

  Like cupcakes.

  Like him.

  And I would’ve analyzed it more, what this means, how my broken heart can change in taste, but the guy who’s responsible for all of this isn’t done yet.

  He has more declarations to make. He has more ways to make me ache for him.

  “And she’s not quitting school. Not on my watch.”

  It’s Monday and I’m at St. Mary’s.

  It’s not that Monday though.

  The Monday that I thought I was going to talk to the principal and quit school. That Monday was going to be my last day at school, but it somehow became a normal Monday.

  A Monday like any other.

  Meaning, I didn’t talk to the principal and I didn’t quit school.

  It’s a week after that Monday and I’m still here.

  I’m still going to St. Mary’s. I’m still with my friends. Whom, to be very honest, I was going to miss the most. If I had quit.

  It’s the end of the day and all my girls are standing out in the courtyard at a special spot. The reason that we, or rather they have chosen this spot is because they want to look at the black metal gates that mark the entrance to the grounds.

  Because they’re all watching something through those bars.

  Or someone.

  “All right, so don’t kill me,” Salem begins, her eyes focused on that someone, “but your guy is really hot. Like really, really.”

  “He’s not my guy. Also can I tell Arrow that you said that though?” I tease her.

  Blushing, she elbows my arm. “Ha. Ha. Funny.”

  I chuckle.

  So remember the scandal from a couple of weeks back that I said was the biggest scandal at St. Mary’s? And how we were all hoping that Arrow would come around and declare his love for Salem?

  He did.

  Just a few days ago actually — I’m glad I was here when she told the story — and according to Salem, it was pretty epic. And it was.

  The guy wrote her a poem.

  I mean, of course it was epic, and now she’s always blushing and smiling.

  Like she’s doing right now.

  “Stop, he’s not hot,” Poe goes, swatting Salem’s arm, her eyes fixed on that someone too.

  “Are you kidding me?” Salem swats her arm back. “He totally is. Look at how that suit jacket fits him. It’s like he’s going to burst out of it at any moment. And if you focus really hard, you could actually see his abs through that shirt.”

  “That’s why hot is a very tame word for him. Duh. Callie’s guy is like…” She clicks her fingers as it occurs to her. “He’s a DILF. He’s a total DILF.”

  Smiling, Wyn nods. Her eyes are somehow away from her sketchbook for once. “That’s our Poe. Always so classy.”

  “What, he’s going to have a baby, isn’t he? He’s Callie’s baby daddy. Of course he’s a DILF.”

  “But do you really have to say that?” Wyn asks. “Do you really have to use that word?”

  “Um, yes. I’m honoring him. I’m paying a compliment.” She turns to me then. “Are you sure he doesn’t have a brother?”

  I shake my head at them. “Again, he’s not my guy. He’s not my anything.”
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  “Oh right, of course. You just happen to be having a baby together.” Poe rolls her eyes at me. “And he just happens to be waiting for you at the end of the day.”

  Now it’s my turn to swat her arm. “And second, stop drooling over him.”

  Salem chuckles. “Not your guy. Suuuure.”

  Salem and Poe high five and Wyn laughs.

  Even though I purse my lips at them, I don’t blame them for admiring him.

  He does look gorgeous. And you can see his abs through his shirt.

  But the thing that gets me the most is his hair.

  It’s really grown out in the past couple of months. So instead of looking all civilized and tamed in the gray suit with white dress shirt, those long, unruly strands make him look the opposite.

  They fall over his forehead and get tangled up in his starched collar and make him look like the reckless, wild beast that everyone used to call him at Bardstown High.

  The Wild Mustang.

  The one with wolf eyes and vampire skin.

  The boy that every mom wants her daughter to stay away from. The boy that every dad wants to run off his porch when he comes calling for his baby girl.

  Even though he’s not playing anymore, he still embodies that nickname, and the reason he’s here, standing outside of the black gates, leaning against his white Mustang, is because he’s come for me.

  He’s come to pick me up after school. He’s been coming to pick me up from school for the whole past week actually.

  “I can’t believe you’re not living with me anymore,” Wyn says from beside me, pulling my attention away from him.

  Something gets stuck in my throat. “I know. I miss you. I miss all of you.”

  I’m pretty used to crying at everything — although this does call for tears — but all my girls have moisture in their eyes and in this moment, I’m so glad that I could stay.

  That he made me stay in school.

  Because I swear to God, I would’ve missed them like crazy.

  Just the fact that I’m not living in the dorms with them anymore has me so upset.

  Because I’m not.

  I’m living somewhere else now.

  The only girl in the history of St. Mary’s who gets to live off campus.

  It makes sense though, doesn’t it? I am also the only girl who got pregnant in the history of St. Mary’s while going to St. Mary’s.

  All courtesy of the guy who’s waiting for me.

  He made all of this happen.

  While I was making plans, he was making plans of his own. I already knew that, but I didn’t know how elaborate those plans would be. They put my plans to shame.

  They involved pulling all the strings, throwing his Jackson weight around and keeping me in school. They also involved finding me a place to live and not letting me take a job because I need to focus on graduating and taking care of my health first.

  And also ballet.

  He’s not letting me quit that either.

  My dream.

  Because he’s already broken my heart, he won’t break my dream too. He won’t let anything happen to the dream I’ve had since I was five.

  He said that to my brothers and I have to say that my brothers love this plan. All four of them.

  Which would be surprising, given the fact that they all hate him, but it’s not.

  After the whole showdown on the curb and Reed’s promise to Conrad, my brother invited him into our house and they spent that whole day listening to Reed’s plans and hammering out details. Even Stellan and Shep came down from New York to chime in.

  I always knew that Reed was exactly like my brothers in the protective department but it was never more apparent than it was when they were brainstorming ideas.

  In our dining room.

  In the same room where only the night before I’d broken the news to my brothers and I’d thought that my bond with them, that life as I’d known it, would be over.

  In that room, I got something that I always wanted.

  I always wanted them all to get along, my brothers and Reed. Back in Bardstown High that was all I thought about. I wanted them to put their vendetta and ego and differences aside, because deep down I knew that they could be friends.

  But then everything happened and I buried that.

  I shoved that hope under layers and layers of hurt and heartbreak.

  I never thought that my crazy wish from two years ago would come true now. Especially now, when everything is even more chaotic.

  But somehow it has and no, they’re not friends. God no. But they’re not fighting either, and that’s enough for me.

  All because he has a plan and he’s promised to make it happen.

  He’s making it happen.

  Anyway.

  I say goodbye to my friends and take a deep breath. With my green backpack over my shoulders, I begin my walk down the concrete pathway toward the black gates.

  And his eyes land straight on me.

  So far he’s been staring down at his phone and appearing as if he was completely oblivious to his surroundings. But I know he’s not.

  I know this is what he does.

  I’ve watched him do it for the past week.

  In the afternoons, he arrives at the school and climbs out of his Mustang to wait for me. And then he focuses on his phone until I say my goodbyes to my friends and start to walk toward him.

  As if he’s giving me privacy.

  He’s letting me say my goodbyes in peace before I go to him.

  And so as soon as I break away from the group, he looks up, his eyes clashing with mine.

  They flare as he watches me walk toward him, leaving everything behind. The school, my friends. And he straightens and begins to walk toward me as well. Slowly, lazily, to match my small steps. As if timing our walk. Synchronizing it so he reaches the black gates the same time as I do.

  It takes me a minute and a half to do that. I’ve timed it.

  I timed it last week, last Monday, the first day he came to pick me up, and exactly ninety seconds later, I’m out the black gates and on the other side.

  And he’s standing in front of me.

  “Hi,” I say, looking up to him, my heart spinning, the flutters in my belly raging.

  She knows he’s here as well.

  He doesn’t say anything to that. Again, I knew he wouldn’t.

  Instead he looks me over.

  He studies my face, my braided hair that’s held together with a mustard-colored ribbon. He even eyes my uniform skirt, my Mary Janes.

  I try to stand tall and straight under his heavy scrutiny, under his sparkling wolf eyes.

  The scrutiny that makes me feel like a young schoolgirl while he stands there in his grown-up business suit, making sure that I’m okay.

  Because that’s what he’s doing. I know.

  He’s making sure that no harm has somehow befallen me in the six hours that I’ve been at school.

  In the six hours since he last saw me.

  Because he drops me off at school in the mornings as well.

  “Everything go okay?” he asks, reaching out to take my backpack from me.

  See? He was making sure I was okay. And he thinks I can’t carry heavy things such as my backpack.

  I nod, looking at his face. “Yeah.”

  The bruises that Ledger gave him don’t look as angry but they’re still there, pockmarking his features. Again making him look more criminal in his suit than civil.

  I notice an old scrape pulsing angrily, just by his jaw. “What happened here?”

  “What?”

  I raise my hand and touch it, his jaw, and it clenches. “Here. It looks like you scraped your old cut.”

  Reed stares into my eyes for a second before replying gruffly, “I might’ve… scratched something.”

  “Your stubble,” I conclude and he shrugs in acquiescence. “You need to be more careful, Ree
d. Your old cuts —”

  “Any morning sickness?” he asks, cutting me off and stepping away from my touch, as if he’s done with the topic of his cuts.

  As if he’s done letting me worry over him.

  I lower my hand and fist my tingling fingers. “A little.”

  His features tighten up. “Were you able to eat something?”

  “Salad.”

  He tells me what he thinks of it by exhaling sharply.

  My morning sickness has gotten worse over the past few days and Reed hates it that I have to endure it during classes. My brothers hate it too and together, for an insane second, they thought that I should stop going to school altogether until it passes.

  I put my foot down though. I put my foot down on some of their other plans too, but that’s neither here nor there.

  Anyway I told them that if they wanted me to not quit school and get a job then I’m doing this the right way. Meaning I’m going to classes and I’m doing my homework and keeping my grades up.

  They had to relent.

  But I think it was mostly because Conrad is now the soccer coach and he knew he was going to be here to keep an eye on me after Reed dropped me off.

  “Someone say something to you?” he asks then and I fidget with my skirt slightly.

  Yes.

  “No,” I lie to him.

  He frowns. “You sure?”

  Well, no.

  Someone did say something to me. A group of someones. Girls from junior year I think. They didn’t so much say something to me as at me.

  It was during lunch.

  I was getting my salad and they pointed at my tray and giggled and they may have mimed throwing up. Or something like that.

  To be fair, I had thrown up only an hour before. I had to rush out of class in order to do that and the news spread like wildfire. As I knew it would, about me getting sick, about me being the only girl living off campus.

  About me being pregnant.

  They all know now and they are all very scandalized. Again, as I knew they would be.

  I knew that me being pregnant at eighteen would be a much bigger scandal than what happened with Salem. And it is. At least, I’m happy that some of the heat has been taken away from her. Because for a while there, they were all watching her.

  They still do but now they watch me as well.