Sparrowood Academy (Book 3): Bully Romance

by Angel Lawson

  “Ouch, you know how to hit a guy where it hurts.” There’s a pause. “I was serious in my card. When Tyson and Hope get married, we’ll basically be family. It’s time to put all this animosity behind us.”

  Ah, so that’s what this is about. Trip trying to worm his way back in with Eden.

  “I gave you the answer, Trip. It’s not going to happen. I’m done with my sister and her choices. That’s not my concern anymore.”

  “Really? You’re giving up on her?” he sounds genuinely surprised. “That doesn’t seem like the Eden Warren I know.”

  “That’s the problem, Trip, you don’t know me, and you never will. That would be scratching the surface, and it’s not something you’re interested. You want everything to be easy, pretty, to feel good. Apparently, my sister wants the same.”

  “If you give me another chance, I’ll scratch whatever surface you want—”

  The undeniable sound of a slap bounces off the shelves of the quiet library.

  Damn, Princess.

  Her feet echo as she walks off, and before I can react, she’s turned the corner, slamming into me. She’s holding a book in one hand and the other presses against my chest. I hold her by the upper arms.

  “Following me?”

  I release her from my grip and consider lying. The look in her eye tells me we’re past that. “Just making sure Cohen behaves himself.”

  “I’ve got this under control. You don’t have to watch me all the time.”

  “I’m not watching you.”

  Her dark eyebrow raises.

  “Fine. Some of the time.”

  Her eyebrow raises.

  I scratch the back of my neck. “Look, there’s two ways this can go. I can tell you I’m watching you because you need my protection—"

  “Or?”

  “Or I can tell you I’m watching you because I like watching you—in the most non-creepy way ever.”

  Her cheeks tint pink and I can’t stop looking at her lips. She has the most. Perfect. Lips.

  “I have a question for you,” she says, and I drag my eyes back to hers.

  “Go for it.”

  “How come you haven’t asked me out yet? The others did.”

  Annnd she went for it. “Maybe I’m waiting for the right opportunity.”

  “Maybe you’re scared.”

  Of her? Terrified. I blew it once—probably more than once. I’m not even sure she’s forgiven me for screwing everything up so badly.

  Except we agreed to start over. We decided to put these relationships on the table and test them out. Gray didn’t waste a moment and even Theo asked her to his grandfather’s party this weekend. Me, the tough guy, is scared shitless of this tiny, feisty girl. Why? Because I get one last shot. One. I can’t afford to blow it.

  That fact is hammered home with the way she’s standing so close right now. The way she smells, the color of her eyes, the length of her eyelashes. I want to touch her lips, feel them on mine again. I want to hold her tight and inhale her shampoo. I want to go back to the beginning. Back to the first time I saw her, and start over.

  A kernel of an idea blooms, and I push off the shelves. “Maybe I just needed the right inspiration.”

  She waits for me to say more, but I don’t. I brush her shoulder with mine and walk down the long row of books, heading back to my chair. A few minutes later she returns to the table with Rochelle and glances up at me, expression filled with curiosity.

  Eden and I needed one thing.

  A do-over.

  I was ready to make that happen.

  13

  Eden

  Arriving at the KingsCross country club in a limo provided by Theo’s grandfather is just another surreal moment to add to the list for me this year.

  I went to Morgan for dress advice, not trusting Rochelle to pick out something conservative enough. My roommate has amazing style but has a tendency for exposed skin and shock value. Perfect for crashing a New Year’s Eve party, high-risk for a ninety-year-old man’s birthday celebration.

  I fuss with the hem of the dress, hoping it’s not too short.

  “You look perfect,” Theo says, noticing my nervous fidgeting.

  “On the outside, maybe.” I glance out the windows at the tall buildings. We’re very close to home and The Park. The club is downtown, as old as the city itself and notoriously exclusive.

  “What I’ve always been told,” Theo says, as we turn into the discreet driveway, “is that you have to be related to an original resident of the city to be a member.”

  I look over at him. He’s alarmingly handsome in his navy suit. His tie is the same color with light blue stripes. It makes his eyes impossibly bluer and his tan skin warmer.

  “That basically means there’s no new members invited to join?”

  “I suspect they make some allowances for new wealth or CEOs of major companies in town, but they’d have to have a sponsorship from an established member. Otherwise, it’s just generation after generation of the same gene pool.”

  “Then I’m sure they’ll love me,” I mutter as the gate opens and the driver rolls up to the curb. Theo reaches for my hand and links our fingers together. He lifts it to his mouth and kisses the back of my hand.

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  I’d love to, but in a year of consistently being out of my league, this is the most I’ve ever been. It’s one thing to blend into the world of teenage debauchery, but this is a whole new experience. These aren’t the children of people with money, these are the people with the money. I’ve been jousting with their spawn and grandspawn for months now. This is like being in the belly of the beast.

  “There’s one thing I can admit,” I say, grabbing another crab tart off the tray passing by, “is that rich people know how to eat.”

  Theo laughs. “My grandfather likes nice things. Food, houses, cars, boats,” he looks across the room at the man of honor, sitting in a chair that almost resembles a throne. The fabric is a deep royal red. He holds a flute of champagne in his hand and is surrounded by guests. Interestingly, he’s not dressed up like everyone else at the party but in a casual shirt and pants.

  “I see he didn’t have to prescribe to the dress code.”

  “He swore the day he retired he’d never wear a suit or tie again.” Theo runs his hand through his hair. “He’s a good man, Eden. I idolized him when I was a kid, and my addiction devasted our family.”

  I pull him by his jacket lapels, bringing him closer. “You’ve worked hard to get better, and it’s okay to show him that. It’s also okay to apologize—sincerely. Trust me, it’s what we all want to hear.”

  He touches my cheek. “Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to come. Trying to win back your family’s love with a girl from Kingston on your arm? You like a challenge, don’t you?”

  “We could get out of here before this even starts,” he says. “I spent my childhood in this place. I know a few hiding places we can duck into.”

  It sounds amazing. Perfect, really, but out of the corner of my eye I see a woman in a cream sweater dress walking in our direction. Even if she wasn’t wearing chocolate brown, leather boots with a heel she’d still be tall, with light blond hair and guarded, familiar eyes. I take a step back from Theo and he frowns, then glances to the side.

  Everything about the boy in front of me shifts when he sees his mother. His body kind of crumbles, like the strings holding him up had been cut.

  “Mom.”

  “Hey, baby boy,” she says, walking over to him.

  I watch with fascination wondering how he’ll react—Theo can be a quiet, soulful enigma, but when his mother reaches him and touches his arm, he grabs her into a tight, bone-crushing hug.

  When he releases her, she steps back and takes him in, touching his chest then face. “You look good—healthy.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “He’s not just trying,” I jump in, unwilling for
him to lose this moment. “He’s working so hard. Clean for a hundred days, swimming on the swim team, attending class—”

  His mother looks at me. “And you are—”

  “Mom, this is Eden, a friend from Sparrowood. Eden, this is my mother, Heidi Stevenson.”

  She offers me her hand, and I shake it. I’m trying not to be intimidated, but these people carry themselves in a way that it’s almost impossible not to feel uncomfortable. “So you’re saying my son has managed to keep a straight path while at Sparrowood?”

  Theo and I glance at one another. That’s a loaded question. There’s been plenty of trouble, just not the kind she’s asking about. “Like I said, he’s working hard at school.”

  She smiles. “I’m not sure he had much of a choice, under the circumstances.”

  “How’s grandfather?” Theo asks, tugging at his collar.

  “Relishing in the attention,” she says, grabbing a glass of wine from a waiter. “But you should go speak to him yourself.”

  “I don’t want to upset him.”

  She makes a face. “Theo, there’s no one that wants you to do better than he does. Come on,” she gestures to him. He looks at me.

  “I think I’ll let you have a private family reunion,” I say, feeling like I may need a minute to myself. “You go ahead, and I’ll meet you after.”

  “You sure?” He reaches for my hand. His mother watches closely.

  “Yes.” I squeeze his fingers. They walk across the room to where his grandfather sits, his mother’s arm linked in his. I watch as the old man recognizes Theo, his eyes lighting up. It’s like when I went to see my mother—some things you have to manage on your own. Theo’s worked hard for this moment.

  Me? I just need a few more of those tarts. I scan the room for a waiter with a full tray, locating one near the bar. I’ve loaded up my napkin with the puffy pastries when I hear a familiar voice.

  “I wish you could have met her, but she’s at work,” Tyson says.

  “I thought if you married into the Cohen family you wouldn’t have to work.”

  Tyson tips back his drink. “My fiancé is an important part of the business my brother and I are creating.”

  I edge closer and see that the person he’s speaking with is a beautiful raven-haired woman. She’s older—maybe in her thirties, and carries herself with a level of class I could never attempt.

  “Can I ask why you’re even building your own business? Why not just follow your father’s footsteps?”

  Trip laughs. “Because he’s old-fashioned. He doesn’t understand modern technology or the way young people live and breathe on their phones. That they have expendable money.” He leans close. “He doesn’t get the age-old adage that sex sells and there’s more money in it now than ever. The client list Trip and I are cultivating now, while we’re in school, will be with us for a lifetime.”

  “I’m on the advisory board at Sparrowood,” she says, “your brother is barely staying under the radar.”

  “He’s young. Impulsive.” He touches her hand. “I’m sure you’re able to smooth things over.”

  She studies his lips. “I do what I can, but it’s a challenge.”

  He swallows. “Would a discussion in private help assuage your concerns?”

  That’s when I turn away. I don’t need to watch these two flirting and making backroom deals. It’s no surprise Trip has support in the school. We’ve suspected it all along. But the Cohen brothers? They have their hands in everything and it sounds like Hope is deeply entrenched.

  I look across the room and see Theo standing tall above the others. He’s the type of person I aspire to be with. Good and strong. I step away from the garbage and walk toward the light, keeping the promise I made to myself about letting Hope go.

  After the cake, ablaze with what seemed like actually ninety candles, the band starts to play and couples head to the dance floor. Seeking a little time alone, Theo takes my hand and leads me down a long hallway with plush carpet and paintings with gilded frames. A staircase spirals to a second floor.

  “What’s up there?”

  “I’m not sure,” he says. “I think maybe some rooms where members can stay—probably if they’ve been kicked out of their houses for sleeping around.”

  “Seriously?” I crane my neck and look into the darkness.

  He nods. “Either that or where they could have an affair with no questions asked.”

  He pushes through a back door that leads to a brick walkway, then to a small wrought-iron gate. “I never understood my grandfather’s wealth until it was gone. I thought everyone lived this way. I didn’t know there were poor people, or places like The Park.”

  “You were a Brat.”

  “Pre-Brat, I guess. I never made it to full status.”

  With my hand wrapped in his, he leads me around a small building. In front of us is a pool, covered for the winter. “This is where I swam when I was a kid. My mom would bring me to practice first thing in the morning, then I’d stay all day and swim or go to the camp they had here. While she played golf or tennis or whatever it was she was into at the time.”

  There’s a board on the wall of the pool house with dozens of names and events listed in a grid.

  KingsCross Swim Records

  I walk over and skim the list. His name pops out. “You still hold three records.”

  He eases behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into his chest. He smells and feels so good. “I’m probably used as a cautionary tale. How to go from swimming superstar to a guy that almost drowned in his own vomit.” I feel his lips on my neck. “Did I ever thank you for saving my life?”

  The cold air meets the spot where he kissed me, sending a shiver down my spine. “Yes, more than once.”

  “Did I ever thank you, properly, for saving my life?”

  Despite the cool air, warmth builds in my lower belly. It’s a testimony of the weight lifted off his shoulders that he’s flirting with me like this. I’m not going to be the one that shuts it down. “I mean, can you even thank someone enough for doing that?”

  His breath is hot against my ear. “I’d like to try.”

  “Where? In one of those cheater rooms, upstairs?”

  “Nah, I know somewhere better.” His hand slips into mine. “If you trust me.”

  I look into his clear blue eyes and run my hand through his hair. “I do.”

  He walks around the pool house, stopping at a door. He reaches overhead and smiles. “If it’s still here. These people are creatures of habit. Stepping into this place is like getting caught in some kind of time warp.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  He holds up a key. Is there anywhere these boys can’t get into? He slides it in the lock and a second later the knob turns. The door swings open and he pulls me inside.

  14

  Theo

  It’s been years but the pool house smells the same, a mixture of chlorine and sunscreen. I feel around in the dark and find the light switch leading to the stairwell.

  “Another staircase? Where does this one go?”

  I don’t reply, just grip her hand as I climb the steps. At the top is a wide, open room. There’s a pool table and a big-screen TV with a gaming system piled on the floor. Leather couches line the room and a small kitchenette sits in the corner. Eden takes it all in. “It’s the break room for the younger staff; lifeguards, caddies, tennis and swim coaches.”

  “You were none of those things.”

  I shrug but can’t fight the hint of a smile tugging at my lips. “Perk of being the star swimmer, I guess.”

  She looks up at me. “I’m glad things went well with your family.”

  I slip my arms around her waist. “Me too. It’s a relief to know they don’t hate me.”

  “They never hated you. That’s why it hurts so bad, you know?”

  A weight has been lifted off my shoulders, one I’d been carrying for a long, long time. I run my fingers along Eden�
�s back. “I know I’m not in the clear, every day is still a struggle, but tonight is the first time I’ve really been able to see a way out—a way back home.”

  “Who knew we’d have to get arrested and go to a fancy prep school to appreciate what we left behind?”

  I touch her chin. “Who knew I had to hit rock bottom and have the most beautiful girl in the world save me?”

  “Is this where you thank me properly for that night?”

  I’ve laid in bed at night thinking about this girl, this moment. Having a moment alone with her where I could just be with her. “I’ve spent my life going fast, competing in races, chasing down drugs, running away from home, from my past. Thanking you,” I say, grazing her cheek with my thumb, “is not something I want to rush through.”

  I press my lips to her forehead.

  “Thank you for finding me that night.”

  I graze her temple.

  “Thank you for staying with me.”

  I move to her ear, kissing the soft skin just below.

  “Thank you for never giving up.”

  I focus on her neck, leaving a trail down to her collarbone, where I pause to suck her pale flesh. She trembles in my hands.

  “Thank you for bringing me back into swimming.”

  She bites down on her lips and god, I want to kiss them, but I travel slowly, exposing and kissing the smooth skin of her shoulder. My heart is thundering—my pants tight. Her fingers grip my hips. All these days off fighting my addiction has given me a level of patience I didn’t have before, but even I have my limits and I may be close to mine.

  I look down at her, my face tilted toward hers, our mouths inches part.

  “Thank you for giving me focus, for trusting me with your biggest fear.”

  I brush my lips over hers, teasing and taunting. Her nails dig into my waist.

  “Thank you, Princess, for taking a chance on me.”

  We’re both breathing heavy by this point, wound up on anticipation. She licks her pink, plump, bottom lip and I crack, no longer able to hold back, kissing her thoroughly.