by J Bree
Avery is watching me now too.
She hasn’t said a word about my confession. She still tucked her arm into mine as we walked here and she teased me with Blaise about my utter ignorance of all things football. I’m not sure if that means she’s cool with me, or if she’s waiting until we get back to our room before she kicks me out of her life.
I tell myself I’ll be fine either way.
I’m lying.
Well, not lying. I’d survive it. I survive everything like a damn cockroach. But it would suck and probably hurt worse than having my leg smashed to pieces so I’m really hoping that squeal she let out in the library was a good one.
“We’re not going to have to sit through the whole thing, are we?” Avery gripes. She’s cringing at Harley and I as we eat our hotdogs. Ash looks absolutely disgusted at us both and Blaise is too busy trying to fight the breeze to light a blunt to notice what we’re doing. I frown at him and Harley nudges me gently.
“Relax. No one here gives a shit, Mounty.”
Whatever.
I don’t want to be a stick in the mud but I’d watched my mother use every single drug she could get her hands on and it made me deeply, intensely wary of any type of high that isn’t liquor. I shrug and look out over the crowd.
The stands are awash with the deep blood red and charcoal gray of Hannaford’s colors. The away team is another private school from a city three hours away so their crowd is much smaller and far less festive. The cheerleaders from both schools are busy flipping, twirling, dancing, and shaking. The uniforms look like they were stolen from a porn set and I can pick out the dirty, old men that would happily risk a lengthy jail sentence to lift those skirts. I shudder and look away.
Avery is still cursing Harley’s name and Ash tucks her under his arm to keep her warm and safe. The crowd is on the rowdy side and Harley’s massive frame is the only thing stopping me from being jostled about. He turns to glare at the guys behind us and when they get a good look at who they’re bumping they settle the fuck down.
“We’ll be gone by quarter time, Floss. Just get a hotdog and enjoy the show.”
He waves his food in her face and she gags dramatically. Blaise hands the blunt to Ash and when he takes a drag he offers it to Harley. He hesitates and then waves them off. I grumble at him, “Don’t turn it down because I don’t like it.”
He shoves the last of the hotdog into his mouth and grabs the uneaten half of my hotdog I’ve abandoned on my lap thanks to my nervous stomach. With an eyebrow quirk he says, “I want to remember every second of this and I need a clear head.”
Of course. Why would he do anything for me? My face heats and I nod as the players march out onto the field. Blaise starts critiquing their movements like he knows something about what's going on and Ash ignores everyone for his phone. Avery reads his texts and they murmur to each other quietly.
I try to keep my eye on the field but three minutes in I want to throw myself head first onto the concrete beneath the bleachers to get out of this torture. Instead, I discreetly watch Harley as he fixates on the game. He’s wearing his uniform, a Hannaford requirement to attend the game, but he’s taken his tie off and put a coat on. I can tell it’s one Avery’s bought for him because it’s perfectly tailored to fit his broad shoulders like a glove. He’s still wearing his mother’s necklace but he’s swapped the gold chain for a thin leather rope.
He notices me looking and says, “A senior tried to get it back for Joey during a fight. The leather won’t break like the chain did.”
I scowl and cross my arms, shivering in the cold night air with only a skirt on. “I hope you made him bleed.”
Harley shrugs his coat off and drapes it to cover Avery’s bare legs and then he tucks the other end under my thigh to cover me as well. I thank him quietly and he shrugs without looking away from the game. Ash watches him and shakes his head at me like I’m to blame for his kindness. Avery nudges him and draws his attention back to his phone.
“Fuck Aves, this is it.”
I look up just in time to see a player go down hard, three opposition players piling on. It just looks like a tackle to me but Blaise curses under his breath and the crowd falls silent. Harley’s eyes are fixated on Rory’s prone form, greedily drinking in the scene as the coaching team and medics race out onto the field.
Blaise whistles and murmurs, “He’ll be lucky to walk again.”
Harley chuckles and leans in to whisper to me, “I paid enough to make sure he won’t.”
I smile. Avery tucks her arm into mine and gives me her trademark smug smile. Something eases in my chest and I can breathe again.
Rory never returns to Hannaford Prep.
Chapter Nine
Avery wakes me at five in the morning with a gentle shake.
She’s dressed already and her phone is tucked away in her coat pocket, buzzing incessantly with incoming messages. She’s stern looking and I push myself up to sit and face her. She had left the football game with Ash and returned to our room after I’d fallen asleep.
“I was going to wait until after the break to speak to you but I know you’re freaking out about what you told me. I’ve thought a lot about how to say this and I think it’s best if I just say it.”
I try to swallow around the lump in my throat but I’m so dry it hurts. Avery waits for me to nod before she continues.
“You saved Harley’s life and offered him protection even when we all hated you. You used those same connections to neutralize Joey without just killing him. If I know you at all then I also know you’re planning on using your status as the Wolf to take care of Senior and Joey. If anything, I trust you even more now than I did before. When we became friends, I told you that I’m an all or nothing person. You’re my family and nothing about this changes that.”
Fuck me.
Fuck me, I actually tear up a little and then I have to blink like crazy to stop myself from bawling my eyes out, which is so not me. This whole girl talk shit is messing with me. I’m the Wolf, dammit! Avery reaches over and squeezes my hand before getting up. She struts out of the door with a casual ‘Bye!’ thrown over her shoulder.
I smile and drag myself to the shower even though it’s too early and I have no obligations. I’m going to use the break to sort Joey and Harlow out and get them both off of the planner.
I wait until I’m sure the school has emptied out for fall break. I go down to the dining hall for dinner in case Harley is down there and lonely but he’s a no show. Once the sun sets and the whole building is scary quiet I change into a pair of Avery’s black yoga pants, a long sleeve black shirt, and my flats. The yoga pants have pockets, which is why I borrowed them. I slip my tools into them and then lock the door on the way out. You can never be too careful.
Harlow’s room, a single because she’s filthy rich, is on the opposite end of the girls’ dorms and her lock has also been upgraded. I take it as a good sign for my hunt.
I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t pick and thirty seconds later I’m quietly closing her door behind me.
I choke on my own spit.
Holy fuck.
Harlow Roqueford is a hoarder. The room is only slightly smaller than the one I share with Avery but I instantly feel that type of claustrophobic you get when you think stacks of crap are going to fall on you and you’ll die of starvation before the rescue teams can dig you out. It’s all luxury shit but piled up like this I feel like I’m in a shady discount warehouse. I can’t tell what color the walls are or what furniture she has. I couldn’t even say if she has a private bathroom because all I can see are the piles of clothes and shoes. There has to be an obscene amount of money sitting in this room in luxury items.
I start to sweat.
Avery would have an aneurysm.
I’m smarter this time, having been burned from my break in at Joey’s room last year, and I use the Spy Finder device I use on jobs as the Wolf to scan for cameras. It’s not foolproof but it gives me a better chance of findi
ng hidden security measures and with the mess this place is in I need all the help I can get. Once it’s clear, I take a few photos of the mess, though I’m not sure how we could use this against her. I dig through some of the clothing but there’s nothing suspicious about it, she’s obviously got a shopping addiction that far exceeds Avery’s.
There’s no loose floorboards, no drugs, no incriminating photos, nothing that is any use. I’m frustrated but undeterred. I’ll call Avery and let her know.
I turn to leave and then I spot them.
Sitting innocuously on the bedside table are Avery’s missing Louboutins. I don’t even have to check with her to know that they’re it. She has shown me pictures of them dozens of times, lamenting their loss, and snarling that the packing company must have stolen them. She’s been watching auction sites for weeks to see if they show up. They were worth more than a year's tuition at Hannaford and there is only one pair in existence.
Harlow’s stolen them.
I look around the room with a far more critical eye. The clothing is in different sizes and styles. Some of the dresses are so tiny there is no way Harlow could fit in them and there’s monogrammed blazers and robes, none have HR on them. In her cupboard I find suitcases stacked and some of those have tags with other girls names on them. Under the bed I find the other item I’m really looking for.
Blaise’s missing Vanth shirt.
One of a kind and I’m just the type of fan to know it from a mile away.
He’s been raging about Annabelle stealing it for weeks. Avery had mentioned it to me as a possible issue because if she offered to give it back she could lure him into her room, he’d cave for the shirt any day of the week. She wasn’t lying about it.
Harlow Roqueford is a hoarding kleptomaniac.
And she likes to take priceless, one-of-a-kind items.
I take the shirt and the shoes. There’s no way I’m leaving them behind in this cave of stolen treasures and when I slip back into our room I video call Avery. She picks up immediately and smirks at me, one finger on her mouth to silence me.
I nod and watch her move through the rooms of her father's mansion. Ash stalks behind her but I don’t think he sees me.
“Miss me already, Mounty?”
I’m so smug I swear it beams through the phone to her. I don’t even say a word and she knows.
“Harlow, Annabelle, or Joey?”
I hold up her shoes and she squeals. Ash ducks into view, scowling, and then he glances at Avery. I cut in before he can insult me by suggesting I’ve stolen them.
“Can you forward a picture onto Morrison for me? I’ve recovered his missing shirt.”
Avery shoulders Ash away. “Of course. Who had them?”
I text through the photos of the shirt and the shots I took of the room. Avery shudders and frowns when they come through. “Who lives in that cesspit?”
“Harlow. She’s stealing and hoarding from other students. Should I call the student hotline or will you deal with the bitch?”
Avery smiles the same way I imagine an executioner does as he sharpens his guillotine blade.
“I’ll do it.”
After I hang up I shower and dig out the file the Jackal sent me last year with Joey’s information in it. I’ve read it a hundred times but I keep going back to it like I’ll spot something that will get him out of our lives. The problem is I don’t know if Avery wants him relocated, locked up, or dead. She’s always so damn cagey when I bring it up and I haven’t pushed her on it.
My phone pings and I grab it, distracted by the images of Joey’s victims.
Mounty, I’m sending you something as a thank you for finding my shirt.
Sweet fucking lord. Avery has given him my number. My hands shake and a little nervous giggle bubbles in my chest. Is there a Wikihow on texting a hot, thankful rock star who is also your semi-reformed bully and tutoring pupil? What the hell do I even say?
My phone pings again and I gulp before I look.
She shouldn’t be sneaking into other student’s rooms without backup. The shirt isn’t worth that much. Wait until we’re back, Mounty.
That one is from Harley and it dawns on me that it’s a group text. Avery’s added me to their group chat. My stomach drops when I see Ash is on it too and now he’ll be able to insult me at all hours of the day. I’m not sure why I’m so pissed off about him calling me a slut. I mean, he did it last year and I didn’t give a shit.
Don’t get Avery involved when Harlow finds out you were in there. She doesn’t need to be cleaning up your mess.
Hmm. Not so bad, I can deal with grumpy Ash.
Welcome to the madhouse Mounty. Now your phone will blow up all day long and you’ll hate me for adding you when they start talking about who has the nicest tits or who fucked which girl first.
I cannot think of anything worse than seeing them talk about that. I choose sarcasm as my shield and climb into bed.
Can’t wait.
I’m just about asleep when the last text comes through from Blaise.
Seeing as we’re all banned from Annabelle and Harley’s apparently taken a vow of celibacy there will probably be more complaints of blue balls than anything else.
A box arrives on Friday morning addressed to The Mounty.
I don’t open it. Mostly because I’m dealing with a major crush and my hormones can’t handle knowing what he’s sent me. Also, Ash and Harley have taken up texting me all day guessing what the present will be. Avery messaged me privately to laugh at them because she thinks they’re being so obvious. I’m too tired from studying to ask her what the hell she means by that.
She arrives back to school Sunday night.
“Tell me I’m your favorite,” Avery says with an obnoxiously smug tone.
I roll my eyes at her without looking up from the assignments I have spread over my bed. I’m only five weeks ahead and I’m getting twitchy because of it. Damn Blaise and all of his tutoring. He’s a damn distraction of the hottest kind.
“Of course you’re my favorite. You’re my favorite human on the planet, it’s not fucking hard to figure out.”
She perches on my bed delicately so she doesn’t disturb my work, bless her. “Aw, you’re the best. I also rank you in my top four. It’s a constantly revolving list, you guys should really take more care to battle it out for my affection.”
I smirk at her. “I’m winning. When do those assholes ever make time to plan out the maiming and torture of fellow students with you? Hmm? When was the last time they walked into a literal orgy to take photos for you? Do I need to remind you of that time I brought you a coffee after ballet because you were going to rip Harlow’s slutty face off? I walked into a cesspit to recover your shoes.”
She tilts her head like she’s considering it. “Point taken. You’ve definitely spent longer in the top spot than the others this year. Anyway, you should check your bank balance.”
I frown and grab my phone. I hadn’t noticed she’d grabbed the bags of dirty cash from the closet. Sure enough, there’s an extra hundred grand now safely deposited into my offshore accounts. Yep, I’m that much of a badass criminal that I can’t even bank locally. Lucky fucking me.
“Thanks. Atticus didn’t want a cut?”
Avery shakes her head. “He had some questions. I told him it was dirty money and I was so worried about my father finding it. He practically fell over himself to launder it for me. He asked if I’m going to the High Society Charity Ball this year.”
There’s a blush on her cheeks and the nervous fluttering of her fingers tells me she’s not even close to getting over her crush on this guy. I should really look him up. We do not need another Rory in our lives, especially so soon after we got rid of the last one.
“A charity ball, how exciting!” I say with so much sarcasm that Avery groans and walks over to put the coffee machine on. She grabs me a cup without asking and fusses with my coffee until it’s perfect. Again, I adore this girl so fiercely I wish I were a lesbi
an and I could lock this shit down.
Alas, I like dick.
Well, I think I do. I like it enough to wish I could have it occasionally, but not enough to risk the Jackal. I wonder where exactly that puts me on the spectrum?
“You’re tempting me to go and drag you along! I told him I was too busy with school and he agreed to take me next year instead. He was… kinder this year. Hmm, no, not kinder. Maybe… more interested in speaking to me.”
Uh oh. I get up and follow her into the kitchen. She hands me my cup and I try to figure out how the hell to talk to her about this kind of thing.
“So. You’re…into him…again?”
Avery snorts at me, the most unrefined thing I've ever seen her do. “You really are hopeless at girl talk. Yes, I’m once again thinking about him way too much. He's just so…perfect. I can't go to the ball this year because if he doesn't kiss me at the end of the night I may climb into my bed and refuse to get out. He’s gorgeous. Absolutely stunning and such a gentleman, I’m a mess around him. Ugh, he said he’s going to come to my ballet recital that’s coming up and I’m freaking out about it.”
I nod and sip. When the silence stretches out Avery huffs at me, “This is where you tell me to stop being so pathetic.”
I sigh at her. “I can't. I’m even more pathetic than you when it comes to guys and I try my best not to be a hypocrite.”
“I highly doubt it. Explain your boy troubles to me so we can compare.”
Hell fucking no. I try not to ever lie to Avery so instead I give her a half-truth. “Oh, you know. The Jackal means I can't ever date or hook up without fearing for my life.”
She winces and scrunches her nose up. “At some point we need to tell the guys about that you know.”
Nope. No thank you. Why would they need to know? I shake my head and sit at the bench. Avery fusses with her cup and then ducks down to grab her bucket of cleaning supplies.