Heartless: A High School Bully Romance (The Privileged of Pembroke High Book 1)

by Ivy Fox

  For the twentieth time tonight, I send another text only for it to go unanswered. I call Ollie first, then Asher, but both times my call goes straight to voicemail.

  “It’s not like them not to respond.” I bite at my lower lip, worried that something awful must have happened that has prevented them from picking me up after work without letting me know beforehand.

  “I’m sure they are both fine. Probably just got wasted at some fancy, upper-class party that those sorts attend, and ended up losing track of time,” Candy remarks with judgment in her tone.

  I know she’s fond of the twins, but her prejudice against people with a high tax bracket sometimes shines through. I don’t fault her for having those types of feelings. Being raised by a single mother, who had to endure picking up after spoiled, entitled employers, is bound to influence one’s opinion. The day my grandmother hired Candy’s mom as her housekeeper and showed her the proper respect was probably the first time Candy witnessed that there are exceptions to the rule. Not every person with wealth is rude and self-serving. Candy gained a new perspective when she moved into my nana’s house—and I gained my first friend. Right now that friend is irritated on my behalf because the twins are a no show tonight.

  Me though?

  I’m worried sick.

  “They would have called me or at least texted if that was the case. I’m serious, Candy. Something’s wrong,” I insist, rubbing my arms profusely, trying to bring warmth back to my bones and erase the seeping chill of worry.

  “Tell you what. I’ll drive you home tonight. I’m sure that when you wake up in the morning, your phone will be blowing up with a million apologies from both of them.” She tries to comfort me, placing her arm over my quivering shoulder.

  “What about Xavier? Don’t you two have plans?” I ask, looking over at the man himself as he turns the corner to dump tonight’s trash.

  Since the night I was accosted, he’s been adamant about doing the chore for me. Both Candy and Xavier have been the sweetest in keeping an eye on me, making sure I’m safe at all times. Luckily, the guy I met at the Ivory never showed his face here again. And if I’m honest, I’m still confused about the encounter. It’s obvious he discovered who I am. But I always thought if that ever happened it would be just the basis of idle gossip—nothing for anyone besides my mother to have a fit about.

  But the tall, dark stranger who showed up at The Shack a few weeks ago seemed far from the gossiping type. He looked angry and hostile as if my parentage insulted him personally. I even considered approaching my mother about it, since she seemed to be at the very root of his hatred, but then kept the intimidating event to myself. Vivienne would have used it as a reason to stop me from working here, and there was no way I’d offer her such a valid excuse on a silver platter.

  “He won’t mind. I’ll meet up with him later,” Candy replies with a playful grin on her lips.

  If I weren’t so troubled with Ollie and Ash not showing up, I’d use this opportunity to ask if she’s finally going to give Xavier a fair shot. Unfortunately, my mind is too wrapped up in my own loves to have a heart-to-heart talk with my best friend.

  I look at my phone again, hoping for a call, a text, smoke signals, anything really that will let me know Ollie and Ash are okay. I’m about to call again when Candy snatches the phone out of my hands and drops it inside her cluttered purse.

  “Enough of that, Holland. Those boys had plenty of time to tell you where they are. You’ve left a ton of messages already, so they’ll know you’re worried out of your mind. Don’t embarrass yourself by leaving another one. Instead, tomorrow make them pay for those worry lines they are giving you. You have to educate them, so they know this type of behavior is not tolerated. You hear me?” She tuts, displeased.

  “But what if they got in a car accident? Or got mugged, or, I don’t know, are sick with food poisoning or something? There are a thousand plausible reasons why they haven’t responded yet,” I shriek, my concern reaching new heights.

  “The only one I see is that they just pulled a dick move by standing up their girlfriend,” she mumbles under her breath.

  “Candy, that’s not fair. They’ve never done anything like this before,” I defend, heartbroken she would think so little of them.

  “Okay, fine. They’re not dicks, maybe just irresponsible. You know the good thing about bad news, right? It travels fast. If something terrible had happened, I’m sure we would have heard about it. I’m telling you, they’ve probably passed out from day drinking and playing video games or something, but if you’re that concerned, we can always pass by their place and look in on them just to make sure they’re okay.”

  I bite my lower lip, my eyes locked on the sidewalk edge, trying to balance the weight of guilt on my shoulders. I feel my friend’s irritation multiply with each second that I refuse to face her. The awkward, pregnant pause is lifted when Candy takes two steps closer to me, leaning down to hush in my ear.

  “You don’t know where they live, do you?” Candy mutters, annoyed, beside me. With my head still cast low, I give it a little shake in reply. “Shit, Holland, why the hell don’t you know where your so-called boyfriends live?” she hollers, straightening back up and placing her hands on her hips in outrage.

  “You’re not going to like the answer,” I sigh out with a shrug.

  “Try me,” she retorts, this time crossing her arms over her chest in a challenging stance.

  I huff out, gaining the courage to face my intransigent friend.

  “If I asked, or if I went over to their house, then sooner or later they’d expect me to do the same. They’d be offended if I didn’t invite them over,” I retort meekly.

  “You are too much, you know that? So let me get this straight, you are willing to move in with these guys in a year’s time, start a whole life together, but you’re still intent on keeping secrets from them?” She shakes her head, placing her hands on my shoulders, turning me to face her head on. “Babe, listen to me. This will not end well if you don’t come clean. So what if your mom is the biggest bitch there is. Fuck it! From what you’ve told me, their dad isn’t exactly a walk in the park either. Those details are so minuscule compared to what you all have. To ruin it by keeping details of your life a secret seems idiotic to me. Come clean, babe, or it will end up biting you in the ass. Trust me, lies always see the light of day, one way or another,” she cautions sternly.

  I pull away from her grasp, bouncing from my left foot to right, unequipped at this time to go over the list of reasons why I haven’t been entirely truthful with the twins. When I met them, I had no idea our friendship would bloom to the love we have now. I liked that they saw me the way they did—someone strong, healthy, and loved. By revealing the parts that I’ve wanted to keep hidden away, they’ll end up seeing me differently, too. And right now, I’m more myself in their eyes than I am in my own mirror’s reflection.

  But I’m not foolish enough to think I can postpone the truth for much longer. I know we will need to have a serious conversation before I agree to move in with them. They must have all the facts if they are to commit to such a big decision in their lives. I’ll have to uncover all my demons, tell them my ailments and woes, and hope our love is strong enough to overcome the obstacles that’ll lie in my future.

  But I still have time.

  I wanted us to have one last, carefree summer before laying my baggage on them. The minute I tell them everything, their untroubled lives will be a thing of the past. I just wanted to give us one final summer where life is still simple, pure, and untouched by my chaos.

  “It’s not that easy,” I finally mumble, not wanting to have this argument with her again.

  “Yes, it is. You delaying the inevitable is what will make it hard,” she reasons, without missing a beat.

  “You ladies okay? Did I miss something?” Xavier interrupts, wary of my pain-stricken face and Candy’s pissed-off one.

  “Everything is go
od. Just need to drop Holland back at her place, then I’ll meet up with you,” Candy replies, shedding her discontented scowl and replacing it with a cheerful mask for my benefit.

  “Mind if I tag along? We can come back to get my car later tonight, or I can just hitch a ride with you tomorrow morning,” Xavier cajoles flirtatiously, hinting on the fact he is going to be sleeping over at her place again.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m not waking up earlier just to drive your ass to work in the morning. You have your own wheels, use them,” she rebukes, side-eyeing him like he should know better.

  Xavier just laughs and leans in, grabbing her chin and smacking a huge wet kiss on her lips. When he lets up, Candy’s eyes are molten, her cheeks burning red, and her wicked tongue left powerless.

  “Fine. Have it your way, you stubborn woman. Let’s just take our Holland home.” Xavier grins out, leading the way to Candy’s car.

  While Xavi loads my bike into the trunk, I take a seat in the back, letting the two lovebirds alone up front. I’m careful not to pester Candy to give me back my phone the whole ride home, even though I want to crawl up to the front seat and steal it from her bag, which is between Xavier’s feet. But since I don’t want to suffer Candy’s tempestuous wrath again, I twiddle my thumbs, blocking out all the horrible scenarios for why Oliver and Asher never showed tonight. Thankfully Candy stops to let me out at the estate’s gate, handing me my phone, albeit reluctantly.

  “If there is any trouble, call me. I can be here in five minutes flat,” she declares, her voice holding her natural, sweet timbre, assuring me she will always be in my corner, even if she doesn’t agree with my decisions.

  “Thank you. I will.” I smile back at her, leaning over to the driver’s seat to kiss her cheek goodbye. “You both have a nice night. Take good care of my friend, Xavi,” I warn amicably.

  “As if I’d let anyone take care of me,” she huffs as I slide out the back seat.

  “Oh Candy, don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you just fine,” Xavier replies huskily, and I close the door to avoid any more of their dirty talk.

  After pulling my bike out, I tap the trunk twice before turning to walk up the gravel road leading home. When I hear Candy pull away, I immediately check if there are any messages from my guys.

  “Nothing,” I sigh out defeated. The ominous feeling of dread clenches around my heart, refusing to let go. ‘They’re fine, Holland. Don’t let your imagination get the best of you,’ I try to tell myself, hoping that there is a perfectly logical explanation for why they can’t answer a simple phone call or text.

  They said their father decided to stay the whole summer in the Hamptons, so maybe they had an unexpected event they needed to be at. During the time I’ve known them, both Ash and Ollie have periodically complained about tedious events their father made them attend. Maybe that’s where they are now and just didn’t have enough time to let me know.

  I’m probably grasping at straws, but it’s the only way I can cope and keep myself from calling an Uber to drive me to Southampton Hospital so I can see for myself that the twins aren’t lying in some hospital bed.

  I shake that horrid thought away and hurry the last few feet to my front door. Thankfully Vivienne is nowhere in sight, so at least I have that going for me tonight. I run up to my room, rushing to my bedroom terrace, but all I am met with is a starless sky and an even darker beach. No bonfire to be seen on the far right where we usually set up camp. I turn my back to the solemn sight and get ready for bed.

  Of course, the hours pass slowly without the eager slumber I’m so desperate to receive. Instead, I toss and turn the whole night, too on edge to get a wink of sleep. I watch the sun come up, but to my dismay, not one message pings on my phone. Unable to continue lying restlessly in bed, turning my sheets into a war zone, I get up to take a shower and head out to work earlier to distract my panicked mind.

  The minute I open my bedroom door and walk down the staircase, I know something else is rotten in Denmark. There is a slew of strangers walking hurriedly around the main foyer, either holding various things in their hands or shouting out orders in a frantic pace. Holding onto the staircase handrail I stand frozen, trying to make sense of the madness.

  “Oh, good you’re up,” my mother hisses disapprovingly as if I should have been awake hours ago.

  I want to blurt out that it’s not even seven in the morning, and seeing her up and about at this hour is the true surprise. But instead, I swallow the snippy comment down and ask, “What’s going on?”

  “What does it look like?” she replies, her focus entirely on the tablet in her hands.

  “Are you planning to throw a party?” I question, watching five men enter with beautiful, elaborate bouquets of white lilies. At the same time a no-nonsense looking woman, sporting a tight bun, cream pantsuit, and a headset in her ear, instructs them where to place each display.

  “Yes. Yes, I am. A grand celebration—one which will be talked about for years to come,” my mother coos triumphantly, her eyes shining the lightest of blues.

  “Celebration?” I croak out, watching more people enter through the front door, this time with what seems to be the makings of a huge white tent.

  All of them bypass me completely, too preoccupied in their task to pay any attention to the conversation I’m trying to have with Vivienne. Alas, my mother’s focus is already diverted to her iPad once again, forgetting my existence altogether.

  “Mother, what are we celebrating?” I ask, grabbing onto her arm so she can tell me what the hell is going on.

  “Isn’t it obvious? My wedding to Malcolm Grayson, of course.”

  Chapter 12

  Asher

  My eyelids slowly peel themselves open, letting the rays of early dawn wake me up from another reckless night. My mouth feels like sandpaper, and I rub my sore throat as I look around the trashed living room, searching amongst the chaos for any bottled water that may be lying around.

  Unfortunately, all I see is a bunch of semi-naked, hardcore partygoers who will regret their heavy-hitting ways the minute they wake up. I sure as fuck do. The pounding hammer in my head is punishment enough, wrecking any fun I was able to have last night—not that I remember there being any, to begin with.

  I take a good look around to gather my bearings and remember that this place belongs to some teeny-bopper singer who looks like an altar boy on TV, but does more blow than Charlie Sheen ever laid his hands on. I crack my neck from side to side and pull myself up from the couch where I must have passed out after smoking the cokehead’s best weed. I bet mothers everywhere would think twice in buying their twelve-year-olds his records and merchandise if they knew most of the money went toward funding his drug habit and party favors. Still, last night he was of use to me. This morning, however, I want to put as much distance between myself and this shame-ridden place as possible. If I wanted to be disgusted with the lies people portray, hiding the ugliness of their inner core, I could have done that shit at home.

  I try to maneuver my way through the sleeping bodies lying on the floor, trying to find Oliver amongst the chaos of entwined limbs. The sleek, cat-like movement of a redhead in her undies and bra grabs my attention in the corner of the room. On a hot-pink, neon loveseat sleeps my twin, passed out cold and unaware that some girl with smudged, black eye makeup has her eager fingers unbuttoning his jeans. By the time I reach them both, she has his cock out and is about to give my brother the worst fucking wake-up call of his life. I push her away, and she lands with a thud on her ass beside him.

  “Hey!” Raccoon-eyes barks out, offended by my treatment of her.

  “Hey, what? If he didn’t fuck you last night when he was wasted, he sure as shit ain’t gonna fuck you now that he’s sober enough to see what a mess you are,” I snap back abhorrently.

  “That’s not nice,” she whines, sucking in her lower lip while trying to tame her wild, split-end hair into something presentable when that
should be the least of her worries.

  “I’m not a nice guy. Now get your filthy hands off my brother’s crotch before I tear them away,” I growl when I see her grip is still at the base of his shaft.

  Ollie decides to chuckle at that precise moment, letting us both know he’s awake.

  “Oh, you think this is funny? Get your ass up, Ollie. We’ve got somewhere to be,” I bellow out, absolutely done with this party and its guests.

  My brother puts his dick away and pushes his black-rimmed glasses to the bridge of his nose, before stretching and yawning like a bear that just came out of hibernation. When he lifts his head off the headrest though, he groans and grabs at his temples, trying to make the world stop spinning around him.

  “If you want me to get up, I need some water and Advil, like this very second,” he moans out, shutting his eyes against the light that’s probably stabbing his brain right now.

  “We’ll grab it on the way,” I mumble, leaning down and pulling him up by the shoulder. He’s in an even worse state than I am. And that’s saying a lot since I feel like I crawled close to death’s gates.

  “Can I come with you? We three can still have some fun, you know? The party doesn’t have to be over,” Raccoon girl singsongs, bouncing up and down on her knees, obviously not getting the hint the first time.

  I’m about to open my mouth to put the redhead in her place, reiterating that neither of us is interested, when Ollie slowly drops to the floor. He then picks something up, turns around and throws it into the girl’s hands.

  “Have fun with that, sweetheart. We’re all partied out,” he smirks, watching her face turn every shade of red, fuming at the huge-ass, green dildo he just threw at her.

  I can’t help but snicker at the sight. The poor girl has the Jolly Green Giant’s battery-operated dick vibrating in her hands. On second thought, it’s probably the Hulk’s.