The Second Move: Rogues of Everly Prep Book Two

by Wendi Wilson

  I gritted my teeth against the sudden hollow feeling in my gut. I liked Stella. I didn’t want her to be angry with me, but I knew going into this there was a good chance she would be. She begged me to drop my plans for vengeance, and I didn’t listen.

  Even though I knew it would happen, her sudden remoteness hurt. More than I thought it would.

  I rose from my seat and walked casually to the girls’ locker room, slipping inside while Coach Barkley made several unsuccessful attempts to bring his class back to order. I wanted to change back into my regular clothes and get out before the room filled with gossiping girls and detestable Roguettes.

  “How could you do that, Chaz?”

  I whirled around with a hand pressed to my chest where my heart had attempted to jump up my throat.

  “Jesus, Stella, you scared me,” I said, pulling my shirt over my head.

  “Well?’ she demanded, tapping the toe of her white tennis shoe.

  I sighed, letting my shoulder slump as I met her hot blue gaze.

  “I told you I was going to get revenge,” I said. “This can’t be a surprise.”

  “And I told you to let this go. That there is more going on here then you know.”

  “Tell me, then. What is it, Stella? Because it looks pretty simple to me. Poor, trailer trash isn’t welcome in these hallowed halls,” I yelled, waving my hands around, “and your brother and his friends decided to make damned sure I know it.”

  “That’s not what happened,” she muttered, taking a small defensive step back as I moved toward her.

  “Then, what happened?”

  “I can’t…you just have to trust me, Chaz.”

  “No,” I said with a slash of my hand. “I’m not accepting any lame excuses or half-truths. They made me like them. They made me trust them.” I dipped my head and stared into her blue eyes, so identical to her twin’s. “Mason fucked me good, then made me care about him and think we had some sort of special relationship. Then he fucked me over. And I cannot forgive that. I’m sorry.”

  I breezed past her with my head held high, ignoring the pain in my chest at the sight of her hurt expression. I stiffened my spine as I left the gymnasium.

  Stella shouldn’t have remained so close to my targets if she didn’t want to get hit by the shrapnel.

  The thought provided little comfort, but I pushed her and her arguments from my mind. I needed to get home and get ready.

  I was supposed to meet Mason after school, and I needed to be prepared.

  11

  Hair shiny, and styled in perfect fat curls? Check. Skin-tight jeans that left little to the imagination? Check. Light make-up that accentuated my features, yet still looked natural? Check. Black leather jacket that screamed “Don’t fuck with me, asshole?” Check.

  I was as ready as I’d ever be, and managed to slip out of the house before Seth made it home. Thank God. I knew the confrontation would come, but I didn’t need any distractions from phase two of my vendetta against Mason.

  Phase one was to establish myself as his partner for the project. Phase two was to make him want me above all else, while keeping an emotional distance. I couldn’t let myself get tangled in my own trap.

  I was so distracted, I nearly ran into Mom and Atticus at the bottom of the steps that empty out into the driveway.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said as I skidded to halt in front of them.

  “Hey, honey. Perfect timing,” Mom replied, her newly whitened teeth shining in the afternoon sun.

  “What has you smiling so big?” I asked, my eyes flicking from her to Atticus and back again.

  “So suspicious,” she chided, shaking her head while holding onto that pleased grin.

  “Chaz,” Atticus said, “we have a surprise for you.”

  “Really.”

  The word was more statement than question, filled with doubt and a healthy dose of sarcasm. Their “surprises” were often extravagant purchases of things I neither needed nor had a desire for. A fancy pair of strappy high heels. A diamond barrette. A swanky designer cocktail dress.

  I didn’t want to come off as an ingrate, but my mom should’ve known me well enough to know I’d never use any of that shit and that it was a colossal waste of money.

  “I know I made a mistake, buying you that car in an attempt to make amends without consulting you or your mom on what your preferences might be,” Atticus said, and for the first time, I noticed a sheet-enshrouded vehicle in the driveway behind them.

  “What is that?” I asked, nodding toward it.

  “We returned the car Atti bought you and got a new one,” Mom said, practically hopping up and down in excitement.

  “Seriously?” I asked. “You know you didn’t have to do that.”

  “Of course, I did,” Atticus said. “I know you value your independence, and while you like my driver Marcus, depending on him to take you everywhere has had you feeling a bit stifled.”

  That was true. Since my supposed friendship with the Rogues blew apart, and I refused to drive the Italian sports car Atticus had originally purchased, Marcus had been driving me everywhere. Knowing he reported to Atticus and Mom made me feel under their thumbs and watchful eyes.

  “I hope you’ll find this car more amenable,” he continued, grabbing the corner of the sheet and yanking it to the side.

  My eyes just about bugged out of my head as my mouth fell open in shock. I may have died for a moment, because I found myself gasping for air. My lungs burned as if I hadn’t breathed for hours.

  “Is that a Chevelle?” I finally choked out.

  Mom clapped her hands with giddy laughter. “Yes, baby. A sixty-nine model in cherry condition.”

  I walked forward like a zombie, brushing the hood with a feather-soft caress. The paint was glossy black perfection, with two white racing stripes on the hood. Shiny chrome accentuated the fender and windows, and the wheels hugged custom rims of the same metal.

  The windows were down, and I reached through to smooth my fingers down a buttery, white leather seat. I looked over the roof at Atticus, my brain going haywire with confusion and lust for this car.

  “This is for me?”

  “Do you like it?” Atticus asked with a nod, his features twisted into a hopeful expression.

  “Like it?” I asked. “No, I don’t like it. I fucking love it.”

  “Chastity Ann,” mom scolded. “Language.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I mumbled, but I was already swinging open the heavy door and sliding inside.

  The seat hugged my body while my hands skimmed over the steering wheel. I was so completely mesmerized that I jumped in fright when a hand shot through the window, dangling a set of keys. I met Atticus’s smiling eyes as I took them from his grip.

  “Can you drive a manual?” he asked. When I nodded, he said “Good. This car is a four-speed with a four-fifty-four V8 engine. Takes it easy until you get a feel for the power, okay?”

  I nodded again, struck speechless by his generous and perfect gift.

  “Thank you, Atticus,” I said, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes.

  “Think nothing of it,” he replied, smiling. “This beast cost me about a third of the first car I bought you, so I’m actually winning with this deal.”

  With that, he knocked on the roof and stepped away, moving to go stand beside Mom. I slid the key into the ignition and cranked it, squealing with joy at the roar of the engine. Giving them a happy wave, I pressed the clutch, pushed the gear shift into first, and slowly pulled forward.

  As soon as I got out onto the road, I gave her some gas and the tires squealed against the pavement. The engine purred as I gained speed, smoothly popping it into second. Then third. Then fourth, and I was flying down the street, my carefully curled hair flying all over as the wind whipped though the open windows.

  But I didn’t give a shit. This was the best moment of my entire life.

  Thoughts of Atticus discovering what I’d done to Seth tried to creep in and destroy my eu
phoria. He was nearly giddy, watching my reaction to his gift, and I’d hate to see that happiness replaced by disappointment and disillusion.

  I pushed the thoughts away, determined to feel nothing but elation as the tires ate up the miles. I took a long, roundabout course, and still found myself pulling into Mason’s driveway way to soon. As I parked the Chevelle and rolled up the windows, I decided to make this study session as short as possible and get my new baby back on the road.

  I made my way around back to the pool house, where I assumed Mason would be waiting for me. Memories assailed me as I neared the door. Mason’s hands on my body. The taste of his skin as my tongue explored every inch of him. The delicious feeling of fullness as he slid inside me.

  I shook my head to clear it and smoothed a hand over my hair before knocking on the door. I heard a muffled call to enter, and taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and strode inside with more confidence than I actually felt.

  Mason was sitting on the couch, several books and notebooks spread out on the table in front of him. I watch him as he looked up at me, his eyes widening ever so slightly. His pink tongue darted out to wet his lips before he cleared his throat and dragged his eyes back down to the materials in front of him.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said, waving me forward.

  I moved in and deliberately sat down on the couch beside him, though there were other seats to choose from. I needed him to feel my body heat. Smell my perfume. Breathe the same air as me.

  Mason flinched a little, but didn’t move away. He also avoided eye contact.

  “I printed out copies of the scene we picked so we could make notes as we go along. I also found an app we can use to help translate the language into a more modern dialect.”

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, pretending to study the pages he printed out.

  Apparently, we were going to ignore the elephant in the room.

  “I understand why you did it.”

  Apparently we were not going to ignore it. Mason decided to shine a big spotlight right on that damned beast.

  “Did what?” I replied.

  He arched a brow at me, but otherwise ignored my coy response.

  “I know you felt justified in humiliating Seth. Hell, maybe you were. But just remember, whatever you throw out into the world comes back on you.”

  “Is that a threat? Or are you just being philosophical?”

  I could feel my hackles rising, but Mason held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. He met my eyes, and his gaze hypnotized me.

  “It wasn’t a threat, I promise. I’m only speaking from experience. I’ve done some really shitty things and it seems like karma always comes back to bite me in the ass.”

  “Yet, you continue on the same path,” I murmured, still gazing into his bright blue eyes.

  “Maybe I have no choice,” he whispered.

  “Bullshit,” I barked, the spell he’d been weaving over me broken. “You always, always have a choice when it comes to how you treat others.”

  “So do you,” he countered.

  “Let’s just work on this fucking project,” I said, shuffling the papers in my lap.

  He dropped the subject, and we focused on planning out our presentation. As the minutes passed into an hour, my ire faded away to be replaced by something else. Something much more dangerous.

  Burning energy crackled like electricity over my skin. His voice and his orange blossom scent worked together to heat my blood to the point I was practically sweating. My hands itched to feel his silky hair, to grip it in my fists and yank his face to my—

  “I have to go,” I squeaked, hopping to my feet.

  “Okay,” Mason drawled, his face a mask of confusion. “Should we plan to meet again tomorrow?”

  “I, uh, I’ll get back to you,” I stuttered as I grabbed my things and backed toward the door.

  With a barely audible goodbye, I turned and practically ran out. I didn’t look back as I tramped to my car, flung open the door and slid inside. Cranking the engine, I revved it a couple of times before tapping my forehead against the steering wheel.

  “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it,” I muttered.

  That was not how that was supposed to go. I was supposed to be cool, calm, and collected while subtly making Mason desire me. Instead, I’d nearly jumped his bones and threw my whole plan away for a moment of pleasure.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? I hated Mason Bellamy. Despised him for what he had done to me.

  But my traitorous body had other plans, and I needed to get that bitch under control before my next study session with him. Eyes on the prize, and all that.

  I jumped and squealed as two hands landed on my window jamb. Mason’s head lowered and moved into my personal space, and for a brief second, I thought he was going to kiss me. My breath caught in my throat as he peered inside, checking out the interior of the car before pulling his head back out.

  “Sweet ride,” he said, caressing the side of my leather seat.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, still trying to get my frantic breaths under control.

  “I just came out to tell you I’m available after school every day this week and all weekend. Check your schedule and let me know what works for you, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said with a quick nod.

  I released the emergency brake, pressed the clutch, and shifted the Chevelle into reverse. Mason took two quick steps back, waving as I backed down the driveway. I ignored the gesture, and as soon as I was out on the street, I threw it into first and sped away, squealing tires like a drag racer.

  So much for cool, calm, and collected. It must have been so obvious to Mason how much his nearness affected me. I swore through gritted teeth, cursing myself for being weak.

  By the time I got home, though, I’d decided that maybe things weren’t so bad. If Mason thought he could still have that kind of effect on me, it would make him believe he still had a chance. And thinking I was fighting my feelings for him would make me an interesting challenge.

  I just had to make him think I still wanted him against my own will. My goal was to make him care about me, for real this time, so that I could hurt him as bad as he hurt me. I’d fight it at first, then slowly let down my guard so Mason could catch glimpses of what could be between us.

  All while keeping my hormones from affecting my brain. And not letting my own heart get tangled and trampled in the process.

  12

  “How’d it go with Mason?”

  “Ugh, I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, picking a fry from my tray and nibbling the end.

  “That bad, huh?” Josh asked, sliding a soda toward me.

  “No, actually,” I said, cracking open the can and taking a long swallow. “We talked about our project. We talked about Seth. He said he understands why I did it, but I should be careful because karma is a bitch.”

  “Wise words,” Josh said, arching a sleek, dark brow. “Were they meant to be helpful, or a threat?”

  “I asked the same thing,” I said, smiling at how much we thought alike. “And he seemed genuine, like he was trying to guide me onto the right path or something. Ha. That’d be the day that I take life coaching from Mason Bellamy.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I told him to focus on our project, and we did.”

  “So, why don’t you want to talk about it?” Josh asked, locking gazes with me like his stare would somehow mesmerize me into telling the truth.

  It actually kind of did.

  “The longer I sat next to him, the more I wanted to climb on top of him and see if his skin tasted as good as it smelled.”

  Josh’s head flew back, his mouth gaping as wide as his eyes.

  “Shut up,” I growled, and his eyes crinkled.

  “Well, this is a new development.”

  “I said shut up.”

  He laughed, but his humor melted away quickly. He stared at me with serious eyes and reached across the table to twine his fingers with mine.


  “Are you going to be able to see this through without hurting yourself as much as you hurt him?”

  That was a good question, one I didn’t know the answer to, so I shrugged and took another drink of my soda.

  “How is your partnership with Theo going?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “It sucks,” he admitted.

  “Is he being horrible?” I asked, my gaze darting right to where the Rogues were sitting across the dining hall.

  “No,” Josh said, barking out a laugh. “He’s indifferent. Unaffected by our proximity.”

  “You know he’s good at putting on an act, Josh. That serious expression is nothing but a front. I’m sure he’s dying inside, being so close to you but unable to do anything about it.”

  “Thanks for saying that, honey, but I’m not so sure.”

  “Do you want him to pursue you again?” I asked, remembering the story Josh had told me about his whirlwind romance with Theo.

  He walked me backwards until my back pressed against the wall and I could go no further. But he kept coming, not stopping until his body was plastered against mine. He told me he wanted to kiss me, and his mouth was so close I could feel his breath on my lips.

  I didn’t move a muscle as his lips moved a centimeter closer, then stopped. ‘Can I kiss you, Joshua?’ His lips actually brushed against mine as he asked the question, and I fucking lost it, Chaz. I pressed my mouth against his and the world stopped.

  Who wouldn’t want that again? Josh’s heart had a huge capacity for acceptance and forgiveness. If he could forgive Theo and get some of that magic back, why shouldn’t he?

  “I don’t know,” Josh muttered, and my heart broke a little for him.

  “It’s obvious, you do, Josh. It’s okay to go for what you want, you know.”

  “He hurt you, Chaz,” he said shaking his head. “He needs to pay for that before I could even consider rekindling things with him. If he even wants me.”

  “Oh, he does,” I assured him. “I’ve seen him watching you when he thought no one was looking.”

  The light that flared in Josh’s eyes speared me through the heart, and I decided right then and there that I would help him get Theo Davenport back, no matter the cost. An idea sparked in my mind, and I cocked my head to peer at Josh.