by Erin Watt
“Swear to God.” She holds a small hand over her chest. Her nails are short and missing the picture-perfect manicure that most of the Astor girls sport.
“I’m an atheist,” I inform her.
A frown mars her face. “You’re being difficult.”
“Hey, I’m not the one playing Peeping Tom.”
“It’s school!” Her voice rises for the first time. “I should be able to peek into any classroom I want!”
“So you admit to watching me.” I struggle to keep the smile off my face.
“Okay. Now I see why you have to get it on with a teacher. No normal girl would want to put up with you.”
At her exasperated outburst, I give up on the intimidation because I can’t hide my grin any longer. “You won’t know until you try.”
She stares at me. “Are you seriously flirting with me now? Hard pass.”
“Hard, eh?” I lick my bottom lip. Yes, I am flirting, because as ordinary as she might look, she intrigues me. And, I, Easton Royal, am bound by the laws of the universe to pursue all things interesting.
There’s a flicker of fascination in her eyes. Brief, but I’ve always been able to tell when a girl thinks I’m hot, when she’s imagining what it’d be like to hook up with me.
Hartley’s totally thinking about it right now.
Come on, baby, ask me out. Take what you want. I’d love to see a girl grab me by the metaphorical and literal balls and tell me she wants me. Straight up. No games. But despite the whole girl empowerment thing, I find that most chicks want the guys to chase them. Bummer.
“Ew.” She tries to inch away. “Seriously, Royal. Move.”
I plant both hands against the cool wood on either side of her head, effectively trapping her. “Or what?
Those gray eyes glint, piquing my curiosity again. “I might be small, but I have the lung capacity of a whale, so if you don’t move I’m gonna have to release the oral Kraken until the entire school is in this hallway rescuing me from you.”
I crack up. “The oral Kraken? That sounds pretty dirty.”
“I’m thinking everything sounds dirty to you,” she says dryly, but a smirk toys with the corners of her lips. “In all seriousness, I only opened that door because I’m trying to transfer into Ms. Mann’s calculus class. But I’m going to keep your little secret, all right?” She spreads her hands wide. “So what’s it going to be? Oral Kraken or stepping aside?”
Threats aren’t likely to work with Hartley, mostly because I don’t think I could carry one out. Intimidating girls isn’t my style—making them happy is. So I’m going to have to take her word for it. For now, at least. Hartley doesn’t seem like the narcing type. And even if she does spill the beans, I can fall back on the wallet. Dad might have to endow another scholarship to get me out of the Ms. Mann mess, but he’s already done it once for Reed and Ella. I think I’m due for a little bequest in my name.
Grinning, I move aside. “Listen, if you want to take AP Calc—” I gesture to the room at the end of the hall, “I recommend you talk to her now. You know…” I wink. “Catch her when her defenses are down.”
Hartley’s jaw drops. “Are you saying I should blackmail her? Tell her I’ll only keep my mouth shut if she approves my transfer?”
I shrug. “Why not? Gotta look out for yourself, right?”
She studies me for a long, long moment. I’d give a lot to know what’s going through that head of hers. She gives me nothing.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she murmurs. “Later, Royal.”
Hartley brushes past me. I amble behind her, watching as she knocks on the door and then enters Ms. Mann’s classroom. Will she go the blackmail route? Somehow I doubt it, but if she does, her transfer will be approved in no time; Ms. Mann would do anything to stop Hartley from ratting us out.
Even though I’ve successfully executed my orders to “fix this” (or at least I think I have), I don’t leave the hallway. I want to make sure nothing bad goes down between Hartley and Ms. Mann. So I cool my heels outside the classroom, which is where my friend and teammate, Pash Bhara, finds me.
“Yo,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re supposed to be giving me a ride home. I’ve been waiting downstairs for, like, fifteen minutes.”
“Aw shit, man. I forgot.” I shrug. “But we can’t go just yet—I’m waiting for someone. You okay to wait a few more minutes?”
“Yeah, it’s cool.” He comes to stand beside me. “Hey, did you hear about the new quarterback they’re trying to bring in?”
“Really?” We lost our first game of the season on Friday, and based on the way our offense played, we should get used to it. Kordell Young, our starting QB, busted his kneecap on the second play, leaving us stuck with two underclassmen who are in the running for Dumb and Dumber.
“Coach thinks with the injuries and all, we’ll need someone.”
“He’d be right, but who’s going to come here after the season’s started?”
“Rumor has it that it’s either someone from North or Bellfield Prep.”
“Why those schools?” I try to remember the quarterbacks from either school but draw a blank.
“They run the same type of offense, I guess? The guy from Bellfield is cool. I’ve partied with him a few times. Straight-laced but decent.”
“I don’t see a problem there. More booze for us,” I joke, but I’m starting to feel antsy. Hartley’s been in there a long time. It would take Ms. Mann all of five seconds to scrawl her name on the transfer slip.
I peer through the small window on the door, but all I see is the back of Hartley’s head. Ms. Mann is out of view.
What’s the hold up? There’s no way that Ms. Mann doesn’t immediately agree to Hartley’s request.
“Agreed.” Pash’s gold-plated phone buzzes in his hand. He checks the text and then wiggles his phone at me. “You going out tonight?”
“Maybe.” But I’m not really paying attention to him. I twist around to take another look in Ms. Mann’s window. Pash notices this time.
“Dude, seriously? Ms. Mann?” he says with arched brows. “You tired of the Astor girls already? We can take your dad’s plane to New York. Fashion Week is starting up and the city is gonna be thick with models. Or, we can wait for the new QB to come and hook us up with some locals.” He winks and nudges me. “Although there’s nothing like doing something you shouldn’t, right?”
Irritated that he guessed right, my answer comes out terse. “Wrong. She’s too old.”
“Then who is it?” Pash tries to peer past me as I use my big frame to block his view.
“No one. There’s some chick inside and I’m waiting for her to leave so I can make sure I have the assignment correct.”
“The assignments are online,” he says unhelpfully.
“Ah, that’s right.” But I don’t move.
Naturally, Pash is only more intrigued. “Who’s in there?” he demands, trying to shove me aside for a look.
I decide to move and let him investigate, because otherwise he won’t stop bothering me.
Pash presses his nose against the window, takes a long look, and concludes, “Oh. So you are here to see Ms. Mann.”
“I said I was.” But now I’m confused, because why was he so quick to dismiss Hartley as the focus of my interest?
He checks his phone again. “Okay, this is boring. I’ll meet you downstairs in the parking lot.”
As he starts to take off, curiosity gets the better of me. “Why not the other girl?” I call after him.
He turns around and, as he walks backward, says, “Cuz she’s not your type.”
“What’s my type?”
“Hot. Hot, stacked. Hot,” he repeats before disappearing around the corner.
“Wow,” a dry voice remarks. “I’m totally crushed that your friend thinks I’m cold and flat.”
I nearly jump five feet in the air. “Jesus. Can you make a little noise when you move around?”
Hartley grins at me and adjusts t
he strap of her backpack as she walks. “That’s what you get for lurking outside the door. Why are you still here, anyway?”
“Did you get everything taken care of?” I ask, falling in beside her.
“Yes.” Hartley makes a face. “I guess she figured out it was me who saw you guys, because she was embarrassingly willing to do everything I asked. I feel bad.”
“You shouldn’t. Teach made a mistake, and now she’s paying for it.” It’s meant to be a quip, but it comes off callous, and I recognize it the moment Hartley frowns deeply at me.
“She didn’t fool around with herself, Royal.”
“No, but that would’ve been hot,” I try to joke again, but it’s too late.
“Whatever.” Hartley pushes open the stairwell door and ducks through it. “Either way, our business here is done. Nice chatting with you.”
I hurry after her, practically chasing her down the steps. “Aw, come on, don’t be like that. We’re just starting to get to know each other. We were bonding.”
Her snort bounces off the stairwell walls. “We were not, nor will we ever be, bonding.” She quickens her pace, taking the steps two at a time in order to get away from me faster.
“Never? Why so absolute? You should get to know me. I’m charming.”
She pauses, hand on the railing, feet ready to take flight. “You are charming, Royal. That’s the problem.”
And with that, she scampers down the rest of the stairs.
“If you wanted to make me less interested, this is not the way to go about it,” I tell her retreating back. Her ass looks fine under her pleated Astor Park uniform skirt.
Only when she reaches the other side of the lobby does she stop to spare me an amused look. “I’ll see you around, Royal.” With a little wave, she waltzes out the huge oak doors.
My gaze stays glued to her petite body, and I find myself smiling at nothing and no one.
Yeah…
I think I’m going to bang that girl.
Chapter 3
“Ella told me you fooled around with a teacher today,” my older brother says over the phone a few hours later.
I balance my cell on my shoulder as I strip out of my swim trunks and let them drop to the bedroom floor. I spent the past hour in the pool channeling my brother Gideon. Gid’s the swimmer in the family, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Hartley since I got home, and I was hoping a few laps or thirty would help clear my head. Didn’t help at all. I’m still thinking dirty thoughts about that girl, except now I’m also wet and cranky.
“Easton,” Reed growls. “You there?”
“I’m here.”
“Did you do your teacher or what?”
“Mmm-hmmm, I did. So what?” I answer flippantly. “I’ve hooked up with teachers before.”
“Yeah, but you’re a senior now.”
“So?”
“So grow up. Ella’s going out of her mind worrying about you.”
“She should concentrate on making sure you don’t stray.”
There’s two beats of dead silence while Reed tries not to yell at me. His throat must ache.
I smirk into the phone. “Anyway, thanks for calling, Grandpa. It’s nice to know I can count on Ella to narc me out if I do something wrong.”
“East.” His tone sharpens, then softens. “She cares about you, that’s all. We all do.”
“Aw, I feel so loved.” Rolling my eyes, I grab a pair of jeans from my dresser drawer and yank them up my hips. “We done here, Reed? Dinner’s ready.”
“No, we’re not done,” he says, and even though I can easily hang up the phone, I instinctively wait for him to continue because he’s my older brother, and I’ve always followed his lead. “How’s the new QB working out?”
“He’s not. That busted knee was worse than we thought—he’s out for the season. And his backups are two sophs who can’t throw a decent pass to save their lives.”
“Shit.”
“Yup. I had no idea that anyone at Astor who played sports could be this bad. Why didn’t they just flunk Wade?”
“He would’ve left, anyway. Is Val broken up?”
“Nah, she said he was her rebound guy. Besides, she doesn’t think guys can be faithful when couples are separated.” Can’t blame the girl. Her first boyfriend did her dirty the minute he stepped foot on a college campus.
Reed’s sigh is heavy in my ear. “I know. She’s had a run of bad experiences. I hope her attitude doesn’t rub off on Ella. Keep an eye on that for me, would you?”
“No can do. I have zero desire to keep tabs on Val Carrington. Besides, it’s your responsibility to make sure that Ella’s happy. Not mine.”
I hang up before he can say another word. Reed’s always called the shots when it comes to the two of us, but he’s not here anymore. He’s off at college, playing defensive end for one of the best college football programs in the country. He’s got a girlfriend who adores him and a fresh start.
Me, I’m grounded here in Bayview. Literally grounded. Dad told the airfield that I’m not allowed to fly. He says I need to prove that I’m sober and responsible. It’s my senior year of high school—what’s the point in being sober and responsible? Besides, I’m not going to fly drunk. I know better than that, but he doesn’t believe me.
But while I can afford to buy a sleek little Cessna, I don’t have nearly enough to pay off the air traffic controllers. It’s a bitch of a situation and it puts me in a constant bad mood.
I’m stuck doing the same old shit—which includes walking downstairs to have dinner with my family, a tradition that stopped after my mom died and started up again when Dad brought Ella to live with us. After Ella’s biological father, Steve O’Halloran, was arrested for murder, these family dinners became nonnegotiable. We’re not allowed to skip them, even when it’s obvious nobody is in the mood for quality family time.
Like tonight. We’re all somewhere else. The twins, Sebastian and Sawyer, look exhausted, probably from a tough lacrosse practice. Ella looks preoccupied. Dad looks weary.
“You couldn’t find a shirt in that big closet of yours?” my father asks politely. Since Ella joined our family, Callum Royal has perfected the Disapproving Dad look. He never cared about what we did or wore before, but now he’s all over us.
I glance down at my bare chest, then shrug. “Want me to go up and find one?”
He shakes his head. “No, you’ve kept us waiting long enough. Sit, Easton.”
I sit. We’re eating out on the patio that overlooks the huge, kidney-shaped pool. It’s a warm night, and the breeze is nice. The table feels kind of empty with just the five of us, though. It’s weird now that both Gid and Reed are gone.
“Looking a little pale there,” Sawyer jokes. Despite being the younger twin, he always leads; Seb once said it’s to make Sawyer feel better for being born last. Seb’s quiet but has a wicked sense of humor.
Seb smirks. “It’s his pecs. He’s been skipping Chest Day, so he looks pale and small.”
“You little shits. I’ll show you who’s small and weak.” Grinning, I rise halfway out of my chair and shake my fist at the two twerps. “I’ve crapped out logs bigger than you.”
“Yeah, well, there’s two of us and—”
“All right, that’s enough,” Dad hastily intercedes before Sawyer can give us a rundown of the twins’ bowel movements. “Food’s getting cold.”
The mention of food is enough to divert our attention. Our housekeeper, Sandra, prepared roasted potatoes, garlic carrots, and a shit ton of barbecue-sauce-laden ribs. The twins and I dig in like the animals we are, while Dad and Ella take their time, chatting with each other as they eat.
“…chance you’ll have to testify at Steve’s trial.”
I’m not paying much attention, so when the conversation shifts toward Steve O’Halloran, I’m caught off-guard. These days, Dad goes out of his way not to bring up Steve when Ella’s around.
At her seat, Ella’s back goes stiffer than t
he flagpole on Astor Park Prep’s front lawn. “I thought the lawyers said Dinah’s testimony would be enough.” Dinah is Steve’s shrew of a wife, which makes her Ella’s shrew of a stepmother.
“Most likely, you won’t be called to the stand,” Dad assures her. “But when I spoke to the DA on the phone this morning, he mentioned it’s still a possibility. I only bring it up because I don’t want you to be blindsided if it happens.”
The tension doesn’t leave Ella’s body. I don’t blame her for being upset. The twins are wearing identical expressions of disgust.
Steve was charged with murder months ago, but he hasn’t spent a second behind bars. He paid his five-million-dollar bond, surrendered his passport and flight license, and, unfortunately, has abided by the terms of his pretrial release. Money and good lawyers mean you don’t serve a day until you’re convicted and maybe not even then. Dad’s lawyer says that as long as the judge is convinced he’s not a flight risk, he’s free as a stinkin’ bird.
The whole innocent-until-proven-guilty thing is a crock of shit if you ask me. We all know he’s guilty, and it drives us nuts that Steve’s not in prison for what he did. Not just killing a woman, but also not stepping forward when the cops tried to pin it on Reed.
Granted, the victim was Brooke Davidson, the evil viper who was trying to take down my family, but still. Brooke was a bitch, but she didn’t deserve to die.
“Hey, Dad?” Sawyer says warily.
Dad shifts his gaze to his youngest son. “What is it?”
“When Steve’s trial starts…” Sawyer pauses for a second. “Are they gonna bring up all that stuff about Steve and, um…” He trails off and closes his mouth, deciding not to finish that sentence.
Nobody else finishes it for him, but everyone’s expressions become strained, including mine. Seb reaches over and squeezes his brother’s shoulder. My dad takes Ella’s hand in his. She closes her eyes and takes a few calming breaths.
I watch my family as they all try to get a grip on their emotions.
I hate thinking about my mother these days. After Steve killed Brooke, it came out that Mom cheated on Dad with Ella’s dad. That’s some incestuous shit right there.