Fallen Heir

by Erin Watt

  That’s another thing I got before Reed—Ella spoke to me about her stripping before she ever spoke to Reed about it. I wonder why she did that. Maybe… Is it because Ella never saw me as a threat?

  I drum my fingers on my knees as the realization sinks in. I barely have time to analyze it before another one comes.

  Hartley sees me as a threat. That’s why her back is always up.

  I suddenly think about the way she talked to Bran Mathis, all smiles and no hostility. Why? I guess because…because he hadn’t mocked her about getting in her pants the way I’d done? No, the way I’m still doing. I promised her I’d stop hitting on her, that I’d be a good, platonic friend to her, but—story of my life—I didn’t follow through on that promise.

  I’m an asshole.

  “Hey, if you want, I can come inside and chill in a booth while you work, quiz you on Brit lit whenever it gets dead,” I offer.

  Hartley looks startled. “Wait, what?”

  “I asked if you want me to quiz you—”

  “No, I heard you,” she cuts in. “I just don’t get it… You’re not going to ask me about my father?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes widen and then almost immediately narrow. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me about the disagreement with your dad, or whatever it was, then you’ll tell me.” I shrug. “Friends don’t force each other to talk.” There isn’t one false note in those seven words, because I’ve come to some more conclusions during this brief exchange.

  Hartley’s not going to sleep with me. She’s attracted to me—I know she is—but she’s not going to act on it. She’s got something everyone says I should acquire: self-control. She’s not going to climb into bed with me or in the back of my truck or under the bleachers, and I think it’s time I accepted that.

  But I like her. I don’t want to stop talking to her. I don’t want her to be threatened by me.

  So…if Hartley is going to stop viewing me as a threat, then I’ve got to start treating her as something other than a hookup.

  I need to treat her as a friend. A real, give-a-shit-about-each-other, don’t-need-to-be-naked-to-care-about-you friend.

  “I mean it,” I say gruffly. “I’m here if and when you’re ready to talk about it. ’Til then, we can talk about other stuff. Deal?”

  Her thoughtful expression stays with her for several moments. Finally, she opens her mouth and murmurs, “Deal.”

  Chapter 16

  “Did you seriously switch up your entire schedule?” Ella demands the next morning.

  I slam my locker door shut and turn to grin at her. “Nope. I’m still in Calculus.”

  She gapes at me. “But all your other classes are different?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “And Beringer approved this?”

  “Yup.”

  “Was he on crack?”

  “Probably?”

  She snatches my new schedule out of my hand. Mrs. G printed it out for me when I popped into the office after practice.

  “This is ridiculous!” Ella huffs. “You need to take certain classes in order to graduate, Easton. There’s only one language class on here—you need two this semester. And you’re taking government! You took that last year! Why are they letting you take it again?”

  “I’m going with your crack theory.”

  She shoves the paper against my chest. “This is Hartley Wright’s schedule, right?”

  “Yeah, so?” It’s not a big secret—I already told everyone last week why I was attending all different classes.

  “So, don’t you think you should leave her alone?”

  “That’d be a negative.”

  “But…she’s made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to go out with you.”

  “I know, and I’m cool with that. We’re best friends now, Ella. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

  Ella’s not buying what I’m selling. “What are you up to?”

  “Only very good things, baby sis.” I sling an arm around her shoulder.

  She sighs. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  Her skepticism begins to annoy me. “Why? Is it so hard to believe that I could be good for Hartley?”

  “Yes, it is. You know I love you to death, but come on, Easton. You make decisions based on how people make you feel, not the other way around.”

  “Come on. I’m not that bad,” I joke.

  But Ella’s on a roll. “Are you denying it? Denying that you screwed around with your brothers’ girlfriends? That you told me once that—”

  Stung, I drop my arm and slow down. “Did I piss in your cereal this morning? Why are you throwing this shit in my face?”

  “Because I care about you. When you hurt people, it ends up scarring your own heart.” Her expression softens. “I want you to be happy. I don’t think this is going to make you happy.”

  “How about you stay in your own lane and worry about whether Reed’s being faithful all the way up at State without you,” I snap.

  As hurt floods her face, regret replaces my anger.

  “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was a crappy thing to say. Reed worships the ground your little feet walk on.” I ruffle the top of her head. “But, look, I’m being serious, okay? Hartley and I’ve come to an agreement. She needs a friend, and for some reason, I want to be that friend. I’m not going to hurt her and she’s not going to hurt me.”

  Ella doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

  “I do. We good?”

  She gives me a short nod and then throws her arms around my waist. “I want you to be happy,” she whispers against my chest.

  “I am,” I say and then escape to my classroom.

  I don’t like spending a lot of time in my head. Reed and Gideon are broody McBroodersons. I take action and don’t give much thought to how it’s all going to turn out. Probably because most of the time, it’s turned out okay. The times that it hasn’t? Well…

  If I spend too much time dwelling on the shit that’s gone wrong, then I’m bound to end up pouring pills down my throat like I did when I was fifteen and my mom’s depression caught her by the tail and wouldn’t let go.

  If hanging with Hartley made me deep dive into an emotional pit that would swallow me whole, I’d get off that ride. But being with her makes me feel good. She’s funny, doesn’t take much shit from me, and…I feel like she needs me.

  No one has ever really needed me. Ella needed Reed. My mom needed pills and booze. The twins have each other.

  Hartley is alone. And there’s something about her loneliness that strikes a chord in me.

  But I don’t want to dwell on it, so—very uncharacteristically—I pour myself into my next four periods. I answer questions. I volunteer theories. I participate, leaving my classmates and my teachers shocked as hell.

  “Are you drunk?” Hartley whispers to me during Government.

  I roll my eyes. “No. Are you?”

  She just wrinkles her forehead, still looking confused.

  And she’s not the only one. “What’s gotten into you?” Pash demands as we leave British Lit for lunch. “Is your dad riding your ass?”

  “Nah, I bet he has some big thing planned and you want cover, right?” guesses Owen, another teammate.

  “Can’t a guy answer a question in class without something being up?”

  Both Pash and Owen shake their heads.

  “Whatever you’ve got planned, count me in,” Pash announces. The two guys slap each other’s hands in agreement and then run off, presumably to spread the word that I’m going to execute some huge stunt.

  I let them speculate, because the answer inside my head—that I’m trying to forget the way a girl makes me feel—would sound even worse if I gave voice to it.

  Naturally, the first person I run into when I reach the cafeteria is Hartley. She walks by with a tray piled so high that I wonder if she’s getting food for another person in addition to herself. I scan
the room suspiciously but see no one lurking around. Except for me. I’m the only Hartley Wright stalker. Which is how it should be.

  “Need some help there?”

  Her head shoots up and the tray tips dangerously in her hands. I grab it before the pasta, sandwich and three bananas fall to the floor.

  “It’s fine, I can take it.” She moves to snatch the tray back, but I swing it out of her reach.

  I spot Pash in line and yell to him. “Grab me the curry dish, would you?”

  He gives me a thumbs-up. That task taken care of, I look for a place to sit. Usually, I sit with Ella, Val, and a few others, but I’m trying to avoid Ella and her prying eyes and nosy questions.

  I spot an empty table near the corner that everyone avoids because the administration had this bright idea to plant trees in hopes of brightening up the place. Thing is, there was a bug infestation last semester, and the corner was filled with them. Now, everyone’s afraid to sit there. Hartley wasn’t here last year, so she won’t know this.

  “Really, I can carry that,” she insists.

  “I know.” I don’t stop until I reach the table. I set the tray down and pull a chair out for her. “But we’re best friends now and besties eat together. It’s the law. Look around.” I wave a hand around the room where all our classmates are grouped together in twos, threes and more. “We’re herd animals. We like to be together.”

  She scratches some spot on her neck and eyes me warily. “I think I’m more of a loner.”

  “Great. We’ll be alone together.” I tug my tie loose. I don’t mind the pants or even the blazer, but the tie we have to wear pisses me off.

  “Here’s your lunch.” Pash appears at Hartley’s side and sets the tray on the table. “Why aren’t we sitting down? Is something wrong?” He gives me an alarmed look. “Wait, are the bugs back?”

  “What bugs?” Hartley asks.

  I slice my hand in front of my neck for Pash to ixnay on the bug shit, but he’s not paying attention. “I hated those freaking things. If whatever you’re planning deals with bugs, you’re on your own.”

  He runs off before I can correct whatever misconceptions he’s cooked up. It’s better this way.

  “What’s this about bugs?” Hartley repeats.

  “Are you scared of them? I’ll kill them for you.”

  “I can kill my own bugs, thank you very much.”

  “Good. I hate them. I appoint you as the official bug killer. But don’t worry, this is a bug-free zone.” Or at least I hope it is.

  Our asses barely hit our respective chairs when a cheery voice calls my name from across the dining hall.

  “There you are, Easton!”

  Every head in the vicinity swivels to watch Felicity sway over to my side.

  “Thank you for saving me a seat,” she gushes.

  When she leans down and kisses my cheek, a collective gasp silences the room, followed by a huge boom of chatter as the gossip machines crank into high gear. Damn it. Not this again. She’d texted me like a dozen more times last night, but I ignored every message. I’d hoped that if I kept ignoring her, she’d go away.

  Obviously that was hoping for too much.

  Across the table, Hartley’s mouth quivers as if she’s trying not to laugh. I’m suddenly glad I told her about Felicity’s crazy fake relationship idea, otherwise Felicity’s grand entrance might’ve freaked her out.

  “I didn’t save you a seat.” I cross my arms and try to look as foreboding as possible.

  Felicity’s hide is tougher than an armadillo’s. She trills an annoying laugh and drops next to me. “Of course you did.” She turns to Hartley. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Felicity Worthington.”

  Hartley nods. “Hartley Wright.” She sticks out her hand and offers it to Felicity, who, like the bitch she is, proceeds to ignore it.

  “I’m Easton’s girlfriend. We just started going out this weekend, isn’t that right?”

  “Felicity,” I growl.

  “What?” She blinks innocently. “I didn’t realize we were keeping it a secret.”

  Biting my lower lip, I send a pleading look to Hartley. For the love of God, help me! Get me out of this!

  Instead, the little witch does the opposite.

  “Oh wow, I’m so happy for you guys!” Hartley exclaims. “New relationships are so much fun, aren’t they? Like, those first few weeks where everything is so shiny and perfect and you’re just all over each other? Isn’t that the best?”

  It’s the most bubbly I’ve ever seen her. Too bad it’s fake.

  She beams at me. I try to convey with my eyes that I am going to murder her after lunch.

  “The best,” Felicity agrees, and to punctuate that, she scoots closer and rests her head on my shoulder.

  I unceremoniously shift three inches to the right. Felicity topples over, nearly smacking her head on the side of the table before managing to regain her balance.

  “You two look precious together. You should be in an ad. Oh, wait, I have an idea.” Hartley twists around and pretends to look for someone. “Who does the pictures for the yearbook? Your first lunch together should be commemorated.”

  No one answers her. She shrugs and pulls out her phone. “How about I take a picture and when I come across the person in charge, I’ll send it to her.”

  She aims the camera at us.

  If it was acceptable to strangle a girl in the lunchroom, my hands would be around Hartley’s throat. Instead, Felicity decides to drop into my lap and I have to use my hands to push her aside.

  “No pictures,” I growl.

  Hartley pretends to think it over. “You’re right. You should have a professional photographer for your first picture. You can only have one first time.”

  “You wanna die, don’t you,” I warn.

  Felicity gives Hartley a patronizing smile. “I appreciate how you’re trying to cover your jealousy with this fake happiness, but be warned. Easton and I are a couple now. You’ll learn to accept it. In the meantime, if you want to feel sorry for someone, go console Claire.”

  We all turn to see Claire two tables over, wearing an expression of utter despair. I grimace and shift away. Hartley’s glee slides off her face, too.

  Felicity, on the other hand, can’t stop beaming. “Oh, there’s our new quarterback.” She waves a hand. “Bran! Bran. Over here.”

  Bran waves back and wanders over to us. “Hey, thanks for the invite,” he says as he sets his tray opposite mine. “I wasn’t sure where to sit today.”

  “There’s a football table.” I point my fork toward the two large groups of guys near the window.

  “I see them every morning,” Bran says. “I think that’s enough togetherness, don’t you?”

  It’s hard to say no since I hardly ever sit with them, either.

  “This is nice,” Felicity announces. “What’s your family do, Bran?”

  A confused expression crosses his face. “Ah, I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “She wants to know where you fall on the ladder of capital success. In other words, whether you’re important enough to talk to,” I explain.

  Felicity clucks her tongue. “That’s not true at all, Easton.” But she ruins her fake humility by repeating herself. “So what is it that your parents do?”

  “My dad’s an accountant and my mom is a teacher at Bellfield Elementary.”

  “Oh, well, that’s…” She flounders for an appropriate adjective, because in her mind, she’s appalled.

  “Arthur Fleming’s got a seat available next to him.” I gesture to the slender senior with the dark brown hair and round hipster eyeglasses. The Flemings own a major frozen food company. “And I hear he’s single.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good,” Bran says dryly.

  “He meant me, sweetie.” Felicity pats Bran on the hand before addressing me. “Why would I care about that when I have you, Easton Royal?”

  Hartley laughs out loud, then quickly covers up the sound with a cough.
“So,” she says to Bran, “how were your classes this morning?”

  With a grateful smile, he answers, “Not bad, although I’m surprised at the amount of homework I have. My teachers at Bellfield didn’t assign this much shit.”

  “I know, right?” Hartley groans. “I’ve got a paper due in three weeks and I need to plan for the chem project. I don’t want to be doing that last minute.”

  Bran clucks his tongue in sympathy. “I did my science lab last year. I can give you my notes—”

  “Ella! Val!” I wave the two girls over.

  Bran breaks off at my glare. I can see where this is going and I need to nip it in the bud. Bran will give his notes to Hartley and then it will lead to Bran at Hartley’s tiny apartment, sitting on the sofa. Their heads will be close together. Then his mouth will be on hers, followed by me busting the door down and breaking the arm of our new quarterback.

  Just because I’ve resigned myself to the fact that Hartley and I won’t be banging doesn’t mean I want Bran Mathis anywhere near her.

  Luckily, Ella and Val make their way over, bringing with them a change of subject.

  “Why are we sitting here today?” Val asks. “Don’t we always sit by the windows?”

  “There wasn’t enough room,” I reply, kicking out a chair for her to take a seat.

  “But our table has plenty of—”

  “It’s quieter here,” Ella interrupts. “I think that’s why Easton chose it. Right, East?”

  I roll my eyes. Since when do I have to explain myself? “Right.”

  “How nice of you to join us,” Felicity says, but her tight smile reveals that she doesn’t like this development at all.

  I remember her insinuation that she could easily take Ella down, and a frown creases my forehead. If she messes with my family, I’ll mess right back.

  Bran and Ella know each other from Spanish and start chatting right away. Val and Hartley start talking about Val’s eye makeup.

  Leaving me stuck with Felicity, who tugs on my sleeve. “Let’s go out tonight.”