Make Your Move (A High School Bully Romance): Hannaford Prep Year Two

by J Bree

  Harley tries to sit at the counter but I push him into sitting on the floor in front of the TV instead. I put Nightmare Before Christmas on instead of the bullshit carols and then we argue for the entire movie. Let's just say one of us thinks the movie is a Christmas movie and the other person is wrong. The french toast is the best I've ever had.

  I stand up to clear our plates and Harley's eyes catch on my bare legs. That's when I realize I'm only wearing underwear and the sweater. My cheeks turn scarlet and I rush to find some pants. Harley chuckles at me like we’re friends and I startle when I realize we are. Fuck, how did that happen?

  When I return from the closet, Harley has grabbed a bottle of whiskey from Avery’s stash and is sitting cross-legged on the floor where I usually study with Blaise. I’m a little worried about drinking with him again because last time I couldn’t control myself and I hate how awkward I felt around him afterwards. I don’t know how he found Avery’s hiding spot but when he grins and holds up a shooter glass I can’t help but cave. I roll my eyes and I grab the shot, downing it as I join him. He throws one back and chases it with a beer. Gross.

  “Ave’s told me you guys swap truths. I want to give that a go.”

  I arch an eyebrow at him and rub my palms on my yoga pants. “We also choose our own truths. I’m assuming you want to ask me questions?”

  He nods as he refills the glasses. “We take turns asking. If you want to pass, take the shot.”

  I’d have liver poisoning in under an hour but we’ve had such a good day I don’t want to spoil it by refusing. If I made it past ten shots I’ll bow out. I nod and he smirks at me, wolfishly.

  “Ladies first.”

  I snort. “There are no ladies here, just you and the Mounty trash. But fine.” I blow out a breath. There’s plenty I want to ask him. The problem is, if I go straight to the deep stuff he may pass or he could do the same and I’ll have to quit the game. I need to stick to light hearted stuff. “First kiss?” I tease.

  He flicks the lid from his beer at me. “Lame. Some chick in fifth grade. I can’t tell you her name, I honestly don’t remember. Yours?”

  Fuck. I didn’t think that through at all. I take a shot.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? How is that classified information, Mounty?”

  “It’s my turn to ask a question.” I refill my shot glass so I don’t have to look at him.

  “I’ll give you a freebie. You can insist I answer something if you answer this one.”

  Hm. Tempting. I could lie but now I’ve made a big deal out of it, he’ll guess. Maybe I’m becoming a lightweight with my booze because my stomach is warming my blood already. I give in.

  “You. Well, one before you but I don’t count it because…well, I just don’t. Just you because I also don’t count Blaise’s pity kiss.”

  It’s pretty clear Harley was expecting any answer except that. I want to cringe away from the shocked intensity in his eyes but my stubborn pride makes me sit and endure it. I’m trapped there until he breaks the spell, grabbing the bottle of whiskey and taking a big gulp. Then he leans back against the coffee table and smirks at me, cocky again.

  I clear my throat. “My turn. Why get a face tattoo? I know you have the chest piece but most people fill up their arms and even their necks before getting one on their face.”

  He doesn’t speak. The playful look on his face slides right off and he’s glaring down at his shot glass.

  Fuck. I thought that was a pretty safe question.

  We’re going to be at each other's throats before the end of the bottle at this rate.

  “I didn’t choose the tattoo. Or the placement.”

  I blink at him. I open my mouth to ask him more but he cuts in, “That’s your answer. You want another question, wait your turn.” There’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. I nod and wave a hand at him to take his turn.

  “Worst memory?”

  “Pass.” I take a shot.

  He rolls his eyes. “Worst memory you're willing to tell me?”

  Breaking the rules already and after he’s just quoted them to me, typical. I sigh and scour my brain for something. He already knows about my mom’s overdose. I can't talk about my life with the Jackal.

  “What's yours?” I whisper. He looks at me and tips back the bottle of beer, draining it.

  “My Da being killed. My grandfather shot him, point blank, right between the eyes. If I close my eyes I can still feel the heat of his blood hitting my face.”

  I swallow.

  Maybe I feel so safe with him because he’s broken too.

  Be brave, Lips, if he can do it then you can.

  “I’m pretty good at getting into places no one else can. I was given a job to take something from a well known marksman. Gun for hire. Assassin. Whatever you want to call him, he was the best of the best. I was terrified but I was also hungry. Lonely. Depressed and lost. I snuck in, got what I was paid to get, and I made it to the back door before he woke up. I sprinted to the gate but my leg had only been put back together for a few months at that point and I wasn't quick anymore. Diarmuid pointed a gun at me and told me to give up my employer or he’d shoot. I turned and stared him in the eye. I thought maybe seeing how young I was would be enough to stop him but he stared at me with steady, cold eyes. So I turned and ran, and he shot me. I had to run for two miles with a fresh bullet wound, then I got sewn back together with no pain relief by some nurse turned crackhead. It got infected and I nearly died.”

  I was being nice and telling him two truths at once; a bad memory and why his uncle had shot me. I knew he’d ask me at some point so why not just tell him? Harley nods and rubs at his chin, a fine dusting of stubble growing where he hasn't bothered to shave. I can’t stop looking at it. It’s a little darker than the gold waves on his head. I want to rub my cheek on it or even feel the burn of him rubbing his cheek on me. God, I need to get my thoughts out of the gutter.

  “Who forced the tattoo on you?”

  He doesn’t flinch away or get pissy this time, he’s expecting me to dig for more information. He runs a finger over the rim of his shot glass like he’s going to pass. I’m surprised when he speaks. “My uncle. My Da was the oldest in the family. He had nine siblings, four full blood and the rest were from my grandfather’s second marriage. Domhnall was the next boy born and he’s set to take over now that I’m out.” He doesn’t look up at me, his eyes just stay on the amber liquid in the glass. “There was a threat made against me and Ma. My grandfather didn’t give a shit. He said casualties were the price they paid for being in the business they were in and Da should just deal with it. Da didn’t trust his gut and Ma was taken. She was left outside my grandfather’s house a week later but the damage was done. She now lives in an institution for the mentally ill. It broke Da and he left, took off and left me with my grandfather. When he came back to get me, he told the family he was out. They killed him. Then, they held me down and tattooed me. The family creed is actually ‘Blood, Honor, Faith’. They said that Da had put Ma before his blood, which he did. It’s not something he was ashamed of but they tattooed me to try and shame me for what he did.”

  He takes another swig from his beer, draining the bottle. “I found out later that my grandfather was the one who took Ma. My uncles all helped…torture her. They kept saying Da put his honor, his pride, before his blood. They’re fucking crazy. The tattoo was shit, looked awful because I was only nine when they did it, and I was screaming and trying to get them to stop. When I grew it got even worse, stretched and faded out. Two years ago Ash and Blaise dragged me to a parlor and we had it redone. None of us have good families, blood doesn’t mean shit, but we chose the family we have now. So, when I got mine they both got our new creed tattooed too. Avery keeps saying she’s going to get it done as well but she’s an absolute fucking sissy about needles so I’m not holding my breath. I don’t need her to get it anyway, I know she’s one of us.”

  I let his words soak in but one thin
g is clear to me.

  Liam and Domhnall O’Cronin are going to die.

  Fuck it, I’m going to wipe every last O’Cronin out of the state, barring Harley and maybe Diarmuid.

  My fingers actually tremble from the rage I’m trying to contain. I’m glad he’s still staring at the floor because my face is all Wolf right now. Fucking Liam O’Cronin! I’m going to shame that miserable old bastard and then I’m going to kill him. Or help Harley do it. I’m cool either way.

  “How did you go from being shot by Diarmuid to being friends? He hugged you like…like he had a right to. I’d swear that you’d slept with him if he hadn’t made that stupid comment about your tits.”

  Why is he so damned fixated on my sex life? Or lack thereof, not that he knew that. “Our mutual acquaintance put him on the books. We met in friendlier circumstances and he kept asking how I'd gotten through his security. When I finally realized he was impressed not pissy I told him and then he started acting like we were best friends. I haven’t slept with him, and I won’t ever in the future. Even if my tits do fill in.”

  Harley scoffs and opens another beer. “Your tits don’t need to fill in, they’re fine. My Da used to go on and on about how good of a shot Diarmuid was. I wanted to learn from him. I wanted to be just like him.”

  I try to ignore him calling my tits ‘fine’ because I don’t know if he’s insulting me or reassuring me. I feel like he’s opened the door to talking about relationships and romantic interests so I ask the question that’s been keeping me up for weeks, trying valiantly not to blush or look too interested in the answer.

  “Who are you dating? She seems to be causing waves in your tight-knit family.”

  “I’m not dating anyone. Who told you that?” the warmth has leached out of his voice and his eyes are guarded again. Great. Why is he allowed to ask if I’m sleeping with his uncle but I can’t ask this without a mood swing?

  “Blaise. Avery asked about his black eye and he said he’d been making a move on your girl. No, wait, he said you accused him of moving in on your girl.”

  He blows out a breath and looks up at the ceiling. I’m getting a fair bit of that out of these guys and I don’t know what the hell it means. I need to ask Avery.

  “I gave him the black eye in the ring. He was mouthing off and I got pissy. We usually don’t aim for the head but I lost my cool and cracked him.”

  I fight the shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Oh. So, no girl?”

  He gives me a sly look. “Not yet.”

  Huh. That sounded like there was going to be one soon, as if he’s chasing some girl. That’s probably who he’s been texting throughout the day. Fuck. “Let me know. I’m running background checks on everyone we get involved with from now on. I do not want another Annabelle or Rory getting close ever again.”

  He nods and puts the rim of the beer bottle up to his lips. I try so hard not to watch but he’s like a magnet, drawing me in until I’m stuck drooling over him. I watch his throat work and I have to squeeze my thighs together at the sensations running through me. Right, mind out of the gutter Lips. Mind out of the gutter. He’s so unbelievably hot, it is cruel to sit so close to him.

  “I'm fairly observant, I think sometimes you underestimate that.” He says, his voice warm and dripping like honey, as he pours another shot. I have to clear my throat twice to find my voice.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

  Excuse me?

  What the fuuuuuuuuuuck?

  Was it that obvious? Was our little make out session that bad? Oh my fucking god, I’m a fumbling idiotic virgin and he spotted it. No wonder he wanted to stop. When I stare at him, jaw clenched and my eyes narrowed, he fixes his stunning blue eyes onto mine. “Yep. I'm observant enough to realize that Joey had to be your first kiss. You told me and Blaise at breakfast on the first day back after summer break, you said you held a knife to his dick. Now you’ve just told me I was your first real kiss, that the other one didn’t count. So, unless you’re out fucking guys like the chick in Pretty Woman then I’d guess you’ve never had sex before.“

  “How have you seen Pretty Woman?” I’m grasping at straws, trying to buy my brain some time to recalibrate.

  He rolls his eyes at me. “When Ave’s sulks over guys she watches three movies; Pretty Woman, Dirty Dancing, and Ghost. I dunno, it has something to do with Aunt Alice. Stop avoiding the question. Answer it or take the shot.”

  I still hesitate. It’s not like I’m ashamed about it, other than my lack of skills. I’m actually proud, considering where I grew up and the six years I spent in foster care. It’s just that everyone at this school seem to bed hop and while I don’t want to do that I also don’t want news of my untouched status getting out and the damned bet getting out of control.

  Harley misreads my indecision and curses viciously. “If Joey touched you, I'm driving to his place tonight and I'm setting it on fire. I will burn that fuck alive.”

  A shiver runs down my spine and pools between my thighs. Not for the first time, I think about how damaged I must be to find him irresistible when he talks so casually about enacting blood-soaked revenge for me.

  “No, it’s-he didn’t. He tried but I’ve found a sharp knife nestled against a guys dick is usually a good deterrent. I’m more worried about the bet. How much bigger do you think the payout will be if they find out I’m a virgin?”

  Harley groans and rubs his eyes. “I forgot about that stupid fucking bet. So you spent your first year here being accosted by horny guys trying to talk you into a quick fuck for money and every single one of them assumed you were up for it because you’re a Mounty girl.”

  I was tempted to point out how often he and his friends called me a slut and accused me of using sex to get my way but he’s actually being really sweet so I let it go. When his hands lower he looks a little embarrassed so I think he realized it all on his own.

  We fall back into silence, only the sounds of us drinking to be heard. My phone pings and I ignore it. I don't want the Jackal sullying this moment.

  “You should get that. Avery is freaked out that you haven't texted her back.”

  Crap.

  I WILL DRIVE BACK THERE IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME SOON ECLIPSE ANDERSON. Also, what is your middle name? I need to know it because apparently you pull the kind of shit that requires a full name sort of reaction.

  Well, shit.

  I scroll back to find out what I’m supposed to be answering. Fifteen from Avery on our private chat. Twenty-two in our group message. Fuck.

  Merry Christmas

  Thank you for the gift, you’re too sweet.

  Mounty, where did you get the photo? It’s so perfect, I cried.

  Well, no I didn’t because I’m not the crying sort. But I thought about crying which is basically the same.

  Senior isn’t home. First Christmas I’ve been able to relax.

  Has Harley joined you for brunch?

  Lips, I’m starting to get worried that you’ve been murdered.

  Ok Harley just text to say you’ve taken to your bed. I told him to make french toast.

  Look, I know you’ve got your demons about today but please get out of bed and text me.

  Ash said Senior not being here is your present to both of us for Christmas. Call me with an explanation please.

  I text Harley. How is it he can text me back while eating but you can’t? I’m feeling very unloved.

  Are you pissed at me or something?

  So help me, Mounty, I will set Ash on you.

  That’s a lie. I wouldn’t do that to you. Please text me.

  Fine. Merry Christmas, you scrooge.

  I hit call and wince when I hear the ice she breathes down the phone at me.

  “Is this the reanimated corpse of Eclipse unknown-middle-name Anderson?”

  The wince turns into a full-blown cringe and Harley takes one look at me and roars with laughter.

  What an asshole
.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Avery puts the photo I gave her in the kitchen so she can look at it while she cooks. While she was home, she had the photo blown up and put on a canvas and she hangs that one on the wall between our beds. My heart does little flutters every time I look at it until I force myself to stop looking at it so I don’t have a heart attack.

  I know Joey must have been awful over the break because Ash sleeps in our room for a full week when they get back. By Friday, Avery is sick of sharing her bed with him and kicks him onto the couch. I try to move around quietly when I get ready for class because his start later and he prefers to sleep until the very last second he can.

  I open my drawers to find one pair of underwear. One. So with the pair I just took off that means I have two freaking pairs of underwear left and, like, twenty pairs missing. What. The. Fuck.

  I stomp over to the bathroom and wake Ash up with my raging. He cusses me out without even opening his eyes and I snap back at him, “Sleep on your own fucking couch then!” and slam the door behind me.

  The hot water mellows me out a little and by the time I exit the bathroom, I’m level enough to apologize to Ash as he heads in for a shower. Avery hands me a plate of toast and a cup of coffee, and I slump onto the couch to mope.

  “I’ll have some more delivered today and we can go see the ladies in the laundry to find out where they’re disappearing from.”

  I nod and eat my food. Ash joins us for breakfast and when he’s finished he grabs Avery’s laptop and sits next to me on the couch. When I see the website he’s on I blush. He smirks back at me. “What? I don’t know where Mounty’s shop. Is there a slum version of Agent Provocateur?”

  I elbow him in the ribs but he doesn’t take notice. “I can buy my own underwear, thank you very much.”

  He shrugs. “You can but after waking me up you’ll be nice and let me do it. It’s one of my true skills in life.”

  Avery narrows her eyes at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “What would you know about choosing lingerie?”