by Mae Doyle
He shakes his head. “Bethany doesn’t have one. I have one because my parents couldn’t stand the sight of me after the accident. So, this isn’t really a present for me. It was more of a jail cell since they wouldn’t send me to a real one.”
My heart flutters and I take another drink of coffee. He didn’t put any sugar in this cup and it’s bitter. I scowl and swallow it. It splashes into my empty stomach and I have to take a deep breath to avoid the feeling of throwing up.
“So now you just take out all of your rage on innocent people like me?” I’ve heard enough and I stand up, pushing the chair back with me. “Well, fuck you, Clay. Fuck you and the fact that you’re a murderer. Take me to school.” I cross my arms over my chest, daring him to try to stop me from getting what I want.
He chuckles. “Like that, kitten? You want to go to school dressed like that?”
Shit. “Where are my clothes from last night?”
Casually, he shrugs, and takes another bite of bacon. I want to smack it out of his hand, but I’m afraid to get too close to him. “I had to throw the shirt away. Somehow you lost all of your buttons, little Elle.”
Anger rages in me. “I didn’t lose my buttons. You were going to rape me last night, or did you forget?” Slamming my hand down on the counter, I make all of the dishes rattle.
“Oh, I didn’t forget. But I wasn’t going to rape you, Elle. By the time I was ready to take you, you would have been begging me for it.” He winks at me over his mug.
I hate him for looking so cocky, but especially for the fact that he seems to be able to read my mind. Nobody should know that I wanted him as badly as I did last night. I didn’t want him then, I didn’t want to get fucked in the parking lot, but I want Clay.
If he had just kept going…I don’t think I could have stopped him. I’m not sure that I wanted to, to be honest.
“Fuck. You.” Turning away from him, I stomp to the door. The suite is huge and airy but right now it’s stifling. I can’t seem to catch my breath and I just have to be away from him. I can’t look at him anymore, and I sure as hell don’t want him looking at me.
Grabbing the door, I unlock it and throw it open, only to find Bethany crouched by the floor, a wicked grin on her face. Instead of looking ashamed, she laughs and stands up, brushing her hands on her skirt. “Well, good morning, lovebirds! I was coming to see if there was any early morning fucking going on, but it sounds like you haven’t gotten to the hate sex part of the day yet. Want me to leave and let you two at it?”
“Take me home.” I don’t want to throw myself at her mercy, but right now it’s my only chance. I have to get out of this house. I have to get out of this stupid little shit town, and right now she’s the best option that I have.
Bethany glances past me, looking at Clay with a raised eyebrow. He must shrug or nod, because she cocks her head to one side. “Fine. I’ll take you home, but you have to tell me what started the fight.”
“You don’t want to know.” I brush past her, walking to the garage, but she reaches out and grabs my arm.
“Oh, hell yeah, I do. Anything that gets your panties in a wad like this is something that I want to know about. So, you spill on the way or I’ll just keep driving.”
Exasperated, I rip my arm away from her grasp. I’m hoping that she’s joking, but when I look at her, I can see how serious she is. She winks and I sigh.
“Fine. Just get me the hell out of this house.”
Clay
“Clay, you get any of that sweet kitten cunt the other night? She deserved to have it stuck to her since she was so intent on running.” Teague jogs up to me, a shit-eating grin on his face. He and the other boys did a good job catching Elle before she escaped, but that doesn’t mean I want him thinking about her pussy.
I don’t want anyone thinking about her pussy. It’s mine, and I don’t like to share. He grows silent when I look at him, but he doesn’t look worried.
Teague knows that he and I are ride or die. I may get pissed off at him from time to time, but after what we survived together, there’s nothing that can tear us apart.
Not even Elle and her sweet little pussy.
“Actually, I think that I’m going to need your help with something.” After Bethany took Elle back home yesterday, I spent most of the morning locked in my suite, trying to come up with a plan. Today’s supposed to be the first day that she tutors me, so I didn’t want to miss out on that.
“You got it. Anything.” He stops in the hall and turns to face me.” Fuck, he may not be the brightest guy I’ve ever met, but he is passionate.
“She let it slip the other night that there are some family problems at her home.” I keep my voice as low as possible. As much as I trust Teague, I know that the halls at Kennedy Academy have ears. Some little shit is always listening in on my conversations.
“Bad problems?” The happy look on Teague’s face fades when I nod. He knows what I mean.
“So, we need to take care of that for her.” I made the decision without asking my boys, but I knew that they would support me in whatever I wanted to do. I just have to decide how far I’m willing to take this.
Elle is mine. She’s mine to protect, she’s mine to destroy. If I’m going to have her around to play with for the rest of the year then I need to make sure that she’s not getting hurt at home.
That’s what I keep telling myself, at least, but I’m not sure if I’m being honest. Sure, I want to play with her, but there’s part of me that wants more.
“You just tell me what you need and I’m there.” He pats my shoulder before pulling his phone out of his pocket. I watch as he flicks through a few screens before he looks back up. “Coach sent out an email that you won’t be at practice today. What’s up?”
“Tutoring.” Over Teague’s shoulder I see Elle walking down the hall towards us. She has her eyes locked on me and is holding her books in front of her body like a shield. It’s cute that she still thinks that anything could protect her from me.
“Sucks. Wait, with Elle?” Teague turns and looks behind him and Elle stops when she sees him. It isn’t until Teague turns back to me that she resumes her slow trek down the hall. “Well, enjoy the kitten, Clay. Let me know later what you decide, and I’ll talk to Brett and Robby.”
“Thanks.” He leaves and I watch Elle as she comes towards me. She’s closing the gap slowly, her steps smaller than normal, her shoulders hunched. She broke the other night, but it wasn’t me who did it. Her ponytail is still perky, but the rest of her looks exhausted. Instead of her tight-fitting jeans, she’s wearing a long skirt and a loose sweater.
I may have pushed her to the point of breaking, but it was fucking Ted who ruined my kitten.
“Elle, thanks for coming.” She looks surprised at the olive branch I’m extending and I have another minute to really take her in. I’m sure that most people here think that she’s gorgeous, but I can only see her in comparison to Tiffany.
“I didn’t really have a choice.” Cutting her eyes to the side, she watches as a group of students walk by us. The girls can’t keep their eyes off of me and are giggling, but I only have eyes for Elle.
What the fuck is going on with me?
“Oh, that reminds me.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a handful of cash. “Will this cover tutoring?”
Her eyes widen and she carefully takes it from me, making sure that our fingers don’t touch. “Yeah, this is enough for the month.” She slides it into her backpack.
“It’s for today.”
“Bullshit. That was a couple hundred dollars.”
I shrug, enjoying feeling like I’m in control without having to hurt her. “Yeah, but I know that you have big plans after graduation, so I thought that I would help you out with them.”
At first, I’m not sure that she believes me. Hell, she has every reason to think that I’m lying to her. Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, and I almost feel like she can read my mind. After a moment, she tilts her head to th
e side. “Okay,” she finally says. “Shall we get to the tutoring?”
I lead her into the classroom and sit down at a desk, waiting for her to see what else I’ve done.
It’s not that I felt bad about breaking her violin. I loved knowing that I could draw so much emotion from her. Seeing her weep and knowing that her tears were because of me? That’s power.
But then learning a bit about Ted? Fuck that guy.
Elle puts her books down on a desk next to mine and slides in the seat before she sees the violin case resting on the table. “Someone forgot their instrument.” I can see the longing in her eyes.
“Why don’t you play it?” I’ve wanted to hear her play since the other night. I want to see her cry her way through another piece.
For a moment, I think that she’s going to go get it, but then she shakes her head. “It’s not mine. It just wouldn’t be right.”
Ignoring her, I stand up and grab the case, bringing it back to her and putting it down on her desk. Before yesterday, I’d never been in a music store. I had no idea which violin to choose, or how to know if it was a good one.
The owner tried to talk to me about the scroll and bridge, but I didn’t care. I wanted a nice one, the nicest one they had, and I bought it.
“Open it.” She looks up at me, confusion splashed on her face. “Open it and play it.”
“It’s not mine.” Obstinately, she crosses her arms on her chest. “Someone left it here and I’m not going to touch it.”
“Elle, are you that fucking dense?” She rolls her eyes at me but doesn’t move. I snap the locks open on the case and lift the lid, watching her face as I do. Fuck, her eyes grow wide as soon as she sees it. Maybe it is a good one.
“Have you ever seen such a beautiful violin?” I can tell that she can’t help herself when she reaches out and gently trails her fingers along the neck, plucking the strings just a little, but then she drops her hands back down into her lap. “You should put it away. It’s way too expensive to be left out like this.”
Good. “It’s yours.”
She laughs, a dull sound that makes me shiver. “In case you forgot, Clay, you broke mine. You landed on it and smashed it into splinters. So, that is definitely not mine. Besides, it’s probably worth more than your parents’ mortgage each month.”
“Yeah, I know. I bought it.”
“You what? You have got to be kidding me.” She reaches back out and runs her finger along the violin, tracing its curve.
I have a sudden urge to pull her to me and trace her curves in the exact same way. She’s touching it like she loves it, like she wants to make love to it. It’s addicting.
“You just trying to make me forget that you destroyed my violin the other night?” She turns and looks at me, a scowl on her face. “Because just so you know, I remember. And I still hate you for it. This doesn’t make it better, okay?”
“But it’s a start.” I don’t ask her. I tell her. I know that as much as she hates me, this helps soothe her. I can see it in the way she looks at the instrument and in how she gently touches it.
“I never said that.”
Chapter 14
Elle
My insides are all twisted up like the last time I rode a roller coaster. It was with my dad, so I must have been really little, and as badly as I wanted to get on the ride, as soon as we were on it, I regretted everything.
I wanted to get off. I begged him to stop the ride, but he couldn’t. We had to finish the whole thing, him holding my shoulders as I sobbed into his arm. That was the first time that I realized that my dad couldn’t fix everything in life.
Now, I can’t help but wonder what he would do if he were here.
Hell, that’s useless. If he were here and not dead, then we wouldn’t have moved. I wouldn’t have ever met Clay. Mom wouldn’t have met Ted. Everything would be so much better.
When I tell Clay that him buying me this gorgeous violin doesn’t make me hate him less, I mean it. The wood of the instrument is cool under my finger as I trace its lines, and I have to force myself to shut the lid and lock the case.
I used to play the violin, but after the other night, I don’t know that I ever want to again.
“You know that you deserve it. First chair.” Clay looks intently at me, but I can’t hold his gaze. There’s a stack of books on his desk, and I point at them, wanting to get his attention off of me.
“We should study.” That’s what we came here to do, and that’s what I want to do. I know how to study. I can reduce our interactions to being centered around diagramming sentences and writing persuasive essays.
I know what to do when there are clear rules to follow, but Clay throws all of those rules out of the window. I hate him for it.
“No. I don’t need to study, Elle. Do you think that I’m that stupid?” He leans back in his chair, tipping it so that the front feet come up from the floor. I have a sudden violent desire to kick the legs out from under him and watch him topple backwards.
“You’re stupid if you think that I’m going to ever let you get close to me. I think that you’re stupid for paying me a wad of cash for nothing. And, yeah, I think that you’re stupid for breaking my violin and thinking that buying me a new one will make me not hate you.”
Without thinking, I walk over and shove his stack of books onto the floor. They slam and scatter, stray bits of paper sliding out and slipping on the slick surface.
“Feel better? When I’m really pissed, I like to go out to the football field and hit something. You ever hit someone, Elle?”
He stands up, the chair legs clattering on the floor as it rights itself, and towers over me. Immediately, I feel like I’ve made a mistake, but I don’t want to back down now. I don’t want him to see me stutter.
“No.” I’ve wanted to hit someone, mostly Ted. Over and over I’ve imagined punching him in the face, my fist making his skin slide around as he gasps for air. I’ve thought about what it would be like to feel his nose crunch under the impact and watch blood pour onto the ground.
But I’ve never followed through. I know that if I did, he’d kill me. The last time I slapped him, I thought that he was going to rape me. There’s no way that actually hitting him, making a fist and punching him as hard as possible, could be good for me.
“Hit me.” Clay is closer now. I didn’t notice him stepping closer, but he’s well within range for me to hit. My heart beats faster and I hear blood start to pump in my ears. It’s so tempting.
But what will he do to me if I actually hit him? I imagine him pinning me on the ground but this time not taking no for an answer. I imagine him touching me the way that Ted…
No. I can’t go there.
“I won’t.” Before I can turn away, though, Clay’s reached out and grabbed my arm. He pulls me back so that I’m pressed up against him.
Oh, shit, he smells good up close. I can smell the same cologne that I smell on his t-shirts all the time. I want to breathe him in, but I don’t want him to know that’s what I’m doing.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Punch me, Elle. I want you to hit me as hard as you can. I know that you have it in you. I know that you hate someone, even if it’s not me. I broke your violin, Elle. I pulled your shirt down and forced myself between your legs. Don’t you want to make me suffer for that? Or are you too much of a pussy?”
I do. I want to make him cry out as I beat him to a pulp. Without knowing what I’m doing, I step back and raise my fist. His eyes are locked on mine, his breathing shallow.
My heart is beating so loudly that I can hear it drumming in my ears. I’ve never felt this exhilarated before, or this scared. My mouth runs dry and I try to swallow.
“You’ll kill me.”
“Punch me. I’ve treated you like shit. Make me pay for the violin.” He pauses and I almost drop my fist. The magic is gone between us. There’s no reason for me to hit him, not when he already hates himself for what he’s done to me. If he didn’
t, he wouldn’t have bought me a new violin.
He must see the look on my face. “Pretend that I’m Ted,” he says, his voice clear in the silence of the room.
Is he baiting me? I don’t know, but right now I don’t care. I swear, I see red, which is something that I thought only happened in books. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve pulled my arm back and punched him as hard as I can in the stomach.
It’s like hitting a brick wall. He doesn’t even move, so I pull back and punch him again before balling my left hand up into a fist. No matter how many times I hit him, Clay doesn’t shift his feet and he doesn’t try to stop me.
I’m punching harder now, barely breathing between hits, my sight blurry with tears. I want to hurt him. I want to bring him to his knees and make him apologize, but I can’t seem to do it, no matter how many times I hit him.
Then it strikes me.
Clay knew this all along, and he was right.
I don’t want to hit Clay. I want to hit Ted.
I sob, a loud cry that rips through my body from my toes and I pitch forward into him. Immediately, he reaches for me and wraps his arms around me, pulling me to the same strong body that I was just beating on.
“Elle, Elle, you’re okay, kitten.” I’ve never heard his voice be this calm, this compassionate, and it makes me cry harder. I’m sure that I’m soaking his shirt with my tears, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“No, I’m not,” I finally manage, choking the words out. “I’m not okay, Clay.” Then, without really thinking about what I’m doing, I reach up and wrap my arms around him. He’s more solid and much stronger than I would have ever thought, and my arms fit perfectly around his waist.
What the hell am I doing?
Why the fuck am I hugging Clay Bryson?
Maybe because he finally pushed me to the point of breaking. Maybe I was closer to the edge than I ever realized, and Clay was the person to trip me and sending me falling, head over heels, with no end in sight.