by A. Jade
Oakley looks like he lost several rounds with Mike Tyson, and I look like I woke up in a seedy alley after spending the nightclubbing.
We make quite the pair.
P rincipal Ryan is downright seething. “What do you mean you plead the fifth?” He thrusts a finger at Oakley. “You have a black eye, a bruised nose, and a bloody lip.” He points to me. “And you...” He falters. “Let’s just say you’re not exactly following the dress code, young lady.” His beady eyes shift between us. “Several students have come forward to report that an altercation happened between you two before homeroom this morning.”
Oakley shrugs. “Define altercation.”
I follow suit. “Define several.”
My aunt throws her hands up. “I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous. There’s no way my niece is capable of causing so much damage to a boy my stepson’s size. Not to mention, why in the world would she beat up her own cousin?” She casts a look of sympathy our way. “I think they’re not coming forward with the truth because someone is threatening them, and you need to figure out who.”
My uncle Wayne sighs. “Settle down, Crys. I told you to let me do the talking.”
I can see where Oakley gets it from.
He fiddles with his watch. “Calling us down here was a waste of time. You can’t charge either of them without firm evidence. All you have is hearsay.”
Principal Ryan looks so frustrated I bet he’s considering taking up drinking full-time. “We are not in a courtroom, Mr. Zelenka. I don’t need evidence to suspend or expel a student.”
I say a silent prayer to the good Lord up above. Please, expel me.
He huffs out a breath. “Multiple students reported the fight between them started because of a rumor about…” He flounders like a fish. “Their close relationship.”
This is awkward.
Wayne looks bored. “Really? That’s all?”
Principal Ryan’s flabbergasted. “What do you mean, that’s all? We have a zero-tolerance policy at Royal Hearts Academy when it comes to violence…amongst other things. We pride ourselves on class and dignity.” His face turns red. “Regardless of what goes on in your household, this school will not condone any immoral activities.”
It takes so much self-control not to laugh, I shake a little. Not only are we not having sex, we’re not even blood-related.
Wayne pokes the desk with his finger. “You know, for someone who claims to pride themselves on class and dignity, it’s abhorrent that you would suggest my son and his cousin are involved in some kind of sexual relationship. I should have your perverted ass arrested for slander.”
“Mic drop.” Oakley spanks the air. “D.A. Zelenka is in the motherfucking house.”
I swear my uncle beams.
“Language, Oak,” my aunt hisses before she gives Principal Ryan a tight smile. “My husband has a valid point. There’s no way in the world these two are involved.” Concern flickers in her gaze when she looks at us. “Right?”
“Right,” I assure her.
Oakley nudges me. “Stick to the script.” He places a finger over his lips and mouths, ‘Silence.’
Crystal stands up. “These are good kids, Jim. It’s obvious whatever you heard was nothing more than a rumor, and there’s no need to drag them through the mud.” She gestures to Oakley. “Instead of wasting everyone’s time blaming my niece—who by the way is a straight-A honor student—you should be looking for the real jerk who beat up my stepson.”
Principal Ryan looks sheepish. “You have a point, Crystal.” He blushes. “As always, you’re as intelligent and level-headed as you are beautiful.”
My uncle’s jaw bunches.
Beside me, Oakley makes a gagging sound. “Dude, come on.”
I look around the room. “Does this mean I’m free to go?”
Despite his crush on my aunt, he looks unconvinced. “Not so fast.” He takes a pad out of the drawer of his desk. “I’m issuing you a slip for after-school detention for the next three days. The both of you.”
Shit. “I can’t. I have work.”
“Why are we still getting punished when we didn’t do anything wrong?” Oakley questions.
He looks at my aunt and uncle. “Whether or not your parents want to believe it, it’s obvious something happened this morning based on your injuries.” He looks at me next. “In conjunction with the spray paint found on your locker, I doubt it was merely a coincidence.” Grabbing a pen, he furiously scribbles on his pad. “You might not be the culprit, but you both know who is and you’re covering for them.” He hands us both slips. “It’s the first week of school. If I don’t set an example now, it will only continue and get worse.”
“Hold on,” my aunt says. “Someone spray painted Dylan’s locker? Who would do something like that?”
“That’s precisely what I’m trying to figure out.”
Everyone turns to me.
I never thought I’d see the day where I’d squeal on Jace Covington.
But after what he did today, I don’t want to just sell him down the river, I want to drown the bastard in it.
I square my shoulders. “J—”
Oakley kicks my foot. “Don’t do it.” His mouth pulls tight. “Silence is your friend.”
I want to remind him that silence got us three days’ worth of detention, but he’s right.
There are other ways to get back at Jace.
I’ll strike when he least expects it.
Won’t stop me from pinning his crime on someone else though.
Like his precious girlfriend.
I look Principal Ryan right in the eyes. “Britney Caldwell. Yesterday she tripped me at lunch and today she spray painted the word thief on my locker.”
Oakley throws his hands up. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
Yup.
I’m destroying the kingdom.
And just like a game of chess.
You have to take down the queen before conquering the king.
Or in this case, the prince.
Chapter 19
JACE
I cut the engine and check my watch.
The bakery closes in five minutes, but Dylan’s already flipping the sign on the door from open to closed.
I click my tongue. Bad girl.
She shivers as she turns the lock, and for a moment, I wonder if she saw me. It’s unlikely though since the spot I parked in offers limited visibility from her angle.
And mine.
After tugging my ski mask over my face, I open my laptop and get to work.
Fortunately, Mrs. Dickinson’s security system only has one video camera inside the store, and it’s a cheap one.
A few keystrokes later, I’ve already hacked into the network and I’m pulling Dylan up on my screen.
I zoom in as she discards her green apron and reaches for a broom. She starts sweeping but pauses to shove her hand inside the pocket of her jeans.
A few seconds later her earbuds are firmly in place and she’s singing while she cleans.
I know exactly what song is pumping through her eardrums the moment she starts mouthing the lyrics.
“Sic Transit Gloria...Glory Fades” by Brand New.
Stupid name for a song, but it doesn’t take away from its worth.
Gritting my teeth, I tap my touch screen stereo and the taunting melody with cryptic lyrics fills my speakers.
The first time Dylan played it for me, I told her it reminded me of a cat and mouse chase gone wrong.
The irony isn’t lost on me tonight.
Neither is the way Dylan’s beginning to sway to the music.
The jeans and t-shirt she’s wearing aren’t particularly sexy, but the way the denim hugs her razor-sharp hipbones and molds around the curve of her ass as she moves to the beat most definitely is.
My dick stirs to life as I continue watching, but I’m too turned on to stop or scold myself for it.
Truth be told, I prefer this to our exch
ange in the closet where it took every ounce of willpower—the kind I wasn’t aware someone like me possessed—not to spread her thighs and watch my cock disappear inside her.
Observing her through a screen allows me the chance to let my dirty fantasies roam without the impending guilty conscience that always follows.
Here, in my car, I can pretend Dylan isn’t the conniving traitor she is, but the girl I once believed she was.
The one I broke the rules for.
Including the most important one of all.
Her phone falls out of her pocket due to her movements and she bends over to pick it up, granting me an even better view of her round behind.
I bite my knuckle as a punch of white-hot heat licks down my cock. “Fuck.”
I press my hand against my zipper to ease the ache, but it only makes it worse. Especially when she puts her hair up and I catch sight of the bite mark I left on her neck.
My other hand tightens around the steering wheel. I want to sink my teeth into every inch of her flawless flesh. Show her how much she makes my blood burn and my skin crawl.
How much she fucks me up.
I bet if I knocked on the door right now, she’d let me in. And with enough convincing from my mouth and fingers, I’d have her bent over the counter, taking every inch of my punishing dick hard and fast from behind.
Mind spinning, I grip my door handle.
And then it happens…just like it always does.
Guilt sinks its claws into my chest.
He never got to have a job.
Why should she?
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I inhale a breath and turn off my stereo.
Get your head in the game, asshole.
I eye the crowbar on the floor of my passenger seat.
The plan was to come here right after her shift so I could frame her for robbing her boss and get her fired. Not jerk off while she dances and sings.
Dylan Taylor doesn’t get to be happy.
She deserves nothing but misery and heartache. The same kind she inflicted on me and my family.
Peering down at the screen, I watch her wipe down the glass countertop.
She’ll be closing shop in a few more minutes.
I scan the parking lot for Tommy’s car since he was the one who dropped her off, but there’s no sign of it.
Good. I won’t have to slam my crowbar into his skull and spend the next twenty-five-to-life in jail.
Pressing a few keys on my laptop, I shut the video camera off for the night so I won’t get caught.
After putting on my gloves, I reach over the seat for my crowbar at the same time my phone starts vibrating.
Oakley’s name flashes across the screen, but I ignore it.
When it goes off a second time in under a minute, I press a button on my steering wheel and accept the call.
The fucker is relentless, and he’ll keep dialing until I answer. Especially now that he knows I’m ticked at him for befriending Dylan.
“Yo.”
I stuff the crowbar into the pocket of my black hoodie and flip my hood. “What’s up?”
“Not much, running a few errands. Was wondering if you wanted to meet up for a little impromptu smoke sesh.”
Ordinarily I would, but fuck him and his weed for defying me. “Can’t. I’m busy tonight.”
“Oh, word? What you getting into? Maybe I’ll swing by.”
I should tell him it’s none of his business, but if shit goes south, I could use the alibi. “I’m chilling with Britney.”
I leave the implication hanging in the air.
“Interesting,” he muses.
I don’t have time to deal with him being butthurt or passive-aggressive about being snubbed. He did it to himself.
“Yeah. Catch you lat—”
My driver side door opens. Shit.
“Britney?” Oakley ducks his head inside my car. “Unless she’s in the trunk, I’d say you’re a fucking liar.” Quirking an eyebrow, he assesses me. “And unless you’re planning on skiing down the roof of that building, I’d say it also looks like you’re about to do something really dumb.”
Ripping my ski mask off, I shove him back and step out of my car. “Fuck off.”
He lights up a joint. “Is there a way to fuck on? If so, I’d much rather do that.”
His attempt at humor falls on deaf ears. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Me? What the fuck are you doing here?” He sweeps a hand up and down. “I might not be the smartest person out there, but I do know a black hoodie along with a ski mask and crowbar spell trouble.”
“I told you. I had to take care of something.”
He makes a face. “Don’t tell me you came here to attack Dylan. I know you hate her, but this is going too fucking far, man.”
I grind my molars. He doesn’t get to tell me what’s too fucking far. Not when it comes to her.
I laugh, but there’s not a drop of humor. “Are you seriously going to stand there and protect the girl who kicked your ass in front of the whole entire school?” Stepping forward, I snatch the joint from him. “Get the fuck out of my face, you make me sick.”
“It’s like I don’t even know who you are anymore.” He rips the joint out of my hand a second before it reaches my lips. “You two have beef, I get it. But your beef with her isn’t mine. I don’t want to be forced to pick a side or make her life hell because of some shit that happened back in the day between you two. You’re my boy, but she’s—”
“Family,” I finish for him.
And therein lies my biggest problem with Oak. He’s never given me a reason to doubt him or his loyalty. Until now.
“For the next year, we’ll be living under the same roof. I’d like things to be copacetic, you know?”
He offers the joint to me, but I decline. “Makes sense.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t look at me like that, man. Nothing has changed. I’m still your best friend.”
“Sure.” I’m placating him and he knows it.
Before I can blink, he charges me. “Stop being such an asshole. For the last four years, I have done everything for you aside from sucking your motherfucking dick, and now you’re gonna act like I did you dirty because I won’t help you destroy this girl’s life?” He spits on my car before walking over to his. “Fuck you.” He slaps his chest. “You don’t want to be friends with me anymore? Fine. Unlike you, I don’t need to go around ruining people to feel good about myself, you prick.”
Leaning against my Lexus, I stare him down. “You done yet?”
“Yeah.” He takes a cleansing breath. “Yeah, I think I am.”
“Good.” I take a step closer. “Because the next time you spit on my property, I’ll knock your fucking teeth out and piss in your skull.” I take another step. “You don’t want to choose sides? Fine. But don’t stand there and act like it’s because you’re so fucking noble. I can smell your bullshit from a mile away.”
The guy puts more effort into his relationship with cereal than he does with Hayley, and it’s clear he’s looking for a way to end it without having to be the one to pull the trigger.
“You’re not protecting or defending Dylan because she’s family and you’re a good guy. You’re using her.”
Something passes in his expression. “So what if I am?” He blows out a breath. “What’s the big deal?”
Christ. Oak’s like a puppy in constant need of supervision so he doesn’t chew on a wire and electrocute himself.
Even though I should be kicking his ass across the parking lot, I know us not being friends will hurt him ten times more than it will me due to all his abandonment issues.
I throw the pup a bone. “Using Dylan to make her jealous won’t help. You just need to find your balls and end the damn thing.”
He lights up another joint. “I wish it were that easy.”
“It is. Unless…” My insides coil when it occurs to me. “She’s not pregnant, is she?”
He winces. “No. Not that I know of.” He blows out a puff of smoke. “If she is, it’s not mine. We haven’t fucked in weeks.”
I want to remind him that it can take months for a chick to realize she’s knocked up, but I digress. With how uninvested he is, chances are it won’t matter to him anyway.
“Listen, the longer you keep dragging it out, the worse it will get.” I shrug. “But do what you want with your dick, man. Use and fuck Dylan or don’t. Either way, I don’t give a shit.”
“I’m not interested in fucking her.” Suspicion swirls in his eyes. “But I can’t help but think you might be.”
Oakley can go to hell. “Nah. Why would I dip my dick in some dry, mediocre meatloaf when I already have a nice juicy piece of filet mignon waiting for me whenever I want it?”
He flaps his hand around like he’s been burned. “Damn. You ain’t right, Covington. But since we’re on the subject, I heard Britney’s off the hook because her parents are throwing a fit and they never found the spray can.”
They never will because I trashed it.
“Yeah.”
I open my car door and get in. Dylan’s locking up the bakery, so she’ll be here any minute. Not only do I not want to see her, I don’t want her questioning my presence.
“Guess you’re heading home.”
“Yup.”
Since robbery isn’t on the menu any longer, I’m done here.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “We cool, man?”
For now. “Yeah.”
“What about Dylan? Are you done fucking with her yet?”
I smirk as I rev the engine. “If you really don’t want to be caught in the cross-fire, I suggest you stop asking me questions you won’t like the answers to.”
With that, I take off.
Chapter 20
DYLAN
“A re you sure I look okay?” Sawyer tugs on the long turquoise sweater she’s wearing. “It’s still the first week of September, maybe the sweater is a bad idea.”
I twirl the last strand of her hair around the barrel of the curling iron. I almost squealed when she agreed to nix the headband and let me do her hair.