And that—that only made me more curious. The Scotts had to be hiding something.
“Leave it be, Jaz, because you’re not going to like what you find.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, I actually do have plans this weekend.” Technically, just tonight, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’m going to a party. Going to make some new friends, have fun, maybe drink a little,” I chattered away, hoping to get his attention, and I did. It was only when I had his full attention that I added, “Did I mention I’m going to the party with a guy? I didn’t, did I? Well, I am, and for your information, he’s super cute. Very attractive.”
Vaughn’s lips thinned into a line, and he outright glared at me, which made me feel pretty good.
“Blonde, too,” I murmured, sighing out the most over-the-top, girlish sigh I could muster up. As if I swooned right there. “I’ve always had a thing for blondes.” I said that last part purposefully because Vaughn had dark hair like me. “Blue eyes, too—”
His tattooed hands dropped his spork, and I watched as those fingers clenched into fists. He did not like hearing about that.
It was probably a bad idea to poke the bear, but I couldn’t stop myself. He teased me about spying on his family—which to me made sense, because clearly the Scotts and Ollie were into some weird shit—so I came back to give rise to his jealousy by telling him about my date with Archer, only I was smart enough to know to keep Archer’s name to myself. The way Vaughn looked right now, I bet he’d go start a fight with Archer without any hesitation whatsoever.
It felt wrong to hold such power over him…but also kind of right. Had to be careful, otherwise it might just go to my head.
“Am I making you jealous, Vaughn?” I baited him, already knowing his answer.
Or, I thought I did.
Vaughn’s eyebrows came together, and his gaze was slow to rise off the table. “You…” It sounded like he was having a rough time speaking, or maybe he just didn’t want to admit it. “You are.” He shook his head, repeating, “I’m…jealous?” His words ended sounding like a question, as if, not once in his life, he’d ever been jealous. As if this was something new to him.
Maybe it was. Maybe he’d never let himself care for any of the other girls around here—to which I’d say, why me? What made me so special? I wasn’t, truthfully. I was special only in that I didn’t come from Midpark, wasn’t born swaddled in green. Toss me into a normal school in a lower socioeconomic community, and I was absolutely normal.
Vaughn shook his head, muttering, “What are you doing to me, Jaz?” As if I was changing him.
I swallowed, even though nothing was in my mouth. “I’m not doing anything to you.” And that was the truth, at least…I thought so. Maybe, unconsciously, I was doing something to him, but I would argue that he was also doing the same to me. Affecting me. Changing me. Making me like a bad boy with tattoos.
And not only that. Making me like a bad boy with tattoos and making me crave his touch. His intense stare. Those hands…those hands could hold onto you with a fervent vengeance, make you forget every last thought in your head.
“You are,” he whispered. Around us, the world faded away; suddenly there was no party tonight. No Archer. No blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy. There was nothing but him, no one but him.
My lower gut burned, and I found myself with the need to cross my legs and clench my thighs. “I don’t mean to.”
“But you do.”
The way he said it, as if it was so plain and simple what I did to him, made my face heat up. I had to break eye contact with him as I said, “I’m sorry.” Wasn’t sure what the hell I was apologizing for, but once I said it, I couldn’t take it back.
Sorry for riling the beast? Sorry for making him jealous? Sorry for doing whatever it was that I did to him?
I wasn’t sorry. I wasn’t sorry at all.
Vaughn was quiet for a while, and even though I no longer stared into those black eyes, I knew his attention was fully on me. His tightened fingers relaxed, no longer fists on the table, and they spread apart on the table’s surface, drawing my focus.
Hate. Pain.
Was that what I would get from him? Was that what our future held if I chose him?
“Don’t be,” he finally said, causing my eyes to snap up to his. “I’m starting to like it.”
I had no idea how to take that. I did know one thing, though.
Vaughn said I was affecting him, but he didn’t see the whole picture, didn’t see how badly he affected me. He did. He affected me so much more than I wanted him to, and it seemed, despite me trying to put up walls, he and Archer had knocked them down effortlessly.
Hell. I was in so much trouble with those two.
Chapter Nineteen – Jaz
I was never a girl to obsess over an outfit. Clothes were clothes; as long as the important bits were covered and I didn’t look homeless, I didn’t really care what I looked like. But, for whatever reason—ahem, mainly Archer—I wanted to look better tonight than I usually did. I wanted to look pretty.
No, wait. Not just pretty.
I wanted to be fucking drop-dead gorgeous, a kind of beautiful that would stop a man in his tracks and make him rethink his entire life.
A bit much? Maybe, but I was going for it anyway.
I dug through my closet for what felt like hours after school, tossing most of my shit aside, because that’s what it was: shit. I decided on a dress—a white and black number that my mom had bought me for Christmas years ago…a dress that actually still had the tag on it. Because, you know, I never wore it. Me and dresses didn’t mix; I wasn’t that girly.
Tonight, I would be, even if the outside weather wasn’t really permitting. I’d pair it with boots or something, and a badass leather jacket.
I tossed the dress onto my bed, finding boots that were a bit worn but would go well with it. Then I went to the dresser and chose a necklace. I’d showered right after getting home, so my hair was clean; the next step was to curl it. Or, more accurately, kink it into gentle, soft waves. Give my hair some lift, some volume.
It took me a while, but once I was done and dressed, once my hair was parted, the top half pinned back, I had to stop and appreciate my hard work in the mirror. The dress was slimming, the fabric clinging tightly to my body to show off my curves. The boots made my legs look longer, and the small bit of makeup I’d done around my eyes really gave me a nice, smoky look. I’d elected to wear some dark tights under the dress, to shield my legs from the cold.
Maybe I was overdoing it, but I didn’t care. I looked damn fine, and I knew not a sane soul would argue with me there.
I checked my phone, spotting that I had a text from Archer, saying he was on his way. The world outside was dark; dinner was late tonight. As far as I knew, Ollie hadn’t even gotten home yet. That was fine, as I wasn’t super hungry anyway. Who would be, when they faced a date with a ridiculously cute guy—a guy whose body was on a level of its own?
I unplugged my phone from its charger and grabbed my leather coat, shrugging it on before heading down the stairs. Mom was in the kitchen, her blonde hair held up in a clip on the back of her head, her slender figure wearing all white.
For a split-second, I thought she looked like she belonged here. Like she lived here, beyond the fact that she was Ollie’s maid. Who the hell wore white while they were cooking? It was a recipe bound for disaster.
The moment my heeled boots clicked on the tiled floor, my mom spun to face me. Her blue eyes widened in shock, and it took her an uncomfortably long time to say, “Jaz—why are you so dressed up?” She had a white apron tied around her equally white clothes; she was nearly blinding to look at.
“I’m going to a party,” I said, hoping I acted confident and not bitchy. I’d be a bitch if I had to be, but I was really hoping it wouldn’t be necessary.
“You are not,” she replied, giving her back to me once more as she returned her attention to whatever was cooking on the stove. “Take off your
coat and go back upstairs. Ollie just called and said he was on his way home—”
“I’m going to a party, Mom,” I repeated, my tone firmer. “And I’m going with a boy. He’s on his way here to pick me up.”
Mom practically slammed down the stirrer, whirling on me. Her eyes glimmered in irritation, and she stormed around the island, meeting my brazen stance with her own. “No boys.” Her tone had kept me scared for years, had basically forced me to play the good girl to her face and be the bad girl behind her back, but tonight I wasn’t having it.
Tonight was when I put my foot down and said no more.
“I’m eighteen,” I told her, in case she’d forgotten. “It’s time that I started dating. This isn’t the nineteenth century—” I wasn’t sure where I was going with that, but my destination was somewhere. “—I’m allowed to see boys. I’m allowed to be friends with them. And, I know this is crazy to you, but I’m allowed to kiss them.”
My mom had never looked more horrified than she did in that moment. “Jazmine Smith, you will not be seeing any boys tonight, and you will certainly not kiss them.” She lifted a finger, pointing to where the stairs were. “Up to your room.”
“This isn’t your house,” I told her, feeling oddly bold. “You can’t order me around.” Okay, she was my mom; technically she could order me around whenever the hell she wanted, but not tonight. Tonight I was going to that party, so help me God.
She let out an incredulous chuckle. “What has gotten into you?”
“What has…” I started to repeat her, but my voice cracked. What got into me? A whole lot of things, most of them stemming from her. “Mom, this might come as a shock to you, but a lot has gotten into me. First, you made us move, without any notice. Second, your stupid rules about changing our numbers and making me delete all of my old friends out of my life. Oh! And let’s not forget the whole no-boy thing, because you’ve been harping on that since I turned twelve.”
I sounded hysterical, and that’s because I was very much so, so hysterical that Mom could do nothing but stand there and blink.
“I’m tired of it,” I told her, “and honestly, I think I’m old enough to be able to decide who I want to spend time with—and if that someone is a boy? Then I guess it’s a boy. I’m not stupid, Mom, I won’t get pregnant, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not going to grow up and be like you—single and bored with your life because you have to work all the time to support the daughter that you never even wanted!”
Okay. That might’ve been a little over the top, huh?
But, you know what? It was true. Every little bit of it was true.
“Jaz,” my mom whispered, shaking her head gently, “how can you think I never wanted you?” She took a step towards me, excess water in her eyes. “I love you, honey, even if—” Mom stopped and shook her head, clearly not wanting to finish whatever she planned on saying.
But I needed to know. “Even if what?”
“Nothing,” my mom said, brushing me off. “Go to your party, if that’s what you want. Just be safe.”
That was such a switch from how she’d been seconds ago, I didn’t understand. I didn’t immediately jump on the chance to leave, even if I should have. Instead, I stood there staring at my mom like I hardly knew her. “Even if what?” I repeated, this time firmer, harder. So hard she flinched.
“What I was about to say was stupid,” Mom told me, blinking away the tears in her eyes. “Forget I said it.”
“Mom.”
We stared at each other for a while, each of us daring the other to leave, to say something, to do something. It was my mom who relented first. Softly, she whispered, “I was only going to say that…you look a lot like him.”
Him.
A bitter smile graced her face. “His looks could stop planes in the sky,” she muttered about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named 2.0. Not Voldemort, but worse.
My father.
For the first time, she rendered me speechless. Mom didn’t need to clarify who she meant by him; he was ingrained in my head forever, even if he’d never been a part of my life. An unknown for all these years.
The man whose name wasn’t even on my birth certificate because my mom claimed to not know who he was. She was tight-lipped about her early adult years; I never knew if she partied it up or if she slept around—but the way she looked right now, what she said, my mom knew exactly who my dad was. How else could I look like him?
Had she hidden him from me for all these years on purpose?
Why?
Since I said nothing, my mom gave me a smile. She reached for my head, tucking some wavy hair behind my ears before cupping my cheeks. “I’ve done everything for you, Jaz. I really hope you believe that,” she whispered. “I’ve done nothing but my best. I knew the day would come when you’d have to make your own way in this world…I just thought I’d have more time.”
The way my mom was talking, like tonight was goodbye, felt a little silly. I’d see her later, for goodness sakes.
“Mom,” I said, sounding uneasy, “it’s just a party. Cool your jets.” I stepped away from her hands the moment I heard my phone going off, and I walked towards the front door as I answered it. The caller-ID read Archer Vega, so I knew he was here. Beyond the gate, since I never told the guards to be on watch for him.
“I’m outside the gate. The guard’s not letting me in,” Archer said, sounding a bit awkward.
I grinned; I couldn’t help myself. “I’ll be right out.” I hung up and threw a quick glance at my mom, who still looked remarkably depressed as she stood staring off into space. “I’ll see you later, Mom. I’ll be safe, promise.”
Mom gave me a smile, but I could tell it was fake.
With a heavy heart, I left the Fitzpatrick house and began to head down the long driveway, zipping up my leather jacket over my dress. My dress actually had two pockets, and it was those pockets I shoved my phone into. I knew I’d be taking off my coat once we got to the party…I also really hoped I didn’t overdo it by looking so amazing.
The night sky was alight with stars, sparkling and giving light to this otherwise dark night. The moon was a thin crescent, a small sliver of its true self. I folded my arms across my chest as I walked to the gate, calling for the guard. Once the gate opened, I walked to the passenger side of the car, giving the guardsman a smile. It wasn’t Frank, the daytime guard. I liked Frank the most out of all of them; he was nice, and also the one I dealt with the most.
I got into the car and buckled my seatbelt, my face met with a blast of warm air from the vent in the dash. Archer’s blonde head was turned toward me, his eyes wide. “You look…” It would seem he was at a loss for words.
“I’m hoping the word you’re looking for is a synonym of good,” I deadpanned, giving him a smile.
Dimples appeared on his cheeks. “Right, yeah. You look amazing. I just…wow.”
All that with my jacket still on? The boy would be brainless once I took the worn pleather off.
He looked pretty smoking himself, but he always did. A thick blazer sat on top of a collared shirt, dark jeans hugging his legs as he glanced over his shoulder and backed the car up. As we started driving, I kept stealing glances at him, finding he did the same. We’d definitely make pretty babies…not that I was thinking about babies or anything, but his looks plus my looks? That would be downright explosive.
“So how overdressed am I?” I broke the silence of the car, turning my head to stare at him unabashedly.
“Seriously,” Archer said, trying to keep his eyes on the road but failing every few seconds, “you look hot, Jaz. You seriously blow everyone else out of the water. I feel like a troll beside you.”
I laughed. “Oh, come on. That seems a little extreme.” I playfully reached over the center console, giving him a soft shove I hoped was playful and flirty. “You’re a cute troll.”
“I’ll remember that,” he grinned.
Outside, the scenery began to change. The large houses grew
far apart, further and further until acres separated them, mansions whose land was too large to be fenced-in. Still in Midpark, but probably on its outer edges.
It definitely wasn’t the way to his house; I remembered it from that time before, when we’d perhaps gone a little bit further than we should’ve with each other. Still, it’d been fun, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly hopeful for more sex tonight. It was truly a stress reliever like no other.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
Archer stunned me by reaching for my hand, moving it to rest on the center dash. His thumb traced my knuckles, and I willed myself not to get lost in the gentle, pleasurable sensation. “You’ll see,” he spoke with a wink. And those dimples…
In another ten minutes, we arrived at what I would describe as a mansion in the middle of the woods. Tall trees, barren of their leaves, looked like skeletons surrounding the house, and as Archer drove us up the winding driveway, I peered around, spotting a whole host of cars parked along the driveway that curved along the house.
Three floors, probably half as big as Ollie’s house—and that was saying something, since the Fitzpatrick house was frigging huge—but still rich all the same. Since it sat so far off the road, and its neighbors weren’t anywhere in sight, I supposed no one would be calling and complaining about the noise.
As we pulled up, I saw that every single window in the house glowed from the lights inside. Based on how many cars were here already, I’d say the party was hopping. There wasn’t such a thing as late, just fashionably on time.
Archer parked his car in an empty space, undoing his seatbelt and opening his door. When he saw that I still stared up at the house, he paused to ask, “You okay, Jaz?”
Did my face give my nervousness away? Remind me to have a little chat with my face later, then. I didn’t want Archer to know how anxious I was about this whole thing, and I certainly didn’t want him to know this was my first party. I knew parties like this were had, but I never thought I’d walk into one, let alone go to one with a handsome guy on my arm.
Feisty: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 1) Page 15