by Ashley Jade
Oh. Hell.
I scan my brain, but fail to come up with a valid reason why I should stop that train from leaving the station.
My virginity is for my future husband, but it doesn’t mean I can’t experience other things.
Especially things that make me feel so good.
Like the way Cole’s squeezing my boobs while his mouth eagerly goes back and forth between them, as if he can’t decide which one he likes more, so he’s determined to have both at once.
A tremor runs through me when he tugs the cups of my bra down, exposing me.
“Even better.”
My lungs seize and the trembling gets worse the second his mouth lands on my skin. I’m so nervous, I feel like I can’t breathe.
“So soft,” he slurs into my flesh.
His sluggish voice sounds a million miles away.
I try to respond, but the pressure in my chest gets worse.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was having a...
Shit on a stick.
I haven’t had an asthma attack in over six months and it happens now.
Wheezing, I stretch my arm over my head and grab my purse off the pillow. It’s where I keep the inhaler my mom insists I have with me at all times. Just in case.
Bringing it to my lips, I quickly suck in one puff and then another. Relief flows through me as the pressure dissipates and I fill my lungs with air.
Cole’s been surprisingly silent during the whole ordeal, but I can’t blame him. It’s safe to say I’ve officially ruined the mood.
I draw in another deep breath before speaking. “Sorry about—”
The sound of him snoring softly has me swallowing that sentence.
I look down, and sure enough, his eyes are closed, and his cheek is nuzzling my left boob—like my tits are his personal freaking pillows.
He looks so content, it would almost be adorable if it wasn’t for what we were doing moments prior.
I can’t believe he fell asleep while I was having an asthma attack and he was…
I grind my teeth. I’m not sure if I should feel offended or embarrassed…or both.
I’m attempting to tuck the girls back inside my bra when I hear the sound of heels clacking outside the door.
Oh, God. Please don’t let that be Casey and her clan of bitches.
My first week at RHA, Britney—Casey’s predecessor—along with Casey and a few other cheerleaders, stole my clothes from the locker room while I showered. I had no choice but to roam the halls in a towel so I could find a teacher while everyone laughed and mooed at me.
Of course, Britney also posted a picture of the event on Instagram. It was horrible and hurt like hell, but it taught me a valuable lesson. A few of them actually.
Don’t put yourself in a compromising position—because students at RHA love starting rumors and thrive on gossip.
Never let your guard down around bitches.
Make sure you have spare clothes in your car and backpack.
My heart sinks. I’ve already broken rule number one tonight.
“Get up,” I hiss as I frantically button up my sweater.
Cole doesn’t budge and he’s too heavy to push off, but it doesn’t matter…the doorknob is already turning.
We’re both so screwed.
Serves me right. This is what I get for hooking up with another girl’s boyfriend.
Even though Cole is convinced Casey’s cheating on him. Two wrongs don’t make a right.
No matter how good the wrongs feel together.
“Get off me,” I growl in a last-ditch effort before the door opens and the lights flick on.
“What the hell?” Bianca’s brown eyes are wide as saucers. “Are you okay?”
For a moment I think she’s talking to her brother, but her gaze is trained on me.
The girl—who’s usually so cool and composed—looks like her entire world is crumbling.
That’s when it occurs to me what it might look like from her perspective. Crap.
“I’m fine,” I assure her, searching my brain for something that won’t expose our little tryst, but can still account for why he’s on top of me. “Cole was...” I hold up the inhaler in my hand, as though it explains everything. “Helping me breathe.”
Bianca lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
What is right because my next sentence is a steaming pile of horseshit, but the hole’s already been dug and it’s the best I can do.
Plus, my pride refuses to let me tell her the embarrassing truth.
I make a mental note to call Dylan when I get home, because at least she won’t make fun of me when she hears about Cole passing out mid-hookup.
“I was having an asthma attack when he stumbled in here drunk.” I clarify, mixing two elements of the truth together. “I told him I couldn’t breathe and he…started performing CPR.”
Yup, because that makes so much sense.
Understandably, she looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Why would he perform CPR if you have an inhaler in your hand, and you were still able to breathe well enough to tell him you couldn’t?” She crosses her arms. “Not to mention, how could he possibly do all that while he’s sleeping?”
Those are very good questions. Who knew Bianca was so astute?
“Right? To tell you the truth, I was wondering the same thing…but you know how Cole is when he drinks. He’s not exactly the most—”
“Did you find him?” Oakley calls out, barreling into the room behind her.
I’m not sure what to make of the look on his face when his eyes land on Cole who’s still snoozing…on top of me.
“Cole was giving her CPR,” Bianca offers with a coy smile.
Baffled and tipsy himself, Oakley scratches his head. “Well either he screwed up, or Sawyer got greedy and stole all his air until he passed out.” Eyes narrowed; he wags a finger at me. “You better fix him.”
Yeah, I really have to start tutoring him ASAP, because that is not how it works.
“Can one of you please close the door?”
I’m much better off containing this little fire between the three—make that four—of us.
Bianca starts to close it but pauses. “Fine, but only if you agree to do something for us.”
I don’t like the sound of this one bit, but I don’t really have a choice. “What?”
She looks at Oakley who’s lighting a joint. “Oakley drove us here, but he’s too trashed to drive now. And given Cole’s still in his” —she makes air quotes— “CPR coma and I don’t have a license, we’re gonna need a ride home.”
“Deal.” I glare at both of them. If Bianca can play the manipulation game, so can I. “As long as you two keep your mouth shut about this. Not that anything happened, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
Especially when I haven’t had a chance to wrap my head around what happened myself.
Not that I’m expecting Cole to break up with Casey and start dating me, but I do think we need to have a conversation about what transpired between us tonight. When he’s sober.
Oakley takes a drag off his joint. “Shit, I can barely remember what happened five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes ago, your tongue was still down Morgan’s throat,” Bianca mutters under her breath as she closes the door and walks over to the bed.
We both attempt to move her brother, but fail. Not only is Cole a lot heavier than he looks, apparently he’s also the type who could sleep through a bomb going off.
She snaps her fingers at Oakley, who’s still happily toking away. “A little help here.”
After tossing the roach out the window, he joins us.
“Shouldn’t have slammed all that whiskey before, man,” Oak says as he stands up a wobbly, and still out of it, Cole. “I told you, beer before liquor—”
Oakley doesn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because Cole retches…right before he proceeds to puke all over the bed.
I’m gratefu
l I had the good sense to get off it when I did. I’m also feeling much better about him passing out on top of me…because it could have been so much worse.
I shudder as I recall Dylan telling me about Jace vomiting pineapple pizza all over Britney Caldwell in the middle of a party last year.
Her reputation was destroyed after that. Although it had less to do with the pizza, and more to do with him proclaiming how she’s not exactly fresh down there.
Either way, it was karma.
“Never been sicker,” Oakley finishes before turning his attention to a visibly disgusted Bianca. “I’m gonna take him to the bathroom.”
Bianca nods. “Good idea.”
“I’m gonna search for a bucket or bowl,” I state as Oakley hauls him away.
I once gave a guy from my youth group a ride home after he got sick at church. It took over a month for the putrid smell to fully disappear, and I really don’t want to relive the experience of cleaning puke from my van again.
I head for the door, but Bianca halts me.
“Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
Lips quirking, she gestures to my cardigan. “You missed a few buttons.”
SAWYER
Nerves flutter in my belly as I exit my van and head for the school entrance.
It’s Monday morning, which sucks already, but sucks a whole lot more when you’ve been waiting for someone to call or text you all weekend.
Granted Cole doesn’t have my number, but considering his brother is shacked up with my best friend, it’s not like he’d have to jump through hoops to get it.
Even a message on Instagram would have sufficed.
But nope. I got nothing.
Which puts me in the crappy position of having to reach out to him first.
I suppose I could ignore it and pretend nothing happened, but that’s dumb because something did happen.
Something that has the potential to make things awkward and weird.
I don’t want things to be awkward or weird between us.
And maybe there’s also a tiny part of me that’s secretly hoping he feels whatever this thing is between us too.
Womp womp…there it is.
The tiny kernel of truth I’ve been trying to shove down in hopes it will go away.
I have a crush on Cole Covington…and I hate myself for it.
He’s everything I despise in a person.
He’s cocky, ruthless, a womanizer, and worst of all—he mocks my faith.
Yet…there’s something about him I can’t ignore.
Stupid teenage hormones. They ruin everything.
My stomach somersaults as I pass his car in the parking lot.
I don’t bother hiding my grimace.
The bright green Ferrari is just as obnoxious, flashy, and arrogant as he is. Rumor has it not only did it cost a fortune, it’s incredibly rare. As in there are less than twenty people in the world with the same vehicle.
Can’t say I’m surprised. The Covingtons are as loaded as they are plagued with tragedy.
Cole’s mother was a former Bollywood actress before she passed away in a terrible car accident. According to the gossip mill, not only was she gorgeous like her children, she might have been part of some royal family in India.
I don’t know much about Jason Covington—Cole’s dad—apart from him being the head of a well-known pharmaceutical company.
I silently add another check mark to my con list. Everyone knows people who run pharmaceutical companies don’t have souls.
Must be where Cole got it from.
Okay, that’s not fair. Cole does have a soul.
He bared pieces of it to me the other night.
Steeling myself, I keep walking toward the entrance.
I feel it the moment I enter the building. The energy in this place is…off.
Or rather, it’s all directed at me in the form of side glances, not so subtle dirty looks from various girls, a few grins from some random guys, and lots of whispers.
Tiny beads of sweat break out along my forehead and down my back, but I force myself to breathe.
The only way you’ll survive this hellhole is to never let them see you sweat.
Forcing my gaze to the floor, I make a beeline for my locker.
A few rows down, I notice Cole standing by his while talking to Dwight Davis, Cortland Bennet, and a few other guys from his team.
Dwight’s a decent guy. Well, at least he appears that way every Sunday morning when I see him at church.
But Cortland? Dude is a prick with a capital P.
Not only have I caught him blatantly leering at my chest so many times I’ve lost count, he’s pompous and has a bad habit of bullying some of the unpopular kids for sport.
I guess it makes sense that he and Cole are friends. Birds of a feather and all that.
Either way, I’m not stupid enough to walk over and talk to Cole while he’s with them.
There are some things you never forget about a person, and when I was forced to walk the halls in a towel—it was Cortland who mooed the loudest and encouraged people to join him.
Reaching into my backpack, I quickly shift some books around.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but word on the street is Casey has a bullet with your name on it.”
My heart lodges in my throat as I stare into a pair of bloodshot cobalt-blue eyes belonging to Oakley.
“What?”
Why in the world would Casey—or anyone for that matter—want to shoot me?
Maybe cuz you hooked up with her boyfriend—my brain unhelpfully points out.
“Relax,” he says. “She’s not gonna kill you.” One shoulder rises in a shrug. “She’s just planning on kicking your ass by the time school lets out.”
The dumbass must have forgotten that the one and only time Casey and I fought, I was the one who came out the victor.
“Who tol—” I stop myself before I finish that sentence.
I don’t want to admit to any wrongdoing. Not without talking to Cole first.
Maybe we can explain to Casey that her boyfriend was drunk, and our hookup meant nothing.
My heart sinks. It’s clearly not a fan of that idea.
“I mean why would she want to kick my ass?”
Oakley gives me a pointed look. “Apparently your little CPR session with her boyfriend got back to her…make that everyone.” He holds up his hands innocently. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t say shit. Someone else must have overheard you or walked in while you two were mouth to mouth.”
Motherfucker. That would explain all the looks and whispers I’ve been getting.
“Oh my God.” Everything feels like it’s spinning.
Casey kicking my ass I can handle, but everyone knowing my business, speculating about my personal life…
I don’t want to be the talk of the school. I don’t want people to talk about me, period.
I already know what they’ll say.
“Whoa, you don’t look so good,” Oakley notes. “Want me to call Dylan? I bet she’ll scare her off.”
“No.”
I have no doubt my BFF can put Casey in her place with a single punch, but this isn’t Dylan’s battle.
It’s mine.
I did something wrong, and now I have to own up to it and pay the price.
“I’ll be back soon. I just have to…” I gesture to the bathroom and start walking.
I need a second to breathe and compose myself before I deal with the fallout.
I’m grateful it’s empty when I walk inside.
Well, except for Bianca, who’s standing by the sinks applying mascara to her already long lashes.
“You look like shit,” she greets me when our eyes meet in the mirror.
I turn on the faucet. “I feel like it.” Splashing some cold water on my cheeks, I mutter. “Everyone knows about me and Cole.”
There’s no point in denying it any longer. She’s bound to hear the truth sooner or later
.
“Damn. Word got around faster than I thought.” Smiling wryly, she fishes a tube of lip gloss from her purse. “You’re welcome.”
It’s all I can do not to shove that lip gloss down her throat.
“Wait…you were the one who started the rumor? What the fuck, Bianca? You promised.”
Rolling her eyes, she swipes the gloss over her red lips. “Don’t be so dramatic. I was doing you a favor.”
I can feel my blood pressure rising to dangerous levels. “A favor? What kind of fav—”
“Hate to break it to you, but you’re a loser.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “Now…not so much.” She smacks her lips together. “In the span of a weekend, you went from a mousy little Jesus lover to the girl who hooked up with the most popular guy at school. It makes everyone think of you as mysterious and sexy…instead of boring and weird.” Our eyes connect in the mirror again. “Like I said, you’re welcome.”
She’s out of her damn mind. “I don’t want people thinking of me like that. I don’t want people thinking of me at all.” I clutch my chest, forcing myself to breathe. “Thanks to your big mouth, Casey wants to kick my ass.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry. The bitch can’t fight for shit. You can take her.”
She doesn’t get it. “I don’t want to take her. What I want is—”
“My brother?” Before I can argue, she adds, “Good news, Church. I think he wants you too. For what it’s worth, I’d much rather him be with you than Casey. Jace is already dating someone I can’t stand, and the thought of both my brothers—”
“Hey,” I growl. “Dylan is amazing.”
“Yeah, an amazingly manipulative cunt.”
Seriously? Has Bianca met herself?
“If it isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.”
Another eye roll. “Whatever.” She snatches her purse off the sink ledge. “I tried to help you.”
“That’s not how you help a friend,” I shout as she walks away. “You could have at least told me—”
A cruel laugh silences me. “Wow.” Hand over her heart, she turns around. “You thought we were friends?”
Not exactly, but I didn’t think we were enemies. Plus, why would she go through the effort of helping someone she didn’t like?