by Chloe Walsh
Both in their mid-thirties, Clive and Liv were undeniably attractive. Dad was tall and broad with brown hair that had a slight dusting of grey on top. Mom was exquisite. Small and curvaceous, she had big blue eyes and light blonde hair. They were too young to be the parents of two teenagers – both in body and in mind. They'd starting dating their junior year in high school and Dad had knocked Mom up with Jackson by the time they got to senior year. I followed a year later.
Dad, having come from money, married mom, who had also come from old money, before she started to show with Jackson – not daring to taint their precious family names – and the rest is a toxic history. They weren't in love. They didn’t even like each other. They were also never home for long.
Half of the time they didn’t even sleep here – and I meant that in the literal sense of the word. At least three of four nights out of the week, my parents weren't home.
Heck, this was the first time I'd seen them in two weeks.
They either had complete faith in me and Jackson or else they'd simply checked out a long time ago. As much as I longed to believe the former, I knew the latter to be true.
I guessed that was why Jackson and I were so close. We'd been thrown together when our parents had checked out on us, having come to the stark realization that children were a complication they could do without.
"Your father and I won't be back until Monday," Mom announced, doling out a hurried list of instructions in case we needed her. There was no need. I hadn't needed my mom since 2009.
Heck, she wasn’t even at home for me the week I got my first period.
Jackson and Nate were.
Totally freaked out by it all, my brother and his best friend had cycled to the store and bought me a bunch of different sized tampons. I was only ten years old and remembered crying inconsolably as I looked at those weird bullet shaped thingies and wondered what the hell I was supposed to do with them.
Later that night, Nathan had come back with his older sister Kim, who sat me down and gave me the talk – and a bunch of sanitary pads. Before that night, I'd loved Nathan Cole, but afterwards, well, those feelings deepened and cemented inside of me. This dirty little boy from the wrong side of town had come to my rescue.
"Jackson!" Dad bellowed up the staircase as he glanced at his Rolex in dismay. "Get the hell down here, boy."
"What's up your ass?" I heard my brother holler.
I didn’t blame him for the lack of respect he had for our parents, but I would be a liar if I said it wasn’t awkward as hell when he spoke down to them. Every time Dad and Jackson were in the same room, a fight erupted. I'd lost count of the number of times my father had threatened to throw my brother out, but we all knew it wasn’t true. Our father wouldn’t dream of disgracing our family by tossing Jackson to the curb.
After all, we all had a role to play in this family and Jackson had his down to a fine tea.
He was the star of the varsity football team. He got good grades. He was popular and liked and a real asset to the family. There was a better chance of Dad throwing me out than Jackson.
All I had to do was keep my grades good and my reputation squeaky clean. No boyfriends or tarnishing the Davis name.
Yeah, Clive and Liv Davis's children had to be perfect.
Their son, the handsome all-rounder football hero and their daughter, the squeaky clean virgin, who only spoke when she was spoken to and kept her nose in books and away from boys.
It was utter bullshit.
When Jackson reached the bottom step, he looked at both our parents with disdain. "Oh look," he drawled sarcastically. "Heading out again? What's it tonight? A work function or a swingers' party?"
From my perch on the couch, I held my breath and watched as Dad stalked straight up to my brother and slapped him across the face. "Don’t you use that tone with me, boy," he hissed.
I hated when our father called my brother boy. He meant it as an insult. Like he was inferior. You'd swear I was the one Dad had hit because of the way I flinched and the whimpering noise that tore from my throat.
Jackson never flinched. He didn’t even look fazed as he glared at our father menacingly. "Hit me again, old man," he taunted. "See what you'll get." My brother was taller and stronger and everything our father wasn’t. I had no doubt that if Dad was reckless enough to lay another hand on Jackson, he would lay him out.
"Boy has no goddamn respect for anyone," Dad snarled, backing up a few feet. He looked to my mother then. "This is your fault," Dad accused. "Fucking spoiling them."
Jackson scoffed. "Yeah. Because that's what she does."
"Jackson," Mom chastised. "Watch your tone."
"What fucking ever." Shaking his head in disgust, Jackson readjusted the towel around his waist before walking over to me. Sinking down on the plush, leather couch, he patted my knee in reassurance before kicking his legs up on the coffee table. "You good, Andy-Pandy?" he asked, tone softer than the one he had used when speaking to our parents.
I nodded and forced a smile, but it didn’t stick. Not when I noticed the red blotch forming on my brother's cheek.
My father's handprint, I realized, and it made me feel sick to my stomach.
"I want you to stay in tonight and watch your sister," I heard my father say.
"Do you?" Jackson replied dryly. "Oh well then. Better take her with me." Turning to me, he winked and added, "You in the party mood, little sis?"
"You little shit…"
"He's joking, Dad," I blurted out, coming to my brother's defense. I couldn’t just sit back and let Jackson take the brunt of our father's bad mood. "We're both staying in and watching Netflix," I added, feeling uneasy.
"I've been hearing rumors, Adriana," Dad snarled. "Rumors that you're messing around with some boy at school."
"Lies," Jackson was quick to defend. "All lies."
"Was I talking to you, boy?" Dad hissed, red-faced.
"Probably not," Jackson shot back. "But I'm sure as hell talking to you."
Sniffing, my father glowered at the both of us for a long moment before turning around and walking out of the room, leaving just Mom with us.
"Do you have to antagonize him?" Mom hissed, glaring daggers at Jackson.
"Do you have to speak to me?" Jackson shot back, mimicking her tone, not bothering to look at our mother. Picking up the remote for the television, he flicked it on and turned the volume up, purposefully drowning out our mother's voice.
While Jackson kept his eyes on the flat screen, I kept mine on him. "Are you okay?" I whispered, worried.
"Never better," Jackson shot back, eyes still locked on the television screen, but his jaw was clenched and his hands were balled into fists at his sides.
Feeling the need to do something, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around my brother's neck and held onto him tightly. He muttered something intelligible under his breath and patted my forearm.
The front door slammed then and I heard my mother say, "Well, don’t you look handsome tonight."
I turned sideways on the couch and watched as Nathan walked into the room.
"Mrs. Davis," Nathan acknowledged stiffly, looking anywhere but my mother's direction.
Mom was right.
In faded blue jeans and a tight fitting black shirt, Nathan did look handsome. His hair was styled up sexily and his muscles bulged against the fabric of his shirt. The short sleeves revealed his ink covered arms.
Nathan's gaze landed on Jackson first and then me. He must have seen the worry etched on my face because awareness shone in his eyes.
He knew.
Moving towards the couch, Nate immediately took a seat, which just so happened to be next to me. He stared hard at the side brother's face before his eyes moved to mine, roaming over me, obviously looking to see if I had suffered the same fate as Jackson.
"Liv!" My father roared as he stalked back into the living room. He didn’t bother to acknowledge Nathan. He didn’t even look in his direction. My parent's classy, lovey
-dovey façade didn’t extend to the residents of Riverside.
Down through the years, Nathan had plenty of insightful peeks into our real lives.
"Let's go." Turning to face us once more, Dad looked at me and snarled, "I mean it, girl. Not one fucking step outside this house."
"I told you," my voice was small and meek. "We're staying in and watching Netflix."
"And I'm the King of fucking England," Dad sneered. "I know what that shithead of a brother of yours has planned, but you better not even think about leaving this house, Adriana."
I felt a warm hand touch mine then, distracting me from my father's voice.
Startled, I looked down and saw Nate's large hand covering mine. Blinking, I looked up at him. He was staring into my eyes with such heat and intensity, I felt my cheeks burn.
He didn’t let go either.
As my father continued to speak, Nate continued to hold my hand, squeezing it gently, reassuring me.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Cole?" Dad bellowed. "Get your dirty, fucking trailer trash hands off my daughter."
"Why don’t you make him," Jackson shot back coolly, glaring at our father.
"He's got no business touching her." Turning his attention to Nate, Dad raised his finger at him. "Keep your hands to yourself, boy." Dad turned around to leave, but came back again. "If I find out you've been messing around with this piece of shit; I will ship you off to boarding school so fast your feet won't touch the ground." Dad took another step towards me then and I felt Nate bristle beside me.
"Walk away," Nate said in a deathly cold tone. "Now."
"No one likes a slut, Adriana," my father announced with finality and Nathan's hand squeezed mine so tightly I almost cried.
Immediately, Jackson was on the defense. Jerking off the couch, still holding his towel, he stalked over to our dad and glared down at him. "Call my sister a whore one more time," he seethed. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead against Dad's. "And I'll rearrange your fucking teeth."
My breath caught in my throat as I watched my brother and father's stare down.
Dad obviously saw something in my brother's eyes, a promise or something, because he turned around abruptly and walked out of the house with my mother rushing after him.
None of us spoke a word until the sound of the front door slamming broke the silence.
After that, all hell broke loose.
Nathan leapt up from the couch and charged for my brother who had ripped the photos off a wall and was now pounding his fists against said wall, cracking huge fist-shaped holes in the plaster.
"Jackson, quit it," Nate ordered. Wrapping his arm around my brother, Nate dragged him roughly away from the wall, walking him towards the staircase. "Get your ass upstairs and get dressed," he added. "He's not worth breaking your hand, man."
"I'm going to kill him," Jackson seethed, chest heaving. His blue eyes flashed with rage. "I swear to fuck, Nate. One of these days, I am going to kill that worthless piece of shit."
When Jackson retreated up the stairs, Nathan turned and looked at me. "Are you okay?" His voice was softer than normal. A deep frown was set on his face as he stared at me. "Did he…hurt you?"
I shook my head. "Just Jackson." Always Jackson...
Nodding stiffly, Nathan turned around and rushed up the stairs after my brother.
Pausing on the top step, Nathan turned around looked at me. "It's going to be okay, Andi."
I wasn’t sure why he even said that, but he looked at me with such a worried expression that I forced a smile. "Okay."
Nathan hovered at the top of the stairs for a while longer, looking pained. I didn’t know why. He knew our father was a jerk and our mother spineless. None of what happened tonight was surprising. But you'd swear that it was by looking at Nathan.
"I…" he cleared his throat and tried again. "I…"
"Yo, Andi-Pandy!" Jackson's voice boomed through the house, much lighter than a few minutes ago. "Get your ass up here."
"Why?" I asked, already on my feet and moving for the staircase.
"Because you're coming out with us," Jackson informed me when I reached the top of the stairs. Popping his head out of his bedroom, he looked at me and grinned, eyes dancing with mischief. "I think it's about time you were introduced to your first party."
Nathan stiffened beside me. "I think that's a very bad idea."
"I think it's a fucking awesome idea," Jackson shot back, still grinning. "What'd'ya say, Andi? Feel like going to a party tonight?"
"But Dad said…"
"Fuck what Dad said," Jackson hissed, sauntering out of his bedroom, fully dressed now and with his hands in his hair. "Fuck Mom, too," he added as he gelled his hair. "You're seventeen years old, Adriana. If you want to go to a goddamn party, then you're going. Screw what they think."
"I can stay behind," Nate offered. "If you're worried about leaving her alone." Shrugging, he added, "I'm trying to avoid Dallas anyway. You know she won't leave me the hell alone these days."
I grimaced inside; the sound of Dallas's name on his lips brought a sour taste to my mouth.
"Even better." Jackson grinned like a maniac. "You two can put your fake relationship to the test with your first party."
****
When Jackson left on a pre-party beer run, I rushed into my room to shower and change. Even though I'd just showered an hour ago, I needed another one; this time a cold one.
Laying out a cute beige bodycon style dress on my bed, I dove into the shower and forced myself to calm the heck down. What the heck was I thinking? This was absolutely insane. My father would kill me if he found out…but I couldn’t not grab the opportunity to spend time with Nathan.
A loud knock on my bedroom door startled me from my thoughts. Switching off the water, I sprang out of the shower and wrapped a towel around myself before padding into my room, half expecting to see Jackson.
"Nate?" I squealed when my eyes landed on him. He was standing at the foot of my bed, holding my dress in his hands so tightly I thought he was going to rip the fabric. I couldn’t remember the last time I had looked at Nathan Cole and not felt a knot in my stomach.
"That belongs to Ivy," I heard myself explain. I'd borrowed it from her last month with the intention of wearing it to one of Alternative Kiss's gigs in one of the under twenty-one clubs in town, but hadn't been allowed to go.
"You're not going out in this," Nathan snarled, tightening his hold on my borrowed dress. "Find something else, or better still, don’t come."
Hurt and confusion encompassed me as I gaped at him.
What the heck...
"But we…" My voice broke off and I shook my head before trying again. "I thought you wanted me…to be your fake girlfriend?" We were intimate…
"Actually, that was Jackson's idea," Nate countered coolly. "And a horrible one at that." Shaking his head, he turned and glared at me. "Just forget it and stay at home tonight, okay?"
Why was he doing this to me?
Blowing cold again…
"No," I heard myself say. "I told Jackson I would go, and I'm going."
Nate sneered. "You know if he finds out, Jackson will get the brunt of it. You don’t belong at those parties, Andi. So just stay away."
"Why can't you just accept me?" I demanded, flinching from his cruel words. "Why do you always have to push me away, Nathan?" I took a step towards him. He didn’t move. "We were friends for so long!" My voice was trembling, but I continued to walk towards him. "And now you act like you can't stand to be near me. Why, huh? Why don’t you want to be near me?"
Nate's eyes bugged in his head. His face turned a deep shade of red and he looked like he wanted to scream in my face. He opened his mouth and I waited, both anxious and desperate to hear what he had to say for himself.
"No girlfriend of mine goes out naked," he finally replied, jaw clenched, voice strained. "If you wanna play this game then you play by my rules." With that, Nate turned and stormed out of my bedroom – wit
h my dress in tow.
*****
Chapter Eight
I was still feeling hurt and rejected when we pulled up outside DJ's house an hour later, but refused to allow Nathan's mood swings stop me enjoying myself. In fact, I was determined to make the best of tonight. Who knew when I would have another shot at one of these things?
"Could you two try and act like a couple?" my brother growled as we walked towards the house. JD was in Jackson's grade. His family, like ours, were filthy rich and resided on a huge ranch five miles out of town. It was a good ten-minute walk from where we had parked to the house and Nathan was silent and brooding every step of the way.
Pretending like I didn’t notice, I wrapped my arms around myself and concentrated on the beautiful line of trees to my left. I would give anything to have an actual forest in my back garden. It was so romantic, so ethereally beautiful.
"Wow," Jackson drawled, looking back at us. "You two look positively loved up," he added sarcastically, obviously noting the fact that there was at least three feet between our bodies. "Damn, Nate. Hold her hand or something."
Reluctantly, Nathan moved to my side and almost hesitantly took my hand in his.
I shivered the moment he touched me, though I tried hard not to let it show.
He held my hand like a kid – palms touching.
It was just one more blow to my already deflated ego, but I didn’t say a word.
I couldn’t figure him out. He blew hot one minute and then arctic cold the next.
"That's better," Jackson announced cheerfully when we reached the front door. "Now, lovebirds, let's roll."
He smells like cologne and soap… That was all I could think as Nathan led me into the house. His skin was warm and he smelled amazing. And he was strong too. His body, when he brushed against me, was hard and ripped.
My cheeks flushed from being in such close proximity to him.
"Omigod, omigod, And, you came!" Ivy's voice filled my ears and I jumped, startled from my lust driven day dreams.
Barreling through the crowd, Ivy threw her arms around me the moment she reached us. "I can't believe you actually came."