by Gemma Weir
“That’s bullshit. He wouldn’t leave just because you told him to. He doesn’t even know you.”
“You’re right. He left because I told him you were only here because we had an argument and you kicked me out of bed on Saturday night.”
“You what?” I screech, garnering the attention of the other diners in the restaurant.
Valentine leans back in the chair, crossing his arms together across his chest and smiling brightly. “I told your little lover boy that you were only here to make me jealous.”
“He wouldn’t believe that.”
“Oh but he did,” he says scoffing lightly. “You see, Princess, this is what happens when everyone thinks you’re a bitch who doesn’t care about anyone but herself. I didn’t even have to work hard to make him believe you were using him.”
“Why would you do that? What has Henry ever done to you?”
“He hasn’t done anything to me. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever spoken to him,” Valentine says nonchalantly.
“Then why do this? What’s the point?” I ask.
“Because you’re mine to play with and I don’t like to share my toys.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open.
“Shall we have dessert? Someone by the door was eating a chocolate cake that looked fucking delicious,” Valentine drawls, a pleased smile stretched across his lips.
I don’t say a word; I just grab my purse from the floor by the side of my chair and walk away. Five steps later, his arm lands across my shoulders and his fingers clamp onto the back of my neck. “Now, now, Princess. I don’t like it when my toys run away from me.”
“Get the hell away from me, you asshole,” I hiss under my breath, shrugging my shoulders in an attempt to dislodge his arm.
His grip on my neck tightens and I tense, pausing when I reach the hostess counter. “Could I have my bill please?”
“Oh your boyfriend already took care of it,” she says with a smile.
I watch as her gaze switches to Valentine and the smile slips from her expression. Yep, she just realized that the guy with his arm draped across my shoulders isn’t the guy I came in with less than an hour ago. Heat fills my cheeks and I close my eyes to try to hide my mortification. “Thanks,” I mutter, quickly heading for the exit, my gaze firmly fixed on the floor at my feet.
The moment we hit the parking lot, I spin from beneath his grip and whip around to face him. “Why are you still here? Haven’t you done enough tonight? You’ve ruined my date and probably destroyed a friendship I’ve had for years. What else do you want to do?”
With my chest heaving up and down, I stare him down waiting for his reply, only it doesn’t come. The smile falls from his lips and the triumphant gleam in his eyes diminishes.
“Get in the car,” he snaps, pointing to Auntie Brandi’s car parked at the curb.
“I’d rather walk.”
Fingers wrap around my wrist in a firm grip. “Get in the car.”
“Fuck you, Valentine,” I hiss, tugging my wrist trying to free it from his grasp.
Ignoring me, he turns toward the car, towing me along behind him.
“Let go of me,” I shout.
“Make me.”
His grip tightens as I try to get free, his fingers holding me tight enough that I can feel them digging into my skin hard enough to bruise. “You’re hurting me.”
“Stop being a brat and I’ll loosen my grip,” he retorts, his face a mask of disinterested nonchalance, like he couldn’t care less what I do. Except his firm hold on my wrist shows the truth; he cares and I don’t know why.
“I’m not getting in that car with you. I’ll call Zeke to come pick me up.”
“No.”
“Fuck you,” I shout. “If you hadn’t scared Henry off, I’d have a ride home.”
“I did you a favor. That jackass only wanted you because you’re the most popular girl in school. I hate guys like that.”
“You hate me too, so why get involved? Why not just hate us from a distance?” I say with an incredulous laugh.
He doesn’t say anything, just pauses, his fingers still gripping me as we wait by the side of the car.
“Seriously, Valentine, you win. You hate me, you ruined my night, I get it. Just enough, okay? Let me go. I’m tired and I want to go home.”
“The only way you’re getting home is if I drive you, so get in the fucking car.”
Sighing wearily, I shake my head, resolved to just let him win. At least this way I’ll be home soon and I can pretend this whole night never happened. God knows what Henry will say to me tomorrow at school. The thought triggers my overactive mind and a hundred possibilities attack me all at once.
Will he tell everyone what happened?
Will he tell everyone I’m sleeping with Valentine?
Does he think I’m a slut?
Do I care?
Will everyone at school care?
Will they all be talking about me when I walk through the halls tomorrow?
Sucking in a pained gasp, a wave of nausea washes over me and I place my free hand over my stomach.
“What?” Valentine demands, his eyes assessing me.
“Nothing. Can we just go please? I’ll come with you, just let go of me.”
He pauses as if he’s trying to decide if I’m lying.
“Oh for God’s sake. I’m in four-inch heels, I’m not going to make a run for it.”
Heat flares in his eyes and I suck in another startled breath. Whenever I’m around Valentine, my mind is either so full I can barely stay upright from the amount of anxious thoughts that fill my head, or so quiet that the silence unnerves me. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Get in,” he orders, opening the car door and finally freeing my wrist, only to stand mere inches behind me, his arms folded menacingly across his chest.
Narrowing my eyes, I scowl at him, before lowering myself into the car and pulling the door closed. A moment later he seats himself into the driver’s seat and starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and heading back toward my house.
The car is stifling with uncomfortable silence that stretches between us. I don’t have anything to say to him, unless you count wanting to scream at him for being an asshole. He hates me and I still don’t have any idea why. Tonight, he deliberately sabotaged my date and told one of the most popular guys in school that he and I were fucking.
I fight the urge to bury my face in my hands, but sulking won’t get me anywhere. If I were smarter, I’d try to figure out Valentine’s reasons for torturing me, when he seems to get along with everyone else, but I’ve got enough of my own shit going on without trying to figure his issues out too.
When we pull up outside my house, I reach for my seatbelt, but his huge hand stops me. I turn to look at him, opening my mouth to ask him what the hell his problem is now, but his cruel chuckle stops me.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” I ask, dumbfounded by this random turn of events.
“Kiss me and tomorrow I’ll leave you alone. You can have the whole day being your bitchy little princess self and I won’t cause any trouble.”
“Oh my god,” I sneer. “Who the hell do you think you are? I’m not going to be blackmailed into kissing you.”
His body is relaxed where it’s leaning back in his seat, his lips are spread in a smug grin, and only the glint of hardness in his eyes gives away anything about how he’s actually feeling. “You didn’t seem to have a problem kissing me earlier. I could practically smell how wet you were for me.”
“Fuck you, Valentine,” I hiss, ripping my hand from under his, releasing my seatbelt and fumbling for the door handle.
“Have it your way. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I almost stumble as I rush from the car, my indignant anger pushing me forward without ever looking back. But I want to. I want to turn around and stare at the asshole that’s watching me run away from him. He knows he’s got me rattled, and he’s enjoying
every moment.
It’s not late, so I push open the door knowing that it’ll be unlocked and walk into the house, closing it behind me. I pause, taking a moment to calm my erratic breathing and smooth down my dress before I move any further. If my mom sees me like this, with wild eyes and my chest heaving up and down she’ll know something happened and won’t leave me alone until I tell her everything.
I don’t want to tell my mom about Valentine, about how he scares me and invigorates me in equal measures. How he’s the tornado and the eye of the storm both at the same time. If we were friends instead of enemies, I’d think he was a balm to my fractured soul, but he hates me and takes pleasure in making me suffer.
When I’m calmer, I head further into the house, calling hello to my mom and dad who are curled up together on the couch, and Dill and Leo who are sat in matching recliners all watching some stupid reality TV show.
“How was your date?” Mom calls.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we won’t be going out again,” I say, unsure if I’m relieved or not at the truth of my words.
“Do you want to watch with us? This episode only just started and we can rewind it to the beginning for you?” Dad offers.
“No thanks. I’m going to go finish my homework then go to bed. Night.”
A chorus of ‘good nights’ flows back to me and I turn and pad upstairs, each step heavy with exhaustion.
I don’t sleep that night. Valentine’s threat fills my unconscious thoughts and I torture myself all night trying to figure out what he could do to me. Physically he’s much stronger than I am and he could easily hurt me, but I don’t think that’s the kind of pain he has planned.
What plagues me more, is that even though I refused to kiss him when he ordered me to, a part of me wanted to. I wanted to give in and let him consume me with his lips; but though I might let him take from me, somehow I don’t think I’m ready to give anything to him willingly.
By the time my alarm goes off the next morning, I haven’t slept at all and I feel jittery and more anxious than normal. I dress with care in a navy-blue playsuit, paired with white sneakers, and twist my hair up into twin buns on the top of my head. I slide on a wide silver bangle to hide the bruises that appeared on my wrist at some point during the night. The cute outfit restores some of my confidence and when I make my way down to breakfast, I’m at least faking my normal self.
My stomach is in knots, so I skip food, opting instead for a huge cup of coffee. By the time I make it to Emmy’s house to pick her up, I’m a mess. The caffeine has mixed with my exhausted, overwrought mind and I’m fidgety, biting my lip, unable to keep my hands still.
“What’s the matter with you?” Emmy asks, the moment she climbs into my car.
“No sleep, too much coffee,” I immediately reply, my words coming a little too fast.
“Wow, you look like you’re on drugs. You need to chill out, or the teachers are going to send you home and insist on a drugs test.”
I snort laugh, then pull in a deep cleansing breath in an attempt to calm myself.
“So how was your date with Henry?”
A broken, bitter sound comes from my lips and I feel Emmy’s eyes turn to me. “He left before we had dessert.”
“He left? What do you mean?”
“I mean I went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone and Valentine fucking Miller was in his seat.”
Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I see Emmy’s mouth fall open then form the shape of an ‘o’.
“Yeah. I don’t know what he actually said to him, but Valentine told me he informed Henry that the only reason I agreed to go on a date with him was because I was pissed at Valentine after I kicked him out of my bed on Saturday night.”
“Oh. My. God,” Emmy breathes. “He told Henry that you and he were sleeping together?”
“If he didn’t say it outright, he definitely implied it.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“Honestly, I have no idea. He said something about me being his toy and him not liking anyone else playing with me. Then when I got up to leave, he demanded he give me a ride home.”
“Do you think he likes you?” Emmy asks, her voice a little softer now, but still outraged.
“Likes to torture me, yes; likes me likes me, hell no.”
“So did you let him drive you home?”
“He didn’t exactly give me a choice. He held onto my wrist so tightly his fingers bruised me and he basically dragged me to the car.” Sliding up the bangle I’d worn to hide the angry purple marks, I offer my wrist to Emmy for her to see.
“Nova, you need to tell your mom or dad. He marked you, this isn’t right.”
“If I tell my mom or dad, they’ll tell Auntie Brandi and Uncle Sleaze. What if they kick him out? I might hate him, but I don’t want him to lose his place in the best foster home he could ever get. We’ve both heard the horror stories about group homes. I can’t be the reason he gets sent back to one of those places,” I say, looking to Emmy and seeing sympathy reflected back at me.
“So was that it? He ruined your date then drove you home?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I ask.
I don’t tell her about how he pinned me against a wall and kissed me yesterday or how he tried to bribe me to kiss him again, or his threats to make me miserable today if I refused. I’m not sure why I keep this to myself. Maybe it’s that if I admit he kissed me, I’d have to admit that a part of me enjoyed his lips on mine.
By the time I pull into the school parking lot I’m a mess of nerves. I have no idea what Valentine plans to do, or even if he plans to do anything at all. Maybe his threats last night were all a bluff to mess with me. Pulling my car toward my usual space, I’m surprised to find it already filled with another car: Brit’s car. Driving along the line, I find every spot in our row full and in the end I have to circle back around and park my car right at the back of the lot.
Emmy’s eyebrows raise and she purses her lips at me. “What’s going on? Why is Brit parked in your space?”
“I have no idea.”
Grabbing our bags, I lock my car and then side by side we walk across the lot to the school entrance. The walk isn’t long, but by the time we get into the hallway most of the kids have already gone to their homerooms.
Putting my books into my locker, I wave goodbye to Emmy, then quickly walk to my class, furtively glancing over my shoulder, still jumpy over whatever Valentine has planned for me. As I enter my class, the room falls silent and all eyes turn to watch me enter.
I surreptitiously scan the faces, but no one meets my eyes and familiar heads move together, whispering and gossiping as they watch me. Ignoring them all, I pull back my shoulders and allow my resting bitch face to take over my features. Adding a little extra sway to my hips, I make my way to my desk. When I stop at the seat that’s been mine since the first day at high school, it’s filled with a smug looking Phoebe Sneider.
“You’re in my seat,” I say.
Tilting her head to the side, she purses her lips and raises her eyebrows confrontationally. “Brit asked me to sit here.”
“I don’t care. That’s my seat. It’s been my seat since the first day of school. Move.”
Ignoring me, she turns to Brit, whose smug smile slips a little when she feels my attention move to her. “Brit, what the hell?” I ask.
Brit scoffs and sneers. “I asked Phoebe to sit by me, because I don’t want to sit by a backstabbing bitch.”
A chorus of “Ohhhhhh’s” serenades through the classroom and I know all eyes are on us now.
When I feel Zeke’s comforting presence appear behind me, a slither of doubt flashes through Brit’s eyes.
“What the hell did you call me?” I ask her, incredulity filling my voice.
Brit pushes up, standing in front of me, her eyes slightly above mine from her five-foot-nine height. “You heard me. I called you
out for being a backstabbing bitch. I know all about how you’ve been telling every guy that’s interested in me, that if they stop hitting on me, they can fuck the queen bee instead. You’re nothing but a low-class whore,” she spits.
“Brit.” I call, horrified at the words coming from her mouth.
“No. I don’t want to hear any more bullshit from you, Nova.”
“Brittany,” Zeke warns.
“Fuck you too, Zeke. Your reign as the top tier is over. Everyone knows what a whore your sister is now. If you still want to be friends with us then you need to pick a side; us or her,” she says, poking her shaking finger in my direction.
Zeke laughs and the sound is low and hard. “Brittany, I have no idea where you got all your bullshit information from, but I’ll tell you now it’s not true. Nova has never kept any guy away from you; you do that all by yourself. You want me to pick? Well that’s fucking easy. I pick her and so will every other person in this school. Do you want to know why?”
He pauses and you could hear a pin drop; every single person in the room waiting to hear what he has to say. Brit flinches and I want to reach out to her, but she started this, she accused me of being a whore and sleeping with every guy who shows interest in her.
Zeke chuckles lowly. “It’s because you’re a dime a dozen. Okay looks, okay body, okay personality. You’re nothing special and your life will be over at the end of high school because you might be popular right now, but that’s only because you’ve been hanging on to my sister’s coattails since the day you met her. Without Nova you’re nothing, nobody. You just lost the only reason anyone tolerated your presence. Who the fuck would pick you,” he sneers. “Over her?”
His arm drops over my shoulder and I watch as she shrinks under his attack.
“You’re pitiful, Brit. You’ll never be the queen; hell, you’ll never even be the queen’s bitch. Now I suggest you get your pathetic ass up off that seat and go move your car out of my sister’s parking space. When you get back, sit your ass somewhere else. You’re not welcome near me or Nova or the rest of our friends.”
Tears stream down Brit’s cheek as she turns and runs from the room. A part of me wants to follow her. We’ve been friends for years, but I can’t, not after everything she just accused me of, everything she believed me capable of. Our friendship is over, gone, just like that, and as Zeke turns to me, his hand squeezing at my shoulder, I slide back into character. Lifting my eyes, I throw hard, angry looks at the other kids in the room, until my gaze lands on Valentine. His face is impassive, like he didn’t just watch a showdown between me and one of my best friends. I expect him to be smug, happy, or hell, maybe just entertained, but there’s nothing but bored disinterest etched across his features.