by R. A. Smyth
In the silence, I can feel myself regaining back some control, my heart rate slowing; but I can still feel a buzzing sensation beneath my skin, that nervous energy that only appears when I’m pissed off or stressed out. It’s been building within me since I stepped foot on campus, but tonight has pushed it into overdrive, and it bothers me that I was so easily triggered. In hindsight, it was probably foolish of me to think I could simply escape my past and leave it all behind. I may be safe here, but I’m so used to being on the defensive, to expecting the worst. I can’t just turn that off, unfortunately. Sighing heavily, I realize I may be more damaged than I ever knew.
A twig snaps somewhere behind me and I spin around, my head jerking toward the noise as I squint through the darkness, trying to see what fuckface is out here with me, destroying my moment of peaceful solitude. This is why I can’t be like all those other kids at that party. Shitty karma and dangerous situations follow me around like a bad fucking smell.
“Whoa,” a deep voice calls out. “It’s just me.”
Squinting, I can just about make out the faint outline of someone cautiously approaching me. “West? What are you doing here?”
I don’t relax my stance, eyeing him warily as he steps closer.
“I saw you run off, I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to make of that. I only talked to the guy for the first time today. Everything I’ve heard and seen regarding the Princes indicates that I shouldn’t so much as look in their direction unless I want to rain down hellfire on myself. Hell, some of the stories Emilia has told me are unbelievable...How in their freshman year they publicly humiliated a senior who wouldn’t bow down to royalty that was younger than him; or the student they drove out of school because he made fun of West for being a nerd.
After my altercation with Hawk yesterday, I’d well believe he’s capable of everything I’ve heard, but West was nothing but nice to me today, and the same with Cam, although he definitely has ulterior motives.
It’s difficult to make out his features in the dark, shadows dancing across his face, however everything about him says he’s not a threat. His hands are tucked in his pockets, his posture relaxed as he strolls toward me.
“Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Okay?”
“Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.” Deciding he’s not here to harm me, I lean back against the tree, closing my eyes, trying to find that sense of calm once again. It’s no good though, I’m hyperaware of his presence. It’s the same awareness as earlier, in class. The seat beside him was the only empty one in the back row, and I wanted as few people as possible to see how hopeless I am with computers. I didn’t expect him to talk to me, let alone help me. None of the Princes are known for their hospitality. I hadn’t counted on the strange nervousness his closeness elicited. And when he wheeled his chair over beside mine? My heart went into overdrive as his clean, musky scent enveloped me.
My eyes pop open as his arm brushes against mine, and I’m surprised to find him leaning against the tree beside me. Heat emanates out from where his skin touches mine, that small bit of contact starting a chain reaction throughout my body, slowly settling me and, for the first time since arriving here, that buzzing feeling dies down to a background hum.
I don’t know what these guys are doing to me. I’ve felt physical attraction before—that sudden racing of your heart and twisting of your gut, the way you can’t stop looking at them, picturing them naked. Those feelings are bland and superficial in contrast to the sheer visceral reaction I have to the Princes; the raw, intense awareness I get around them.
Licking my suddenly dry lips, I blurt out, “You, uh, don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure your friends, or your, uh, girl of the month, or whatever, are looking for you.”
A breathy laugh escapes him. “You looking to get rid of me?”
“What?” I splutter. “No. You, uh...I just don’t want you to feel you have to stay with me.” I actually don’t know if I want him to go or not, but he’s been nice to me and I definitely don’t need to piss off any of these guys by accident.
“Parties aren’t really my thing,” he casually admits. He’s definitely not as social as the others, but I still figured he would be into this whole typical high school bullshit as much as everyone else seems to be.
“Apparently, they aren’t mine either.” I don’t know why I say that. I don’t understand why I’m honest with him. Like earlier, asking for his help. It’s like I lose my filter when he’s around. Something about him comes across as genuine and truthful, making it difficult to be my usual standoffish, bitchy self with him.
“Apparently?”
Eh, fuck. I’ve already given enough for him to deduce what I mean, so I may as well just blurt it all out. “This is my first high school party.”
“Huh.” I wait on tenterhooks, waiting for him to say more, only letting out a relieved breath when it’s clear he’s not going to ask all the obvious questions. Not that I was going to share any more of myself with him. Fuck, even that little tidbit of information has my heart hammering in my chest once more.
We lapse into silence. It’s not uncomfortable like the awkwardness with Michael last night, but honestly, I don’t know what the fuck to make of it. It’s both settling and fraught with whatever this energy between us is.
“I should, uh, be getting back to my friends,” I say tensely after several minutes, pushing off the tree.
“Sure.” He shrugs, showing no signs of moving himself. Giving him a stiff, curt nod, I stride off, heading back to the party, all the while ignoring the burning of his eyes into my back as he watches me go.
“Hadley!” Emilia calls out when she spots me, swaying in her heels as she stumbles my way. “Where’d you go?” Her words are slightly slurred as she basically hangs off me, draping her arms around my neck.
“Wow, I think someone’s had a bit too much to drink.” I laugh, wrapping my arms around her.
“You have?” she gasps, staring at me with bright eyes and an unfocused gaze. “Naughty girl,” she cackles, throwing her head back.
Jesus, was I really gone long enough for her to drink that much?
“Come on,” I urge, “let’s get you a seat and some water.”
Someone has dug out some old fold-up chairs and scattered them around the fire pit, so I ease her into an empty one, feeling eyes on me from the three Princes seated around us. Everyone else has avoided coming over here all night, but if she passes out on the ground, I’m worried I’ll never be able to lift her up.
She’s half-unconscious as I glance around the fire pit, finding a cooler filled with drinks, including a couple of bottles of water. Moving over to it, I reach out to lift one, but snatch my hand back at the last second, as the lid snaps shut.
“That’s for us, not scholarship trash,” Hawk snarls, his ice-cold glare penetrating through me as Melissa—perched in his lap—giggles, like Hawk’s pissy attitude is fucking hilarious.
Ignoring her, I return Hawk’s scowl with one of my own. “She just needs a bottle of water.”
“There’s an entire table of drinks over there,” he snarks, waving his hand dismissively toward the drinks table. Yeah, but they all have fucking alcohol in them. Trust me, I checked when we arrived.
I sigh heavily, mentally telling myself not to start a fight with this asshole. “They don’t have any water,” I state, hoping to reason with him. I should have known there was a fat chance of that happening.
“So?” He snorts. “That’s not my fucking problem.”
My scowl darkens as I stare him down, but he’s completely unfazed, unwilling to budge on his decision. I can feel Mason’s eyes on me as he and his lap accessory silently watch the interaction. Apparently, neither of them feel the need to speak up or intervene in this ridiculousness.
“She’s practically unconscious,” I hiss, grinding my teeth as I wave my hand toward Emilia who’s slumped over in the chair, her eyes shut. My wor
ds are falling on deaf ears, but I’m not about to back down from this shithead; that’s exactly what he wants.
Flicking his gaze her way before returning his focus to me, Hawk nods his head slowly, only making me narrow my eyes at him in suspicion. “Okay.” Nope. I’m not buying it. I don’t respond, waiting for him to tell me what the catch is. “For a price,” he adds with a smug smirk.
Pursing my lips, I stare him down, my mind racing through all the possibilities of what he could ask for. “I don’t have any money on me.”
“I don’t want your money,” he sneers. “But I will take a blowjob.” A shit-eating grin spreads across his face and it takes everything in me not to reach out and slap it off.
What the actual fuck? Is this arrogant dickweed for real? He can’t seriously think I’d willingly do that. Melissa throws a pissy look my way, like I was the one that just offered him a fucking blow job for some measly water. If it wasn’t happening to me, the whole thing would be laughable.
“Baby, I can give you a blowjob if you want one,” she purrs seductively, not happy at having Hawk’s attention directed elsewhere. Her voice is low and breathy as her hand dips down between their bodies to places I don’t even want to know about.
“No.” Hawk grabs her wrist, halting her movements, his eyes never leaving mine. Deciding he’s fucking insane, I tear my eyes away from Hawk’s hate-filled, stormy orbs to look at Cam, hoping he will back me up on this. He’s been flirting with me all week, making it clear he’s more than interested in getting in my pants. Surely, he will tell Hawk to stop being a douche. It’s only water, for fuck’s sake.
“Dude, it’s just water.” It’s weak, lacking any sort of conviction, but whatever. If it will get Hawk to stop being a cumbucket, then I’ll take it.
“She knows the price,” he growls. “She either pays it or she can get the fuck out of here.”
Of course, Bianca and Brittany come stumbling off the dance floor at that moment, pushing their way through the crowd toward the firepit.
“What are you doing?” Bianca snaps, towering over me in a scrap of fabric that barely covers her...bits. “I’ve told you before,” she hisses. “Stay in your lane and keep your pauper mitts off the Princes.”
Seriously? Does she think I’m over here trying to get with one of these assholes? Puh-lease, like I’d ever sleep with any of these arrogant dickwads.
“What’s going on here?” West's deep voice startles me, but before I can explain anything, Brittany practically launches herself at him. “Wes, baby!”
“Don’t call me that,” he bites out, glaring at her. “It’s West. The name’s already shortened, it doesn’t need cut down any fucking further.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, her lip popping out in a pout, but she doesn’t unlatch her death grip from around his neck, and after a second, she shakes it off, giving him a sugary sweet smile again. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I’m sure you have,” he grumbles in a low voice, mumbling something under his breath that I can’t quite make out. Something about not being attached to Mason’s face? I don’t understand, and I don’t give a shit.
“I just wanted a bottle of water,” I explain wearily, baffled by how this is turning into such an issue, but he’s the only one who’s been halfway decent to me. Maybe he can convince Hawk to part with a bottle of his precious water.
His eyes flick from me to Hawk before his lips pinch, an apologetic look flashing across his face before he carefully masks it, shrugging his shoulders.
Is he for fucking real?! Fucking jackass.
Fuck this shit.
“I wouldn’t suck your disease-riddled pocket prick if it saved my life,” I snarl, glaring darkly at Hawk before I turn my back on the whole fucking group of them, striding over to where a passed out Emilia sits. I wrap my arm around her waist and haul her to her feet, ignoring the groan of protest from her. Please don’t puke all over me. I’ll be seriously pissed if you do.
Feeling each of their eyes on me, I drag her away from the party and back to the dorms, silently cursing each and every Prick with every step. Yes, I may have said it in jest on Monday, but the whole fucking lot of them deserve the title.
With a serious amount of effort, I manage to haul Emilia’s dead weight back to the dorms and into her bed, removing her shoes before tucking her in.
“Thought it was a date,” she mumbles in her sleep, her words not making any sense.
“What?” I ask, confused. Was she supposed to be on a date tonight? Why didn’t she tell me?
“Michael...You.”
“What?” I repeat more urgently. What did she just say? She’s drunk, she’s not making sense, she doesn’t understand what she’s saying...right? There’s no way tonight was meant to be a date. I mean, I’d know if I was on a date, wouldn’t I? Would I?
My brows furrow as I think back to last night in the dining hall with him. Was that a date? He mentioned the party tonight, but he didn’t actually ask me to go with him….but he did ask me if I wanted to go. I thought he meant as, like, a group. Did he mean it as a date? If Emilia’s drunken self is right, then yeah, that’s exactly what he meant. How could I have missed that?
With a despairing groan, I close her bedroom door, slinking across the hallway and silently letting myself into my own room. What a fucking shitshow of an evening.
Chapter 7
It’s barely eight a.m. but Emilia’s drunken words have played on repeat in my head all night. I need to know for sure what she was talking about, because I have enough shit to deal with, with the Pricks, nevermind throwing dates I’m apparently clueless about into the mix.
“What?” Emilia whines when she finally answers the door. She’s still in last night's clothes, her dark hair a bedraggled mess, and her makeup smeared across her face. “I’m dying today, come back tomorrow.” She goes to shut the door, but I wedge my boot in the opening, preventing her.
She doesn’t even seem to notice me doing it, instead staring at the door in confusion before giving up and leaving it open, sluggishly stumbling back over to the bed and collapsing into it.
“Time to get up,” I demand. “We have shit to discuss.”
“Ugh, no,” she mumbles, her voice barely audible through the pillow she’s buried her face in.
“Yup,” I enforce. “Go shower and we’ll grab breakfast. You’ll feel worlds better.”
She mumbles something unintelligible. I’m pretty sure she’s cursing me out, but when she still makes no effort to get up, I decide to add an incentive. “I’ll tell you all about my run-in with the Pricks last night.”
That gets her attention, and her head snaps off the pillow so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash. “What happened?” she exclaims, her eyes bright with intrigue, her hangover clearly forgotten.
“Go shower, and I’ll tell you.”
Half an hour later, we’re sitting at our usual table with enough food between us to feed a third world country.
“Spill,” she demands, nursing her coffee like it’s a lifeline.
I quickly rehash last night's events, watching as her eyes grow wider with every word.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when I’m finished. “That’s all my fault.”
“What? No, it isn’t,” I insist, shaking my head fervently. “You didn’t make them act like shitheads. That’s all on them.”
I sigh, pursing my lips as I roll my eyes. “I’m just annoyed that I misjudged Wes so bad. I thought he was a decent guy, but all of them are just as bad as each other.”
She gives me a sympathetic look before her brows furrow. “Wes?”
“Ah, yeah,” I chuckle. “Apparently he hates it, so I’ve decided it’s exactly what I’m going to call him.”
“Even to his face?” she gasps, wide-eyed.
“Yup.”
“Girl, you are going to get yourself in serious trouble if you antagonize them.”
Giving her a
flat look, I brazenly state, “Maybe they should have thought about that before pissing me off.”
The look Emilia gives me says everything about how reckless she thinks I’m being, but I’m not one to back down. I’m not going to go after them, but I won’t allow them to steam roll all over me either. Enough people have tried to tear me down in my life; I’m not about to let some control-obsessed teenage boys get the better of me.
We’re finishing off the last scraps of breakfast, my stomach nearly bursting when I broach the subject of Michael. “So,” I begin hesitantly, flicking my gaze up to look at her, “you mentioned something last night.”
“Girl, whatever I said, just ignore it. It was the ramblings of a drunken idiot.” She laughs, waving me off.
“You said something about Michael thinking last night was a date?” I blurt out before I can talk myself out of it.
She pauses with her mug halfway raised to her lips, her mouth falling open as she stares at me before she cringes. “I did?”
“You did.”
She sighs, setting the mug back down on the table. “Eh, yeah. He might have said something to me yesterday about how he asked you to the party, but you never brought it up, and it was clear last night that you weren’t exactly on the same page as him.”
Burying my face in my hands, I release a frustrated groan.
“How did I not know it was supposed to be a date?” I grumble. “I’ve been playing our conversation from Thursday night over in my head and, I mean, I may have missed some cues, but it’s not like he outrightly said, ‘Hadley, will you go on a date with me?’ How was I supposed to know?”
She gives an empathetic chuckle. “I dunno, girl. Don’t stress, though. I think he realized how clueless you were. He’ll ask you again, and next time you’ll know what he’s getting at.”
“Wait. What? He’s going to ask me again?” I shriek in an embarrassingly shrill voice. I like to think I’m a cool badass bitch most of the time. I’ve definitely dealt with shit that would have most of the kids in this fancy-ass school shitting their pants, but give me a high school boy that has a crush on me and I don’t have a fucking clue.