by R. A. Smyth
I lost my virginity last year to some biker dude in a back alley. I never even got his name; and all my wham-bam-thank-you-ma’ams since have been the same. I’ve spent a decent portion of my teenage years in seedy bars and dodgy warehouses, trying to make a buck so I could survive. They don’t exactly come with the typical sweet, innocent boy most girls probably end up with for their first time, but, for the most part they know how to use god’s gift between their legs.
“Why would he do that? He doesn’t even know me,” I insist, but even as I say it, the little demon voice in my head argues that I don’t know any of the Pricks and I have—had—some sort of strange reaction to them. Now that I’ve affirmed they’re shitheads, I’m sure whatever that was has fizzled out. Even so, I don’t know them, and they had that allure over me. I’ve definitely had several vibrator sessions thinking about Cam and how talented his fingers most likely are. You don’t actually have to know someone to be attracted to them. Hell, if I've learned anything this past week, it’s that you don’t even have to like whoever you’re attracted to. Hormones are a fickle thing.
Chuckling, Emilia shakes her head, rolling her eyes at me. “The whole point of dating someone is to get to know them. He obviously likes what he’s seen so far, and he’s clearly attracted to you.”
“He is?” How did I not know that? I mean, I know Cam finds me attractive—he’s blatantly obvious about it, but I had no idea Michael felt the same way. Maybe I’m just not used to subtle gestures, or the way teenage boys flirt?
When I’ve picked up guys before, it’s always been in dark, dingy bars, with guys willing to sink their dicks in just about anything, so it’s not like I needed to have any game or make an impression. Literally, all you had to do was bat your eyes in a guy's direction and he’d drop his pants. When a man did approach me, it was painfully obvious what he was after.
The problem is, Michael wants more than just sex. Even Cam, while all he wants is sex, is problematic. I’ve never had sex with someone I had to ever see again. Nameless, faceless sex I can do. That’s right up my street, but anything more than that, especially dating someone? Spending time with them? That’s really not my thing. From what I’ve learned about Michael, he’s quiet, shy, innocent. He’s not like me at all.
Emilia must be able to see my internal panic written all over my face as she bursts out laughing. “Girl, you’re totally overthinking it. Ask yourself, are you attracted to him?”
I pull up his image in my mind's eye, picturing his short-cut dark hair and wiry frame. He’s not unattractive, but there’s no swirling in my lower abdomen, no fluttering as my heart rate increases. There’s definitely not the same intense, indescribable reaction that I get in the Pricks’ presence.
“No. I’m not.”
“Then next time he asks, just let him down gently.”
We spend the rest of the day spread out on the lawn catching up on homework while enjoying the last rays of sun before the seasons change, only making a move to head indoors when the sun starts to set.
That night we walk over to the rec center with the others for yet another movie night. Tonight is Mary’s turn to pick the movie, and she chooses some romcom I’ve never seen before. Turns out romantic comedies are not my thing—way too sappy and dull. Where’s all the action? Not that I get the chance to focus much on the movie, with my stomach in knots, worried Michael is going to want to talk to me. I haven’t worked out what to say to him yet. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, or say the wrong thing. The tension only drops out of my shoulders when we say goodnight to the guys, Michael giving me a soft smile when we part ways.
***
“Hey, girl,” Emilia greets, dropping into the chair beside me at our usual table in the dining hall. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I assure her. “I just couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come for breakfast early.” I tossed and turned all night, not that I usually sleep all that well, but last night was particularly bad.
Every year has a time slot for breakfast, with seniors getting the last one right before classes begin. Most students turn up not long before class, which, unsurprisingly, is also when the Pricks tend to arrive, so this morning I decided I was in no mood to watch their usual routine, and made sure I was here just as the slot for seniors began.
I messaged Emilia before I left so she would know where I was if she came looking for me, which, it seems, she did.
“If you’re worried about the Princes…” she begins, but I shake my head, cutting her off.
“I’m not. Not really. I’m not afraid of them, I just don’t want any of their drama. I’m here to do the work, so I can have the future I want. I’m not about to let wayward hormones or devilishly handsome teenage boys interfere with my plans,” I joke.
“Right.” She laughs before growing serious. “But after Friday, Hawk’s going to be pissed.”
He’s pissed? I’m fucking pissed!
I shrug my shoulders, not giving a shit about how he’s feeling. “So? He can be pissy all he wants, so long as he leaves me alone.”
She sighs, resigned. “Just don’t do something that will only get you into more trouble with them.
The hall slowly fills up over the next half hour and just before the time the Pricks usually arrive, I slide out of my seat, deciding I’d rather be ridiculously early to English than have to force myself not to spend all of breakfast watching them.
I saunter through the relatively empty corridors, slowly making my way to Mr. Greer’s classroom, and by the time everyone else filters in, I’m sitting there, ready to begin.
Bianca throws a glare in my direction as she enters, but I pay her no mind. What the fuck is her problem, anyway? Is she seriously still annoyed about last week? Has Cam not fucked her good enough to forget about it?
“Morning, beautiful,” Cam purrs as he slides into the seat beside me. Ignoring him, I stare pointedly at my black tablet screen until he sighs. “Okay, I get it, you're pissed.” After a moment's hesitation, when he still gets no response from me, he continues, “It’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” I snort, turning to face him. “It was a bottle of water.”
“It wasn’t about the water. I mean, it was...but it wasn’t.”
He’s not making any sense and I just roll my eyes at him, returning my attention to the desk once again.
“Look,” he begins, leaning in so no one around us can overhear our conversation, “it was about more than just the water. In front of everyone else at this school, we have to present a united front. Yes, even over something as stupid as a bottle of water.” He tacks on before I can interject. “With the girls watching, there was nothing I could do.”
I give him a disbelieving look out of the corner of my eye. “So you’re saying if the girls weren’t there you’d have given me the water?”
“I’m saying it wouldn’t have been such a big deal,” he responds immediately. He sounds sincere, but he could simply be telling me what he thinks I want to hear.
“Unfortunately, words mean nothing when you can’t back them up,” I retort, not trusting a thing he says.
I’m still side-eyeing him, watching him closely, so I catch the pained expression that flashes across his face before he masks it. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Hawk was being a dickhead for no good reason. You managed to piss him off good with whatever happened between you in the hall last week.”
My head snaps around so I can glare at him. “Nothing happened between us,” I bark. “Just because I didn’t back down from him like everyone else here does, doesn’t give him the right to act the way he did.”
Cam just nods his head, not saying anything, and thankfully the teacher brings the class to order, beginning the lesson before I can do something stupid like strangle him with my bare hands in front of all these witnesses.
For the next hour, I feel Cam constantly glancing my way, his leg bouncing annoyingly under the table. I can tell he wants to say more, but he has the
foresight to realize I’m not in an understanding mood.
“Don’t forget you need to be working on your projects outside of class hours,” Mr. Greer calls out as the bell rings and everyone starts packing up. Fucking hell, how did I forget about the damn project?
“Meet me in the library after class tomorrow,” I tell Cam as I shove my things back in my bag, walking off before he can argue with me.
“Damn girl, that looked intense,” Emilia says, catching up to me in the hall. I just shake my head, not wanting to talk about it. I don’t have any of them in the rest of my classes today and I refuse to spend one more moment talking, or even thinking, about them.
“It was nothing, just sorting out our English assignment.”
“Uh-huh.” She lets the topic slide and we soon part ways as she heads off to music and I go to my math class.
The next afternoon, I push open the library door, walking past the manned front desk and spotting Cam sitting alone at a table in the far corner of the room. I make my way through the large, circular tables, some of which have students working away at them, letting the hush of quiet conversations wash over me as I drop into the chair beside him.
“Hadley,” he purrs, his voice thick and raspy in a way that makes my insides do stupid things. “Looking fine as always.” He’s clearly back to his usual flirty ways, his remorse over Friday long forgotten.
“We need to sort this assignment out,” I snap, getting straight to the point. “Did you read the book?” It’s the only thing we’ve managed to sort out so far, although I don’t for one second believe he’s read it.
“Of course I did!” he gasps in mock outrage, his hand clasping his chest. I don’t believe him, but whatever. As long as he does his half of the work and it’s solid enough to pass, I don’t give a fuck.
“Okay, I’ll write the critical analysis of the book, and you can compare it to others from that time period.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” he replies, his tone suggestive.
For fuck’s sake, Hadley, don’t fall for it. Remember, he’s a dickwad.
Glancing at him, I bite my lower lip as I cross my legs, ‘accidentally’ grazing them against his as I lean in. A sense of satisfaction courses through me as his pupils dilate, eating me up. Giving him my best seductive look, I lower my voice and breathe out, “I want...you to write your half of the book report.” Pulling back abruptly, I lift out my notebook, flicking through the notes I made while I was reading the book.
I can feel Cam gaping at me before his wits finally return to him and he barks out a laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe he fell for my act before pulling out his tablet and finally getting into the assignment. We work in silence until someone drops into one of the spare chairs at the table.
“What are you doing here?” West asks in a suspicious tone, like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. We haven’t spoken since the party, not that I have anything to say to him. Glancing at Cam’s work, he returns his gaze to me. “You’re not doing his homework for him, are you?”
“What?” I can’t do anything but gape at him. Why would he even think that? “Definitely not, Wes,” I snark, not appreciating the inference that I’d willingly be someone's homework bitch.
His eyebrows raise in surprise, his lips pinching at my new name for him. He didn’t like Brittany calling him that at the party, so I’m betting he won’t be too pleased at me using it either, but I sure as hell won’t let his pissy personality put me off.
“We’re working on an English assignment together,” Cam explains.
“Of course you are,” West drawls. “Just don’t forget about Bianca. Whatever you’re doing, you should keep it on the down low.”
“Excuse me?” I sneer, pissed off at his insinuation. Even worse than people thinking I’m Cam’s homework bitch is people thinking I’m his side piece. Regardless of how unofficial he thinks his monthly girls are, he is basically publicly dating Bianca, and I don’t want to be anyone’s dirty little secret. “We’re not doing anything.” When he just continues to look at me, like I’m bullshitting him, I spell it out for him, “I’m not fucking sleeping with him.”
After another long, intense stare, West shrugs, offering a half-assed apology. “Sorry, that’s just his MO.”
“Dude,” Cam hisses. “Shut the fuck up.”
I’m clearly missing something between them, but whatever.
“You really think after your dickish behavior at the party last week, I’d be interested in any of you?”
“I apologized for that,” Cam exclaims.
“That doesn’t make it right.”
West leans in closer, casting a surreptitious look at the other students around us before saying, “Look, we have to put up a united front when we’re around others. We can’t let anyone see any rifts or disagreements. It’s nothing personal.”
I just shake my head, not understanding him. It’s basically the same crap Cam spouted, but I really don’t get this whole social politicking. Who cares if they all agree or disagree on something? What does any of it really matter?
Ignoring the pair of them before I end up doing something I regret, I get back to work until two more assholes join us at the table.
Yay, the gang’s all here now.
Mason stares at me with his sky blue eyes for a long moment, but doesn’t say anything before glancing away. He’s the hardest one to gauge. I never know what he’s thinking. Sometimes I catch him staring at me, just like he was doing there now, but I don’t know what to make of it. Hawk, on the other hand, glowers at me. “What is she doing here?” Fucking asshole.
“We’re working on a project together,” Cam reiterates, barely sparing Hawk a glance, completely unfazed by his attitude.
I really don’t get what his problem is. He doesn’t even know me. He can’t seriously be that annoyed over our run-in last week. What mentally stable person holds such an intense grudge over a complete accident?
I’ve been watching him closely since the party, and he’s the grumpiest dickhead I’ve ever met. He’s surly, and he snaps at pretty much everyone around him. I don’t know how Melissa puts up with him—although from what I’ve seen, they do nothing but make out and grope each other when they’re together. I guess he can’t say something shitty when her tongue is rammed down his throat.
The four of them settle down to get busy with their own work, occasionally sharing the odd comment before lapsing into silence again.
After about an hour, a rustling noise gets my attention and I look up as Cam empties an entire bag of skittles into the middle of the table.
Seeing the confused look on my face, he gestures to the pile, “Help yourself.”
Leaning forward, I stretch my arm across the table until I can grab a couple of green skittles, but a hand snaps out and grabs my wrist before I can pull it back.
“The green ones are mine,” Hawk snarls.
Fuck me, are we seriously doing this shit again?
Staring at him with wide eyes, aware of everyone around the table watching us, I give a hesitant nod. “Okay.”
Releasing my hand, I make as though I’m going to set the candy back on the table, but at the last second, I pick up the last few green ones and shove all of them into my mouth before anyone can stop me, flashing Hawk a toothy grin across the table.
“Mmm, yummy. The green ones are my favorite.”
The table is deathly quiet for a second before Cam bursts out laughing. “Fuck, I can’t believe you did that, he’s definitely going to kill you now.”
I give a shrug of my shoulder, which only serves to annoy Hawk further as his hand clenches tightly around his stylus, threatening to snap it.
“There are plenty of other flavors,” I appease, waving toward the candy.
“He only likes the green ones,” West explains.
“Huh.” Well, you snooze, you lose.
Chapter 8
The rest of the week passes in a blur of school work.
There’s literally not enough hours in the day to do everything they ask of us. Plus, Hawk has taken to openly glaring at me when we pass in the halls, and students are starting to whisper.
“What’s going on with you and the Princes?” Abigail asks on Saturday night at our weekly movie night.
“Nothing.” I shrug, not really wanting to get into it.
“There must be something,” Samuel insists. “Bianca is going around telling everyone you’re trying to steal Cam from her, and Hawk looks at you like he wants to rip your head off.”
“Bianca is what?!” I gasp. How have I not heard of this? As for Hawk, well, that makes two of us.
“Sorry, girl,” Emilia says sympathetically, cringing when I turn to look at her. “I heard it for the first time today. I was going to tell you later.”
The audacity of that bitch!
“For the record, I am not trying to steal Cam from her. She’s just annoyed that we’re working on an assignment together.” We’ve spent all week in the library, trying to hammer out this project, but unless it’s work related, we don’t talk. He finally seems to have coped on to the fact I’m angry with him.
“Pfft.” Samuel snorts. “Cam never does his own work. If he’s spending time with you, it’s because he wants in your pants.”
“Samuel,” Mary scolds. “You don’t need to be so crass about it.”
“What? It’s not like it’s not true.” He shrugs unapologetically. “She’s good-looking. Of course he’d try it on the new girl.”
“It’s really not like that,” I assure them, but based on the dubious looks I’m getting, no one believes me.
“Well, what about Hawk?” Mary asks.
Rolling my eyes, I rehash my run-in with Hawk last week. By the end of it, everyone except Emilia, who has already heard the story, is gaping at me.
“It was just an accident,” I reiterate, confused by their expressions. Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this? So what?