BITTER PRINCE | A DARK COLLEGE BULLY ROMANCE: HEIRS OF HAVOC

by Winters, Vanessa

  “Brooklyn,” he said sharply.

  I didn’t reply.

  “Damn it, Brooklyn!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up from the ground so that our faces were only inches apart. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at his lips. As much as I hated him, his family, his fiancée, and everything that they collectively stood for, there was still an absolutely electric charge that hummed between Jude and me. I had buried it down as deep as I could and fought it every single instant that the two of us were together, but unfortunately, there’s just not an awful lot you can do about your body’s reaction to something.

  Don’t believe me? Next time you’re freezing your butt off, try to fight that feeling, and you’ll see what I mean.

  Inches apart, I could see that Jude’s pupils were dilated. A sign of anger… or perhaps arousal? His scent up close was intoxicating, like pepper and pine. For a moment, I forgot about everything. For a moment, all I wanted to do was fall into his arms and get naked. He leaned closer, close enough to kiss. I could smell the sweetness of his breath. My heartbeat was going wild.

  A crash out the window startled us both, and we pulled apart.

  “I better check on that,” I mumbled and stuck my head out of his window. Peter, the new garden guy they had hired to replace me, was cursing a blue streak as he picked up the pieces of what looked to be a very expensive ceramic pot. By the time I turned back to Jude, we were both much more cooled down. I kept a safe distance between the two of us.

  I blinked. “I don’t understand what you want from me.”

  “I simply want to know what has happened that has caused your work performance today to suffer. I believe, as your employer, I am allowed to ask you questions of that nature.”

  I rubbed one hand over my eyes. “Fine. If you absolutely must know, I got rejected from Northwestern.”

  “What do you mean, rejected? You’re already in college here.” Jude’s brow furrowed.

  “I mean, they didn’t accept my application to transfer to their college.”

  “Transfer?”

  I knit my fingers together. “Yes, transfer.”

  “Why would you transfer? Bryers is way better than Northwestern.”

  I didn’t say anything, just gave him a look.

  “Oh.” He was quiet and looked away. “But wait. Bryers is way better than Northwestern!”

  “Uh… yeah, you said that already.”

  “No, I mean… Bryers is way better than Northwestern.” He shook his head. “So why wouldn’t you have gotten in?”

  “Oh.” I turned back to his keyboard and lifted the bowl of vinegar onto the windowsill. Time to lay the keys out to dry. “I don’t know.”

  Were Jude and I having some sort of moment?

  “So that’s why you’re such a bummer today,” Jude mused.

  “I don’t love being called a bummer, but yeah, sure.”

  “You’re such a wuss.”

  And the moment was gone. I whipped around to glare at him. “What?”

  “Uh… yeah, you said that already,” he mimicked my earlier words.

  “How dare you call me a wuss! Who do you think you are?”

  “I think I’m the guy watching you trash your future because you’re too scared to deal with the mean rich boy and his mean family.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not scared, you idiot! You—” The next string of words, all phrases insulting his intelligence, were cut short by the door opening.

  Janey stood in the doorway, looking appalled.

  “Brooklyn! That is quite enough! What nerve you have insulting Mr. Jude. What could you possibly be thinking?”

  “Me? No! He was the one who—”

  “I’m sure there’s nothing he could have done to warrant such a reaction.”

  Jude leaned back against the wall, a smug smile crossing his face.

  “Before you say anything else, just stop. I may not be able to fire you, but I can certainly send you home early without pay.”

  “Janey!”

  “Enough. Get out. And don’t let this happen again, or maybe I finally will be able to convince Mrs. Carlisle it’s time for you to go on a permanent basis.”

  Janey’s already thin lips were pressed into a tight, bloodless line. I glanced at Jude again, no help there, although he looked like he was having an awfully good time.

  “Fine.” I untied my apron and thrust it at Janey. “I’ll go.”

  “Be on time tomorrow.”

  I didn’t say a word, just swept past her with my head as high as possible, got into my shitty Honda, and drove home.

  2

  Jude

  As soon as tight-ass Janey had left, my amusement at the situation with Brooklyn faded. She was trying to transfer to some shitty state college? I knew for a fact she was on a full ride here at Bryers, one of the very best private universities in the country. Hell, in the world. I knew that its greatness wasn’t exaggerated either, because Mother would never have let Lila and me study here if it wasn’t exceptional. She firmly believed that average was only for losers, above-average was for losers, and only the top one -percent was worth trying for.

  Notice that I did not say the top one-percent was impressive, because very little actually impressed my mother.

  Why would Brooklyn actually be trying to leave? What a stupid idea. My eyes landed on the keys sitting on the windowsill. I ran one finger across their surface. Spotless. No surprise there.

  And why wouldn't she have been accepted into Northwestern? I had seen her articles. I knew she had a high GPA—the Carlisle scholarship demanded it—and she was still in good standing there.

  I dropped into my office chair and lit a cigarette. Whatever it was, it wasn’t my business. I flicked my cigarette butt out the window and made myself move on. The facts were still clear and still indisputable. Brooklyn had lied, cheated, and stolen. She was a sneak. It didn’t matter how good she smelled or how pretty her hair looked when she was sitting in the sunlight on the floor of my room, or how I couldn’t look away when fury flamed into her cheeks. Enough. Brooklyn was not my problem.

  My phone rang. Margeaux. She was on her way over for dinner and would sleep over in my room again tonight. Back to real life—my real life where Brooklyn was only the girl who cleaned up after me and served my fiancée and me breakfast. I still had my dreams, though. Even while I laid next to Margeaux at night, she’d never take my dreams away from me. Dreams where Brooklyn was in my arms. Kissing my lips. Straddling my pelvis with those toned legs of hers and grinding against me as she proclaimed--.

  Enough. It’s over.

  Ah, hell. Maybe Margeaux might claim my dreams as hers, too, before it was all said and done. And before I knew it, I was lighting up another cigarette with the one I sucked down in one, two, three large pulls.

  Time to get back to reality.

  3

  Lila

  Jude was brooding when I walked into his room.

  “Where’s Margeaux?” I asked.

  “On her way.” He was leaned back in his desk chair, throwing something up in the air and catching it.

  “Dinner tonight?”

  “At Le Peep on South Broadway.”

  I nodded slowly. “Did you order champagne ahead?”

  “Yep.”

  I sat at the edge of his bed. “Jude…” He didn’t look away from whatever it was he was tossing and catching. “We haven’t really had the chance to talk much lately. You seem a little bit off. Everything okay?”

  He didn’t look at me. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “That’s not what I’m asking you.”

  “Whatever.”

  I watched him make a few more catches before giving up. “Fine. Just know that I’m here for you, okay?”

  “Yep.”

  He still wouldn’t look at me. Jude had been so off lately. Just… flat. He didn’t even get mad about anything anymore. And it had been going on for months. Every time I looked at him, he was straight-faced.
Empty. Every time I stole a glance at him from afar, his shoulders were slumped and his face looked almost damn near hopeless.

  It was starting to really freak me out.

  I stood up and smoothed out my skirt. “Okay, well… see you later then.”

  He didn’t even look at me. “Uh huh”

  I left his room, more concerned than I had been before. Maybe it was time to have a little chat with my best friend.

  * * *

  When Margeaux got back to our house with Jude from dinner that night, I lured her into my room with a pitcher of extra-strong margaritas. Jude flashed me a look that seemed to be grateful before heading back toward the stairs to leave the house for a while. Probably planning to drive his new car around without anyone in the passenger seat telling him to slow down.

  “What’s all this about, love?” she trilled as she took a margarita glass from me.

  I had music playing, a tray of snacks and desserts laid out, and another pitcher of margaritas ready as backup.

  “No reason,” I said as I sipped from my own glass. “We just haven’t had much bestie time together lately. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, bitch!” She slung an arm around me. “This is why I love you!”

  She sat in the white armchair by the window and kicked her feet up onto the windowsill. She was already a little drunk from dinner with Jude, which made my job that much easier. So, I handed her an extra-tall margarita before pouring myself one and sat on the edge of my bed.

  “So, what’s new, Margeaux?”

  She launched into a full-scale rant about her Comms class, her dad limiting her credit card spending, and a girl on campus who was apparently copying her fashion choices. As she complained, I made sure to keep her glass topped up. Watching her sip and sip without even realizing how much she was drinking. And finally, she had ramped down enough that I could get a word in.

  “What’s going on with you and my brother?” As soon as I said it, I knew it had come out too defensive. But, luckily, she was too drunk to notice.

  “Ohhhh, Liiiiila.” Margeaux pressed her hands to her chest. “Things with me and Jude are absolutely perrrrr-fect.”

  Really? Because Jude had seemed pretty damn miserable lately. I waited for her to continue instead of trying to come on too strong.

  And of course, she started running off at the mouth again. “Everything is amazing. He has been the best fiancé ever!”

  “Jude has? Seriously?”

  She laughed. “I know, right! I can’t hardly believe it either! But don’t think he became a perfect fiancé through any fault of his own.” She took another sip. “No, no, no. That was alllllll my doing.”

  I topped off her glass again. Finally, we were getting somewhere. I needed her to continue, but the worst thing you could do with Margeaux was press her on something she wasn’t ready to indulge yet. She was a deeply suspicious person and incredibly negative and she always assumed the worst. So instead, I acted disinterested.

  I shrugged. “All right. Want to watch a movie?”

  “A movie?” She picked up her glass again. “Don’t you want to know what I mean?”

  “Eh, that’s your business.”

  “Oh.”

  We sat quietly, drinking our margaritas, but I knew I had her on the hook. I felt her eyes studying me as I pulled out my nail polish from my vanity drawer and began to shake the bottle. All I had to do was wait a little bit longer and--.

  “Fine! I’ll tell you. Quit bugging me!” she said.

  I didn’t look up from opening the bottle of nail polish and touching up my nails. I was all ears, though. Anything to get answers on what the hell was happening with my brother.

  “It was all thanks to that little bitch, Brooklyn.” She scooted closer to me. “I never would have really snagged him without her.”

  I finally peeked up at her, but only for a second. “You guys have been engaged forever. And everyone knew you were going to be engaged before you actually were.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but you know what I mean. Jude never wanted to marry me. If there ever was an out, he would have taken it like a shot. Even without an out, I always worried I would end up left at the altar because he did a runner.”

  I sighed. “Well, you don’t really want to marry Jude either, do you? Isn’t your dad forcing it just as much as our mother is?”

  I looked back up at her and found her blinking at me, eyes red and eyeliner beginning to run a little bit. This was the sweet spot with getting information out of Margeaux, drunk enough to spill, not so drunk that she was incoherent.

  Yet.

  “I want to marry him! Of course, I do! God, Lila, I know he’s your brother, but can’t you see how sexy he is?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Uh… gross. No.”

  “Whatever. He’s also amazing in bed.”

  She ticked off the second item on her list on her finger. To which I looked back down at my nails.

  “Again, you’re really not convincing me, his sister, of anything over here.”

  “He just has a draw, okay? He’s beat down, your mother has shoved him into a box his whole life, and he’s responded by lashing out in predictable, yet socially acceptable ways.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean that he acts like he hates his life, but what does he really do about it? He smokes. He wrecks expensive cars. He rolls his eyes and slouches and curses. But that’s it. He doesn’t try to run away. He doesn’t embarrass your mother on national television. He doesn’t actually try to hurt anyone. He’s not even much of one for yelling or hitting, even when he is drunk.”

  She looked away at that, and I knew that she was thinking of her own father, a big practitioner of the scotch drinking followed by yelling and/or hitting.

  Then, she continued. “I have watched Jude my entire life. He will allow himself to be manipulated and pushed around by strong women.” Here, she gestured downstairs to indicate our mother, and then to herself. “But right when you think you might have beat him down, he’ll do something just reckless enough to keep himself attractive to a strong woman. Lila, I don’t want a cringey, boney loser who will just let me push them around. I want someone who makes it a challenge. Who puts up a fight, but in the end does exactly what I want him to do.”

  She smiled in a self-satisfied way and leaned back. “And then gives me a great fuck afterward, thinking he’s getting back at me that way.”

  I felt like someone had dumped ice down my spine. I swallowed against the taste of bile rising in my throat as she had talked about my twin brother like he was some sort of… prize to be manipulated and caged up for the rest of his life and asked, “What does all of this have to do with Brooklyn?”

  She clapped her hands. “I’m so glad you asked! He likes her! I mean, in his weird, twisted, fucked-up Jude way, but still! He actually cares about her.”

  I flashed to that day in the shed. Jude’s face when he saw Brooklyn seemingly canoodling with that asshole Merritt. And a bit of reality dawned on me.

  Oh, no.

  Margeaux’s voice pierced my thoughts. “So, I just told him what would happen if he ever got any funny ideas.”

  “What would happen?” I asked.

  But I had a feeling I already knew, and Margeaux knew I wasn’t that stupid. So, all she did was giggle.

  “Don’t be obtuse, Lila. You know exactly what would happen.”

  I forced a laugh and topped off her glass. “Yes, but it’s so much more fun to hear you say it.”

  “You’re right! And you know what, Li, you are going to absolutely love this.” She raised her glass at me so that margarita sloshed out of it and onto my bed.

  Ugh, what a fucking lush.

  “I told that brother of yours that I would see to it that she never worked again. She wouldn’t even be able to serve a coffee in this town, and no other school or news-related job would touch her with a ten-foot pole. I told him that I would watch her get kicked out onto th
e street, unable to pay her bills and turning cheap tricks to assholes who got off on her pretty red hair.” She peeked over her shoulder at the wall separating my and Jude’s bedrooms. “And you know what else?” She giggled. “I did it anyway!”

  She collapsed back onto my bed with laughter, spilling the margarita glass, but on the floor, at least, instead of all over herself onto my bed. And I felt sick to my stomach as her laughter became damn near maniacal.

  It reminded me of my mother. And I wondered what the hell Jude had actually gotten himself into with this girl.

  Then, all too suddenly, Margeaux’s laughter ceased to exist. Just like that. So, I walked over to my bed she had conveniently flopped onto and started shaking her.

  “Margeaux? Margeaux.” I shook her shoulder, but her eyes had closed. We’d crossed from truth serum straight to unconsciousness. “You did what anyway? Margeaux!” I gave her another shake, but her eyes didn’t even flutter. She let out a gasping snore more suited to a three-hundred-pound man than someone her size. I rolled her onto her side so she wouldn’t choke to death on my favorite down comforter and then walked over to my window to look outside, thinking about everything she had told me.

  Jude had been miserable and not himself for weeks. He had been acting like the life had been sucked out of him. Margeaux, on the other hand, had been prancing in and out of our house like she owned the place. I had never seen her so happy before. And all that shit about Brooklyn? Had Jude actually cared about that girl? I knew they had been sleeping together, but I hadn’t thought it was much more than that. Well… maybe I had figured it was a little more than that but definitely not to the extent that Margeaux had described.

  I looked back at the girl who had been my best friend since before we could walk and frowned. Suddenly, I felt a little bit unsure about who I was and my place in the world, and it wasn’t a feeling that I really liked.