Wicked Liars: A High School Bully Romance (Windsor Academy Book 1)

by Laura Lee

  Bentley fist bumps me. “Hells yeah! Operation Bang New Girl is officially on!”

  Reed shakes his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, man.”

  Yeah, me too, buddy. Me too.

  BY THE TIME LUNCH ROLLS around, things are still running smoothly. All conversation ceases when the guys and I walk into the dining room. We had already discussed it, so Reed and Bentley aren’t surprised in the least when I bypass our usual table, but the rest of the room is, including Peyton and her bitch squad. I hear all three of them audibly gasp when Bentley and I pull out the chairs on either side of Jasmine and Reed takes the one next to my sister.

  Jasmine is equally shocked, staring at me with an open mouth. I fight the urge to press my lips against hers and instead, place my index finger under her chin, gently pushing up until her mouth closes.

  “Didn’t want you to start drooling, princess.”

  My teeth grind together when Bentley pulls her into his side and kisses her on the cheek. “Hey, Jazzy Jazz. Whatcha having for lunch?”

  She pushes him away. “What does it matter? And what are you doing here?”

  “I’m with Jazz,” my sister says. “What the hell are you guys up to? Why aren’t you sitting with the other royals?”

  Reed smirks when she uses air quotes accompanied by an eye roll on that last word.

  Bentley bumps his shoulder into Jasmine’s. “I wanted to be by you, baby.”

  She shakes her head and looks at Reed expectantly.

  He shrugs. “I don’t give a fuck where I sit as long as I have food in front of me.”

  Reed and Ainsley exchange a loaded glance. I make a note to ask him about it later.

  Jazz narrows her gaze on me. “What about you?”

  “I felt like eating here.” I raise an eyebrow. “Anyone got a problem with that?”

  She glances over at our normal table and sees three sets of false-lashed eyes glaring a hole through her. Yep, they definitely have a problem with it. My lips twitch when Jazz raises an eyebrow in challenge, which only incenses them further.

  She turns back to me. “Fine. You can stay. But only because I know it drives those fake bitches crazy.”

  I offer her a wry look. “How magnanimous of you.”

  She shrugs. “I try.”

  The five of us dig into our food. The guys and I grabbed steak and potatoes, Ainsley got a California roll, and Jazz selected the cheeseburger on an artisan bun with truffle fries. That’s one thing I’ve noticed about her—she doesn’t eat rabbit food like most chicks in this school. The girl has one of the tightest bodies I’ve ever seen—I have no idea where it all goes. She must run a lot.

  “Jazz, what are you doing this afternoon?” Ainsley asks. “Wanna watch my rehearsal and we can grab a bite to eat after?”

  She nods. “Sure.”

  My twin is starring in her ballet studio’s production of Cinderella. Dancing is her life—she’s been taking classes four days a week for the last ten years or so. After our mom died, I think it started out as her way of coping, but it turned into something she actually loves. So much so, she wants to attend Juilliard and dance professionally after graduation. I personally don’t understand her fascination with it, but I’m glad she has something to focus on. Plus, it gets her out of the house a lot which is a good thing. I don’t want her around our father any more than she needs to be.

  Ainsley beams. “Great! I can give you a ride home to change then we can—”

  “She has plans,” I interrupt. “With me.”

  Jasmine folds her arms across her chest. “I sure as hell do not.”

  My eyes drill into hers. “You do.”

  She scoffs. “And what plans would those be?”

  My smile is promising all sorts of wicked things. “It’s a surprise.”

  Ainsley’s eyes bounce back and forth between us. “Uh... what am I missing here? What’s going on between you two?” She turns to me. “And not that I’m complaining, but what’s up with you dumping Peyton’s ass in the parking lot this morning? It’s practically all anyone is talking about.”

  Bentley laughs while Reed continues inhaling his food. Meanwhile, Jazz and I are locked in a silent battle.

  She glances in my sister’s direction. “Absolutely nothing is going on between us.”

  “That’s our business—not yours,” I say at the same time.

  Ainsley holds her palms up. “O-kay then. Don’t worry about it, Jazz. We can always do it another day. You two have fun doing whatever secret shit you have planned.”

  I smile victoriously while Jazz’s face flushes in anger. “Meet me out front after the final bell. I’ll take you home to change then we can be on our way.”

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but when exactly did you become the boss of me?”

  I lean into her ear, nuzzling my nose against the lobe. “Don’t test me, Jazz. One way or the other, you’re coming with me.”

  “Fine. But you’re feeding me.”

  “Oh, I’ll feed you something real good, baby. I’ll give you a hint. It starts with D and rhymes with stick.”

  She shivers. “I meant actual food, asshole.”

  I pull back with a smile. “I suppose I can do that too.”

  Bentley looks between us. “Can I get in on this party?”

  “No!” both Jasmine and I say in unison.

  “I need better friends,” Bent pouts. “At least I still have Reed to entertain me.”

  “Nope,” Reed says through a bite of his baked potato. “I have plans.”

  Bentley frowns. “Doing what?”

  Reed shrugs. “Just stuff.”

  I narrow my eyes when both he and my sister suddenly become awfully fascinated with the table. I know he has the hots for Ains but I’ve already made it crystal clear she’s off-limits. Reed’s a good guy—one of the best I know—but he hasn’t been very discriminating with his dick since he lost his virginity at fifteen. My sister doesn’t need to get mixed up in that shit.

  “What kind of stuff?” I ask.

  “Go to the mall,” he answers. “I have to find a birthday present for my mom, so I’ll probably drop in that damn purse store she like. Maybe check out the new LeBrons while I’m there. Stuff like that.”

  There’s something he’s omitting, but I’m dropping it for now because I have to make a few calls before I have to get back to class.

  “I’m out. I’ve got some arrangements to make before lunch is over.” Just for shits and giggles, I place a kiss on Jazz’s cheek as I stand. She stiffens as I expected, and out of the corner of my eye, I can see Peyton fuming. “I’ll see you in Lit, babe.”

  I have to bite back my laughter as I feel Jasmine glaring at me while I walk out of the room. Who knew fucking with her would be so much fun?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  JAZZ

  It seems as if the kingdom is rallying behind their queens. By the time lunch rolled around, I’d been subjected to countless taunts, trip attempts, insults, and shoulder checks. For whatever reason, all the guys are staying as far away from me as possible, but there’s plenty of female students to pick up the slack. I almost texted Ainsley, asking her to meet me in the library for lunch, but then I realized that would make them think they’re winning and I refused to do that.

  I will admit I got a little thrill when the guys sat down at our table, knowing how much it bothered Peyton. I know it’s petty, but after the morning I’d had, I don’t feel bad about it. Unfortunately, Kingston’s little stunt only made the catty behavior even worse for the second half of the day, but it was almost worth it to see the look on my evil stepsister’s face.

  Speaking of Kingston... my phone buzzes with a text from him, indicating he’s waiting for me out front. He dropped me off after school so I could change, and he went home to do the same. He said to dress casual and comfortable so I’m wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a plain red t-shirt, and my favorite pair of Chucks. Thankfully, neither Madeline or my father are
home—no surprise there. They would both probably shit a brick if they saw me leaving the house in this outfit. I don’t understand what their problem is with the minimal wardrobe I brought with me, but they’ve made their distaste abundantly clear. Sure, everything besides underwear were bought at a thrift shop, but they’re all in good condition. It’s not like I’m walking around in anything faded or stained. Maybe they would approve if I called it vintage instead of second hand. I snort at the thought.

  I take one last glance in the mirror before walking out the door, smoothing out a few stray hairs from my ponytail. What am I doing? This is Kingston Davenport—asshole extraordinaire. I shouldn’t try looking good for him. Hell, I shouldn’t even be going anywhere with him, but I have to admit, I’m curious to see where he’s taking me. As intimidating as he seemed at first, I don’t think he would ever physically hurt me. Ainsley loves him too much for him to be that kind of guy. But I do think he’s capable of some major psychological damage which is why I need to keep my guard up. I need to remind myself this is an information gathering mission. My stupid hormones need to take a hike and quit compelling me to want him.

  Kingston knows something about my mother. Something big, I’m guessing. And I need to know what that is, so here we go. I step outside and see a shiny white Range Rover parked in front of the door. Kingston’s behind the wheel and he pops the locks when I approach the passenger side.

  I climb into the tan leather interior that still bears that new car smell. “Where’s your car?”

  Kingston’s Ray-Bans slide down the bridge of his nose. “This is my car.”

  I roll my eyes. “I meant the fancy black one. How many cars do you own anyway?”

  He flashes a wicked smile. “I have this, the Agera, and a Ducati.”

  I fasten my seat belt and mumble, “Ah, the lifestyles of the rich and infamous.”

  I must not have been quiet enough because Kingston laughs. “I like nice vehicles. Sue me.”

  I glance around the cabin as he pulls out of the driveway and spot a booster seat in the back. “Uh... why do you have a booster seat? I know you don’t have any other siblings. Is there a Davenport love child I don’t know about?”

  Kingston scowls. “Probably more than one.” When my eyes widen, he adds, “But not one of mine.”

  My lips form into an O when understanding dawns. “Oh.”

  I don’t have anything to say to that. It’s obviously a touchy subject for him, so I drop it.

  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “You’ll see.” He pulls onto the main road and turns up the music.

  I bob my head along to Drake’s latest album while Kingston drives. As we pull onto the freeway heading south, I run through a list of places he could be taking me. The possibilities become slimmer and slimmer as we pass through LA. I’m confused as fuck when he takes a South Central exit. This is where I grew up—I know these streets well. We’re maybe three miles from my old apartment. What I don’t know, is why we’re here.

  “Kingston, what’s going on?”

  He turns off the main road into a neighborhood. “Almost there.”

  “Almost where?”

  Kingston pulls up to the curb in front of a small Spanish style home. “Stay here for a sec.”

  I watch as he steps through a metal gate and begins walking toward a man sitting on the front stoop, the brim of his hat pulled low as he smokes a cigarette. The white paint on the iron fence is a little worn, but the yard is well-kept and the paint on the stucco siding seems fairly fresh. Looking around, the entire street is that way for the most part.

  Kingston shakes hands with the man and turns around, gesturing for me to join him. I exit the vehicle, still wondering what the hell is going on, when Kingston steps to the side a little, giving me a good look at the guy he was talking to.

  “Holy shit.”

  Belle’s father, Jerome, gives me a smarmy smile as I approach. “Well, look at you, Jasmine. Got yourself a rich boyfriend, huh? If I would’ve known that, I would’ve answered your calls.”

  I glare as he laughs. “Jerome.” I glance over at Kingston. “What’s going on?”

  Kingston’s eyes turn to Jerome and his fists clench when he sees the man giving me an obvious once-over. Jerome developed this leering habit of his about two years ago and it creeps me the fuck out. No middle-aged man should look at a teenager like that. “We need to get going,” Kingston grits out. “Are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”

  Jerome crushes his cigarette beneath his sneakers and holds his palms out. “All right, no catching up then. Hold up a sec.”

  Hope blossoms as Jerome steps inside the house and calls my sister’s name. I have so many questions running through my brain right now, but the only thing I can do is watch the door like a hawk, waiting for my favorite little person to step out of it.

  Belle squeals when she sees me. “Jazz!”

  Her tiny body leaps off the stoop and runs straight for me. I crouch down, my eyes filling with tears as I swoop her into my arms.

  After a big squeeze, I pull back to look at her. It’s been less than two months since we’ve seen each other, but it feels like two years. She seems so much older. The adorable fat on her cheeks has lost its fullness and she’s missing another baby tooth.

  “Hi, honey. I’ve missed you so much.” I tug on one of her braids. “You look so pretty. Did you just get your hair done?”

  Belle nods enthusiastically. “Uh huh. Daddy’s girlfriend did ‘em for me before bed last night. She said she was gonna bring home some pink and green beads after work tonight! She only had purple and I told her they hafta be pink and green.”

  I smile. Pink is Belle’s favorite color and green is mine, so she always insisted on the same colored beads. She has her father’s thick, coily hair which I adore in its natural state, but it’s difficult for her to manage. Every six weeks or so, I’d braid and bead her hair while we watched Saturday morning cartoons and ate donut holes. Our mom was often working, so it became our special sister bonding time. I never realized how much I took that for granted until now.

  Belle notices Kingston and wrinkles her little nose. “Who’s the boy?”

  I’m about to answer when Kingston crouches down to her level and takes her hand in his. “I’m Kingston. Jazz is my friend.”

  Belle giggles. “Are you her boyfriend?”

  He laughs. “No. Not her boyfriend. Not yet, anyway.” He winks. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me.”

  She narrows her big chocolate eyes, making me smile. My sister is the sweetest girl, but she definitely has a layer of sass that comes out on occasion. “I don’t know... what’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”

  Kingston rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm... it’s probably a tie between mint chocolate chip or cookie dough.”

  Belle thinks about that for a moment. “Okay.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay? Does that mean I pass the test?”

  She nods. “Yep. Her other boyfriend didn’t even like ice cream. He’s dumb.”

  Kingston and I both laugh. God, this moment seems so surreal. Not only do I get to see my sister, but I’m seeing an entirely different side to Kingston. If someone would’ve told me an hour ago he is an absolute natural with children, I would’ve told them they were crazy.

  Jerome opens the screen door and pokes his head out. “She goes to bed at eight so you need to bring her home by seven-thirty.”

  Kingston nods. “We’ll be back by then.”

  Wait... what?

  “We get to take her?”

  “I’ll explain later,” he says. Kingston stands up and starts walking toward the car. When he gets there, he opens the rear door. Now the booster seat makes sense.

  I grab Belle’s hand and lead her to the Range Rover. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

  I get her buckled in properly then I slide into the back with her. Now that I finally have her, I can’t bea
r to be apart, even if it’s only in the front seat.

  Kingston doesn’t question me as he gets behind the wheel and presses the ignition button. Belle is chatting animatedly, telling me about her new school, a few friends she made, her dad’s girlfriend, who she says she likes a lot. She seems to be handling having her entire life uprooted much better than I have. It amazes me how resilient kids are.

  I don’t even pay attention to where we’re going. I’m so absorbed by the fact that my sister is sitting right next to me, that I tune everything else out. It’s not until Kingston pulls into a parking lot that I take a look around.

  Oh my God.

  Belle squeals when she sees the familiar landmarks. “Ooh! Can we get ice cream? And a pretzel? And ride in the shark heads?”

  Kingston’s eyes meet mine before he faces her. “Whatever you want, kiddo. This is your day.”

  I’m speechless as I help Belle out of the car.

  He takes my hand. “This okay?”

  I squeeze his hand, nodding. “It’s more than okay.”

  His face lights up in a smile. “Let’s go then. We only have a couple hours.”

  The three of us walk out of the public parking lot hand-in-hand and climb the stairs leading to the pier. We weave through the crowd, making our way past souvenir and various food stands. As we pass through the entrance to Pacific Park, I glance up at the metal octopus above my head and recall the last time I was here. It was almost a year ago—my seventeenth birthday, to be exact. Belle and I were standing with our mom in this very spot. When Belle was a little younger, she was afraid to pass through the entrance because she thought the octopus was real and that it would swoop down and grab us with its tentacles if we went under it. Once we finally managed to convince her it was a sculpture, she’d stick her tongue out and say—

  Belle tugs on my hand to stop and sticks her tongue out. “I’m not afraid of you, fake octopus.”

  I’m practically on the verge of tears from the bittersweet memory. Kingston looks at me questionably and I mouth the same words to him that he said to me: I’ll tell you later.