by Laura Lee
Uh...no, we can’t, asshole.
“I don’t think that’s possible until the people responsible are brought to justice. Anyone willing to commit such a heinous crime deserves to have the book thrown at them.”
Shit. Probably shouldn’t have said that.
Charles’ icy blue eyes narrow in suspicion. “Yes, well, of course. After the perpetrators are brought to justice, we can put this whole thing behind us.”
We stare each other down, reading one another’s body language. His is saying that he’s the king of this jungle and nobody dares to defy him. Mine’s saying, try me, old man.
My father’s face reddens as he straightens his tie. “Have a nice day at school, Jasmine. I have business to attend to.”
With that, he spins on his heels and walks toward the corridor leading to his office. Madeline is still standing right in front of me, obviously waiting for her husband to get out of earshot.
I prop a hand on my hip. “Something you’d like to say?”
For the first time since we’ve met, the real Madeline comes out to play. Her periwinkle eyes are burning with rage as she steps forward until her giant boobs are practically bumping against my chest. I'm five-foot-four on a good day, and Madeline's easily five-ten when she's wearing heels, so she towers over me.
“Listen up, little girl. Kingston Davenport belongs to Peyton. You. Can't. Have. Him. It's best to break off this fling, or whatever it is before it goes any further. They will marry after graduation, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Trust me when I say you’ll be sorry if you try.”
“Did all that poison you had injected into your face go to your brain?” I scoff. “You and your daughter are deranged. Whether or not Kingston and I are together, he’ll never marry Peyton.”
Fuck. Definitely shouldn’t have said that.
Madeline’s orange face turns cherry red. “You little—”
“Madeline!”
Both our heads swing in the direction of the booming voice. Sperm Donor’s face is rosier than his wife’s, only his anger is clearly directed at her, not me. Well, that’s a nice change.
Once she gets over the shock, Madeline’s mask is firmly back in place. “Darling, it’s not what it looks like.”
Charles’ jaw tics as his meaty fists clench at his sides. “I need to speak with you in my office.”
“But,” she sputters.
“Now! Do as you’re told, or face the consequences!”
Madeline glances at me before averting her gaze to the marble floor, scurrying past my father like her ass is on fire. Damn, can’t say I blame her. The dude’s pretty scary right now.
“You!” He points a finger at me. “Go to school!”
“Consider me gone.” I give a flippant wave before rushing out the door.
I lean against one of the pillars for a moment to catch my breath. Holy shit, what was that? Kingston's still not here, but I have no desire to wait around and risk running into either Charles or Madeline. I text Kingston as I start walking down the long driveway.
Me: ETA? I need to get the hell out of Dodge.
Kingston: I’m driving with Do Not Disturb While Driving turned on. I’ll see your message when I get where I’m going.
Crap. Well, at least I know he's on his way. The Davenports live in the same gated community I do, so I know it won't be long. My phone rings by the time I make it to the end of the driveway, and Kingston's face appears on the screen. I smile when I see the picture he took of us at the park. He must've updated his contact info when I wasn't looking.
“Hey. How far away are you?”
I can hear the rumble of his engine in the background. “Look up.”
Kingston’s flashy black Agera RS flies down the road and rolls to a stop in front of me. I guess that engine sound was coming from down the street and through the phone. I hang up the call and tuck my cell into the inside pocket of my blazer. I round the car as he flips open the oddly hinged door. One time, I called it a weird-ass door, and Kingston acted like a big baby, saying they were dihedral synchro-blah-blah-something doors. The boy is really sensitive about his car. Although, I suppose if I spent an obscene amount of money on a vehicle, I’d be touchy about it, too.
He frowns when I get in and buckle my seat belt. “What happened?”
“Why do you think something happened?”
Kingston gives me his Are you kidding me? look. “Waiting at the end of the driveway was a pretty big giveaway, but you also look shaken up.”
I motion toward the road. "Start driving, and I'll tell you."
He shifts the car into gear and pulls back onto the road. On the short drive to school, I recap the whole crazy interaction with Charles and Madeline. Part of me is actually worried about Madeline after seeing how pissed my father was, but the other part doesn’t give a shit. To be clear, I don’t think there’s ever a valid reason for a man to hit a woman, but after that bitch threatened me, I definitely think she deserves a solid tongue-lashing. Maybe have her credit cards taken away. That would probably devastate her.
Kingston pulls into a parking spot and kills the engine. “Fuck.”
"Yeah, pretty much. It was a little scary seeing him so angry, even if it wasn't directed at me for once. Even when I rile him up, he's never seemed as furious as he did back there. His voice was loud. Like, it echoed throughout the house. And what’s up with the ‘face the consequences’ crap? Who talks to their spouse like that?”
His beautiful hazel eyes drill into me. “You need to get out of that house, Jazz.”
“No, Kingston. I’m not having this argument with you again.”
“If he’s raging like that, it means he’s losing control, which I’m sure enrages him even further. Charles Davenport is passionate about projecting a calm and calculated image to the world. From the sounds of it, he’s dropping pretenses more and more since you’ve been around. I think your presence puts him on edge.”
“The fact that I look almost exactly like the woman he repeatedly raped and impregnated probably has a lot to do with that,” I mumble.
“All the more reason for you to get out of there.”
“Again, not happening.”
He scrubs a hand over his face. “Jesus-fucking-Christ, woman.”
I tilt my chin up defiantly and pin him with a razor-edged stare. “Don’t you J-F-C me! Worst-case scenario, if he flips his shit, I can defend myself just fine.”
Kingston gives me a cruel smirk. “Really? Like you did at the lake?”
My mouth gapes. “You did not just go there!” I fling open my door and unbuckle the seat belt. “Fuck this shit. And fuck you.” I climb out of the car and walk away as fast as I can.
“Jazz, wait!” I only make it a few feet before Kingston catches up with me, pulling on my arm.
I whip around. “Let go of me!”
"Just hold on a second, will you?" he shouts. Lowering his voice, he adds, "I'm sorry. I'm worried about you, and I was channeling it the wrong way."
A crowd has gathered around us, several people holding their phones up.
“Mind your own business, assholes!” I scream.
Snickers pass through the crowd, and of course, not a single person makes an effort to move the fuck along. I flip 'em the bird and tell myself to ignore their nosy asses.
“Can we just go somewhere and talk, please?” Kingston asks.
“I don’t have time for that.” I shake out of his hold and start walking toward Lincoln Hall. “Whatever you need to say can be said after I’ve had time to cool off. I need to speak with my math teacher before class begins.”
“Jazz—”
“Welcome back, baby girl.” Bentley swoops in from out of nowhere. “You and the caveman are already starting drama, I see.”
“Can it, Bentley.”
“Stay out of it, Bent,” Kingston says at the same time.
Bentley holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Okay, kids, I think you two need a time-out.” He hook
s his arm over my shoulders. “Let me walk you to class, beautiful.”
I know it’s childish, but I stick my tongue out at Kingston and say, “Gladly. Get me away from this jerkface.”
Ainsley and Reed join us then, sandwiching Kingston between them.
“Welcome back, Jazz,” Ainsley says.
I give her a curt nod. “Thank you.”
Ainsley loops her arm through her twin’s. “C’mon, bro. Let’s take a walk and quit giving these douchebags more fodder.”
Kingston begrudgingly allows his sister to lead him in the opposite direction. At the same time, Bentley and I head toward my statistics class. Right before Bent and I part ways, I spot Peyton, Whitney, and Imogen standing against the wall, their hate-filled stares honed in on me.
“Trouble in paradise?” Peyton asks mockingly. “Looks like things will be back to normal sooner than I thought.”
Before I get a chance to tell this bitch off, Bentley does it for me.
“Get fucked, Peyton.” He sneers. “And quit holding your breath for Davenport. In case you didn’t get the memo, you’ve been canceled. You’re washed-up pussy—nothing more.” Bentley levels all three girls with a look so fierce, I want to cringe. “That applies to all three of you.”
Goddamn, I’m so used to happy-go-lucky Bentley, I almost forgot he could be so callous. It’s kind of jarring. And maybe a little hot.
Obviously, I have a problem.
As if they choreographed it ahead of time, Peyton and her sidekicks gasp dramatically, flip their hair over their shoulders, and stomp away with a huff. Man, they’re freakishly in sync.
“Thanks, Bentley.”
He pulls me into a hug. “Anytime, bae.”
I chuckle. “Do people even say bae anymore?”
I feel him shrug before kissing the top of my head. “Don’t care.” He pulls back and gives me a pat on the butt. “Now, get your sexy ass to class.”
I give him a mock salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"
“Smartass.” Bentley jerks his head toward the room I’m supposed to be in. “Unless you wanna ditch and go make out with me, get in there and learn something.”
That kicks my butt into gear. “Learning it is!”
Bentley's laughter echoes down the hall as he walks away. Right before he turns the corner, he looks back as if he can sense me watching, and winks. I shake my head as I step into the class and take a seat at my desk.
What am I going to do with that boy?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JAZZ
People have been staring and whispering behind my back all morning. I expected that knowing word would've spread about my attack, but something's off. I'm probably being paranoid, but it almost feels like a coordinated effort. Like they've planned this.
Both guys and girls have been flinging insults at me under their breath. I’ve been propositioned by meatheads or preppy douchebags at least a dozen times.
“Hey, Jasmine. I have a question for you,” Jarod, my physics partner, whispers.
Oh, this should be good. Jarod’s a jock—a baller, I think—and he’s also a colossal dickhead. He’s one of those dudes who thinks he’s God’s gift to women, so he doesn’t handle blows to the ego very well. When I first came to Windsor, Jarod asked me out on a date. When I told him I wasn’t interested, he acted like he was joking, and he’s treated me like shit ever since.
“What, Jarod?”
I glance at the clock and see that we have less than two minutes before the bell rings. Thank fuck.
“I heard something interesting about you, and I wanted to know if it was true."
I arch an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What’s that?”
He smiles lasciviously. “I heard that you weren’t really assaulted.” The asshat actually uses air quotes on the last word. “That what really happened was rough sex that went south. They say you're like, a total freak in bed, and you're into blood play."
I’m so shocked, I can’t even form words. I just stare at him like an idiot as he continues.
"You know..." Jarod trails his finger down my forearm, and thankfully, I somehow have the wherewithal to jerk away. "If that's why you turned me down, you should reconsider. I'm up for some kink if that's what you're into."
My heart beats rapidly as images from that night flash through my head. Fuck, my chest hurts. Black spots dance across my vision. I'm too busy trying to ward off a panic attack to respond to Jarod's ridiculous accusation. When the bell rings, the other students can't get out of the room fast enough, but I'm frozen.
Jarod stands up and leans into my ear, completely oblivious to my impending meltdown. “You don’t have to answer me right now. Just think about it.”
I take deep breaths as I watch Jarod's cocky ass saunter out of the room, making no effort to leave my table.
Fuck.
I need to get myself together. I refuse to let them own me like this. I control my emotions—not any of these Windsor assholes or my would-be rapists. I continue my breathing exercises.
In...and out. In...and out. In...and out.
“Miss Callahan, is everything all right?” our teacher, Mrs. Nguyen, inquires. “Miss Callahan?”
I blink, looking toward the front of the room where her desk sits. “What?”
She rounds her desk and sits on the edge. “I asked if you were okay. You look...pale. Do you need a pass to the health room?”
I’ve never been pale a day in my life, but I get the point.
I take a few more deep breaths for good measure and shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Just spaced out, I guess.”
She looks skeptical. “If you’re sure...”
“I’m positive. I skipped breakfast, so I’m a little out of it. Good thing lunch is next period, huh?” I stand up and sling my book bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be good as new once I get some food in my stomach.”
Her eyes follow my every move as I approach the front of the classroom. I offer her a smile as I walk past her desk, trying to escape without an interrogation. Right before I reach the door, she calls my name.
Damn it.
I turn around. “Yes?”
Mrs. Nguyen’s lips press together. “Jasmine, I heard what happened to you after homecoming. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’d be happy to listen.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, steeling my resolve. “Thanks, but, uh...I’ll be fine.”
“If you change your mind, it’s an open-ended offer. Have a good lunch, Miss Callahan.”
When I step into the hallway, Reed is waiting for me. I tried telling them I don't need a babysitter, but Ainsley or one of the guys has walked me to each of my classes so far today. Safety in numbers, or some shit like that.
“You okay?” he asks.
I sigh. “I would be if people would stop asking me that.”
Reed’s brows crease in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” I wave him off. “So, how are things going with Ainsley? I hear you’re spending lots of time together. You ready to nut up and make things official yet?”
His light green eyes narrow. “Nice change of subject.”
“What?” I shrug. “I genuinely want to know.”
“It’s...complicated.”
“Because of Kingston?”
He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Among other things.”
“Oh, c’mon.” I shake my head. “You know damn well that her happiness is what’s most important to him. If you make Ainsley happy, what’s the big deal?”
Reed scratches the back of his head, looking nervous. Huh. That’s a new one. This boy usually exudes one hundred percent confidence or aloofness. There doesn’t seem to be an in-between with him.
When he doesn’t answer, I keep going. “Whatever your issues are...you’d better figure them out fast, Reed. She likes you. A lot. But Ainsley’s not going to wait around forever.”
His eyes widen in panic. “She said that?”
“Yeah, she di
d, actually. But the real point is that she shouldn’t have to. It's not fair to string her along. Either you're in or you're out. Whichever path you decide to take, don't dick her around. She's good people. She doesn't deserve to be kept hanging on the line just because you don't want her to be with someone else."
Reed scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck.”
He’s obviously agitated, so I take pity on him. “You want my advice?”
He gives me a curt nod.
I bump my shoulder into his arm. “Talk to her. Whatever your reservations are, talk to her and see if you can work through them together.”
Reed considers that as we make a pit stop at my locker, so I can ditch my bag before heading to the dining room. Right before we step inside, he tugs on my elbow to pull me aside.
“Thanks, Jazz.”
I grin. “Anytime, big guy. Now, let’s eat. I’m fucking starving.”
He laughs and ushers me through the doorway.
We stand in line to grab some food before meeting the others at the same table we sat at before my unplanned hiatus.
“What took you guys so long?” Kingston asks suspiciously. “I was about to send out a search party.”
"Haha, funny guy.” I take the empty seat next to him while Reed pulls out the chair next to Ainsley. “Reed and I were having a little chat, that’s all.”
“About what?” Ainsley and Kingston ask in unison.
I flick my finger in between them. “That was cute. Was that your freaky twin telepathy kicking in?”
Ainsley laughs while Kingston growls. Like, literally growls.
I poke him in the chest. “You don’t get to be pissy with me. I’m still mad at you.”
Kingston traps my finger, hooks his foot around the leg of my chair, and pulls me closer. Leaning into my ear, he whispers, “I like it when you’re mad at me. That fiery look you get in your eyes makes me rock hard.”
I tell myself not to look down, but my eyes fall to his lap anyway. Yep, Kingston’s definitely sporting a semi that seems to be growing the longer I stare.