Chapter Seven
Elena
I spend my lunch break in the music room with my violin. I should be practicing for the pep rally we have coming up with the rest of the cheerleading squad, but the masquerade ball is coming up too, and my father wants me to play a piece just before he gives a speech to garner support in the election. I don’t know why he tries so hard sometimes, the election can easily be bought, and with the backing of The Society, it’s virtually a sure thing.
I try to lose myself in the music, but it feels flat. I was here early this morning too, and I’ve been practising at home, but the bow feels wrong in my hand, and my chin feels like it's beginning to bruise as I butcher Beethoven’s music. Tristan was right, I sucked. I chastise myself, my father asked me to do this. I couldn’t disappoint him. I wouldn’t.
Sighing softly, I keep going, my fingers moving over the strings, ignoring how they bite into my skin as I force it. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead, and I bite back frustration as I ruin another note. Finally, I pause and inhale. I need to calm down and try again. I am not a failure. I am not a disappointment. I am just tired, I tell myself. I lower the violin as a lone clap echoes around the room.
Turning, I see Tristan standing in the doorway, clapping slowly with a huge grin. He looks tired, and there’s a gash on his forehead, nestled in a pretty purple bruise.
“Sonata No.9 has never sounded so shit,” he laughs as he enters the room.
“You think you can do better?” I hiss, annoyed. “Then here, have at it.”
I shove the instrument into his chest, getting a pang of enjoyment at the look of surprise on his face. Was he expecting me to cry at his comment? Was I supposed to care what he thought?
“What’s happened?” his concerned voice makes me frown. Putting the violin down on a nearby table, he grabs my hand. Turning it over, he looks at the red angry lines forming on my fingertips, and we both stare as a droplet of blood begins to form on my index finger. Without saying a word, he takes my finger in his mouth and gently sucks. I can feel his tongue flick over my skin as he slowly moves up the length of my finger. I stand, rooted to the spot, confused. What on earth was happening here?
I finally catch myself, and placing my hand on his forehead, I shove him away, pressing down on his cut hard as I do. He yelps as he steps back, eyeing me wearily as he sucks in a sharp breath.
“What the fuck was that?” I demand, glaring at him like he’s lost his mind. “Keep your hands and your mouth to yourself.”
He straightens up, that smirk appearing as he cocks his head at me. “Jesus, how sexually frustrated are you if that got you all hot and bothered?”
Crossing my arms, I roll my eyes. Why did it feel like Tristan Radcliffe was everywhere I turned these days? “I am not hot and bothered.”
“Really?” He leans against the desk and swipes his thumb across his bottom lip before crossing his arms and mocking my stance. Why did that make my chest feel tight? “The fact that you just got violent with me says otherwise.”
I grab my violin case from the floor and begin putting my instrument and sheet music away as I smile sweetly. “If it wasn’t illegal, I’d always be violent towards you.”
My body brushes against his as I reach across the table he’s leaning on to grab my bow. Placing it inside the case I close the lid and secure the clips with a snap.
Leaning in, so that I get a hint of something musky, he whispers, “Don’t lie. The Society would help you hide my body if you wanted me dead. You want me very much alive and breathing.”
It’s impossible to miss the suggestive tone of his voice, but Tristan isn’t on my ‘to-do’ list this week, or next. I have other things I need to take care of, and he isn’t even a stray thought. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
Stretching out, his arm crosses in front of me as he uses it to prop himself up. “C’mon, Lena, when was the last time you got laid?”
His dark eyes burn into my skin as he watches my face, I don’t know what for, embarrassment? A blush? I refuse to give him whatever it is he wants.
“It’s none of your business,” I reply calmly as his hand comes around my wrist. He tugs gently and reverses our positioning so that I now have my back to the desk, and I’m pinned in place with his body. “As your future husband—”
I lift my chin defiantly, cutting off his words. “You’re not my husband yet. My current sex life is still none of your business.”
“Current? So, there is someone?” he murmurs as he leans in, lips inches from mine. I’m aware that his free hand is resting on my hip, and it’s almost like a gravitational pull as my body moves closer to his.
“Why are you so invested?” I ask, not shrinking away from whatever game he is playing. He was not going to make me hang off his arm like Blip. I wasn’t going to drop my panties and beg for his attention, and I certainly wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
His lips brush against mine, and I feel his smile as he says, “Because, you’re mine.”
Tristan freezes as I snake my hand up his chest, fingers dancing over the exposed skin of his neck, until I’m cupping his face. We both stand perfectly still, caught up in a moment as I follow the lines of his cheekbones up...and shove my fingers into his bruised injury again, pushing hard enough to bring him to his knees.
“Not yet, I’m not,” I growl, watching him glare at me on one knee at my feet.
I’ve avoided Tristan as much as I can, but he always seems to be lingering, watching with his intense stare, and I know he’s just waiting for another opening, but I don’t know why. I make it to Friday, barely, and feel like I need to crawl out of my own skin to escape. The pep rally tonight has been a huge thing on my list, and I’m glad it’s finally out of the way so that I can focus on the violin. I gave it my all during our routine, cheering and shouting until my throat felt raw, but I was far from exhausted. I still needed to dance after this, I still had too many things on my mind that I had to untangle so that I could get through the next week. Dancing was like my drug, and I practised through the week, but Friday was my day to blow off steam. No rules, no expectations, I just felt it. I moved without planning, without thinking, and sometimes without music. I craved that.
I feel eyes on me again, and I know without turning that Tristan is somewhere in the crowd, watching and waiting. He’s like a hunter, but I refuse to be his prey.
“That was great! I’m so pumped, there was so much energy!” Serena says as she grabs her towel from the bag next to mine. “Are you coming to the party with us tonight?”
“Nah, I have somewhere I need to be,” I say apologetically. I rarely go to the events afterwards, be it house parties, yacht parties, lake parties, or trips to the diner. They were just excuses to get drunk, do drugs, and compare how rich your family was, and I didn’t have the patience for that. I always had more work to do, events for my father or nights like tonight where I just need to dance.
“Okay, but Sam kinda was really hoping you’d be there,” she leans in and whispers. “I heard from Brent that he’s planning on asking you out.”
She nods her head over her right shoulder to one of the linebackers on the football team. He was easy on the eyes, but what was the point? Nothing could ever come of it. My mind flits back to the conversation earlier in the week with Tristan. Was he jealous? Did he think I was sleeping with someone? It’s almost like my thoughts summon the devil as he appears, but he doesn't even spare me a second glance. He’s wearing a fitted white T-shirt, a pair of torn jeans, and a khaki shirt. The whole outfit screams casual and chilled, but I know it’s really just a pretence as I clock the designer labels. In a town where money rules everything, there’s no way he bought clothes at an ordinary store. His father would never allow it.
“Hey, Serena, isn’t it?” Tristan says smoothly with a smile ghosting on his lips as he stands with his back partially to me.
Serena gives me a questioning glance, and when I shrug, she nods and flashes him a flirty grin. I m
ean, I know he’s attractive, but he’s also a dickwad. How can he just smile at girls and watch as they melt? He’s not a god, he’s someone who got lucky in the genetic lottery, and he knows it.
He looks her up and down openly, taking in the cheer uniform. The black pleated skirt is edged with a white and silver strip while the top is cropped with long sleeves, the silver and white banding on the arms. The whole ensemble is finished with silver hair bows and silver pom-poms.
“You looked great out there. I love, and I mean, LOVE the uniform.” His voice is oozing charm as he compliments her, and I see her brain cells fading as she falls for it.
“Thanks,” she purrs, placing a hand on his arm. Rolling my eyes, I grab my bottle and pull up the cap. I’m sweating a little, but I still have energy, and there’s a pressure building in my head that I can’t ignore. I feel like I’m losing control as I try to steady my breathing and cool down. I want to dance. I want to scream. I want to bite him.
Good girls don’t get angry.
They stay calm and collected.
They never break.
“Your belly bar kept catching my eye, glinting while you moved.” He glances over his shoulder at me when she’s not looking.
I take a drink, aware of his eyes fixed on my neck as I swallow, before I give him a charming smile of my own. He smirks and turns back to Serena, determined to get under my skin. Pushing the lid on the bottle back down, it’s like I’ve lost my mind as I find myself standing on my tiptoes and calling out over the rest of the squad.
“Hey, Sam!” I shout at the attractive football player. “You want to take me to the party tonight?”
His eyes widen as I catch him off guard, and beside me, I can feel Tristan stiffen. Serena whispers something to him, but he doesn’t respond. We’re both watching Sam now, I don’t even need to see Tristan’s face to know that his eyes are seeing the same thing I am: a cute jock with sandy blond hair and blue eyes.
“Urm, yeah…” Sam says hesitantly as the other players cheer and whistle before grinning at me. “Yes. Definitely. Want a lift home first?”
I try to look shy and sweet as I nod. “Yeah, let me just grab my bag.”
He should give me butterflies, but he doesn’t. I’m on autopilot, behaving how I know I should, rather than how I feel. It’s a strategy I learned when my father first started doing political campaigns and one I use daily. I’ve asked Sam out for all the wrong reasons, but he doesn’t need to know that. I’m going to go and enjoy myself, since it doesn’t look like I’ll get to dance tonight. At least, not the kind of dancing I need.
“What’re you doing?” Tristan hisses, grabbing my arm as I squeeze myself through him and Serena to get to where Sam is waiting.
I turn and watch him coldly, even though I feel like I’m burning up under his glare. His hand is scorching my skin, reminding me why I am pushing him. I can’t be broken, not by him. “We’ve already had this discussion, Tristan. My sex life is none of your business.”
“Like fuck—” he spits, but I yank my arm free.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Serena asks, her soft voice faltering as she finally notices the battle of wills we’re having.
“Nothing. I’ll see you later at the party. I’ll give you all the juicy deets.” I wink and giggle, feeding into Tristan’s anger. Serena doesn’t disappoint, giggling in return and slapping my ass as she tells me to have fun and ‘stay safe’ tonight. Tristan looks like he’s ready to murder her as Sam slings his arm around my shoulder and leads me out to his car.
Chapter Eight
Tristan
I don’t know what possessed me to go to the fucking pep rally. I hated school events normally, but Elena was avoiding me ever since the music room last week. Sitting in the stands, I watch as she jumps, twirls, and does cartwheels across the sports hall. I can see some of the tension leaving her body with every leap and every landing, but it isn’t enough, the routine is still stifling her.
In the music room, I’d pushed her again. Forced her to face some things she didn’t want to think about, and while it hurt when she used the cut on my head as a defence mechanism, I also saw how I’d rippled that calm confidence of hers. She wanted me. She just wasn’t admitting it yet. The woman was going to drive me crazy if she didn’t give me just an inch soon, I didn’t even want a mile.
The rally ends and people start filtering out into the parking lot, but my eyes glue to her as she goes to the bench and starts looking through her sports bag. Her pretty friend stands next to her, chattering on, and I can see Lena feigning interest, but her eyes are dead as the redhead carries on. It was this thing Elena did, when she reined in her feelings and thoughts; her eyes went flat, and she faked whatever it was she was supposed to be feeling. I would say Randolph was to blame, but having met Adeline Montgomery, I knew this was something she’d inherited from her perfectly placid mother. I doubt the woman had ever revealed a true emotion in all her life, but then again, she was a Grim, and that family terrified me. By Society rights, Adeline was more powerful than her husband, and yet she was happy just to be an ornament in his political career. Something was going on there.
I’m not sure when I decided that riling up Lena’s jealous side was a good idea, whether it was when I saw her glancing over at the jock or if it was when she didn’t meet my gaze, but either way, I find myself flirting with her friend and ignoring her. I know it’s backfired when I see her drinking from her bottle, hand clenched around the plastic, fingers digging in as she swallows. The movement of her throat is like an ‘Oh shit’ moment, and I know that whatever comes next is going to piss me off.
The corner of her mouth twitches seconds before she shouts, “Hey, Sam! You want to take me out tonight?”
She wouldn’t dare. Would she? The perfect little princess was going to go and hang out with a pretty boy footballer on a Friday night? Drinking? I think fucking not. I watch as the burly motherfucker says yes like he’s won the lottery, and I stand there as she leaves with him like I’ve been glued to the spot. What the heck just happened?
I won’t let this happen. I won’t let her push me away.
“Hey, you want to go to that party together?” I say casually to Serena. I knew she’d be there, with or without me, but it might just piss off Elena if I was there with her best friend. I’d seen Serena there before, but I’d always been with Blythe or one of the guys getting high, and cheerleaders weren’t usually my type. Too high maintenance.
She replies shyly, but it feels insincere. “Yeah…”
“I’ll pick you up at nine.” I nod, before leaving. I didn’t want to hang around here with the cheerleaders and jocks if Elena wasn’t here.
“What the fuck are you doing here with her?” Blythe demands as she corners me in the kitchen. She’s wearing a black denim skirt and crop top, leaving her belly button ring and hip tattoo exposed. I wonder if Elena has any secret piercings or tattoos? I grin, I doubt it. She was too much of a Goody Two-shoes.
The music blaring out of the speaker system isn’t to my taste, but at least it’s not clubland shit. The huge house is full of faces I recognize. The Society children are here, I realize, as I spot Atlas in the hallway, while Quinn and Harlyn are headed towards the kitchen, which means that Belle will also be here somewhere and maybe Sebastian, but I can’t see Elena yet. Serena is in the lounge chatting with some of the other girls from the squad, I can see them look my way every now and again as they talk about me.
“Huh?” I say as I grab a bottle of vodka from the freezer and pour myself a drink. One good thing about rich-kid house parties was the choice of alcohol, I never had to drink warm, flat beer or cheap wine.
“The cheerleader, Tristan,” she jabs a finger in my shoulder. “Is that your fetish now? First that Montgomery slag and now Serena Whittaker?”
Taking a slow sip of my drink, I count to ten. “Don’t talk about Lena like that.”
“Lena?” She scoffs. “So, what? You’re friends now?”
She steps back, with her arms crossed, and I know she’s angry. I never promised Blythe anything, we were never even in a relationship because I could never give her that. I explained that countless times. We got high, we fucked. We used each other. That’s all it was.
“The head cheerleader offered it up on a plate and now you want the whole squad? Is that it?” she snarls, and I know she’s drunk. She’s always nasty when she’s had too much, but it’s not my responsibility to look after her.
I grab a beer for Serena from the fridge and pop the cap off. “It has nothing to do with you, Blip. So, leave it.”
Blythe slams her hand down on the kitchen counter. “Blip? Did you just call me a blip?”
“Did I?” I shrug as I leave her simmering in her rage.
“Fuck you, Tristan. You’ll come crawling back when you get bored,” she calls as I head back into the lounge.
I haven’t even been here for ten minutes and my night is already going to shit. I sit beside Serena, trying not to flinch as she links her arm with mine and leans in to talk to me. She spouts some shit about the squad and their new routine when Lena arrives, under the arm of the meathead.
There’s something about the glint in his eye I don’t like, earlier he looked pleased, like he was the luckiest guy ever, and now he looked…. predatory. And I hated him for it.
Lena is wearing a fitted navy dress with gold buttons, embossed with anchors. It hugs every curve of her body, and it’s making me angry how everyone keeps glancing her way. Didn’t they realize that she was gorgeous before? Were they blind?
Sam’s arm slips from her shoulders and comes down around her waist, as he pulls her in and whispers something in her ear. She looks up at him and nods with a small flirty smile, but I know it’s all pretend. Everything with Elena is an act. Except when she’s with me.
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