That’s not Eli’s style, though. “This isn’t your table anymore, LeMarque.”
Alec steps toward him, his lips curled back into a snarl. “My boys were here first. You don’t own this table, Hart. It’s a free fucking country. So why don’t you take your psycho-bitch-ghost-slut and move along. Unless she’s dragged you back to me because she’s so desperate for my cock—”
Eli moves so fast I don’t see it. One moment he’s standing beside me, his shoulder tense, his usually-kind eyes filled with loathing. The next moment, Alec’s on the floor, his nose bleeding. Eli winces as he shakes out his wrist.
“I’ll get you for this,” Alec huffs, clutching his nose as he smears blood on the floor.
“Eli, fuck.” I scan the dining hall. Hundreds of faces are trained on us. I notice Ms. Drysdale moving across the cafeteria toward us. She won’t be able to see much over the heads of the students crowding around, but if anyone says a thing to her, Eli will get in trouble. I stand up to try and salvage the situation, but my rage takes hold of me. I lean over Alec and kick him squarely between the legs.
Alec wheezes like a shitty car struggling up a hill. His hands fly off his face to protect his legs. The dressing flops off his forehead, revealing the healing scar of my initials.
MM. Property of Mackenzie Malloy.
He’s marked for death, and everyone here knows it. A couple of brave students lean over and snap pictures.
“Jesus. Look at you. You’re pathetic. Just get out of here, Alec.”
It’s Noah. He holds his tray under one arm, all casual-like. His other hand smooths dark strands of hair from his aristocratic face. His eyes burn with the full depth of his hatred, but this time it’s not directed at me.
Alec rolls to his knees and crawls to the outside door. His three friends hurry to vacate our table and scurry after him. A few students clap, but one glare from Noah shuts them up. Ms. Drysdale is nearly on us. Gabriel tosses his bookbag on the floor, covering up the bloodstain.
Noah sits down opposite me, his head bent over his food. Ms. Drysdale appears at his side a moment later. “What’s going on over here?” she demands.
“Nothing, ma’am,” Gabriel flashes her that impish grin of his. “I was demonstrating a dance move from my latest music video, and I got a little carried away and accidentally kicked Alec LeMarque. He’s fine, he’s just gone outside for some air.”
Ms. Drysdale looks to the French doors. She sees Alec heaving himself onto a bench, barking orders at his friends while blood dries on his face. She must see the MM branded into his forehead. I brace myself for trouble.
Instead, a smile tugs the corner of Ms. Drysdale’s mouth. She turns to me, and in an almost imperceptible movement, she winks. She fucking winks.
I’m too floored to say anything. Ms. Drysdale turns back to Gabriel. “Very well, Mr. Fallen. But you shouldn’t be horsing around like that in the dining hall. Someone could be seriously hurt.”
Gabriel hangs his head, feigning regret. “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
She turns to Noah. “Mr. Marlowe, I’m glad to have caught you. Mackenzie informs me you refused to tutor her. That’s in violation of the school’s tutoring policy, and I’ll have to speak to the principal about revoking your status as—”
Noah shakes his head. “That was a misunderstanding, ma’am. Mac and I have a tutoring session this afternoon.”
I nod. “It’s true.”
“Ah. Very good then.” She lets that smile play ever so faintly across her lips. “Carry on, students.”
As she walks away, I sink into my seat between George and Gabriel and plow into my food. Noah takes a seat across from us, shooting me a glare lacking in his usual fire. I flip him the finger and stick my tongue out, but inside my stomach’s doing backflips.
He called me Mac.
When the bell rings after Political Science, I fly out the door to beat Noah to the library. He must know some kind of apparating spell because he’s already there when I dash in, seated at the same table as last time, a stack of books beside him.
It’s weird to be around him at school after everything that’s happened. Stonehurst Prep feels like a different world to the desert or hanging at Gabriel’s condo. I fell asleep on Noah’s shoulder and it felt nice, and right. But staring across the table at this aristocrat with his perfectly starched collar and his eyes of burning embers, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing.
“Why did you change your mind about tutoring me?” I ask as I plop down across from him. “I thought I was hopeless.”
Noah ignores my question. Instead, he opens a page in our mathematics textbook. “Explain to me how to solve this equation.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s all gibberish. Didn’t Eli tell you? I have amnesia. I don’t remember this shit. You might as well ask me to translate Egyptian hieroglyphics.”
“You know all about ancient history,” he points out. “You were telling us all about posca.”
“That’s because…” I sigh. I can’t explain. I don’t have to explain. “Fine. It’s like… Just help me understand what I’m looking at.”
Noah tugs on his school tie. He’s always so orderly – Gabriel dresses as though he peels his uniform off the bottom of a pile of groupies every morning (at least partially true), but Noah’s always perfectly buttoned and pressed. It’s sexy as fuck, actually, how much control he exerts over himself and everything in his life.
He’s a good teacher, too. He writes out each stage of the problem and uses real-world examples so I can grasp what exactly it is I’m trying to work out. He’s strict – he doesn’t let me mouth off. Of course, that only makes me do it more. He gets so flustered around me. I don’t fit neatly into the box he assigned for me in his head, and he doesn’t know yet if he still hates me or… I remember the hardness of him pressing against me at the party. He was flustered then, that’s for sure.
I like having this effect on him.
At the end of our hour, Noah hands a page of problems back to me, with only two wrong answers. “I think you might actually have a shot of passing the next quiz.”
I dare a grin. “They’ll think I cheated.”
“Probably. A word of advice – if you’re going to cheat, don’t copy Gabriel’s work. He’s almost as behind as you are.” Noah stands up and shrugs his bag over his shoulder. He doesn’t look me in the eye as he turns away. “See you tomorrow, Mac.”
Antony gets back to me with the news that he ‘sent a few guys around’ to sort out the Brutus situation. He doesn’t elaborate on the details, but I don’t need to ask. “The weird thing is, when we got past the guards, he wasn’t inside,” Antony says. “His headquarters have been completely cleared out. We’ve put out the word, and he’s nowhere to be seen in Emerald Beach. He must’ve been tipped off I was coming for him, so he skipped town to save his pretty ass. He’s probably in Mexico by now. You’ve got nothing to worry about from him.”
Even so, Antony keeps the guard on my house. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders – for now, Queen Boudica and I are safe. I’d be happier if I had Brutus’ head on a plate next to Alec’s, but that might come in good time.
After Antony’s good news, the rest of the week flies by – I eat lunch with the guys at the royals table while Alec stares dagger eyes into my back from a lonely corner of the dining hall. I walk the halls with Gabriel or Eli’s arm around my shoulders, basking in their warmth and popularity. Noah and I throw barbs at each other while he tutors me. We toss around ideas for getting our vengeance on Alec and Cleo. I send videos of Queen Boudica chasing a fuzzy mouse to Eli and receive strings of hilarious Roman History memes from George.
I dare to believe that maybe the rest of the year could go like this – a normal teenage existence, with normal friends and normal hormones and normal revenge plots and not the gaping hole of loneliness that’s been threatening to devour me.
I should have known better.
That’s right, I, Mackenzie Malloy – the Ice Queen witch bitch ghost slut extraordinaire – am officially a base for the Stonehurst Prep cheer squad. When Mrs. Anderson heard from Ms. Drysdale about the ‘family bereavement’ that prevented me from completing my previous audition, she allowed me to do a make-up. Her verdict: my ‘pep’ could definitely use some work (it’s hard to look smiley with Cleo staring daggers at you from the bleachers) but my tumbling skills and strength would be an asset for the team.
After class on Thursday, I head outside for some fresh air before practice starts. Gabriel’s smoking weed under the bleachers. I jump down beside him and whip the joint from his hands, leaning my head against his shoulder as my head fills with lovely THC clouds.
Eli and Noah are on the field, running drills with the rest of the track team. Eli’s clearly the star of the team – he’s out in front during all the sprints. When they practice their starts, he explodes from the ground like he’s about to fly off to the moon. Something happens to him when he runs – in his face, it’s like he’s finally going fast enough that he can run away from his life.
But Noah… he’s a mess. He’s strong, and fit, and his ass looks damn fine in those tight shorts, but he’s no track star. He lags behind the others in the sprints, and during the drills you can tell he doesn’t know what to do with his body. I read the frustration on his face and the tension in his shoulders as he comes in last again.
Gabe notices me watching Noah. “He knows he’s bollocks. But he won’t quit. Noah thinks everything in life is like passing exams. You just have to learn the answers and you’re set.”
“But why is he on the track team if he sucks at it?” Noah is such a perfectionist over-achiever, it doesn’t make sense.
Gabriel gives me that look. “Because of his brother. Are we still on for tonight?”
That’s right. I read in the news articles that Noah’s brother Felix had been a track star headed to the Olympic team. I want to ask Gabriel more about it, but it will only bring up questions in his mind about why I don’t remember the court case and Malloy International’s role in Felix’s death, and I don’t want to poke that bear if I don’t have to. So I nod.
“Dinner and cherry cheesecake at your place, followed by a hot tub under the stars? How can I forget?” I swallow hard. My stomach flips with nerves at the thought of the ‘not-date’ Gabriel has planned for us tonight. Not least of all because it’ll just be the two of us. No Eli. No Noah. And that’s thrilling and terrifying and a little… disappointing. And I don’t understand why.
Since hanging out with the guys, I’ve decided I’m done with virginity. It’s impossible to be around so much male hotness and not think about sex 24/7. A vibrator under the covers while Queen Boudica purrs in my ear just isn’t cutting it any longer. Antony’s right – if I’m going for the normal high school experience, I need to have normal, high school sex. And who better to do it with then flirty, beautiful, no-strings-attached Gabriel?
Who better to take me to the stars than the one who sings them?
It doesn’t matter that Eli’s ocean-eyes haunt my dreams, or I can’t stop thinking of how powerful I felt with Noah’s hard cock rubbing against me at the party. It’s not as if I can have all three of them. I mean, there’s normal high school sex and then there’s… reverse harem. And that may be fun in books, but it doesn’t happen in real life.
Does it?
I’m happily buzzed from Gabe’s weed and my head’s filled with hot tub thoughts when I head into the gym for cheerleading practice. I’m the last one to arrive – the other girls are scattered across the floor, gossiping as they do their stretches and limber up. All conversation dies when I enter – a sure sign I’m probably the main topic.
Cleo flashes me her too-white smile, and I know I’m in trouble.
“Melrose, hi,” she purrs, bouncing over to me. Her sleek black hair is pulled back into a severe ponytail, giving her this panther-like expression. Her snakes coil on either side of me, girls surrounding me in a tight circle of ponytails and bitch-face. “We’re so happy to have you on the team.”
Daphne’s leg brushes my gym bag. They’re standing so close their designer perfumes all mingle together into the scent of bullshit.
“What’s going on here? Girls, on the mat for warm-ups.”
Mrs. Anderson blows her whistle, and the snakes move away. Cleo sets me with one final chilling smile that sets my teeth on edge. I toss my bag down near Cleo’s and line up for drills. As I circle the gym at a jog, I notice Principal Foster and two police officers standing at the entrance to the gym, deep in conversation with Mrs. Anderson.
This can’t be good.
We start on stretches. I’m warming up my hamstrings when Principal Foster comes over. “Miss Malloy, you need to come with me.”
“Can I ask why?”
Her lips purse. “We’re administering a random drug test.”
Hands on hips, haughty expression in place, I size up the principal. Mackenzie Malloy doesn’t stand for this treatment. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It’s standard practice for athletes competing at the college level. As the cheerleading team will represent our school at the state competition next month, this applies to you, and you agreed to it when you signed the Stonehurst charter. If you could step this way, it won’t take long.”
I think of the weed I smoked earlier. I narrow my eyes at Principal Foster. Behind her shoulder, Cleo cannot hide her smirk. “Why am I the only one being tested?”
“As I said, this is a random drug test, and you’ve been—”
“It doesn’t feel very random to me. Why don’t you test Cleo? You don’t get cheekbones like hers without a steady diet of heroin.”
“Miss Malloy, if you refuse to take the test, I have to drop you from the team—”
“I’m not refusing. I just don’t believe I should be the only one taking it.” Mrs. Anderson reaches for my bag, but I yank it out of reach. “Watch it. I’ve got private stuff in here.”
“Ms. Malloy—”
“Oh, Principal Foster.” Cleo beams at me as she hands her bag over. “If it will make Mackenzie feel more comfortable, I’m happy to submit to a random search and test.”
Principal Foster glowers at me as she hands Cleo’s bag to the officer, who paws through it. She frowns as she draws out a small bag of white powder. “Ms. St. James, can you explain this?”
Cleo’s face goes white. “That’s not mine.”
“Then explain how it came to be in your possession.”
“I—” Cleo’s eyes land on my smirking face. Her mouth twists into an ugly scowl. “She must’ve planted it to frame me.”
Principal Foster tsked. “Ms. St. James, I’m disappointed. The whole reason we were called down here today was to address your concerns about drug use on the team. Since Ms. Malloy had no knowledge of our random test, she cannot be responsible for slipping drugs into your possession. This is not the behavior of a senior role model. You’d better come with me.”
“But, it’s not mine,” Cleo yells. “It’s Mackenzie’s. It was in her bag and—”
As Cleo is marched off the field, I wave cheerfully. The remaining cheerleaders glare at me. They were all in on it. Bitches. Well, they learned something tonight – don’t try to plant drugs on Mackenzie Malloy. I caught onto what they were doing as soon as Daphne brushed up against me, and I slipped the baggie into Cleo’s pouch before I joined them on the field.
Gabriel’s waiting for me after practice. One look at my face and he shakes his head sadly.
“We’re not having hot tub shenanigans tonight, are we?”
I lean into his shoulder as I whip out my phone and text Eli and Noah. “Cleo just tried to plant drugs on me.”
Gabriel lets out a string of beautifully poetic British profanity.
My phone beeps. It’s Eli. He says he’ll swing around to school and pick us up. (Gabriel usually leaves his car behind because his place is walking distance from school.)
“We need to get together to strategize,” I say. “We want to teach Alec and Cleo that they can’t do whatever they want to people without consequences. The thing about that is that people like them can. They’ll always have Daddy’s money to bail them out. Cleo’s parents are probably in Principal Foster’s office right now, writing a check for a new tennis court to make this go away.”
“I believe it.” Gabriel lifts an eyebrow. “I take it you have a plan?”
“I thought hurting Alec’s face would wound him, but he’s got enough money to just keep repairing it. I have a feeling the desert isn’t the first time he’s tried to take without permission, and I don’t want a woman to ever feel afraid of him again. We need to take away the one thing he values over everything – his fame – so people aren’t afraid of him anymore. That’s how we destroy and take away his power.” I rub my hands together. “This is going to be fun.”
37
Mackenzie
“You’re ready for this?” Gabriel nudges me, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief.
It’s Thursday night, and the three of us are in the parking lot of the Emerald Beach country club, facing rows of fancy-ass sports cars and giant, gleaming SUVs. Since Gabe paid off the security guard to abandon his post for an hour, the lot is empty apart from us and a few goths smoking weed in the bushes. Everyone else is inside watching the regional tennis match. As I stand here, Alec LeMarque is running and sweating in tiny white shorts, with not a clue what will await him when he returns to his car.
I stare down at Alec’s car – a rare candy-apple red 1967 Shelby Mustang GT500 in mint condition. He clearly loves the car, because even though I saw it only days ago covered in sand out in the desert and I know my nails scratched paint off the hood, it gleams like new.
My Stolen Life: a high school bully romance (Stonehurst Prep Book 1) Page 19