Poppy sprung up and grabbed a half-drunk bottle of champagne and lifted it toward all of us. Her eyes sparkled like she was in the middle of some kind of anxiety attack. “You’re all fucking idiots. And when I’m at the Olympics, I’ll miss all of you. And when I’m receiving that medal up there on the podium, I’ll think about each and every one of you. Especially you, Rooney.”
She drank the champagne bottle back and drank heartily.
“Fuck off, Poppy. I’m going to be there,” Clinton said. He stood, walked toward the line of alcohol, grabbed a bottle of scotch and poured himself another drink.
“Maybe you, Clinton. But just you,” Poppy said.
“Come on, Poppy. I’m going to be there, too,” Zed said. He sauntered over and poured himself a drink from the bottle of scotch. Acting like he owned the place, he shifted toward the speaker system and connected his phone to the cord. Seconds later, hip hop music boomed out and shook the walls.
“Isn’t that a little loud?” Ashley asked.
“The old man’s in the other wing of the house,” Theo said. “Don’t worry about it.”
Clinton reached across the table and poured my glass full again. “There you go, orphan Rooney,” he said.
“Are we all going to call her that now?” Poppy asked. She beamed at me and fluttered her eyelashes. “Orphan Rooney has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“You must get off on it, Rooney,” Zed said. “Like, nobody ever calls me poor because I don’t let them. But you—you just take it and take it and...”
I dunked back the rest of my champagne and blared, “Shut up. If I didn’t have to spend another minute with all of you, I wouldn’t.” Then, I tore up from the little couch and stomped from the parlor and down the hallway and fell into a bathroom near the foyer. I slammed the door shut and backed up against it and breathed: inhale, exhale, inhale. I still held onto my glass and stared at myself in the mirror. I hardly recognized myself: this beautiful black dress, dark eyeliner, my black hair. It was super different from my normal wear of overalls or shorts or whatever I had lying around the house at Karla’s.
How am I going to get out of here?
Seconds later, there was a knock on the door. I shot around and stared at the door, the only barrier between myself and all those horrible creatures. The knock rang out again and Theo’s voice said, “Rooney? Can you let me in?”
“Fuck off, Theo,” I shot back. Even in my own ears, I sounded like an idiot.
“Rooney, seriously. Everyone took that shit too far. Just let me in.”
Tender. Thoughtful.
That strange flicker of emotion in the back of Theo’s eyes—something he showed me every so often...
Maybe that was this.
Maybe I had to give him a chance to do the right thing.
Plus, what the hell else was I going to do? I was trapped all the way out there, away from school and my bed and my best friend, who currently fucking hated me. I had nothing else.
I swallowed and drew my hand around the doorknob and slowly let Theo inside. The moment I saw his face, I had this overwhelming feeling that everything would be okay. He cut inside and closed the door and looked down at me. He gave me a crooked, super handsome smile, and I could smell his cologne and I ached to touch him, to feel him against me... to know what it was like to kiss him.
Why did my mind go there so easily? Theo was poison, the billionaire villain. I shoved it away, but my head was glossy with champagne.
“Hey. I’m sorry tonight got so fucked up,” he said. “Poppy is horrible. Dad didn’t invite her, but I should have known she was going to push herself in somehow.”
“It’s um. It’s fine,” I whispered.
He passed me his glass of scotch and I sipped it, letting the bitter liquid swirl over my tongue. After two drinks, my head felt a little foggy. He laughed a little bit, but not unkindly.
“Poppy’s just really jealous of you. My dad and I both know that it’s because you’re better. Fuck, I mean, everyone knows that. Also, my dad really likes you, and I know it’s probably weird, but he’s genuine. I promise,” he said. “You shouldn’t feel like you’re the enemy here. You’re anything but.”
Theo took a slight step toward me and my head swam.
“I know,” I said. “She’s just... I don’t know how much more of her I can take.”
“You have to take as much as she throws at you. She’s not going to stop, Rooney,” Theo said. “But you have to keep going.”
“It’s not fair,” I whispered. “Nobody else has this bitch lurking over them all the time. She—” I wanted to tell him what she had done with Chloe, that she’d created a rift between us. But it seemed almost too difficult to explain.
And besides. Before I could say anything, Theo pressed me against the bathroom sink. He dropped his scotch to the counter and wrapped his hands around my thighs and lifted me against the counter.
“Don’t tell me you don’t want this,” he muttered.
“I—I don’t,” I tried.
He laughed softly. “There it is. Another lie.”
Suddenly his lips pressed against mine for the most delicious kiss. I closed my eyes and a little moan escaped my lips, unable to resist him. My heart fluttered in my throat as his hands worked up my thighs and two of his fingers played over the fabric of my underwear. He dotted kisses down my ear, down my neck, toward my breasts. Slowly, he reached up my dress, all the way up to my bra, and unhooked it. His eyes connected with mine the second he did it like he’d opened a door to discover me more deeply. I didn’t say anything as he brought his hand around the front and held it against my breast. His thumb formed a circle around my nipple, soft and slow. My tongue dipped out from between my lips, and the juncture between my thighs was wet and warm.
I wanted him. I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anyone. He brought his lips toward mine again and kissed me hungrily. He then whispered in my ear as his other hand reached up my thigh and tore my panties down. “I’ve wanted you for weeks, Rooney. Let me have you.”
Have me? What did that mean?
“You can’t just have me like you’d have dessert,” I returned, my nostrils flared.
“I’m going to take you, Rooney. I want you and I’m going to have you. I’m Theo Everton. Don’t you know I get everything I want?”
My heart raced with panic, but I didn’t want to stop him —even though, at that moment, I hated what he said, what he represented. Still, I was too wild and wet to make him stop. His fingers pressed against my clit and my head dropped back and my eyes closed. Everything faded to darkness as he stroked me slowly, a circle around the juncture between my legs. Nobody had ever touched me this way, and it felt all the more dangerous—there, just a few rooms away from the rest of the people at the party. You could feel the pulse of the music through the walls.
“Are you going to come for me?” he whispered.
You’re a slut. The words Chloe had said to me. They weren’t true, were they? I hardly had any experience at all. I nodded slowly—even though I’d only ever come against my hand and dotted my nose against his.
I felt it coming like a wave. I gyrated my hips and I could tell he liked it, liked feeling me like that, having control over me. I felt dizzy with wanting him. My hands traced down his buttoned shirt, over the perfect curve of his muscular chest, his flat abs, down toward his belt. He nodded and I fumbled with his zipper and yanked his belt apart. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I just pushed forward, not knowing, not caring. I yanked his pants down and found the girth of him: an enormous, thick cock. A small glitter of pre-cum sat there at the tip. I brought my hand around the thickness of his rod and he gasped softly as I brought my hand forward and back. Each time I did, that little drop of cum grew bigger and thicker. But before I could do anything else, I felt myself begin to crest. He saw it, saw how my face changed, and he whispered, “Yeah. Come for me, baby...” I gyrated faster and harder against his hand and the release felt like everything I
had ever dreamed of, everything I had ever wanted. I collapsed against him and dropped my cheek against his chest and he kissed my forehead. “Yes, baby. Yes...”
I was delirious, still wanting him. I didn’t want him to take his hand away. But suddenly, there was another knock at the door. Theo used his other hand to rip the door open to reveal Zed, who grinned at me like he knew exactly what we had done. He whipped into the room and closed the door back into place. His lips found my ear and he whispered, “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you, Rooney?”
God, he was handsome. His lips found my neck as Theo continued to touch the wet space between my legs. I wanted to resist Zed—wanted to tell him no, that Theo was all I needed, all I wanted—but he continued to give me these little, tender kisses, and my mind raced, and I felt like I floated somewhere else, somewhere where my problems no longer followed.
I wrapped my arm around Zed’s body and let him kiss me, let his lips ease toward my mouth. He kissed me hungrily while Theo watched. My heart felt like it would burst from my chest, and my left leg wrapped around him. My hand was still wrapped around Theo’s cock, and the veins bulged against my fingers. He was even harder, now that Zed was there. Zed’s tongue forced my lips open.
How could my first experience like this be with two men? Two men at once? And yet, I couldn’t question it anymore. I needed it. I needed both of them. I overflowed with want for them, and I was so wet, impossibly wet.
I gyrated against Theo’s hand while Zed’s played with my breast from over the top of Chloe’s dress. I imagined how I would tell Chloe what had happened—and then remembered, like a wave, that Chloe wasn’t talking to me, that everything was fucked. I broke the kiss for a second and gazed into Zed’s eyes and then glanced down, looking at the bulge in his pants. I imagined what his would feel like, in my other hand, to have both of them there, wanting me.
But suddenly, there was another knock at the door. Someone hollered from outside. My eyes grew enormous, and panic made my stomach drop. I let Theo’s cock go and he hurriedly brought it back into his pants, zipped them and rejoined his belt.
A second later, the door burst open to reveal Clinton, Poppy and Ashley. Clinton bolted inside and laughed, his hands across his stomach. He laughed like he was out of his mind.
“Oh, man!” Clinton cried. “Look at her! She’ll take whatever she can get.”
I hurriedly yanked my panties back into place and dropped onto the floor. Poppy stared at me with this horrible smile smeared across her face. I felt like I’d been caught doing something horrible. Something that no girl should have ever done.
“Are you saying the orphan is also a slut?” she demanded. She arched her brow and said, “Wow. First, Max, and now this...”
“Max?” Theo demanded. There was an element of jealousy in his voice. “What the hell are you talking about? Max, the runner?”
“No. There’s nothing going on with Max and me,” I stammered.
“Nothing is going on with Max and me,” Poppy echoed with an annoying voice. The malice on her face looked horrid. “You don’t belong here, you little slut.” She finished by poking me in the chest.
“What is going on with Max?” Theo demanded again. He was incredulous.
Zed coughed and laughed at the same time. Clinton just beamed at all of us. He almost looked like he was sad; he had missed what had actually been going on. Everything inside of me felt crippled with shame. I wanted to vomit the remaining food that was in my stomach.
“All of you have it all wrong. And you—you fucking—you...” I stuttered over my words.
I had to get out of there, but Poppy blocked the door. With as much strength as I had in my body, I rushed forward and pressed my hands against her shoulders and thrust her away from me. I found myself in the hallway, panting. I couldn’t get enough air. “What the fuck!” Poppy cried, but I raced toward the front door and barreled through it, which led me back out onto the stone path toward the driveway. I had to get out of there.
Clearly, they hadn’t expected I would leave. As I ran, I thought of Zach and Tyler and Jeffrey and all the people who would never have what these people had—all the people I loved more than I could possibly describe. Theo called my name from the path. But I raced toward the gate that led out to the main road and found a little button to the side, which ripped the gate open. I tore out and started to run as fast as I could down the dark mountain road. You could feel the ominous mountains surrounding the mansion, shadowy and with their own set of secrets. I don’t know what I was thinking; did I need to run all the way back to the academy?
After I’d run for a good ten minutes, I stopped and panted and grabbed my knees. It was probably fifty degrees and although my heart raced and sweat pooled down my back, I knew I would freeze soon if I didn’t find a way out of there. I felt wild and raving, and I grabbed my phone from my purse and dialed the only number I felt I could trust in the world.
Jeanine answered on the third ring. It was probably 10:30 at night, and Jeanine wasn’t exactly a night owl. She coughed and said, “Rooney? Are you okay?”
I couldn’t explain what had happened without getting into the horror of the entire half-semester, so I just said, “I need you to pick me up.”
Probably because she was the purest human on the planet, Jeanine didn’t ask any questions. Instead, she just said, “Okay. Where are you?”
I described to her where I was—between Denver and the Academy. I told her that I would walk the half-mile to the exit and that she could find me there and take me the rest of the way. She told me she would be there in twenty minutes and to hold tight. She would call if she had any problems. I hustled the rest of the way to the exit and hovered by the bright green sign. I hopped from foot to foot to generate warmth. I was in survival mode and I couldn’t do anything but focus on what to do next.
Jeanine arrived probably five minutes before I thought she would. Her eyes looked like a raccoon in the dark. She yanked her car to the side and just gaped at me. I knew I looked insane—no coat, hopping around by the side of the mountain highway. I rushed to the passenger seat and dropped myself inside and just cranked my knees to my chest. She turned the heat as high as it would go and kept her eyes forward. I knew she wanted to ask what was wrong.
“Are you okay?” was what she finally said after about five minutes.
“I’m fine,” I said, and my voice bubbled with panic. “Really. Everything is okay.”
She wrapped her fingers around the steering wheel. “You don’t want to tell me why you’re all the way out here, do you?”
I shook my head violently. She let out a heavy sigh. “I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks.”
“I know. Jeanine, I’m so sorry...” I said. It’s been so chaotic. I’ve just trained and studied and tried and I still can’t figure this shit out. I wanted to say so many things, but all I could say was how sorry I was.
In response, she just gripped my shoulder. I turned to look at her and she said, “Don’t apologize, Rooney. Never apologize to anyone unless you’ve actually done something wrong. In this case, I know you haven’t. You aren’t hurting me, and you aren’t hurting anyone else. Now, let me ask you a question. Do you want to go back to school? Or do you want to stay with me tonight?”
The answer was obvious. Jeanine drove us back down the mountain and back into the city, which I hadn’t seen since I had left with so much fucking optimism over a month before. When we reached her little house, a single-story with a bedroom and a living area and a kitchen, I huddled on her couch as she made some hot cocoa and tried her best not to ask me any questions. When she passed me a cup of cocoa, she finally said, “You don’t have to train there if you don’t want to.”
But I had no answer for her except, “I have nowhere else to go.”
Jeanine wasn’t really a talker, but she tried her best to fill my head with topics that had nothing to do with whatever devastating thing had just happened. She told me about her book club and how she thought
her mom was going to divorce her third husband. She told me how she’d gotten back into running and logged thirty-five miles that week. She told me that she really missed training me, but that she’d booked a few other promising gymnasts and had filled up her time somehow. When I finished my cup of cocoa, she turned on the TV and we watched shitty sitcoms until my eyelids started to close. She then asked if I wanted her bed, but I insisted that I would sleep on the couch. She brought me a blanket and an extra pillow and a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. After I changed and assembled everything, she told me a final time, “You don’t have to go back.” But this time, I didn’t answer. We both knew that wasn’t the right way.
I hardly slept that night. Thoughts of Chloe’s anger and the Brotherhood using Poppy and me finding every single way to belittle me formed into a weird cloud in my head that I thought I wouldn’t live through. Finally, sunlight peeked over the morning clouds and Jeanine tapped into the living area and announced she would go for a morning run and then cook breakfast.
“Then, you have to take me back,” I whispered.
After she got back, she scrambled some eggs, grilled some sausages, put a thing of biscuits in the oven. She said it probably wasn’t as good as I was used to at the academy, and it wasn’t, but it was warm and it was cozy and I loved to exist there next to her on the couch. I wanted to apologize to her since I felt I had short-changed her over the years—that she should have been making more as a trainer. But it felt too devastating to own up to this.
We drove in silence back up to the academy. When we reached it, she turned to me and said, “This is all I want to say to you.”
I sighed and stared straight ahead. I didn’t want her pity, and I didn’t want her advice. Actually, I just wanted to be back on the mat. All I wanted was to prepare for the mid-semester competition, even if I wouldn’t be able to pay for the rest of it, and even if the other people at the school went out of their way to belittle me and call me an orphan and generally mock my existence. When I was on the balance beam, there was nothing but truth, power, muscle and brain.
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