Defiant Princess: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance (Boys of Oak Park Prep Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  There was heat in his eyes too, and when he saw my blush deepen, a small, satisfied smile tilted his lips. He rolled down his window and inclined his head toward the road.

  “What are you waiting for, Legs? Show us what you got.”

  Chapter 21

  I ended up buying the little blue car.

  Finn had kept his promise and teased me about my driving—although never about the fact that I was a girl—and I’d taken the car down a little stretch of road near the ocean during the test drive. With all four windows rolled down, the ocean breeze had swept through the car, clearing out the new car smell and replacing it with something tangy and wild.

  When we returned to the dealership, Mason and Cole sat down on either side of me while I went into the office to sign the papers and make it official. Neither of them said anything, letting me take the lead, but Cole kept his face intimidatingly blank, and Mason glanced over at me once with a look like satisfaction on his face.

  On the way back to school, I insisted on driving by myself. I wanted a moment to appreciate the significance of this moment. I had just bought my first car, with my own money. I owned it, and no one could take it away from me. I had picked it out. And just like Mason’s car fit him, the little blue car fit me like it was made for me.

  My mom may have done cruel things—may have been a worse bully than the Princes, even—but I had to believe that she had truly loved me. That maybe Sand Valley, as shitty and rundown as it was, had been her fresh start, a place where she had tried to do better. She had cared about me enough to leave a trust for me, at least, and although she could never have predicted it, that money had saved my life.

  Mason drove behind me, with Finn in the passenger seat next to him and Elijah and Cole in the back. I glanced at them in the rearview mirror, having a sudden memory of the first time I saw them. It’d been through the rear window of a car that time too, as I’d sat in the back seat with Jacqueline on the way to my grandparents’ house. I hadn’t known any of their names, hadn’t known anything about them—but I had been drawn to them anyway.

  They all looked so different to me now.

  Physically, I was sure they looked pretty much the same as they had then. All almost inhumanly gorgeous, muscular, and elegant. Cole’s hair had grown back to the style he usually kept it in, longer on top and short on the sides, and Elijah and Mason’s bruises had faded completely.

  But still, they looked different.

  Maybe it was because I knew them better now—had seen their ugliness and cruelty, had seen their flaws and scars. It was like seeing all the layers of a painting, knowing the details and hidden brushstrokes that made up the finished image.

  Somehow though, knowing all those things didn’t make the Princes less beautiful in my eyes. It was like I could see them more clearly now that the light around them didn’t shine so bright.

  A smile tilted my lips as I pulled my gaze away from the mirror and focused on the road.

  It had been a good day.

  A better day than I’d had in a long time.

  And even though I knew not to trust it, knew it was only a matter of time before I destroyed whatever trust had been built up between me and the Princes, I tucked the memory away somewhere safe in my heart.

  I would pull it out and look at it one day, when the Princes hated me again.

  On Thursday, I woke up with butterflies already flapping around in my stomach. The week had flown by. I’d done an extra big homework push over the weekend so that during the first few days of the school week, I could focus all my extra energy on dancing.

  I had snuck into the studio after school three days in a row, and Finn had come to hang out with me each time. It vaguely occurred to me that he’d become like my mascot, my good luck charm. I was so used to going through my routine with him leaning against the wall by the door that I hoped I wouldn’t be thrown off during my audition when he wasn’t there.

  My appointment was scheduled for 1:15 p.m., but I’d requested the whole day off from classes because I didn’t want to be rushed or distracted. I slept in a little, then woke up and showered, taking extra care with my makeup and pulling my hair into a tight bun at the back of my head.

  I did some stretches in my living room—I’d do a true warm-up at the theatre before I went in for the audition—and at a little after ten, I headed for my car.

  As I was passing by the tip of Hammond Hall, Adena emerged from the building, and as soon as her gaze landed on my street clothes, she sneered. “Did you finally get kicked out, trash?”

  “Fuck off.”

  She noticed the gym bag I was holding with my ballet slippers and other necessities in it and scoffed. “I know the only reason you want to be a ballerina is because you’re too ugly to be a stripper. Who’d want to watch that shit? Guys would probably pay you to put more clothes on.”

  “No, I’m not a stripper because my daddy didn’t buy me a new pair of tits when I turned sixteen.” I dropped my gaze pointed to her chest. “Watch out around sharp objects. Don’t want to spring a fucking leak.”

  Her blue eyes flashed with anger, but before she could give me any more shit, I turned and strode away. Fuck her. If she was trying to tear me down, she’d picked the wrong attack. My body had been through a lot of shit, but when I danced, I knew it was beautiful.

  And no bitchy mean girl could take that away from me.

  I listened to music and drank in the ocean air all the way down to L.A. I’d never really been in the city, just to LAX a few times, and the sheer size and insane traffic were intimidating. But I followed the directions on my phone and managed not to get lost.

  It was a good thing I’d given myself extra time to get there, because when I pulled up in the lot near the Pacific Contemporary Ballet theatre, I had only half an hour before my audition slot. That would be just enough time to change, warm up, and get ready.

  As I unplugged my phone from the car charger and exited out of the map app, I noticed several missed texts. Worry flared in my chest for a moment as I swiped the screen to access them—Philip had been improving steadily since he’d returned home, but had something happened?

  The messages weren’t from Jacqueline or the hospital though. They were from the Princes.

  FINN: We don’t call you Legs 4 nothing. I’ve seen u practicing all week and even tho I don’t know shit about dance, I think ur fucking amazing. It’s beautiful. Trust me.

  ELIJAH: You make me wish I still played guitar, Tal. Watching you dance to my music was one of my favorite things in the world. Kill it today.

  COLE: Fight for what you want, little dancer.

  Mason’s text contained no words at all. Just a link to a song that was haunting and beautiful. It had no lyrics, just a piano and guitar, and I closed my eyes and listened to the entire thing as the sun slowly began to heat up the interior of my car. It was beautiful—similar to the piece I’d chosen for my audition, actually—and I wondered what had made him pick it.

  When I opened my eyes, a new text message had appeared on the screen.

  MASON: Whenever I hear this song I think of you.

  A strange, warm feeling expanded in my chest as I read over all the messages one more time. Those four were the only ones who’d texted me. They were the only ones who knew. I would tell Leah and Maggie about it after I got back to campus, but I hadn’t wanted to jinx myself by telling anyone else. Usually, well wishes just felt like added pressure, like I’d be letting not only myself but someone else down if I failed.

  But those five texts made me feel strong and confident.

  Time alternated between rushing by and dragging out as I went inside, checked in, and prepared for my audition. When I was finally ushered into the space, my breath caught in my throat. The company director and choreographers sat in the audience, and I stood on the broad stage, illuminated by bright lights that shone down on me.

  Then my musical selection started, and I let myself move. I didn’t worry about the technique—I ha
d practiced and drilled so hard over the past week that all of that was as good as I could get it, ingrained in my muscles and bones—and instead, just let myself feel the music. I let it flow through me into my movements, and I told the audience a story.

  A story of loss.

  Of despair.

  Of challenges accepted and battles won.

  Of soaring highs and crushing lows.

  Of pleasure and pain.

  Everything I had built into the dance piece poured out of me as I moved across the stage, leaping and whirling.

  I still hadn’t been able to settle on an ending. I had worked through a few options that fit the piece and felt okay, but I hadn’t been totally satisfied with any of them. As the song neared its conclusion though, I suddenly realized how it needed to end.

  My movements slowed and elongated, becoming both softer and more powerful. And as the final note of the song played, I arched my back as if presenting my heart to the universe. My arms spread wide, the gesture triumphant and challenging.

  Quiet descended in the space again as the music track ended, and I became aware of my pounding heart, of the trickle of sweat working its way down my back, of the small strands of hair that had come free from my bun to tease the back of my neck.

  I could barely see into the audience past the blinding lights, but I caught sight of the auditioners leaning close to each other, speaking in low voices.

  Then an older man on the left turned back toward me, raising his voice in the darkness. “Talia. You’re still in school, is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But you’d be able to start after you graduated? In the spring?”

  Excitement made my heart hammer in my chest, but I kept my expression composed. “Yes. Sir.”

  He smiled, and the woman next to him nodded, looking pleased. “That’s good to know. Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

  I walked off the stage, suppressing the urge to bound away like an excited puppy or scream and run around in circles like a five-year-old. It wasn’t a definite offer. Not yet. But it very likely could turn into one.

  Holy fuck.

  Holy fucking fuck.

  I did it.

  Chapter 22

  I took my time getting back to Oak Park, choosing a more scenic route that took me along the coast the whole way.

  It was after four by the time I pulled up in the student lot on campus, but when I grabbed my bag and headed across the quad toward Prentice Hall, four figures on the lawn caught my eye immediately.

  The Princes. They had waited for me.

  They saw me coming and strode toward me, like a wave of power washing up to greet me.

  I stopped, and they stopped, and for a moment, we just looked at each other.

  Finn was the first to break the silence, curiosity and impatience practically radiating from him. “Well?”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, but it didn’t stop the beaming smile that overtook my face. I nodded, not quite sure I could speak, and before I knew what was happening, he’d wrapped his thick arms around me in a bear hug, sweeping me off my feet.

  “I knew it, Legs! I fucking knew it!”

  A surprised yelp burst from my lips, but it turned into a laugh as he whirled me around like I weighed nothing.

  When he finally set me down, I almost stumbled from dizziness, but he wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, turning us to face the other three as he addressed them over my shoulder. “Seriously, you guys. Her piece was fucking phenomenal. Not that I know what ballet should look like, but if it doesn’t look like that, it’s shit as far as I’m concerned.”

  Elijah smiled, pride and a hint of jealousy flashing in his eyes. “Will you show us sometime, Tal? I’ll play for you if you’ll dance.”

  A little thrill of pleasure ran up my spine at the idea, especially because I knew what it meant for him to offer. “Yeah. I will someday.”

  He tugged me from Finn’s grasp, looking for all the world like he wanted to kiss me. But instead he just squeezed my hand, his palm warm against mine.

  When Cole stepped forward, his eyes weren’t blank and emotionless like he so often kept them. Something fierce and hot blazed in their blue depths, and when he ran a knuckle along my jaw, I shivered.

  Mason stood just behind him, and when I glanced past Cole and caught his gaze, he nodded.

  “Well done, little dancer.”

  Finn gave me one more hug before we parted ways. I went back to the Wastelands to shower and change into something comfy, and as my hair air dried, I texted Leah. She, Maggie, and Dan all met me downstairs, and in celebration of my victory, we watched every cheesy dance movie we could think of.

  I tried not to obsess about it over the weekend, but I kept checking my phone anyway, waiting for the call that would determine my fate. The audition form had said they wouldn’t be sending out offers for a couple weeks, so it was way too early to be on pins and needles like this—but I couldn’t help it.

  Wild joy and nervousness flooded me every time I replayed my audition in my head, but I couldn’t think of a single thing I would’ve changed. Whatever happened, I had laid it all out on the line, done the very best I could, and I was proud of myself for that.

  With only one more week before finals, there was plenty to keep me occupied, at least. On Monday evening, there was a “Parent Appreciation Night”, which was basically a giant fundraising effort in disguise, where the school tried to milk the richest parents for every penny they could.

  I would’ve skipped it since I had no parents who could come appreciate anything, but Mr. Baldree, my history teacher, had used it as a bargaining chip when I’d begged for an excused absence from his class for my audition. In exchange for the day off he’d given me, I’d been volunteered to help with the event.

  It took place in the large gymnasium, and it was obviously a much bigger deal than the awards ceremony that’d been held in the same space. The entire room had been transformed by a team of decorators until it looked more like a ballroom than anything else.

  I was grateful for the decorations, because just stepping through the doors into the large space made my heart beat almost painfully hard in my chest as memories flooded me. But I shoved them away and made my way through the crowd to find the table Mr. Baldree manned. It held pamphlets with information about the school and its various programs and achievements, and it was completely deserted—all the parents were too busy mingling and schmoozing with each other.

  Mr. Baldree gave me a quick rundown of instructions before he left me behind to go join the parents and students milling around the room.

  I settled in for a long and boring night, silently making bets with myself about whether anybody would come up to my table all evening, when something near the door caught my eye.

  All the students were dressed in their Oak Park uniforms, and most kids were meeting their parents outside before coming in. The newest group to enter the gym was made of just two people though. Mason and his father.

  I had never seen Mr. Van Buren before, but I noticed the resemblance between them immediately. They looked uncannily similar, from the color of their rich, brown hair to their bright green eyes to the way they carried themselves. Mason’s dad stood so straight and tall he might as well have been carved out of marble, and his expression was cold, calculating, and domineering. Those same qualities seemed to rise to the surface even more strongly in Mason as he stood next to his father, and for a second, a flash of the old fear and hatred I’d felt for Mason hit me, like I’d been shocked with a defibrillator.

  That was what Mason had come from. That man shared his DNA, had been the primary influence in his life.

  The thought was vaguely terrifying.

  Mason’s gaze passed over me as they walked farther inside the gymnasium, and for a moment, the facade cracked. His features softened, his expression warmed.

  Then the two of them were gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

  I had alrea
dy seen Elijah’s parents once, but it was a much different experience now that I knew what I knew about them. His father projected strength and control, but I was sure he hadn’t seemed so controlled when he was high off his ass on coke. His mom looked exactly the same as she had last time I’d seen her—perfect, elegant, regal. It was hard to imagine her destroying Elijah’s guitars, and I wondered if she’d gotten one of the house staff to do it or done it herself.

  Elijah’s uniform was crisp and pressed, and his mask of perfection fit him so perfectly it was hard see past it. But now that I knew him better, I thought I could glimpse beneath it—could see the acute misery below the surface.

  He caught me staring at him and dipped his head slightly, looking almost ashamed.

  Finn was the only one who didn’t seem to change entirely in front of his parents. He shot me a broad grin as they walked in, and when his folks moved quickly through the crowd and left him behind, he wandered over to my table.

  Guess I lost that bet with myself.

  “Hey, Legs. Got roped into working this thing, huh?”

  “Yeah.” I picked up one of the tri-folded pamphlets in front of me. “Can I interest you in a brochure?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Nah, I’m good. I see their strategy though. Get the hottest girl here to hand out the most boring shit. It’s the only chance they have of anybody taking one of those.”

  The honey-brown of his eyes darkened as he spoke, and I shifted slightly, an ache building up beneath my skin. My body responded to all four of the Princes in ways I’d never understood, as if I were some kind of instrument only they knew how to play.

  I was about to make some lame joke back when Finn’s expression grew suddenly serious.

  “Hey. You okay? Being”—he gestured with his head around the room—“back here?”

  He didn’t have to explain what he was talking about. It’d been the first thing I’d thought of when I’d walked through the door, and no matter how much I tried, I hadn’t been able to undo the lingering knot in my stomach.