Make My Move

by J Bree

  “What the fuck happened?” I snap, though I already know exactly who this is about.

  Harley looks at Morrison without a fucking inch of remorse. “He knows what he fucking did. He needs to back the fuck off.”

  Morrison drops the ice pack and snaps back, “You haven’t actually said that you’re interested, you just sit around obsessing about her.”

  My hand tightens on the glass in my hand, the ice clinking.

  Why the fuck do I care so much about his answer? There’s nothing that I can do about it.

  “Well, I am… so back the fuck off.”

  I knock back the whole glass and reach for the bottle.

  I don’t fucking like that.

  Not one bit.

  And from the look on Morrison’s face he’s just as pissed.

  Fuck.

  It would be too obvious to just tip the whole bottle back and start chugging so I pour out another glass and fix a sneer onto my face. “If you’re so fucking interested why don’t you grow some balls and fuck her? Oh wait, you did and she didn’t want to keep you around. Maybe you should do us all a favor and just forget about her, cousin.”

  Blaise’s eyebrows hit his hairline and, fuck, the seething jealousy in him is impossible to miss. I knew he wanted her but he looks like he wants to choke Harley out for claiming her first.

  We’re all fucking doomed.

  Harley completely misses all of this because he’s too busy staring at me like he wants to crack my skull open with the bottom of his boot. I know the look well, it’s the same one Senior throws my way whenever I’m forced to breathe the same air as him.

  I stare right back at him like none of this matters to me at all because I refuse to admit that I might hate the Mounty more than I want air at the moment but I’m just as invested as they are in her.

  I fucking hate it.

  Finally, he blows out a breath and then gives me a look. “I didn’t fuck her at the party. No one did because she’s being threatened.”

  I fight to keep my face blank but Blaise frowns at him, his face an open book like always in our room. It’s the one space that we’re all just open and ourselves in the world.

  “By Joey? Who else would dare, we’ve been clear about that stupid fucking bet?”

  Harley shrugs as he grabs a pair of sweatpants off of the clean pile on his bed and stalks toward the bathroom. “I don’t know yet and Avery won’t tell me a fucking thing, but when I find the guy he’s dead.”

  Blaise frowns and readjusts the ice on his eye and I can’t help myself from calling out to Harley, “So you didn’t fuck her but you got a taste, right? Is she really worth all of this to you? Seems like a lot of work just to get laid when there’s dozens of girls gagging for it just down the hall.”

  I don’t point out that none of us have been taking that option, not for months.

  Fucking Mounty.

  He glances back over his shoulder at me. “This isn’t a fucking game for me. She’s not some piece of ass I’m chasing just for a fuck so don’t treat her like that. I know exactly what went down that night and the only complaint I have is finding out some asshole is trying to fuck with her. We find him and we deal with him.”

  I feel like if there is anyone at Hannaford with a special interest in the Mounty, it’s Lance. Well, him and Joey but I already have a close enough eye on my brother to be confident in ruling him out, so the little scholarship creep is definitely it.

  Even though I don’t really want to help Harley clear the obstacles in the way of him dating Lips, I don’t like the idea of anyone who isn’t me threatening her.

  The fact of the matter is that she’s Avery’s best friend, and there isn't a person walking these halls who isn't aware of the fact that everyone in our group is obsessed with her in one way or another, so anyone daring to threaten her is going against us.

  I’m not about to let that happen.

  It’s bad enough that Joey and his fucking stupid little friends all keep trying bullshit with us and none of us have time to deal with someone else.

  Especially not some grinning idiot from Mounts fucking Bay, sitting across the desk from her and ignoring all of the giant screaming warning signs she has written all over herself that says she’s uncomfortable in his presence.

  Harley would bleed him out if he ever saw it.

  “I’m the school photographer. I’ve got a good shot of you at a football game a few weeks ago. It’s the only one I’ve seen you at.”

  The flirty grin he gives her makes me want to puke. “You sound like a fucking stalker. Lay off a bit or she’ll realize how desperate you really are.”

  Lips’ jaw clenches as her eyes flick over to me for a second before she looks at the Mounty. He’s still grinning at her and looking deranged in her direction as he hands over his iPad for her to look at the photo. It’s a shot from the only football game we’ve all attended together, the one that Rory was taken out on Harley’s orders.

  The last time the cunt walked.

  It’s a great memory for us all.

  Lips stares down at it for a second, then she swallows and says, “I need a copy of this. Can you email me one? The highest definition you have please.”

  He smiles at her like he’s trapped her into something, and it only makes me more certain that he’s the fucking creep threatening her.

  Why is she being nice to the asshole then? I’ve seen her punch a senior twice the size of her out before. Fuck, she took down Rory for Avery, the Mounty fuck is nothing in comparison.

  When Lips hands him the iPad back, his hand brushes hers and he runs a finger over the back of her hand.

  She freaks the fuck out.

  I see red.

  “Don’t be a creepy fuck.”

  He smirks back up at me.“You’re the one watching her like an obsessed boyfriend. Maybe she should be worried about you.”

  I’m killing him.

  I might not do it here and now where she’ll see and read into it, but the freak is fucking dead. “Run along, Mounty. I’ll see you back at the dorms.”

  Something in my voice finally gets through to him that he’s in mortal fucking danger and he gulps as he leaves.

  Lips quirks an eyebrow at me that I ignore as we both pack our shit away. I’m ready to be done with today so I can go follow the creep and drag him to fight club to die in the most public way possible but then Lips says, “Avery wants us both to meet her for dinner in the dining hall.”

  I don’t want either of them guessing what I’m doing.

  Harley or Blaise.

  I want to do it myself.

  So I nod and wait for her to get her shit together, frustrated as fuck. I want her to tell me what the hell he’s been doing, and I’m pissed at how badly I want to know. I flick a hand at his empty seat and snap, “Did you really have to encourage him? You obviously aren’t interested.”

  She sighs as she slings her bag over her shoulder, both of us heading to the dining hall together. “How did I encourage him? I never flirt back.”

  Maybe it’s just the stark comparison of how she treats him even at her most uncomfortable or maybe Harley’s claim over her has me spiraling, I’m not sure, but I’m fucking seething at the whole situation.

  A group of seniors get a little too close to her as we get closer to the dining hall and, without thinking, I grab her elbow to pull her in closer to my side where I can knock someone out if they so much as bump into her. “You asked for a copy of the photo and you don’t snap at him like you do when I speak to you.”

  She rolls her goddamn eyes at me like I’m overreacting here. “I snap at you because you piss me off. You get under my skin, you hurt me, you say stupid shit to me all the fucking time to get a rise out of me. But you don’t creep me out. I’m never worried about you taking things too far.”

  My spine snaps straight as her words shatter my brain like a fucking bullet. I finally realize I’m still holding her elbow, and I drop it.

  Why does she n
ever react to things like I think she will?

  She huffs and rolls her eyes again. “Settle down, Beaumont, I’m just saying you’re a decent human being when you’re not being an asshole to me.”

  A decent human being.

  Fuck.

  “Are you blushing right now? What exactly has you swooning? The word asshole?” The teasing tone she’s using makes me want to die.

  I glare at her and roll my eyes right back. “Shut up, Mounty, I’m not fucking swooning. No one has ever called me decent before and my reaction is one of shock. It doesn’t happen often so you wouldn’t have seen it before and don’t expect to see it again.”

  I aim for scathing but clearly I miss because she stops and grabs my elbow, a mirror of my own actions. “You are decent, Ash. You’re loyal to your friends and you protect Avery fiercely. You even protect me when you think I’m in danger even though you don’t trust me. You lost your mind over the thought of your brother hurting me. Being related to Joey, and your father, doesn’t make you bad.”

  The sincerity in her voice is too much. It’s too much for me because I hate her, I’ve done everything I can to prove that to her, and here she is opening up to me with nothing but insightful kindness and I feel the overwhelming urge to prove her wrong.

  To break her because nothing ever lasts and I’d rather be the one ruining things than having my world turned upside down for some Mounty girl from the slums with eyes that haunt my dreams.

  She’s the ache in my chest that I can’t cure, no matter how hard I try.

  When we get to the dining hall I stare down at her for a second, thinking through all of the ways that I could ruin this moment, and then I decide I’m too fucking tired for it today. I grab us both a tray instead and when she moves to grab one for herself, I snap, “Don’t be dense, Mounty, what do you want for dinner?”

  The Mounty fuck avoids me.

  I can’t keep tabs on his every movement without telling Harley and Blaise about what I’m doing, and I’m not ready to share his death yet. He doesn’t eat at the dining halls or hang around anywhere on the school grounds other than his room, which not only has a lock but a fucking deadbolt.

  Pussy.

  I seethe about it so much that Blaise assumes I’m still pissed at the Mounty and takes to getting me high as often as possible considering our classes. I’d love nothing more than to just drown myself and my anger in all of the alcohol and weed that I can, but I’m too worried about running my fucking mouth so I make sure to ride the line, never getting so fucked up that my lips loosen up.

  We’re all keeping secrets about the Mounty these days.

  I find out about some of Harley’s when we go down to his swim trials. We never miss going because Avery has her mind set on us showing a united front at all times and, with the competitive nature in us all, there’s nothing quite like watching my practically orphaned son-of-a-mobster cousin absolutely annihilate the spoiled trust fund babies in the water.

  He’s fucking good.

  Blaise and I arrive at the girls’ door to walk them down and the Mounty is looking both grumpy and unprepared as she answers the door, her blazer half on and her feet bare.

  Blaise does a once-over of her, subtle enough that she misses it but Avery and I share a look over it. He’s fucking hopeless about her and I’m predicting a showdown between him and Harley in our future.

  I’m not going to be a part of it.

  Over my dead fucking body.

  The stands in the pool are packed out and Blaise has to threaten someone to get us seats with a decent view. I sit in-between Avery and Blaise with the Mounty on Avery’s far side, muttering and mumbling in a mood.

  “What are the trials for?” she says as she openly fucking drips over Harley in a speedo.

  The ache in my chest gets worse.

  “A spot on the state team. Harley wins it every year and then when they offer it to him he turns them down,” Avery murmurs, sipping her coffee before she hands it to me for a sip, a sign that I might just be back in her good graces.

  “Why?”

  Avery shrugs back to her. “He enjoys winning but doesn’t want to take it further. I told him he should do it for scholarships for college but, until you got here, he assumed he’d be dead by then.”

  I don’t want to think about the fucking O’Cronins and their bullshit family politics. Liam and Domhnall need to die for what they’ve done but so do Joey and Senior, and I have no fucking clue how we’re going to make that happen.

  Harley steps onto his starting block and gets into position.

  All of the other swimmers keep glancing over at him, loathing and jealousy in their eyes because we’ve all seen this show before. None of them stand a chance, which in itself is bad enough for them, but Harley does it and then refuses the prize.

  He just swims to remind them that his last name means nothing in the pool, they’re all fucking plebs compared to him.

  Avery straightens, jabbing me in the ribs sharply and I look over to find fucking Harlow sitting next to the Mounty.

  Just what we fucking need.

  “How the fuck do you know Joey’s dealers?” she murmurs, quietly enough that I almost miss it.

  When the fuck— the party. Fucking Harley keeping secrets.

  “His dealers or yours?” Lips says back, her voice louder and Avery snorts, muttering, “Typical,” under her breath.

  Fucking junkie bitch, here to try to threaten us on behalf of my junkie brother.

  We should drown her.

  Harlow flicks her hair over her shoulder and says, blithely, “Does it matter? They sell the best and they’re rough guys. Joey’s concerned at having his baby sister rooming with the wrong sort of girl.”

  What an utter load of shit.

  I throw my head back and laugh because it’s been years since I heard something that fucking hilarious. Blaise just glares at Harlow like she’s a ticking bomb, here to ruin everything. Fuck, he looks ready to pounce on her if she makes a move at the Mounty who’s stolen his senses.

  “You better not be here at Joey’s request because I’ve already warned him twice about provoking me. If he does it again, I’m not going to play games with him, I’m going for his throat,” Lips says in a flat, no-bullshit tone.

  It’s my favorite one she uses.

  Avery tucks her arm into her bestie’s and holds her hand where Harlow can see it, a clear statement of cutthroat loyalty. “Run along, Roqueford. Go snort your lines somewhere else so I can enjoy watching my cousin wipe the floor with your brother. Oh, wait, you did know Andrew Wakes was your bastard brother, didn’t you? Everyone knows you come by your slutty nature from your father. I hope you use condoms a bit more than he does or you’ll have your own horde of bastards in no time.”

  Harlow curses viciously under her breath as she leaves and we turn back to the race just in time to see Harley touch the wall first, a full body length in front of his competitors. The savage pride I’d usually feel is gone because there’s too many unanswered questions here.

  “He really should join the state team,” the Mounty says, and Avery hums her agreement.

  Blaise clears his throat, his jaw clenching. “Are either of you going to explain what the hell she was talking about?”

  Lips looks over at him, startled. “Didn’t Harley tell you?”

  Like she doesn’t know. I snap, “He doesn’t tell us anything that involves you.”

  She sighs like the world is on her shoulders. “Joey brought some of his dealers to the school and thought he’d be able to out me as a gang member or dealer or whatever. As I am none of those things, he was pissed when they left at my request.”

  My brain has trouble processing her words.

  Left at her request?

  I blink at her like a fucking idiot. “You asked his dealers to leave and they did?”

  She shrugs. “I asked nicely.”

  Avery giggles and changes the topic, an attempt to distract me from that little bombsh
ell.

  It hasn’t.

  Not at all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harley

  Someone at this fucking hellhole of a school is fucking with my girl.

  I will kill the asshole, I will fucking gut him, but first I need a clue because after weeks of chasing down guys in the hallways, beating the shit out of half the male student population in fight club, and straight up stalking Lips around the school… I’ve got nothing.

  Fucking nothing.

  Everyone goes home for Christmas break and, like always, I stay behind.

  Lips refuses to leave her room, no matter how much I try to coax her out over text, and it progressively drives me fucking insane. When she doesn’t come down to the dining hall for the giant spread they put on for us both on Christmas Eve, I take matters into my own hands and text Avery for the spare key.

  She always hides one in our room for emergency purposes but this year, thanks to her roommate, she didn’t tell us where it was.

  She’s obviously worried enough now that she relents and tells me where the fuck it is while chewing me out about being nice to Lips.

  Like I need to be told.

  She doesn’t move from under her covers when I walk in. I hover by the bed for a second to make sure she’s actually fucking breathing, my own chest going tight at the thought that maybe she just decided to take a handful of pills and end it all.

  I know just enough about her past to be worried about that and not enough to be sure.

  When I know for sure that she’s alive and just sleeping, I get to work in the kitchen. This girl is fucking obsessed with food. I get it, I am too in my own way. It’s like the Mounty kid trauma toolkit; we all have weird issues about food, money, and loyalties. Don’t ask us to snitch on shit and don’t ever, ever touch our food.

  I once broke a guy’s skull in three places in juvie for touching my hamburger, and it tasted like garbage.

  But food is food.

  I switch the TV on while I wait for the pan to heat up, the coffee machine doing its thing, when I hear the first signs of life from the sleeping beauty.