Stolen Crush

by Stunich, C. M.

  “You’re really okay with the entire school believing we’re dating?” I ask, and he closes his eyes like he’s in pain. That, or just incredibly frustrated with me. Everything he’s said makes sense. Why the hell would someone kidnap me only to bring me back? And why are my pajamas clean? Like some rando murderer would buy an identical pair of pj’s just to fuck with me?

  So I decide to let it go.

  Big mistake. Huge. If I hadn’t, if I’d trusted my own instincts, would things have turned out differently? Hindsight. Mm. Fucking twenty-twenty, am I right?

  “We are not getting together,” Parrish says instead, gesturing between me and him. He takes a step back and exhales, letting his head fall back and his eyes close. “Stop harping on it.”

  “See, here’s the thing,” I tell him, standing up and then putting my palm flat on his tattooed chest, right over the green-blue scales of a dragon. “You are the one who keeps bringing that up, who keeps vehemently denying it. Why is that? Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being into you? Wishful thinking is all I can come up with.” I take my hand away just as Parrish’s eyes open and he slowly—oh so very slowly—lifts his head back up to look at me.

  “What kind of pervert do you take me for?” he whispers, almost like the question is more for himself than it is for me. “You’re supposed to be … like a sister or something.” He scrubs his face again and then points at the door. “Respect my boundaries and get the fuck out of my room.”

  “Like a sister, but I’m not your sister. You’re not my brother,” I tell him, but he’s got me with the boundary thing. People deserve safe spaces and the right to say no to those trying to breach them. So I leave and he slams the door behind me.

  My palms are sweaty, my heart is racing, and I can’t seem to grasp the fact that I have a stupid teenage crush on Parrish. For a second there, my mind goes blank trying to remember the name of the guy I was crushing on back home. Ryan. Right, right, it was Ryan. Ryan … something.

  “Gah!” I rub at my face for a moment. Maybe if that crush faded so easily, this one will, too?

  I retreat into my room, close the door behind me, and lock it.

  Before I climb back into bed though, I set my phone up on a mini-tripod atop my dresser. If I do sleepwalk—or if someone comes in—I’ll know.

  For now, there’s no point in stressing Tess out anymore than she already is. Her control over me is absolute at this point, and I don’t need to fan that fire without good reason.

  My first week at Whitehall isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Frankly, the worst part of the day is the ride to school, stuffed in the backseat with either Kimber or Parrish, or in the front with Paul—the hypocrite who gripes at us for being on our phones too much and yet has his glued to his goddamn ear.

  “I’m tired of that DingDong app. It’s owned by the Chinese government, and it’s nothing but a data farm,” Paul continues as Parrish turns a muted scowl in his father’s direction. It’s now Friday and by this point, I’m more than used to their daily bickering. “Turn it off and enjoy the scenery around you.”

  “You mean the way you do?” Parrish quips, apparently deciding against mentioning the misnomer of DingDong in place of TikTok. Close enough, I guess. And I mean, Paul is right about the rest of it.

  “Don’t get smart me with me, son,” Paul reprimands, answering another phone call with the hands-free button on his steering wheel. That must be nice, to have one of those. Grandpa’s truck most definitely didn’t have Bluetooth. It didn’t even have AC or automatic windows. I mean, it was a freaking classic. God, I miss that truck, I think as I turn to look over at Kimber while Paul mouths, “this is work, I have to take it.” And then proceeds with his phone call uninterrupted.

  “What the hell are you staring at?” Kimber whispers to me, her blond waves swept into a low pony and tied with a scrunchie. It’s her only form of self-expression; everything else about her uniform is perfect and polished. That is, until she gets to school and rolls the waistband over three times until her ass hangs out then leaves it that way until she gets told by the administration that it’s unhygienic to sit bare panties on the chair seats. At least they don’t slut-shame. I’ve decided I’m more comfortable in slacks, and Kimber already hates me for it. “Are you a dyke or something?” she asks as she stares at the offending pants, which is a question that just makes me laugh.

  “Because I like pants? Girls can wear pants, Kimber. This isn’t the nineteen-fifties. I can wear or do whatever I want; it isn’t an indication of my sex or my sexual attraction.”

  “You’re so uppity,” she breathes, like my being assertive is a problem. “And don’t you think it’s creepy that you’ve carved out a niche for yourself at the school for dating your own brother?”

  Parrish whips around in his seat, his eyes flicking over to Paul to make sure he hasn’t heard before he redirects his anger in Kimber’s direction.

  “Keep your goddamn mouth shut,” he growls out, his voice low and menacing. “You’re acting like a fucking child again.”

  “And you’re a pervert,” she whispers back just before Parrish reaches out and snatches her phone from her hand like a ninja. Without skipping a beat, he rolls his window down and chucks it outside. My mouth gapes open as I spin in my seat just in time to see it shatter on the road and then … it’s gone.

  Paul is too busy with his phone call and doesn’t notice.

  Slowly, oh so slowly, I turn back around to stare at Kimber. I’m afraid to move too quickly lest I draw her attention. It’s like, if you come across a venomous snake poised to strike, don’t make any sudden movements.

  “You …” she starts, her face going chalk white. But she doesn’t raise her voice. And she most definitely doesn’t alert Paul. “How could you?” Kimber’s glossy lower lip trembles as Parrish turns back around in his seat, rolling his window up and then zoning into his phone like he didn’t just throw someone else’s thousand-dollar smartphone onto the highway.

  Uh-oh.

  It occurs to me then that maybe I haven’t seen all that Parrish Vanguard is capable of?

  Kimber turns away from me, burying her face in her hands, shoulders shaking slightly as she cries silently in the back seat and her father fails to notice. Even after he pulls into the white gravel turn-around and we climb out, he doesn’t catch on to the fact that his daughter is devastated and his son is an asshole.

  Paul takes off and Parrish saunters ahead while I stand there beside Kimber, unsure if I should try to, like, comfort her or something? She’s been nothing but a total psycho to me, but I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

  “Why did you let him get away with that?” I ask, that familiar rage swirling around inside of me. Parrish is really and truly one of the rudest, snobbiest assholes I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. I mean, he has his moments, but holy shit, what was that just now? Once I’m done dealing with Kimber, I’m going to find him and kick his ass.

  Snotty and red-faced, Kimber lifts her head up to look at me. As per usual, she scowls before bothering to respond, just to remind me where I stand. Typical.

  “Are you kidding me?” she snaps, like I’m beyond stupid for not immediately understanding why she’d allow her brother to destroy her phone and say nothing about it. She flings a hand back to indicate the towering walls of the academy. “Are you so dense you haven’t noticed that our brother controls Whitehall?”

  Our brother.

  Part of me is thrilled that Kimber’s referring to Parrish as ‘ours’. That must mean some little part of her has to come to accept me, right? On the other hand, he isn’t my brother. I don’t want anyone to think of him that way, least of all me.

  “I don’t think any one student can control an entire population of—” I start, but Kimber’s just sneering at me and sniffling, pulling out a compact from her bag to check her makeup. It’s ruined. As soon as she realizes that, her face falls and her eyes dart around the empty courtyard to see if anyone el
se has noticed.

  “You got lucky at that party, getting Lumen to back you up.” Kimber snaps her compact closed, her eyes red-rimmed as she glares at me. “That, and you pushed him into a corner. Everyone thinks you two hooked up, so you can’t be a total waste of life or you’ll ruin his reputation. But don’t worry: he’ll show his true colors sooner or later.”

  Kimber takes off, cracking one of the exterior doors to peer inside. Whatever she sees sends her running off around the side of the building rather than into it. I watch her go with a long sigh and then head for the doors myself.

  Just one last day of classes and then I’m going home with Danyella after school.

  Setting this sleepover up was not the easiest thing in the world. I can see now what Parrish was talking about when he said that I ruined his life. Tess actually drove over to Danyella’s parents’ house to meet with them before agreeing to this. If she hadn’t met them on several prior occasions—apparently they attend the same country club as the Vanguards—then I wouldn’t have been allowed to go at all.

  I’m also supposed to call as soon as I leave the school, once I arrive at Danyella’s, and then again before bed. The rules are stifling, especially when coupled with Tess’ general aloofness this week. She’s barely spoken to me other than a quick smile here and there, a few random questions about school sprinkled over dinner conversation. Paul says she’s on a deadline with her new book, but I can’t help but feel hurt by it.

  This is my first week of school in a new state, my third week living a completely new life.

  To me, it’s all just more proof that she cares more about me as an extension of herself rather than a person.

  As soon as I get inside the school, I see Parrish and Lumen facing off in the hallway.

  Utterly fantastic.

  “Well, are you in?” he’s asking, his voice pitched in just such a way that it’s quite clear the rest of the students in the hall are meant to hear. There’s a cluster of girls behind Lumen, a group of boys behind Parrish. Chasm is leaning against the lockers, head back, eyes closed. He looks bored out of his mind.

  “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Lumen replies just as smoothly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were staging this whole thing to get some attention from me.”

  “I’m asking you if you’re down,” he replies as I pause in the middle of the hallway and all eyes turn my way. “You. Me.” Parrish whips out a hand in my direction, pointing an accusatory finger my way. “Dakota.” He smiles and it’s whip-sharp, devastating, completely and utterly unnerving. “If my girl wants to have a threesome, it’s my job to make that happen for her.”

  This motherfucker, I think as I narrow my eyes on him and march down the hall with my book bag slung over one shoulder.

  “Little Sister looks pissed,” Chas remarks with a lazy smile of his own. I ignore him, pausing beside Lumen and Parrish as the latter glances over at me with that deceptive smile of his still in place. It’s complete bullshit, that look. I live across the hall from the guy, and I’ve never seen him look like that, not even when he thinks he’s all alone in the kitchen, elbows leaned on the counter, head hanging down. Parrish Vanguard never smiles, not for real anyway.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask him, glancing over at Lumen. She looks annoyed but not entirely displeased with the attention.

  “You wanted a threesome: I’m asking for one.” Parrish gestures in Lumen’s direction and I sigh.

  “If this is what you meant by ‘I’m going to bury you’ then your game is seriously lacking. I don’t care if everyone here knows I want a threesome.”

  I stare Parrish down, but his expression never changes. Either I’m playing into his hand the way he wanted me to or he’s just that good of an actor.

  “Well then, what say you, Lumen?” He turns back to the girl in question and cocks a pretty brow. Last night, I heard him in his room, tattoo machine buzzing, low voices in the background from that stupid murder Podcast that he and Chasm like so much. I tried to get a glimpse of where his newest ink might be this morning, but by the time Delphine woke me up for school, he was already dressed in his uniform.

  “Don’t pressure her,” I say, resting a hand on Parrish’s upper arm. He glances down at me like I matter, like I really am his girlfriend and he’s so into me that he can barely breathe. My own breath escapes in a rush and I feel a bit unsteady on my feet. I’m smart enough to realize that it’s all an illusion though, just a game to be played so that my time at this school doesn’t suck royal ass. “You’re a really sweet guy, so kind and gentle, always crying and expressing yourself.” I reach up and stroke some of Parrish’s pretty hair away from his forehead. There’s the slightest narrowing of his eyes, but he doesn’t make any move to stop me. How can he, with everyone watching? “But the micropenis thing really is starting to get to me. I just thought that if it were me, you, and Lumen that I might be able to get off …”

  The tightening in Parrish’s jaw becomes a ticking muscle, a sign of anger that he can’t control. Even the prince has flaws.

  “I didn’t think you’d want to discuss this in front of everyone though,” I whisper back, a very real blush suffusing my cheeks and chest. “Sorry, Lumen. He can be a bit headstrong at times.”

  Lumen crosses her arms over her chest, looking Parrish over with a sharp smirk that tells me I’ve chosen the right path here. Hanging out with the queen bee of the school nullifies the stingers in the rest of the hive.

  “You don’t have to lie about my dick just to save my feelings,” Parrish whispers, but it’s a stage-whisper. We are still very much in the middle of a performance here. “I don’t care if Lumen knows.” He turns back to the girl in question as I brace myself for whatever it is that might be coming next. “I can’t get hard for her,” he says, almost as if he’s admitting something scandalous. My hand tightens on my book bag, the metal heart pin that Tess gave me digging into my skin. “We get along great otherwise; she’s a phenomenal gamer. And she has incredible taste in music”—the sarcasm is so thick it’s practically dripping—“but it’s just, when the time comes, she just doesn’t do it for me.” He shrugs his shoulders loosely as Chasm looks on, tapping his fingers against the locker he’s leaning against.

  Rather than watching Parrish however, he seems to be watching me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say that he looks … sorry? Like his friend’s behavior isn’t exactly his favorite thing in the world.

  A small shiver traces over my skin, one that I ignore in favor of holding my ground against his bestie. This stupid, piggish, annoying sloth prince! I want to kick him in the nuts, but if I get expelled from this fancy school for violence, Tess will probably hire a private tutor and I’ll be trapped in the ice cavern for the next two years.

  “Your erectile dysfunction is nothing to be ashamed of. A lot of guys have issues getting hard—even ones diagnosed with micropenises.” I stroke Parrish’s arm and lean my head against his shoulder. He immediately stiffens up, but I don’t think either of us misses how good that feels. He’s warm, and his body is lean and hard, and holy crap, he smells amazing. Also, pretty sure he neither has issues getting hard nor has been diagnosed with a micropenis (which is a real medical condition that I probably shouldn’t be using to tease him with).

  The thing is, when Parrish comes at me, I forget to control my emotions. Something about him just triggers me into doing and saying things that I wouldn’t normally do or say.

  “Honestly, Parrish,” Lumen begins with a sigh, tossing her curled honey hair over one shoulder. “I’m over you. We might be dating the same girl, but even her wishes aren’t enough to get me into your bed.” She flashes him a sharp smile and then lifts a brow in my direction where I’m still cuddled up to my stepbrother like he’s actually anything other than a thorn in my side.

  “Shall we?” she asks, but Parrish isn’t done. He very carefully withdraws his arm from mine, and though I’m loathe to
admit it: I miss the contact. This asshole! What the hell has he done to me, other than scramble my brains around in my skull until it seems impossible to think clearly when he’s around?

  “I’m sorry, Dakota,” Parrish says, shaking his head and then running his fingers through his hair like he’s actually in some sort of emotional distress. “But I don’t think I can do this anymore. It’s not that I have trouble getting it up: it’s just that I have trouble getting it up around you.” He stares down at me with those pretty gold-flecked eyes of his, and that ember in my belly heats up, burns, incinerates. I’m going to kill him. Really and truly. No hyperbole necessary. “It’s over.”

  He turns away from me and stalks down the hallway, taking his cluster of friends with him. That is, all of them except for Chasm. He has his arms crossed over his chest, but his face, that’s impossible to read.

  “Told you making out with me at the party would’ve been a better idea.” He stands up from the locker and gives me this voracious little smile that makes the girls—and a few gay boys—titter and giggle. Gross. I glare at him.

  “Trying to shame me in front of the whole school? How cute. Why don’t you put a leash on your bestie instead of letting it be the other way around?”

  Chasm frowns hard, and I can feel it: a shift in energy.

  Crap.

  I’ve done it again, said something that I almost immediately regret. For the most part, my beef is with Parrish, not Chasm.

  “And here I was thinking that I’d offer to tutor you, Little Sister. Guess you can figure that one out on your own.” He turns and heads down the hall after Parrish as I bite my lip. Shit. Tutor me? How does he even know I need to be tutored? Then I remember that Parrish and Chasm are rude assholes who go through my stuff whenever my back is turned. On Wednesday, I looked up from making a sandwich to see the two of them casually thumbing through my academy-issued iPad.