by C. R. Jane
“You’re in the Baker dorm,” she said when I recovered from almost falling. “That’s my dorm. It’s a good one. We don’t get single rooms, but there’s only two people per room, and the rooms come with their own private bathroom.”
Even though I lived only an hour away, I had chosen to take advantage of the living accommodations that came with my scholarship. Chosen was probably not the right word, I had been desperately excited to accept the offer to live somewhere other than with my mother. The school representative I’d spoken to over the summer had explained that most of the students chose to live on campus, but I hadn’t cared about that. I would have accepted the offer, even if it meant I had to live in a van down by the river for my accommodations.
We exited the main building and walked across a large green crisscrossed with various concrete walking paths. All of the buildings surrounding the green looked like structures you would have found in ancient Rome, all Corinthian columns and white marble. It was like I had stepped into a dream. Only my presence here convinced me that it was real, because my brain would never have created such a good dream.
I only had nightmares when I slept.
"I'll meet you after your class and show you to the dorms. Looks like you have about thirty minutes in between this class and the next. Is your stuff in your car?"
I nodded absentmindedly, still a little awestruck at how beautiful this place was. I'd gone on a tour of the campus with the twins before everything happened when we'd all been determined to attend together...not that the twins were ever in danger of not attending. The harshness of the past few years had faded the brilliance of the campus from my mind. It was a testament to how hard my life had been that I could forget how amazing this place was.
"Do we need to find some hotties to help lug all your stuff in?" she asked, and with that question, my cheeks burst into flames as I thought about how little I'd brought with me.
I didn't even have enough stuff to warrant Lane helping me, but I guess she could carry a backpack if she really wanted to help.
"I think I'll be okay," I told her as we entered what Lane said was the science building where my first class was located. I was about ten minutes late now and dreading every step closer to the class that I walked. It was going to be really fun to walk in and get everyone's attention. Especially since biology was one of the freshman classes I was taking.
"Sure you don't want me to ask Jackson Parker to help?" she teased. And just like that, all of my blush rushed out of my face. "Shit...I was just joking," she quickly said at my horrified face. "Parker wouldn't help me even if I begged him to. I'm not at His Majesty's level, and I won't ever be," she added a bit bitterly.
I didn't comment. Jackson had always been like that, always the most popular kid, but only choosing to keep to a few people in his friend group, and only considering Caiden and me as his best friends. Everyone else didn't exist as far as he'd been concerned.
When would it stop feeling so weird that I was now one of those people that didn't exist for him?
Probably never.
I shook it off as we stopped in front of the tall double doors that led into the lecture hall. "I'll go in with you. I took biology as a senior last year with Professor Jones and she loves me," Lane stated confidently as she quietly opened the doors and walked in.
I sighed a little as we walked in. This was a huge class, and we were entering from the back, left side of the enormous room. At least a few hundred students were in here, and the lights were dimmed as the professor lectured about something showing on the huge projector screen. She didn't even spare us a glance as I quickly found a seat and only a few other students even looked at me.
Lane gave me a thumbs up before leaving as silently as we'd come in. I felt a little naked without her beside me, like she had been shielding me.
It was stupid, but I immediately knew that Jackson wasn't in this class. And I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.
I hated how much I thought about him, even after all this time and everything he'd said to me. I just couldn't kick him out of my head...or really my heart for that matter. It was like he'd taken up residence years ago and decided never to move out.
Shaking my head, I pulled out the computer that had come with my scholarship and began to take notes, quickly recognizing the professor was lecturing on cell structure. Throwing all my attention to the screen she was lecturing on, I once again promised myself that my past wasn't going to affect my future.
One way or another, I was going to succeed here. Jackson Parker be damned.
Just as she'd promised, Lane was waiting for me after class. I'd gotten a few more looks as everyone began exiting the classroom, but the fact that they were just curious looks had me counting my first class as a win.
We managed to walk to our dormitory without seeing Jackson, and I considered myself a little luckier than I had been earlier. I was even letting myself think about how much I loved the school already.
And then I met my roommate.
I could feel Lane freeze next to me when I pulled out my key and opened the door on who I assumed was my roommate...butt naked under some guy.
"Get out," she screamed as her "friend" tried to pull a blanket over his naked ass.
Lane and I quickly left the room, slamming the door behind us as we stood in the hallway horrified.
"They didn't tell me you were rooming with her," Lane said with a groan, slumping against the hallway as if she'd just been delivered the worst news ever.
"Who is she?" I asked, really wanting to douse my eyeballs in bleach after what I'd just seen.
I really couldn't think of a worse introduction to my roommate.
Well, I guess she could have been mid-thrust with Jackson. That would have been unrecoverable.
"That was Melanie Carmichael. She's a cheerleader. Thinks her shit doesn't stink," Lane explained. "She's going to hate you." Lane looked me up and down. "She hates people prettier than her."
I rolled my eyes at the compliment and had just opened my mouth to say something when the door opened and a cocky stunner of a guy with bright orange hair left the room, shooting me a wink as he passed. I kept my eyes averted from his form as he left. It would be a while before I would forget the sight of his thrusting ass.
He obviously worked out.
My new roommate poked her head out, an annoyed look on her face as she gave me a quick glance up and down.
"Well, come in," she snapped. Lane gave me a look before gesturing me inside. I was suddenly grateful I would need to leave soon to get to my next class.
Melanie was a pretty girl. A bottle blonde with a perfect figure and soft blue eyes, she looked exactly like what I would envision a cheerleader at this school would look like.
While Melanie intentionally ignored me and straightened her bed, I looked around my new room.
It was much nicer than my room back home. It was huge, easily fitting two queen beds on either side of the room along with two desks, two dressers, a large cream rug, and a tv stand complete with a big screen.
We'd long ago run out of money to pay for cable, so without the twins in my life anymore, I hadn't done a lot of TV watching the last few years.
There were a few doors on one side of the room. I assumed there were two closets and a bathroom behind them.
Lane had been right. It sucked to share a room, but the room itself was nice.
"You must be my new roomie," Melanie suddenly said, and it was like someone had possessed her body because her voice had suddenly become incredibly sweet and welcoming.
I shook her hand when she held out hers for me to take.
"Everly James," I introduced myself as I shifted shyly under her gaze. I'd never gotten along with girls particularly well, Lane being an outlier at the moment. They'd always been trying to be friends with me to get closer to the guys, and I hadn't felt I really needed anyone but them.
This was going to be a learning curve for me.
"M
elanie Carmichael," she responded, dropping my hand and stepping away from me, once again examining me closely. "But I'm sure Lane told you all about me," she added snottily, shooting Lane a glare, who just shrugged while giving her a big "Fuck You" grin in return.
"Listen, as long as you stay out of my way and aren't a slob, we won't have any issues. Give me your cell phone number so I can let you know when I have visitors,” she added, holding out her hand expectantly.
I stared at her a bit dismayed before pulling out my iPhone that was at least five years old. Melanie looked at it as if it was a poop-filled diaper before reluctantly grabbing it and punching in her number.
"I'm texting myself so I have your number," she said before typing a few more things into my phone and handing it back.
There was a large mirror by her bed, and she peered into it briefly, straightening her cobalt blue jersey dress that showed off her thin form. She gave herself an approving stare that was a bit awkward to watch.
"I've got to get to class. Later," she threw at me suddenly before slipping into a pair of leopard booties, grabbing her Louis Vuitton purse, and exiting the room without a look back.
I stared at Lane, my mouth hanging open with a bit of shock.
She just grinned at me.
"Welcome to Rutherford," she sang at me.
Well, shit.
CHAPTER FOUR
THEN
My name was Everly James, and I was a con man's daughter. And not just any con man, but the con man who’d lost millions of our town's money and then shot his brains out on the front sidewalk when the feds came for him in a bloody ending that the town would never forget.
There was no one in this city, let alone the state, who was hated more.
And my mother refused to move.
Shannon James was a proud woman. One who had grown accustomed to the riches and privilege my dad had provided her. So accustomed, in fact, that when she found out years before how my father was making his money, she didn't tell him to stop.
Of course for the past few years, she'd been trying to play the victim, telling anyone who would listen that she’d been just as taken with my father's smooth words and gorgeous looks as everyone else.
In my mind, she was worse than him.
Despite her attempt for pity, she'd lost all of her friends, all of her money, and she would've lost the house too if my father hadn't put it in her name and made sure it was paid off before he offed himself.
So ironically, we lived in a mansion that badly needed repairs and staff, but my mama refused to give it up and sell it so we actually had money for things like...groceries, clothes...necessities of life.
That didn't mean that she didn't sell some of her fancy items. But it certainly wasn't to clothe or feed me. Pieces of jewelry Daddy had given her went first, and then priceless artwork would disappear off the walls to pay for alcohol or to put gas in her car. When she remembered to get groceries, she would always buy ridiculous things like caviar and champagne, something that a six-year-old was obviously not going to eat. When she remembered, she would buy me a loaf of generic white bread and some peanut butter, and that was how I’d get by. That was why starting school, I was not only the smallest kid in the class, but also the most hated and ridiculed, even though I had nothing to do with my asshole of a father’s actions.
To make life worse, my father's death somehow pushed my mother to a point where she no longer could stand the sight of my face. She didn’t love me anymore. In fact, I would go so far to say that she hated me. If my shoes even squeaked on the floors of the house, I’d be thrown in a closet for the rest the day, or lashed repeatedly with one of my father's belts.
When she was really drunk, I scared her. Probably because I looked like my father. His curly gold hair and catlike green eyes stared back at me in the mirror every time I looked into one. The combination had been what made my father so hard to say no to. He looked so charming and innocent, certainly not the face of someone who was going to rob you blind. There was no way for me to hide from everyone around town that I wasn’t my father’s daughter.
In short, my life was hell. The worst kind of hell.
I was fruit, ripe for the taking for the Parker brothers. They offered me the warmth, love, and attention I was desperate for. They were my greatest loves, and my worst mistakes.
I should've chosen better from the start, I should've recognized that although I loved Caiden, it wasn't the soul crushing kind of love I felt for Jackson.
I should have done so many things differently.
CHAPTER FIVE
NOW
Jackson
I fell in love with Everly James the first time that I saw her on that playground, holding her ground against kids twice her size. She was tiny, her tangled curly blonde hair so long and thick that it practically covered her face. When I saw her standing there so bravely, all I could think was she was the most beautiful creature that I’d ever seen.
There was only one other person I loved as much.
And that was Caiden.
I was fucked up.
Even as a kid, I couldn’t control my emotions. The slightest things would set me off. My mom would tell me that I needed to eat the vegetables on my plate, and next thing I knew, the plate would be shattered against the wall, the spaghetti that had been on the same plate sliding down the wall leaving an oily, red stain that would have to be painted over. My dad told us to turn off my favorite movie and a baseball trophy would find its way to the television screen minutes later, glass shattering all over the carpeted game room.
They tried all the parenting tricks they could find. Grounding me, taking away toys, trying to bribe me. Nothing worked. Except for Caiden.
When the anger built up inside of me, I couldn’t think straight. It felt like the real me was locked inside, a slave to the darkness and frustration that I couldn’t get past. Caiden was always there, soothing me, talking me down from the ledge I was poised to jump off of. It only ingratiated it more for my parents. He was the golden child, the peacemaker, the better twin.
I loved him too much to be jealous of him.
Doctors told my parents it was ADHD, intermittent explosive disorder, too much sugar, not enough sleep. The list went on and on. I was put on various diets, medicines, therapies...but the hyper manic behavior...the irrational anger...it continued.
The depression didn’t set in until later.
And that was when I got my final diagnosis.
Bipolar.
It was kind of an ironic thing. How being bipolar made sure that I would always be more popular than Caiden. My manic episodes made me loud and brash, willing to do anything, unafraid of the world. The kids gravitated towards me, not seeing the days when I couldn’t get out of bed, when Caiden had to sleep next to me because I couldn’t stop crying.
I saw it in my parents’ eyes now, after the accident, the fact that they could barely look at me.
They wished it was me lying in that hospital bed.
And I didn’t blame them.
I wished it was me as well.
And it was all her fault.
For two brothers who’d always been inseparable, it sure took us a long time to realize that the both of us were in love with the same girl. I marched into Everly’s life in my usual way, not thinking of consequences or anything else for that matter. I saw those green eyes, those pouty lips on that angelic face.
And I wanted her.
Only turned out that my brother did, too.
I brushed a hand down my face, still tasting the egg burrito that Jadin must have eaten for breakfast. I was sure she would have at least chewed some gum if she knew I was going to jump her like that. I hadn’t touched Jadin in ages. I had a one-fuck rule. But I’d panicked when I saw Everly standing there, the loveliest pain you could imagine.
Shame soured my stomach because even after everything that had happened, even after what she’d done to Caiden...what we’d done to Caiden, I still wanted her.
After enough time passed, I began to think that I couldn’t possibly have imagined something so perfect. I’d burned nearly all the pictures of us, especially the pictures of the three of us. And I’d told myself that there was no way I was remembering the slope of her nose right, or the way her eyes seemed to sparkle when she laughed, or how smooth her skin felt under my hands. Sometimes I told myself that I’d imagined she was so perfect just to hurt myself, to punish myself for the part I’d played in my brother’s downfall.
But seeing her today...I realized that if anything, I’d remembered her as less perfect than she really was. I understood now why it had hurt so much. Because the kind of pain I’d been experiencing couldn’t exist if she hadn’t been real.
She was the devil hidden behind an angel’s face, and I was so fucking tired of the temptation of her. I hated her in a way that sometimes still shocked me.
Because as much as I hated her.
I couldn’t forget that I’d once loved her more.
I had spent the last two years cursing her name, happy for the reprieve from seeing her face and remembering over and over what we’d done to my brother.
Everly
Sharing a room with Melanie was going to be awkward. And that was probably an understatement.
I had come back from a blissfully Jackson-free dinner with Lane in one of the cafeterias to find that she’d rifled through my stuff. She didn’t even bother to put things back. Everything was scattered around on the floor, wrinkled and stepped on. She lay on her stomach on her bed, watching an episode of Gossip Girl when I walked in, and even though I was sure that she knew I was looking at her wondering what the fuck she’d done to my stuff...she didn’t even turn her head to look at me.
She couldn’t hide that miniscule little smirk though.
That told me I wasn’t going to be finding refuge in my room any time soon. It was good that I didn’t have much by way of earthly possessions, and that my journal was still hidden in my car. Because it was clear that Melanie was the type to rifle through a journal and probably post all the juicy parts around the dorms for good measure.
