by Nora Cobb
“You suck, you rat,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Troy looks down on me as if I just occurred in his mind. “I know.” Sighing, he nods in total agreement. “But I wasn’t going to stand by and let you think I was the only one that sucks. I have no ethics that your middle-class brain can comprehend.” Troy leans in, forcing me to press harder against the solid wall. “I know I’m bad. I’m a coldhearted bastard, girl, but I’ll tell you that to your face. To anyone’s face. I’m not your hidden enemy. We know exactly where we stand. But Lucas?”
Looking up at the darkening sky, Troy shakes his head, but I keep my wide eyes on him.
“He’s just like you, isn’t he?” I whisper.
Troy’s gaze snaps to my pale face. “No, he isn’t like me because I have the balls to be the bad guy. Lucas can’t stand being thought of as a villain. He has a dark side, Natalie. That’s all I’m trying to tell you.”
“He said he didn’t know about it.” I shrink farther away. “None of it. He didn’t know about any of it.”
Troy’s lips twist in a sly smile that mocks my acceptance. “You believe that? At the loft, Lucas was the first one in that room to find you strung out on the bed with your ass hanging out for the taking. The boy pussied out, but I’m a real man.”
Finally, I slip away from his grip. “A real man doesn’t need to use a roofie.”
“Funny.” A grin slowly spreads across Troy’s face. “That’s exactly what I told Lucas.”
Troy moves underneath the floodlight over the door. He’s illuminated under the light as I stand in the shadows. Can I trust him to tell me the truth? I don’t want to, but his expression gives nothing away. I wrap my arms around my cold body, and suddenly, I feel the chill in the air that’s been there all along.
“When you finally see through his bullshit...” Troy steps closer. “Give me a call, trashalicious.”
It’s too much to deal with any longer. Troy took pleasure toying with me in the dark, and now, he’s taking pleasure from my confusion—like a cat playing with its food. I hate him for what he’s done. My fist is in his face before he can block it. My rage is thinking for me, and his mouth makes a sickening crunch as my fists connect with it.
Stepping back into the light, Troy wipes the spot of blood off his swollen mouth. “I get it. You like it rough. But keep this up, and I’ll show you just how rough I can be.”
“Fuck you!” I howl before hurrying away. I run, not stopping until I’m locked in my car. Finally, I can cry. Why couldn’t they leave me alone?
CHAPTER 5
Natalie
Dusk disappears into a black sky as I drive down Long Hill Road, away from Montlake Academy. I’m so angry that I think I’m going to bite the steering wheel like a baby with a teething ring. Turning it over in my mind, Lucas has always been the kind one, but that doesn’t mean he’s not involved. At first, he pitted me against Arielle. Sure, I could see they were an item, but he played it off like it wasn’t their choice. They were trust-fund kids thrown together to keep the family fortunes in the black. Lucas never warned me that Arielle was a psycho who never forgets or forgives.
With a squeal of the tires, I stop my car in front of Lucas’ home on Lauding Lane. I’ve never been here before, but I know where he lives. Any girl sick in love knows where her crush lives, and I could have driven here with my eyes closed. I knew the name of his street, but this is the first time I have driven up the driveway. A white curtain on the first floor moves slightly, and I wonder if he’s home alone, or if Arielle will greet me at the front door.
I kick the driver’s side door open and head for the front door. I should have checked a mirror, but I wipe my face off on the back of my hand as I walk. My wrinkled uniform is disheveled as my shirttails flap behind me. I didn’t bother to text. I’m not hiding in the woods with Lucas like a dirty addiction he’s ashamed to have. Ringing the front doorbell, I stand back and wait.
Lucas’ house isn’t a modest home. It’s a sprawling mansion that could accommodate many generations of wealth. The two-story stone mansion could comfortably house five families, and each person could live a very private life. The white stone façade is lit with floodlights, and it makes me feel small as if I should be waiting for the drawbridge to lower. For a second, my sanity screams, “What’s to gain?” I take a step back, ready to run when the front door swings open.
A woman stands in the doorway, staring back at me with eyes as wide as mine. She relaxes a little when she sees my school uniform and almost smiles. But then she tilts her head to the side when she realizes that she doesn’t know who I am. Instantly, I know it’s Lucas’ mother. The woman who flies on private planes to yoga retreats and owns the NYC loft where I was drugged. She’s a slim ice blonde that looks the part of an old-money trophy wife. I wonder if Arielle will look like this when she turns forty.
“May I help you?” Her voice is light and refined, not unlike Lucas’ poised air.
I swallow a dry lump down my throat and wish I had combed my hair in the car. “I’m here to see Lucas.”
“Is he expecting you?” Nonchalantly, she blocks the doorway and won’t move to let me in. How many times have infatuated girls ended up on the front step looking for her agonizingly hot son? A large man appears behind her, blocking out the light from inside. I can tell from his hard, rough face and his boxy dark suit that he’s not Lucas’ father.
“Let me handle this, Mrs. Bellman. I told you I would answer the door.”
Holy bust-up. Is he going to taser me for knocking on their door?
Lucas’ mom laughs as I hop backward off the front step. “Wiley, it’s just a girl. Come in, my dear.” She turns to the man, who must be a bodyguard. “Please tell Lucas that he has a visitor.”
Wiley looks me up and down like he’s debating on using one of those TSA wands on me. Instead, he nods once, giving me his approval before walking away into the depths of the house. It could take him an hour to find Lucas in this labyrinth of a mansion. Next time, I'll text Lucas from the driveway, if I ever come back.
“What’s your name, dear?” Grinning, Lucas’ mom is amused with my unmistakable awkwardness. I’d grin too if the situation were reversed. I must look like a stupid girl, hot and bothered, for her son. If only she knew.
“Natalie,” I stammer, and my boldness seeps out of me into the ground. “Natalie Page.”
She holds out a slim hand with a shiny peach manicure. “Taylor. Taylor Bellman.”
But I’m still standing outside on the step like a beggar. I shake her hand, knowing that my sweaty palm will leave her dry hand damp. But Taylor doesn’t say anything or even wipe her hand on the side of her perfect white dress.
She motions for me to come in, and I follow her to a living room that looks rarely used. The furniture and décor are as modern as her crisp white dress-angles and clean lines in pristine white and beech wood. The only thing that looks warm is a rose gray mohair throw tossed over the sofa. Taylor sits down, and I sit on the far end of the sofa, carefully not leaning against the staged throw.
“How long have you known my son, Natalie?”
“Since September?” It’s a statement, but my nerves turn it into a question.
“I don’t recognize your name. Do you have other siblings in the school system?”
Smooth way to dig, lady. I sit a little straighter as I answer the questions she’s really asking. “My uncle is Phillip Page. He owns a high-tech company based in New York and Austin. My family is from West Lake, but Uncle Phil was the first to move to Montlake. Lucas and I are in two classes together. I met him on my first day.”
Stiffly, Taylor grins at me. Not because she’s pleased with my answer but because I’m not slow. If I spent a day with her, I would know the code before we said goodbye. I’m almost tempted to ask her for lessons. I wouldn’t turn down a Hollywood transformation to be her pretty woman. But before I can gather the nerve to ask, Lucas is in the room.
His stony expression announce
s that he was expecting someone else. It’s sort of funny how my look of reproach mirrors his mother’s exactly. Not fun having two blondes glaring in unison, is it? After I leave, I know he’ll get a lecture on slumming and using protection.
“Natalie, I didn’t know you were coming over.” His tone is aloof, as if he isn’t surprised. “Is everything okay?”
Lucas is so fucking gracious. It's almost winter outside, and his feet are bare. It's weird, and in a way, cool for such a proper guy to walk around without shoes. He’s wearing old jeans, but Lucas hardly ever wears anything other than suits or his school uniform. He looks boyish, and I wonder what he was doing before I barged in. Lucas steps forward and sits between his mother and me as if his presence provides a barricade. But for whom?
“I had a question about the term paper we’re supposed to write for quantum mechanics.” I offer a lame excuse. “I don’t think the theory we chose is going to work.”
My answer must have deflected enough suspicion from the real reason why I appeared unannounced on his doorstep. A satisfied Taylor stands up and smooths down her spotless dress. Smiling, she steps toward the archway leading out of the room.
“Lucas, perhaps you should offer your guest refreshments? Or do you want me to ask Nancy?”
“No, thanks, Taylor. Please don’t disturb Nancy.” Lucas watches me hard like I’ve invaded his private life in the worst possible way. “We’re going into the media room.”
He’s eighteen, and he calls his mother by her first name? She has to be his mother. They look alike; they even have the same posture, like two bored cats tolerating their human owners.
Taylor smiles, and I thank her weakly before she leaves.
As soon as she’s gone, Lucas doesn’t lead me to any room, but out the front door of the mansion. I follow behind him, skip-walking to keep up as he heads toward his blue Camaro.
“Get in the car.”
“I don’t want—”
“Natalie, get in the car. I do not want Taylor eavesdropping.” He glances toward a window. “She’s probably watching us right now.”
Like a scolded child, I slowly get in as Lucas starts the engine. Some insipid pop song blasts out of the speakers on full blast. I’m not screaming over that, but Lucas reduces the volume before I have to ask. It’s only four-thirty, but it’s dark outside, and the bright blue lights on the dash illuminate the windshield as the engine purrs. He drives towards a curved lane by the gate leading off the property, where we can’t be seen from the mansion. He doesn’t shut off the engine. Reaching into the ashtray, he pulls out a joint and a lighter. The tip is burnt, and shielding the flame, he lights up. I thought he didn’t smoke.
“Won’t your... Taylor wonder what we’re doing?”
He doesn’t speak as he holds his breath, then lets the smoke glide out of his mouth in a hazy cloud that absorbs the light.
“She’s not stupid. You’re not the first girl to show up out of nowhere.”
I don’t like hearing that, regardless of why I’m here. My tone is sarcastic as I reply to his snippy comment. “Your mom looked confused to see me as if she were expecting some other blonde.”
He hands me the joint, but I shake my head. I need to be on edge for this confrontation. His side-eye is on point as Lucas balances the joint on the ashtray and leans back into his leather seat.
“You don’t need to be sensitive,” he sighs. “I told you, Arielle’s not around.”
“I spoke to Troy.” My harsh words barrel out of my mouth. “That night in Taylor’s loft, Troy said you found me first, but you chickened out.”
Lurching forward, Lucas starts to cough. He bends forward and his forehead narrowly miss the steering wheel. Gasping, he clears the spit in his throat. I don’t reach out and try to help with a pat on the back. Would precious Arielle help? Patiently, I wait for him to recover and answer my question.
But instead, he asks his own. “You spoke to Troy?”
“Yes,” I hiss like a demon as he wipes his watery eyes. “We had a long talk about everything. He said that it was your idea, and he only helped by slipping a roofie into my drink. He said you chickened out. Is it true?”
I can’t read his face, because it’s harder than stone. Finally, the look he gives me causes me to shrink back into the curved seat, and I wonder if Troy has set me up for another fall.
“Why would I do that to you?” he asks coldly. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
“Don’t turn it around.” I rally my nerves. “Troy had no reason to tell me about that or to bring that night up. So tell me the truth, Lucas.”
I jump in my seat when Lucas slams the ashtray shut. His hands grip the steering wheel, and I’m ready to reach for the door handle, convinced that he'll slam his foot down on the gas and take off into a tree. But we stay there in the dark, and Lucas shuts off the music.
“Natalie, I had nothing to do with the night in the city. I didn’t plan it or touch you. You have to believe me.”
His hurt expression is illuminated in the lights. Silently, he conveys his disappointment, and maybe, his resentment toward me. Lucas shows no interest in reassuring me that he cares. No more kisses or eager fingers gliding across my skin. That moment in the gym bathroom, he only touched me because he had to do something to calm me down. I swallow the hurt and confusion of my feelings.
But he’s still not innocent. There’s the question of Arielle. Lucas lied, leading me to believe that I wasn’t on the side. But in hindsight, Arielle was taking pleasure in torturing the girl who stole her man.
“Do you love her?”
“No.” He waits too long to answer. “You don’t believe me?”
I look away, unable to say anything encouraging. It would be easier to believe Lucas, but look at what happened. Maybe the last three months would have been different if I hadn’t had Arielle gunning for me. It’s apparent by now how much she hates me, and I’m starting not to blame her.
His hands slide off the wheel as he sinks back into his seat. He tilts his head back, and I watch his profile. Lucas is attractive, with high cheekbones that sweep forward and plump lips that should be kissed. I want to be kissed again like before.
Tears well up in my eyes, and I don’t care that Lucas always sees me cry. All of it has been too hard. I know Lucas cares, but he doesn’t know what he wants. He tells me he wants me, and then I see him holding Arielle in his arms. Is he comforting her too?
His finger brushes a tear off my face, and his hand cups my cheek. Looking into his eyes, I see kindness, and I also see pity. His lips tremble before they part, and then Lucas presses his mouth into mine. His strong arms pulls me close, and the heat starts up between us.
I swore this wouldn’t happen again. And not in his car. But I need this — a moment of affection that will keep me going through a cruel time. I need faith. I want to believe that he’s the good guy. The right choice. But he’s not.
Lucas is not the one I was with that night. Involuntarily, my body shudders from the thought of Troy. And I’m ashamed of how my body reacted to his touch. I want to feel the highs as I soar into love, and as much as I want Lucas, my body feels cheated. The trust is gone. I push him away, and then immediately, I slap his pretty face.
“What the hell, woman.”
The mask crumbles away as he holds his red cheek. Lucas glares at me, and I feel a spark of fear. Troy’s words repeat in my head. Lucas wants to be the good guy, but he has a sly side. He can’t deny that he pitted me against Arielle—the back-alley mutt against a purebred pit. And now, I wonder if he gets off on Arielle and me fighting over him. The mask slides back into place as his eyes glint in wicked amusement. He does like being bad.
“Have you been working out, Natalie? I can barely feel my face.”
I try not to grin, but that was funny. “You deserved it for lying to me.”
“Here we go again,” he sighs. “Look, if you don’t believe me, ask Arielle. Don’t talk to Troy. Why would you even list
en to him after what he’s done to us?”
Lucas is right, but Troy has nothing to lose by telling me the truth. Troy may hate me, but he’s not underhanded. He’ll be a bastard to your face because he’s got the bank to make everyone ignore his games. Lucas must not have that kind of power if his family is making him marry Arielle. I wonder if his mother knows they’ve broken up.
“Why do you call your mother -Taylor? Is that part of the code?”
Lucas laughs. “No. She doesn’t want strangers knowing she’s old enough to have a grown son. But she likes being a MILF when they find out.”
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
“No, I’d rather she treat me like an adult. I don’t like being bossed around.”
