Defiant: A High School Bully Romance (Midpark High Book 2)

by Candace Wondrak

  But it was Dante who first replied, “My weekend was great. How was yours? How was that self-defense lesson with that old man?”

  Old man? That got me to blink and stare at Jaz, who appeared unashamed at the mention of it. Since I was so startled, I asked, “Who?” Jaz wanting to learn self-defense after what happened was natural, although, by the blood that ran through my veins, I swore she would not have to worry about defending herself for long.

  “Jacob,” she answered me, her cheeks flushing as she paused.

  That sudden heat in her cheeks, was it for Jacob?

  Something inside me twisted; jealousy? I did not like feeling so jealous. It wasn’t like I had any right to her; she wasn’t mine yet. I had to remember that.

  It simply grew increasingly harder to do that with each passing day.

  “And the lesson went great,” Jaz spoke, meeting Dante’s curious stare.

  Hold on a moment. Was he jealous too?

  “Not that it’s any of your business how it went,” she added, a bit prickly, as if there was more to the story she wasn’t telling us.

  A thought occurred to me then, a sudden and strange thought I did not like. She wasn’t falling for Jacob, was she? The mere possibility made me frown, which she instantly noticed.

  “And, just so you know, he’s not working for me anymore,” she told me, probably trying to make me feel better. Alas, her words did anything but. If he was no longer under a contract with her, that meant she’d seen him without it, that she would continue to see him, even if she wasn’t paying him to look into shit he had no right to.

  Could I ever win here? Was trying to get Jaz all to myself a pointless endeavor?

  “Great,” Dante muttered, stabbing the tray with the spork. The actual tray, not even the food on it. Just…stabbing the tray, like he was picturing it as Jacob, or something. “So, you’re just seeing Jacob on your own, then. That’s just fucking wonderful, isn’t it, Vaughn?”

  I snapped back into reality, saying, “Uh, yes. Wonderful.” It was anything but, really.

  Jaz must’ve sensed the unease at the table, for she went on, “I also went dress shopping.”

  Dante smirked. “For what?”

  This was, at least, something I knew the answer to, though I did not know exactly why she’d want to go to it. “The winter formal is in less than two weeks.” Technically not this weekend, but next. I never put much thought into dances, because they weren’t my thing, but maybe they were Jaz’s.

  Would I suck it up and go to one if it meant I’d get to spend more time with her?

  Of course. The answer to that was obviously a yes.

  “A dance?” Dante echoed, laughing to himself. “A fucking dance? Come on, who the fuck wants to dry hump each other while teachers stand twenty feet away leering like creeps?”

  Jaz shrugged. “I was going to ask you guys if you wanted to go with me, but if you don’t want to—”

  “I’ll dry hump you all you want, with as big of an audience as you want,” Dante quickly said, changing his tune. “Hell, screw the dry humping. I’ll fuck you on the dance floor.”

  It was a good thing he’d taken that spork away from me, otherwise I might be lunging over this table and using it to gouge out his eyes. With a comment like that, it was hard not to jump straight to violence, like some family members I knew. Maybe I was a bit more like them than I’d thought.

  And then, as my mind wondered what Dante would do if I plucked out his eyes with a plastic spork, her words really hit me. I looked at her, putting it together before Dante did. “You were going to ask both of us?”

  Dante’s sudden switch of demeanor was palpable. “You mean asking us if we’re going to the dance, or asking us both to be your date to the dance?” He needed it spelled out for him, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

  “I could imagine having each of you on an arm,” she mused, heaving a sigh as she thought about it, like being stuck between us was something she’d thought quite a lot about. Two dangerous, tattooed bad boys at her service.

  I wanted to speak, wanted to tell her she was absolutely out of her mind if she thought I’d ever want to pull up to a dance with Dante, even if it meant I’d have her all dolled-up in a dress. Truth be told, I didn’t care what she wore or what she looked like; Jaz was beautiful no matter what.

  But me dealing with Dante for more time than I already was forced to? Ugh, I didn’t know if I could do it.

  Although, if there was anyone I would try for, it was her.

  When neither of us said anything, when all Dante and I could do was stare at each other, as if wondering how to best get rid of the other guy, Jaz said, “Think about it, okay? I have something planned for the dance, and I’d feel better if you two were there with me.”

  That got both of us to quit our staring contest and look at her. Jaz had something planned? What in the hell did that mean? She was supposed to let me handle things. Well, me and, by extension, Dante.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Yeah, what do you have planned in that devious brain of yours?” Dante grinned, leaning on the table, his leather jacket wrinkling as he did so.

  “If you guys come, you’ll see,” Jaz whispered, saying nothing else as she began to eat.

  Dante and I watched her, exchanging looks every now and then. It was clear neither of us wanted her to do anything, especially on her own. Which, when it came down to it, meant he and I would have to suck it up and be there for her, in case she needed us.

  I would rather go with her and Dante, be there even if she didn’t end up needing me, than not go and have something disastrous happen.

  As the saying went: better safe than sorry.

  The end of the school day came quicker than I anticipated. I planned on finding Jaz and telling her that I would go to the dance with her, regardless of whether or not Dante was, but I was quite literally ambushed as I left the last class of the day and headed to her locker.

  Who ambushed me? None other than the tatted, leather-wearing guy who put unease in everyone’s stomachs; everyone other than mine.

  Funny how the girls stayed away from him. Maybe they’d learned their lesson with me, getting nowhere in spite of their attempts to. They thought he was hot, but they wouldn’t touch him.

  Dante dragged me to an empty hall, one that held only classrooms and no lockers. “Hey, man,” he spoke, meeting my eyes with a serious expression—something he did not normally wear. “Ever since lunch, I’ve been thinking.”

  Yeah? He wasn’t the only one, if so.

  I said nothing, because I really wasn’t one to talk needlessly, unlike Dante. He spoke enough for the both of us put together.

  “I don’t like seeing her with you, and you don’t like seeing her with me,” Dante went on, shrugging, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. To the both of us, it was. “If we both go to this dance, it’s not going to be all fun and games. But, I think, for her sake, we should try.”

  Blinking, I stared at him. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting him to say. “That means you and I will have to get along.”

  “Hey, we’re getting along now, aren’t we? Besides, it isn’t like I can kill you and hide your body. Without you, I won’t have a roof over my head.”

  I frowned. If something happened to me, it’d be the last thing Dante ever did. He wasn’t from around here, so he didn’t know what my family was capable of. Let’s just say most everyone knew not to get involved with us unless they absolutely had to.

  “And, anyway, if our girl gets into trouble, we’d best be there to help her out of it—”

  At that, I had to speak, “Our girl?”

  Dante chuckled. “Uh, yeah, that’s what I said, isn’t it? Our girl.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, old, worn jeans that looked almost vintage. Odds were all of his clothes were old, well-loved and worn-down. People like him didn’t do vintage, and people like me just didn’t give a shit. “As much as I hate to say it, she is our
girl, you know. Unless she suddenly makes a decision and wants to cut ties with the other, she’s ours.”

  I wasn’t sure that was how it worked…

  “And who the fuck knows about Jacob.” Dante’s dark brows came together, and he shook his tattooed head. “No, I don’t want to think about Jacob right now. You’re enough.”

  Tell me about it.

  “So, we play nice, for her. No trying to backstab the other, not when a few little bitches still need their payback,” he told me, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one was around, no one would hear him say that.

  I nodded once. “Do you have a time frame on that?”

  “Soon” was all he said about it, before changing topics and bouncing back to the dance and sharing Jaz like some sort of thruple. “Believe it or not, I’ve never been to a dance before. Don’t we have to wear matching suits? Like, not the same for you and me, but match her dress or something?”

  “I honestly have no idea. I’ve never been to one before, either.” I knew they held it at the local country club, renting it out for the day, but that’s it. Dances weren’t my thing, nor was dressing up.

  “Huh. You and I have something in common, besides the girl and the tattoos. Go figure.”

  Yeah, that was about all we had in common. Dante was far too wild and unreserved to be similar to me in any way. I was a Scott; I was taught from a very young age how to get things done, and done properly. I doubted Dante ever received such tutelage. A pity for him; he did have potential.

  “Know any place around here that does rental suits for cheap?” Dante asked, looking about as awkward as I felt, talking about this. “I don’t exactly have one, you know, and I assume they won’t let me in if I come looking like this.”

  That much was true. Dances were formal events, and the country club was always formal attire only, even when it wasn’t rented out for an event.

  I eyed him up. “Get me your measurements, and I’ll get one made for you.” He was built like a wall; I doubted any old cheap suit would fit him right. Plus, if we were going to be there for Jaz, if we were to play nice and pretend she was our girl, we had to look the part. We had to look the part of slick psychos who would not hesitate to break bones if it meant we would keep our girl safe.

  “Really?”

  “Really.” My family had a tailor, not that I was going to tell him that. He did not need to know we also had our own in-house doctor, along with chefs and maids and others. He did not need to know my family held the biggest estate in Midpark, both with the biggest house and the biggest acreage.

  I turned, starting to walk away, wanting to find Jaz and tell her our decision, but Dante was at my side, trailing after me, muttering, “Now, when you say measurements, what do you mean? What am I measuring? I assume you don’t mean my dick—that’s about the only thing I know how big—”

  My eyes closed as I emerged into the main hall, wishing I could ignore him. I couldn’t, alas, so I had to tell him that I’d have someone go to his motel room to do the measuring for him.

  To which he asked, “You know where I am, huh?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “Should’ve guessed. You rich freaks know everything.”

  I stopped, causing him to walk into my shoulder. I turned my head toward him, giving him a serious glare. The halls had emptied; I bet we’d missed our chance to catch Jaz by her locker. “You make whatever judgments you want about me, and I’ll do the same for you. Just know that I am not your typical Midpark brat. I might have money behind me, but that’s not all. My family is very old, very powerful, and their enemies tend to disappear off the face of the earth. Now, do I think you and I can get along? Maybe. Will it last forever? I doubt it, but I don’t expect you to stick around long. Why would you? You’re not even using your real name here.”

  That was the most I’d said to him at once in a while; it also gave quite a bit away.

  Fortunately for himself, Dante took me seriously. “You’re right. I don’t plan on sticking around.” He lowered his head, his voice a rough whisper as he added, “But if I have my way, neither will Jaz. One day you might wake up, and we’ll both be gone.”

  If a stare could kill, I was certain my stare right then would drop Dante dead.

  “But I assume you wouldn’t care too much,” Dante spoke with a shrug. “After all, you’re too stone-cold to care about anything.”

  “I care about Jaz.”

  “So do I.”

  “Why? How do you know her?”

  It was almost ridiculous; interrogating each other in the halls of Midpark, like we were each trying to figure out what made the other tick, besides our fascination with Jaz and everything she was.

  Dante let out a bitter smile. “Let’s just say, if things would’ve been different, Jaz would’ve been mine a long time ago. She never would’ve met you, or anyone here.” He shook his head. “It’s obvious to both of us she doesn’t belong here.”

  “You’re saying she belongs with you?”

  He lifted his arms before gesturing to his groin. “These arms, this dick, would’ve been her home if mommy dearest wouldn’t have taken her away from where she belongs.”

  The pieces were slowly coming together for me, though I did not like what I was seeing. “And if she doesn’t choose to go with you? If she wants to stay here, with me—what then?” It was a possibility, just like, I supposed, what he’d said was, too. “Will you respect her wishes, or try to steal her away?” After his history, I wouldn’t put anything past him.

  Dante smirked. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

  I watched him go, frowning.

  Waiting and seeing was not what I wanted to do. I wanted answers, and I wanted them now, but patience was a virtue. I would have to wait and see, but in the meantime, I could prepare myself for the worst.

  Chapter Twenty-One – Jaz

  The night of the choir concert came too soon. Well, if I was honest, it would always come too soon, because I would never be ready for it. I had the lyrics to the songs memorized, at least, so there was that. I knew the gist of the tune I was supposed to keep as an alto, but that was about it. Bobbi kept reassuring me during class that would be enough, for now. Once I had a one-on-one test with Ms. Haber, where I’d go into her office and be forced to sing for her, alone, I’d have to know the tune well enough to carry it by myself. During the concert I could piggyback off of the other altos beside me.

  There wasn’t a strict dress code for the concerts; however, in order for all of the students to have a more cohesive look, Ms. Haber told us to wear black. As long as our clothes were black and they went along with Midpark High’s official dress code, whatever we chose to wear was good.

  Although, at that, I would argue that Midpark High was select in who it chose to get in trouble when it came to clothes. Some girls could practically flash their entire chest and get away with it, while others couldn’t. I’ll give you one guess as to who got away with it most often.

  Fucking Brittany.

  But tonight wasn’t the night for me to spend thinking about her. Tonight I had to focus on choir and the songs and generally not looking like an idiot. It would be difficult for me, but I’d manage, somehow.

  I hoped.

  For my outfit, I chose some black leggings, along with a longer black t-shirt. Figured that way, my ass would be covered with the tail of the shirt, so it wasn’t like they could complain I was flashing anyone. To me, leggings were pretty much just like jeans, anyway. Just minus the pockets and a whole lot more comfortable. Skeevy dudes would always be skeevy dudes, even if you wore a parka around them—they’d always find a reason to stare at you.

  I’d hopped in the shower right after getting home from school, having to blow-dry my hair so I could style it a bit. Nothing too outlandish or crazy, just a few soft waves to give it some volume. I did a bit of smokiness around my eyes, along with a nude matte lip gloss. I paired the outfit with my ankle-high black boots, and I was ready t
o go.

  I grabbed a hoodie, throwing it on as I headed down the stairs. I’d have to take it off once we arrived at the school; Mom would have to hold it during the concert since it wasn’t black. If I would’ve had my pleather jacket still, I wouldn’t have had to worry about wearing a freaking hoodie.

  Yeah, still kind of pissed about that.

  When my feet landed on the first floor, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. “I’ll pull the car around.” A deep, manly voice. Ollie?

  I froze at the base of the staircase, wondering why in the world Ollie would have to pull the car around. He wasn’t coming, and there was no way he would ever be caught dead in my mom’s dingy, rusty van.

  Shaking it off, I found my mom in the kitchen. Ollie had already gone, apparently, to pull the car around, whatever the hell that meant. Mom was dolled-up to the extreme, like this was some kind of date for her. She wore sparkly earrings, her yellow hair down and curled. When I saw that she was wearing a floral dress, I nearly did a double-take.

  Not only a dress bedecked in flowers…but also heels? What in the hell…

  “Mom,” I broke the silence of the kitchen, causing her sharp blue eyes to snap to me. “What are you wearing? You do know you’re not the one going on stage to perform tonight, right?” It was hard for me not to be a smartass sometimes; what could I say?

  She glanced down at herself, making a noncommittal sound. “Oh, this? Don’t be silly, honey. I just wanted to look the part of a Midpark mother.” Mom giggled.

  Yeah. She actually giggled like she was twelve years old and had a secret she knew but was trying to hide from me.

  “I heard Ollie talk about pulling the car around,” I started. “What was that about?” Deep down, I kind of felt like I knew what it was about, but I didn’t want to see it. Didn’t want to face it. Call me stupid.