NINE
Courtney: Present Day
A few weeks later...
I HIT “22” ON THE ELEVATOR and clutched my briefcase. I was beyond ready for this week to come to an end. Between my petty personal war with Jace, my never-ending hours at the firm, and my turbulent emotions, I was in desperate need of a break.
Since this weekend marked a mandatory trip to Blue Harbor for us to sit down with some of our clients finally, I was determined to spend tonight alone. All I needed was a glass of wine and one night when I didn’t have to look at my work. Or Jace.
I didn’t trust myself around him, and even though we were playing a twisted game of back and forth, I knew my foolish heart was ready and willing to fold at any given moment.
When I stepped off the elevator, I noticed that Jace was standing in the hallway with his arms crossed—glaring at me. Standing right next to him, at my door, was a sexy guy in a blue T-shirt in jeans.
“My door’s already open, Michael,” I said. “You can go in. I’ll be right behind you after I talk to my neighbor.”
Jace clenched his jaw as Michael walked into my apartment—blocking me from doing the same. He grabbed my arm and pushed me against the wall, sending a familiar jolt through my body.
“Courtney,” he said, his voice deep.
“Jace,” I mocked him.
“That’s the third guy you’ve brought over this week.”
“You’re counting?”
“I am.”
“Well, I think you need to get better at it because he’s the fifth guy I’ve brought over this week.” I tried to move away from him, but he blocked me again—pinning me against the wall with his hips.
“Is this your idea of trying to act like you don’t have any feelings left for me?”
“No, this is me living my life—you know, that thing that went on long after our high school friendship ended? The friendship you ruined.”
“It ended because of you.”
“No, it ended because of you.” I hissed. “But if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to my personal life. I’m obligated to talk to you when we’re inside of Walton & Associates.”
“So, you’re just going to keep this shit up for another few weeks?” He clenched his jaw. “You’re not going to pretend to be an adult about this and let us talk?”
“About what, Jace?” my heart was beating so loudly in my chest that I was sure he could hear it. “What we had ten long years ago?”
He didn’t answer. He continued glaring at me, slipping an arm around my waist and tightening his grip.
“You want to talk about some of the times we skipped detention?” I shrugged. “Would that make you feel like there was something actually there? How about some of the times you dropped me off at home afterward? Were those moments deep enough for you to—”
He cut off my sentence and crashed his lips against mine—making me swallow the rest of what I was about to say. I gasped as he tore open my coat and pressed his forehead against mine, as he bit down on my bottom lip.
My briefcase fell to the floor—cracking open and scattering files all over the hallway. His hands found their way to my scarf, and he untied it and let it fall.
I wanted to push him away, but once his eyes met mine, I couldn’t.
Kissing him back, I murmured as he slipped his tongue against mine, as he silently commanded me to let him take full control. I gave in within seconds, and everything about the way he used to kiss me—the way he used to own my mouth, all became so much clearer.
Shutting my eyes, I wrapped my hands around his neck. He groaned against my mouth and slid his hand around my thigh, grabbing it and lifting it around his waist.
His kiss became harsher the longer we lasted, and before I knew it, he was biting my bottom lip so hard I had to tear away from him.
He let my leg go and stepped back, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen him before.
“It was you who fucked us up, Courtney.” He looked livid. “You.” He bent down to pick up my scarf, draping it over my shoulder. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but he returned to his apartment and slammed the door.
I touched my swollen lips and sighed, leaning against the wall to catch my breath.
I didn’t bother picking up my briefcase or any of the papers. I’d handle them later. Instead, I slipped inside my apartment in desperate need of that wine.
“Okay, I’ve had enough.” Mila stood up from my sofa. “Why have you asked a different one of my male model friends to meet you here every night?”
I glanced over at Michael who was raising his hands in a fake surrender.
“She made me talk,” he said, holding up a box of Thin Mint cookies. “I was strong until she brought these out. You can’t blame me for being weak.”
I rolled my eyes and uncorked a bottle of Pinot Grigio, drinking straight from the bottle. “I’ve been asking them over for a special case I’m working on. It’s an um...comparison research case of what goes on behind the scenes at photoshoots.”
“Bullshit, Court.” She walked over to me and snatched the bottle, taking a sip for herself. “Spill the truth. Now.”
“I’m doing it to make Jace jealous. You know, since he’s been living next door for the past few weeks and all.”
“Hmmm. Okay.” She took another swig and handed the bottle back to me. “Keep going.”
“What do you mean, keep going? That’s it.”
“No, no, no.” She crossed her arms. “There’s more. See, over the past few years that we’ve been friends, you’ve told me about every single ex-boyfriend you’ve had. Every guy from the one who couldn’t keep it up for more than ten seconds, to the guy who cheated on you with your roommate, to the guy who wanted to suck your toes every night.”
“You’re into getting your toes sucked, Courtney?” Michael asked.
Me and Mila both turned around, giving him a blank stare.
“I’m just asking...for a friend.”
“Anyway.” Mila returned her attention to me. “You’ve told me everything about those other guys, and the first time I’ve heard you say a word about this guy is the day after you left me hanging in the bar. Why is that?”
“Probably because it was so long ago.” I tried to feed her more bullshit. “It was high school, you know?”
She stared at me, completely unconvinced.
“He was my first love,” I said, my voice cracking. “My first real friend, my first real everything. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it was just a childhood love or a simple, evolved crush for years but—” I paused as she used her scarf to dab my eyes. “The second he walked into the law firm, I knew my feelings never really went anywhere. And five minutes ago, we were kissing in the hallway—until we realized what the hell we were doing.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You know, looking back, the fact that you’re still hung up on a guy from your past makes so much fucking sense I can’t even take it right now.” She stepped back. “I want the whole goddamn story, though. And I want it right now.”
“Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“No.” She scoffed and plopped down on my sofa. “I need to hear exactly why you haven’t fucked this guy’s brains out—especially since you two have such a long history. But after we’re done—and you better not leave out any details, you need to leave my male model friends out of this.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Wait.” Michael said, standing up. “Before you two get started, can I have a few beers to go, Courtney?”
“Sure?”
He walked by and lowered his voice. “Can you also answer the toe sucking question? Like, I’m really just asking for a friend.”
E.N.E.M.Y.
N is for NEMESIS
(It also stands for never, which is when my punishment in detention will probably come to an end...)
Courtney: Back Then
I’M PRETTY SURE THAT whoever came up with the concept of
after-school detention was high on drugs. Like, they couldn’t have thought this thing all the way through before sharing the idea with someone else.
Exhibit A: I’m currently sitting in a classroom, alone with an attractive guy who is a full year older than me. An attractive guy with a bad reputation. Exhibit B: The supervisor of detention is again nowhere to be found. Exhibit C: Some other students who were assigned to different rooms for “after-school” detention are currently huddled around a tree outside, sneaking cigarettes and keeping watch until the supervisors return.
“Whoever came up with after-school detention had to be high as hell,” Jace says, making me look at him. “The teachers don’t want to be kept here any longer than we do.”
“Well, I think after-school detention is a brilliant idea.” I can’t agree with him on any point. Agreement leads to conversation. Conversation leads to friendship. And from the rumors I’ve heard, Jace “doesn’t do just friends” when it comes to girls.
“I would almost believe that you were telling me the truth if you hadn’t spent most of yesterday writing, This detention shit is for the birds a million times in your notebook.”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help it. “Okay, you’re right. This is pretty pointless, but it could be worse.”
“Worse how?”
“My best friend Genevieve got in trouble last year for sneaking a smoke in the bathroom. Mr. Thompson made her clean every bathroom in the school for an entire week.”
“I’d honestly rather take that than this,” he says. “Then again, I am enjoying my newfound, sexy company whose stuck here next to me every day.”
Welp, that conversation was nice while it lasted. I reach into my backpack to grab my headphones, but he leans over and gently grabs my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I promise that I won’t give you any more compliments.”
“Will you also promise that you’ll just stop talking to me for the rest of these sessions?”
He laughs and lets my hand go. “No. Do you want to get out of here for a while?”
“What?” I can feel my eyes bulging out of my skull. “What did you just say?”
“Calm down, teacher’s pet.” He smirks. “I just mean do you want to go grab some food. We’ll come right back.”
“So, you want us to get into even more trouble?” I shake my head. “You know, I used to think that the idea of someone being born a criminal was a lie. Thank you for making me see the light.”
His lips turn up into a huge, cocky grin and I hate the way my stomach flips as he lets out a low laugh. “Let me guess. You want to be a lawyer?”
“Not want to be. I’m going to be. So, I’ll pass on ruining my chances before they begin.”
He shrugs and stands to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch as he leaves the classroom, and within minutes I spot him in the parking lot—slipping into his black pick-up truck. As he speeds out of the lot, I pull out my phone and call Genevieve.
“What’s up jailbird?” she answers on the first ring.
“Nothing, future felon.” I shoot back. “I’m in detention—again, for you. But anyway, don’t forget to pick up the notes from my debate teammates at the library Saturday. I won’t get out of here until the afternoon so they’ll be long gone.”
“I’m already two steps ahead of you. Got my alarm set, my pink highlighters ready, and my headphones ready to be plugged in when they start talking to me.”
I laugh. “Thanks, Genevieve.”
“Hey, whenever you’re done with detention today, you should come over and hang out.”
“I’m grounded, remember? But you can come over to my place. My parents would let you.”
“Well, it would be me, my boyfriend, and Sam. He’s been asking about you since the summer so I figured seeing him again might cheer you up. Unless you’ve been letting Jace pick up where Sam left off these past few weeks. Is that why you haven’t been answering Sam’s calls?”
I can feel all color leaving my face, and a part of me I can’t explain doesn’t want to talk to my own best friend anymore.
“No,” I say, my voice a whisper. “I hear the detention coach coming back down the hallway. I’ll call you back.”
“You better!”
I end the call and put my head down, doing what I always do when a memory of Genevieve getting me into trouble resurfaces. Shut my eyes and block that shit out.
But for whatever reason, at this moment right now, I can’t.
All I can think about is how this past summer Genevieve and I watched one too many episodes of a sex-crazed soap opera, and she thought it would be “cool” if we both lost our virginity on the same night. She introduced me to her boyfriend’s best friend shortly afterward. For weeks, I made myself laugh at his jokes, let him slip his hand under my dress whenever we made out, and when Genevieve’s parents left for vacation in July, the so-called “losing our virginity” pact was set: She and her boyfriend would take her room, and me and Sam would take the guest room.
I’d always pictured my first time being all kisses and repeated whispers of “I love you.” Hell, I would’ve accepted a mere “I care about you,” but all I got was Sam forcing himself inside of me, and humping me a few times while he said, “Fuck, you’re tight.” He didn’t notice the tears falling down my face and he didn’t even think to ask if I was okay afterwards. He just zipped up his pants and said he had fun.
“So much fun...”
But if that wasn’t hurtful enough, when I finally stepped out of the room and approached Genevieve with what had happened, she just stared at me in utter disbelief. She’d said that the pact was just a joke. That she was kidding and never intended for either of us to take things that far.
“I just thought you would back out...You’re such a square, and you always said you wanted your first time to mean something. Guess that means it means nothing now, huh? Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone ever call you a slut for what you did...”
Several minutes later, I feel someone tapping my shoulder and look up.
Jace is standing in front of me with a box of donuts and a bottle of my favorite tea. “I tried to get the pink sprinkle kind you always bring in here—the ones you never offer to share with me, but they only had the glazed kind.”
“Sorry.” I smile and sit up, taking the box and tea from his hands. “Thank you very much, Jace.”
“You’re welcome.” He takes the seat next to me. “You okay?”
I nod and focus on the donuts, not wanting to say anything else. To my surprise, he doesn’t try to make me talk for the rest of detention. He smiles at me each time I glance over at him—which always makes me blush, but he doesn’t say anything else.
With half an hour to go, I check my phone to see if my dad has sent me his usual, “Yes, I’m still disappointed in you, but I’m outside waiting” text message. He’s texted me, but the message is different this time.
DAD: I’m working two hours over today, so ask Genevieve or the detention counselor if they can bring you home. Come. Straight. Home.
DAD: Yes, I’m still disappointed in you.
I don’t text him back.
“Alright, kids.” The detention counselor suddenly walks into the room. “I think we can leave just a tad bit early today. What do you say?”
Jace is already closing his notebook and standing to his feet. I shut mine and walk over to the teacher.
“Yes, Miss Ryan?” He raises his eyebrow. “The door to leave the school is over there.”
“I was wondering if you could give me a ride home. I live about twelve minutes away.”
He tilts his head to the side as if I’ve asked him to do the impossible. “Do you have gas money?”
“Um...no.”
“Do you know how much a teacher makes in this town?”
“Um, no?” I shrug.
“Well, it’s not enough to give out twelve-minute rides to the suburbs without getting some gas money in return
.” He takes my donut box from me, opens it, and looks disappointed to see that there are only two inside. He doesn’t give it back, though.
“Mr. Kennedy!” He calls out to Jace right as he’s stepping into the hallway. “Mr. Kennedy, would you mind taking your fellow cell-mate home today? She says she lives about twelve minutes away.”
Jace smiles and looks at me. “I don’t mind at all.”
I turn toward the teacher. “Are you being serious right now?”
“Dead ass serious.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and points to the door. “I’m officially off now, kid. Out.”
I roll my eyes and walk to the door, following Jace out of the room. My heart is beating faster than ever, and I’m not sure I like the way Jace is staring at me with every step we take.
He leads me out to the parking lot, and to my surprise, he walks over to the passenger door and opens it for me.
I don’t move, though. I just stand there.
“Are you going to get in?” he asks. “Sometime today would be nice...”
“In a second,” I say, my heart pounding loudly. “How many tickets have you gotten since you started driving?”
“One, maybe two.”
“Maybe two? What were they for?”
“Speeding.” He smiles. “Anything else, Counselor Ryan?”
“Do both the seatbelts work?”
He rolls his eyes and lifts me up without permission, placing me on the seat. He reaches over me and pulls the seatbelt over my lap, buckling it before I can say a word.
“Yes, Counselor Ryan,” he says. “The seat belts work.”
He shuts the door and walks to his side, cranking the engine. “What’s your address?”
“Five hundred Summer Fly Lane.”
“Good to know.”
“Yes, good to know because you need it to drop me off and you’ll be forgetting it the second I get out of this car.”
“Or, because now I know you only live six minutes away from me and as friends you should call me whenever you want to hang out.”
My Enemy Next Door Page 7
