“Let’s get started,” Mr. Coleman announces at the front of the room.
My shoulders slump. I debate hiding my phone under my desk so I can demand Devlin pay me. I’ll corner him later.
For the whole class period, Devlin ignores my attempts to catch his eye, appearing vaguely bored with the lesson. Bishop’s attention is glued to his phone and I can make out a pinch between his brows, his smarmy attitude falling away. In front of him, Thea squeaks. Like, actually squeaks. Bishop shifts in his seat, unaware of Devlin’s suspicious glances.
As Mr. Coleman talks with his hands at the front of the room, my attention drops to the shredded essay on the floor.
I can handle his game, can’t I? How much worse can it get?
Ten
Blair
On my way to lunch, I stop by my locker to drop off my morning books and grab my notebook for my next class. I pause when I open it.
An envelope is inside, sitting askew on top of my stuff. It must have been shoved through the slot in the locker door. Glancing at the other students at their lockers, I grab it.
Thumbing the flap open, my breath catches. Money. Crisp bills fill the envelope.
A small sound escapes me as I lean my shoulder into the cool metal.
There’s no note or anything written on the envelope. It’s plain and nondescript.
Devlin wasn’t kidding after all. My lips twitch as I turn that over in my head. I wanted the payment, but now that I have it, alarm bells are going off like sirens in my head.
Sure, he’s loaded, but it doesn’t make sense. Why is he actually giving me money after I was stealing his beloved car? I rub my chin and ignore the echo of slamming lockers in the hall.
This was all his idea, but I wasn’t sure he would follow through. I didn’t trust doing what he wanted would result in money in my pocket. After English earlier, I thought he might dangle the carrot and laugh when I tried to jump for it.
An uneasy wariness buzzes through me. I tap the envelope against my hand. For now, I tuck it deep in my locker, hidden between a thick book on the art history of Japan from the school library and a math textbook. I squeeze the hard metal door, then shut it.
My thoughts swim as I bleed into the flow of milling students on my way to the cafeteria for lunch.
I don’t trust the hand feeding me. I’m prepared to bite it at a moment’s notice.
When I get to the cafeteria, the lunch period is in full swing. I join the line and pick up a tray. The lunch lady nods to me and slides my meal across. While the others buy pizza and the stuff offered that’s not on the main lunch menu, I get the food assistance program meal. Today’s is a scoop of mashed potatoes, steamed broccoli, an apple, and a cut of roast chicken breast. It’s almost the exact meal Devlin took off me last year and dumped on the floor to be a douchebag.
Without Gemma, I’ve returned to sitting alone by the window at the table I get to have to myself. No one else wants to sit with the notorious sticky fingers. Not after Devlin put my tricks on blast on TikTok in retaliation for stealing from his soccer buddies. Those idiots challenged me to my face when they heard I could pick pockets. Before people avoided me because I’m the poor girl, but now everyone keeps their distance because Devlin branded me as a thief.
If only they knew where that landed me.
I pick at the food on my plate and consider what my back-up plan is if the deal with Devlin goes south. There’s no way Devlin has a hidden heart of gold behind his cold eyes. There’s not a helpful bone in his demonic, athletic body. He’s not giving me money because he wants to, he’s doing it to show me he has the power here.
Things that are too good to be true often are. Men are all the same—they take what they want and leave you to pick up the shattered pieces.
Either I follow along with his rules, or he turns me in. Both give him full control over me.
With a sigh, I drag my fingers through my hair. What have I gotten myself into?
* * *
After the last period, the afternoon sun beats down on the student parking lot. I tip my face into the rays with my eyes closed and lean against my car before I put my stuff in the backseat.
I need to get home to cook dinner so Mom has something to eat when she gets in. She’s on the dinner rush shift today, and she always seems so haggard when she comes home. There’s never time for her to eat when the diner gets customers from the interstate and the lower-class families on the outskirts of town.
All around me, flashy luxury rides surround my crappy Corolla. Two rows over I see Devlin’s Porsche sandwiched by a BMW and a Hummer. An indignant breath rushes past my lips. These damn students are so spoiled.
A buzz from my phone pulls me out of my thoughts. I reach behind me to grab it from the top of my books I set on the hood of my car while I enjoyed the sun.
My gaze narrows when I look at it. Instead of the Instagram DM I’m expecting from Gemma in response to the video I sent her of a pug I found on the explore page, D-bag Devil taunts me with a new text notification.
The message is short enough to read the whole thing on the lock screen: Walk to school tomorrow. No car. No Uber. No public transport.
Another simple enough, if annoying as hell, task.
Chewing the inside of my cheek, my gaze moves around the parking lot, passing over Devlin’s sports car. He’s not there. I peer up the steps that lead up the hill to the main campus, where the school sign sits in front of the stone columns of the north building. Bingo. Devlin leans against one of the coyote statues that flank the sign.
From this angle, the pointy pine trees that stretch into the sky on either side of the school look like devil horns poking from his head.
Devlin is watching me. He waves his phone in the air.
I fold my arms and refuse to drop my gaze first. Devlin holds my stubborn stare.
The command from Devlin echoes in my thoughts, his voice a smoky sound that churns my insides.
As much as I can feel in my bones that I’ve signed my name in blood in a contract with the dark devil of Silver Lake High…I need the money.
Nothing else matters. I have to play his game by his rules until I find a way around them.
If this cocky, rich asshole gets off on me pretending to be under his control while he hands me the money I’m desperate for, I’ll endure.
I’ve suffered through far worse—the clawing cramps of hunger pangs, the panicky weight on my chest as I urgently scrape together enough money to make rent so Mom and I aren’t out on the streets, the anguished sobs from Mom late at night when she thinks I’m asleep, the leers of sleaze bags who assume I’m down to suck dick for cash, and the ugly, naïve hope in those early years that if I wished really hard on shooting stars, my dad would want Mom and I as his family again.
The rush of memories burns my eyes. A flash of drawing stars and a dark-haired boy with sad eyes, wishing with all my might, not knowing when my daddy would be back to see the star drawing I made for him flickers in my mind. I tighten my arms around myself. Fuck, I haven’t thought about some of that in years. It’s hard to breathe for a minute, air rattling in my throat, scraping it the length of my esophagus like a sharpened blade.
Devlin Murphy? He doesn’t even rank in my top ten. I’ve handled his bullying for three years. What’s one more? After this year, I’ll be heading to college on a full ride because I’m going to work my ass off to earn it. By playing his game, Mom and I get to finally have some breathing room in our finances.
Glancing at the text again, I release a sigh, resigning myself to doing what Devlin wants.
Eleven
Devlin
The chessboard is set.
I watch with an eagle-sharp focus from my position at the top of the steps until Blair’s shoulders slump in defeat. Satisfaction unfurls in my chest, blooming like a moonflower. It’s something beautiful that only comes out in the shadows.
That’s right, little thief. This is how the game works. You understand now.
<
br /> Her shocked look when I tore up the essay before class was like speeding down the road in my pride and joy with the windows down and the wind in my hair. It was thrilling and I crave more. I’m already itching to chase the high.
Blair agreed to our deal to stay out of jail, but what she doesn’t know is the true extent of this arrangement. I'll make her do anything I want in front of the whole school, pulling her strings like a puppeteer. It’s all part of my revenge plan. I’ll break her pride and her spirit so she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt she never should have dared to steal from me.
The door of her piece of shit Corolla slams hard once she gets in, the echo traveling up from the parking lot to where I’m standing watch. As she drives off, the car makes a horrible high-pitched screeching sound.
Turning away, I wet my lips and nod to Bishop as he ambles in my direction from the shaded terrace in front of the north building with Sean and Trent from the team, along with a few hot chicks from the cheer and dance squads. I’m not in the mood to hang out with the plastic puppets that surround us, but it’s easy enough to fool these idiots into thinking I give a shit about them.
Other than Bishop, I don’t.
But they’ll never guess my secret. The reason I always appear so carefree. The trick is loving nothing.
The only love I have is reserved for myself and the select few I grant my real attention to—Bishop, my aunt and uncle, Lucas, and Gemma. That’s all my black, twisted heart has the capacity to care about. Everyone else? Useless pawns to use up and toss aside when they’ve served their purpose.
Blair Davis is going to serve a very specific purpose by playing on my court.
“Hey, bro.” Bishop knocks his shoulder into mine.
We’re off from practice today. Bishop has his up to no good look on. My mouth curves.
The girls laugh with Trent and Sean, hanging off their arms. Nina, the peroxide-blonde with big tits that hung all over me in English as I shredded Blair’s essay, flashes me a hooded leer. It’s her secret code for begging for a ride on my dick. A pleading look I haven’t answered this year. I’m not interested in her fake moans and her obsession with the notoriety of my parents’ national medical research firm.
“Where are we going today? Peak Point?” Trent asks as he untucks his shirt and loosens his school tie. His blazer is off, tossed over his shoulder.
He’s one of those idiots that thinks he has the entire market on swagger, but he’s really just like any other wannabe at this school—covered in Axe spray, always searching for willing pussy, and waving his mom’s black card around. Sean’s a little more bearable, but he’s a follower with no original thoughts. It’s like someone stuck a hand up his ass, shut off his brain, and controlled his mouth.
Nina clicks her tongue. “Please, what are you, a freshman? No senior girl wants to go to Peak Point to make out with you.” She shoves her manicured hand in Trent’s face, the gold bangles on her wrist clinking. “Do better, darling.”
Irritation simmers beneath my skin. Everything feels tighter, but maybe that’s the way my fists are balled in the pockets of my slacks.
“We should drive to Denver and raise hell.” They want something devilish to excite them? I’ll give it to them. My gaze finds Bishop’s. “In the principal’s Escalade.”
Bishop’s brows hike up and a whoop leaves him. He slaps me on the back. “Hell yes. Now you’re talking. My old man will flip his shit when he tries to leave campus today.”
Nina and her friend, Bailey, giggle into their hands.
“Where will we go?” Bailey asks.
Idle boredom leads to temptation. We’re all craving something that makes us feel alive.
“We’ll head for the university.” I make sure Nina is paying attention before stepping into Bailey’s space. She’s not as short as Blair, but still much shorter than me. I slip my fingers into her soft wavy hair as she gazes up at me, star-struck. “Then we’ll find a party to crash.”
When I peek at Nina from the corner of my eye, hers are narrowed and her arms are folded tight beneath her breasts. You don’t own me, sweetheart. I wink at Nina, selling it like the playboy flirt they all know me as. It feels like more of a mask this year than ever before. She pouts and threads her fingers with Sean’s.
I almost laugh. She can’t make me jealous. I’d need to want her for that to work.
“Oh,” Bailey breathes, leaning closer to me without subtlety.
I drop my hand and turn to Bishop. “Stash all the cars at the lake and we’ll ride over in one of my dad’s cars.”
“Yeah, perfect,” Bishop agrees with a knowing look.
We’ll get at both of our fathers with one stone.
Bishop turns to address the group, hands up. “All right, people. You heard our Devil Boy. Hop to it, chop chop.”
He claps his hands. As everyone spurs into action to follow our lead, I hang back. Bishop waits with me. Once the puppets are far enough down the steps, we begin our descent without anyone to eavesdrop.
“What else do you know about Davis?” I mutter, glancing in the direction she drove off in.
Ahead of us, the girls have run to their cars and Trent honks his horn while he peels out of the lot, Sean not far behind him. The girls howl like coyotes as other students watch their antics.
Bishop shrugs, raking a hand through his hair. He’s distracted by whatever he’s looking at on his phone. I smack his arm with my knuckles.
“Not much, dude.” It seems to take him a lot of effort to put his phone away. My eyes narrow. He’s as addicted to the damn thing as anyone I know, but something’s off. Bishop ticks off on his fingers. “Outside of the school records and the backlog of forms I gave you the code for, she’s like a ghost. I asked around, but your little lady is only known around here as a charity case for the school district’s economic diversity quota.”
My mouth pulls to the side as we reach the parking lot. I was worried he would say that.
We all immediately hated Blair on sight for not belonging.
She stands out in every way, from her incomplete uniform to her food program lunches. She’s inescapable. I hate that I find her impossible to ignore for the nobody she is.
Ignoring Blair has never been an option for me. Whatever it is about her, it demands my attention like a goddamn moth to flame.
Blair looks at me like we’re on the same level. Dead wrong, little bug. I want to crush her beneath my shoe for her insolence.
If I’m going to put her back in her place, make her understand that she’s never clawing her way out of her position on the lower rungs beneath me, then I need to know what her weaknesses are to press her buttons harder. The more I push her, the closer I get to total control over her.
“If you hear anything, let me know.” We pause beside my car. I unlock it, lean in, and swipe my pack of smokes. I tap one out, sliding the cigarette between my lips. Bishop declines when I offer him one. “Let’s get fucked up tonight.”
Bishop smirks. “You better have your hangover cure ready for me before school then.”
“Fuck that, I’m cutting tomorrow.” My mouth tips up at the corners in a cocky grin. “And my captain better not fault me for it.”
“Fair, fair.” Bishop laughs. The amusement falls away when he checks his phone and gets sucked in again with laser focus. What is up with that? “I’ll, uh…probably cut tomorrow, too.”
Bishop walks off to his ride and I get in my car, dangling my cigarette out the window.
Using my connections and access in the office to orchestrate Blair’s dismissal from the track team wasn’t enough. I’ll crush her, break her beyond repair. She signed a deal with the devil, and when I’m finished with her, she’ll be nothing but the shards of the girl who crossed me.
Blair’s fatal mistake was believing this game could end happily for her. She has my hatred and I’m going to bury her alive with it.
Twelve
Devlin
The lunch period has been one long
exercise in precise self control this year.
I lean back against the table on my elbows, turned to face the room. My legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankle. Blair’s across the room, seated at the table by the window.
Just like last year.
With the semester barely underway, I’ve had to hold myself back from snapping several times. Today I’m coming dangerously close to my limit. I need something to burn off this angry energy before it swallows me whole and unleashes my inner monster.
Maybe it’s the lingering hangover from yesterday.
Should’ve stayed home, but giving that sneaky bitch a respite isn’t on the agenda.
I need to punch something. Or smoke. Preferably both.
Aunt Lottie and Uncle Ed will see right through me if I show up to dinner tonight in this mood. They always know when something’s off with me.
I tip my head side to side to crack my neck, but it does nothing to dispel the itch crawling under my skin.
Bishop is here, at least. The rest of the people that flock to us like we’re gods drive me crazy.
Last year it was easier to fake interest in Lucas’ lunch period, but he was like a shining star drawing in admirers, golden and perfect. It was obvious to see why people loved the star quarterback. It’s a shame I’m not like my cousin—too flirtatious, too vulgar, too dirty, too this, too that, too much.
Now I have to work to hide the fact that I care about very few people in this world. If I don’t care about them, then no one can stop caring for me, either.
Our table at the center of the room is packed with people—all plastic and fake. Bailey sits close. I can tell she’s working up the courage to stake her claim on me by the slight twitches of her mouth. Maybe she’s talking herself into it, reasoning that even though I flirt with every girl in school, somehow it was special when I was charming to her.
Tempting Devil: Sinners and Saints Book 2 Page 7
