King of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  Never, in all my eighteen years, have I been in a fight.

  I usually leave that to Austin.

  Furiously, I blink the wetness out of my eyes until my vision clears. Kingsley has his arms wrapped around Sloane as she struggles against him like a wildcat. Her blue eyes are clouded with fury as she howls out her outrage. With his lips near her ear, he whispers something too soft for me to hear before lifting her off the ground and swinging her away from me.

  As soon as I’m out of sight, she goes limp as loud sobs fall from her lips. “She’s horrible, Kingsley! She attacked me for no reason! She’s just like her psycho brother!”

  Stunned, I watch as she turns and tangles her arms around his neck, burrowing against the strength of his chest as if she needs to be protected from me.

  What a fucking crazy bitch.

  I lift my hand to my scalp and wince, gingerly touching the spot where she tried to rip the hair out.

  “Come on,” he murmurs, leading her from the bathroom without so much as a word to me. Sloane’s minions shoot me dirty looks before spinning on their heels and following the pair out the door.

  An eerie silence settles around me as I stare in disbelief at my disheveled appearance in the mirror.

  Did that seriously happen?

  Maybe it was a poor decision on my part to get mouthy, but there’s only so much a person can take before they completely lose it. If this episode is any indication, I’ve reached my limit. Especially where Sloane and her crew are concerned.

  With shaking fingers, I turn on the tap and splash cold water on my face before attempting to smooth down my hair. It looks like I’ve been put through the ringer. All I want to do is go home, but that’s not going to happen. I missed half a day last week and can’t afford to leave.

  The door to the bathroom swings open and I tense, shifting toward it, ready for round two if Sloane decides to finish what she started. Air leaks from my lungs when I find Kingsley filling the doorway.

  He hasn’t acknowledged my existence since Austin found us together at the Dairy Barn. Worse than that, I’m not sure which is preferable—his hatred or disregard. It’s one more troubling realization where this boy is concerned.

  He was screwing with you, Summer.

  That’s all it ever was.

  One giant mindfuck.

  And yet, the pain of his indifference is enough to gut me.

  “What the hell was that about?” he growls, closing the distance between us.

  My eyes widen at the accusation that fills his sharp voice. Why am I so surprised that he’s defending Sloane? It only solidifies my earlier thoughts. Be relieved that he’s done playing games with you.

  “Are you serious?” I press my palm against my pounding chest. “Do you honestly think I would start anything with Sloane?” Ever since I stepped foot on the campus of Hawthorne Prep, I’ve done my best to steer clear of her.

  His brow furrows. “She says you attacked her for no reason.”

  Of course she did.

  My mouth drops open and laughter tumbles out. “She’s lying. From my experience, Sloane says a lot of things I hope aren’t true.” Another prick of pain stabs me before I sweep it away.

  His eyes narrow as he takes another step closer. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I press my lips together, refusing to answer. It was all a game. An agreement. He helped me and I...

  I allowed him to touch me in return.

  And now you’re going to complain and cry that he’s moved on?

  Pathetic.

  I shove all of the pain deep inside where I can pretend it doesn’t exist before straightening my shoulders. I’ll be damned if I allow him to see how much damage he’s inflicted.

  “You know what?” I snap. “It doesn’t matter. None of it does.”

  There’s no point in trying to defend myself. Nothing I say or do will change his mind. It’s like he said at the Dairy Barn—he’s a Rothchild and I’m a Hawthorne. I should have listened to him instead of thinking I knew better.

  “The hell it does,” he snaps. When I remain silent, his tone grows harsh. “Answer the question, Summer. What the hell did you mean by that?”

  I shake my head as a bitter smile twists my lips. I’m done wasting my time. “Nothing.”

  When I attempt to push past him, he grabs my upper arms and swings me around until my back is pressed against the wall. The air hisses from my lungs when he shackles my wrists and forces them above my head. His body pins mine in place as his mouth hovers inches above my own. Even in anger, I crave his touch. It’s disheartening to realize that instead of trying to escape from him, I’m straining to get closer.

  “You obviously have something to say, so spit it out.”

  “There’s nothing,” I whisper, needing to remind myself that this is not the same boy I met at the beach. They may look identical, but that’s where the similarities end.

  A deep growl of frustration vibrates in his chest. “I’m not going to let you go until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “You can stop with the games. We both know that there was never anything between us. How could there be when you’re a Rothchild and I’m a Hawthorne?” I pause, waiting for him to deny it. When he doesn’t, a fresh wave of pain crashes over me. “Because that’s all I’ll ever be, right? A Hawthorne.”

  “You don’t understand how complicated the situation is,” he growls.

  I blink back the tears that have filled my eyes. “That’s because you refuse to tell me.”

  Why does this hurt so much?

  This boy should mean nothing to me.

  There was never anything between us.

  It was all lies.

  “Summer,” he whispers, his lips grazing mine as he forces my wrists up the wall until I’m stretched out beneath him. “Give me time to figure this out.”

  Instead of cutting me loose, all he wants to do is string me along until there’s another punch line. Until he can humiliate and hurt me.

  When he nips my lower lip, liquid need pools in my core and I whimper in frustration. Not only am I angry with him but at myself for being weak and stupid where he’s concerned. I know what the right course of action is. I just need to be strong enough to take it.

  “The deal we made is over,” I force myself to say in a voice devoid of emotion. He’s gotten enough from me already. I can’t afford to give him anything more. “If you want to make our lives hell, do it.”

  With that, I shove out of his embrace and fly toward the door.

  “Summer!”

  It takes every ounce of my strength not to look back.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I sprint the last quarter mile until the long stretch of our driveway comes into view. Only then do I allow my legs to slow. Running is the only thing that settles my mind, allowing me a rare slice of peace. I push myself until a burn grows in my chest before spreading to the rest of my body like an infection. When thoughts of Kingsley pop into my head, I force my legs to pump faster until all I’m able to focus on is my labored breath. The endorphins kick in and for a few blissful moments, there’s nothing but the road stretched out in front of me.

  Once I reach the house, I finish my workout with a few stretches before walking through the front door and stumbling to a halt. Mom is on her hands and knees scrubbing at the marble tile floor. A bucket of water is next to her. I unzip the pocket of my shorts, pull out my phone, and turn off the music before removing the AirPods from my ears.

  “Hey.” My chest rises and falls with the sharp pants that leave my body. “What are you doing?”

  Mom has always kept a clean house, but this is a little obsessive even for her.

  “Just making sure everything is immaculate,” she murmurs, not bothering to glance up from the spot she’s scrubbing.

  When she doesn’t elaborate any further, I follow up with, “Why?”

  She glances up and blinks. “Did you forget that we’re having people over tonigh
t?”

  “Oh, right.” Actually, I did.

  My heart sinks at the idea of all those Hawthorne assholes filling my house. I’ve done my best to push this party to the back of my mind and forget about it. Guess I did too good of a job. I shift my weight and glance away. “Is attendance mandatory?”

  If I’m lucky, this is more of an adult affair and I can skip it.

  Her eyes widen as she straightens, sitting back on her heels. “Of course you have to attend! It’s important that our family appear as a united front.”

  I humph out a breath as the edges of my lips draw down. Schmoozing a bunch of townies isn’t exactly how I want to spend my Saturday night.

  “What’s the point of this again?” Exasperation tinges my voice. Before she’s able to respond, I tack on, “Do you really think this will change how people perceive us?” I couldn’t even change the mind of one person, let alone the whole school. Mom doesn’t understand what we’re up against. Admittedly, in the beginning, neither did I. I still don’t have a full picture. What I do know is that the history in this town goes way back. And the memories go back even further.

  “I hope so,” she admits in a tight voice. “We need everything to go smoothly. This has to work.”

  “What has to work?” I blink as her odd choice of words echo through my head. “Is there something going on?”

  My parent’s behavior has grown increasingly strained over the last week. They’re both showing signs of cracking. Mom is edgier than usual, and Dad has become even more tight-lipped about the company and the history of this town. Every time I attempt to work a few questions into our conversations, he swiftly shuts them down. If I didn’t have so much shit to deal with, I would take the time to dig deeper.

  Mom jerks her shoulders and presses her lips together. For a long moment, I wonder if she’ll respond.

  “Your grandmother,” she says haltingly, “was not a beloved figure in Hawthorne.”

  Ha! From what I’ve discovered, that’s an understatement. She had a difficult relationship with her own son, so it only stands to reason that there were other people in her life she couldn’t get along with.

  Not exactly a shocking revelation.

  “Because of that,” Mom continues, “she created even more bad blood with the Rothchild family, which eventually bled over to the town.” I’m taken aback by her show of emotion when she buries her face in her hands. “It’s all such a mess, Summer.”

  My eyes widen and I shift my weight, unsure how to comfort her. This kind of outburst isn’t like my mother. She’s usually so upbeat and cheerful.

  “Mom, I—”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize. I shouldn’t have questioned her.

  She drops her hands from her face before inhaling a deep breath, visibly attempting to wrangle her emotions under control. “Please, just be there tonight. We need you.”

  I nod and bite my lower lip. It feels like there’s more going on than she’s willing to admit. But then again, that’s the way everything around here feels. We’re all keeping secrets from each other. If given half a chance, this place will destroy the tightly woven fabric of our family. I don’t want that to happen.

  I clear my throat and push out the question. “What time should I be ready?”

  This party will be an ugly wake up call for them, but there’s nothing that can be done about it now. The only thing I can do is stand in solidarity next to them with my head held high.

  Her shoulders slump as her face clears. “People will start arriving at seven o’clock.”

  I glance at my sports watch. That’s three hours from now.

  “The caterers should be here any moment. The plan is for them to set up a bar in the dining room.”

  Excellent idea. Mom and Dad need to ply these people with as much liquor as possible.

  “Do you need help with anything?” I glance around the foyer and living room. Wood has been polished to a high shine and glass sparkles in the sunlight that filters in through the windows. It’s obvious that Mom has spent a lot of time scrubbing the house from top to bottom.

  “No, I’m almost done.” As she meets my gaze, a strained smile lifts her lips. There are tiny lines of tension bracketing her eyes that never used to be there. “Thanks for asking.” Her gaze searches mine before she expels a tense breath. “You’re a good girl, Summer. You’ve tried to make the best of this situation and we appreciate that.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Even though there are plenty of negatives about this place, there have also been a few positives. That’s what I try to focus on. The house and pool are amazing. I love our G-wagon. And the night sky...

  Almost every evening I stare up at the brightly shining pinpricks of light, trying to find my Zen. Running and the stars. The only two things that make me forget how much I hate it here. Strangely enough, school has become tolerable. From an educational standpoint, it’s rigorous and will look good on my transcript.

  “I just wish...” Mom’s soft voice trails off as she pins her lower lip with her teeth and glances away.

  A strange feeling of foreboding fills me.

  “What?” My throat tightens as if Kingsley’s fingers are wrapped around it, slowly constricting my airways.

  “I wish this company had never been founded,” she blurts.

  The honesty of her words and the threads of resentment woven through them take me by surprise. Sure, that’s how I feel, but I wasn’t expecting her to voice the same sentiment.

  “Then we’d be back in Chicago,” she finishes almost wistfully.

  “Yeah.” I don’t understand where all this is coming from. From everything I’ve seen, Mom has been happy here. So this sudden about face doesn’t make sense. “That would be nice.”

  For me, it’s been a different story. I wish more than anything we could go back to our old life. We’ve been here less than a month and it feels like forever. I search my brain, trying to dredge up memories of Chicago. It’s disconcerting to realize that some have already blurred around the edges. They aren’t as crisp and clear as they should be.

  “Go upstairs and get ready, sweetie,” Mom says.

  As I turn toward the staircase, her voice halts me in my tracks. “Do me a favor and wear the sleeveless blue halter dress we bought last summer.” Her eyes soften as her lips curve. “You look so pretty in it.”

  I pause on the first tread as my face scrunches. I don’t give a damn about impressing these stupid people. They’re lucky I’m bothering to show my face at this shindig.

  “I’d rather wear the short pink one,” I say carelessly.

  She shakes her head. “No, that one is too—”

  “Too what?” I ask, brows rising in surprise.

  Her shoulders straighten. Any tenderness that had been filling her eyes disappears. “It’s not appropriate for this gathering. Wear the blue one. You look so sweet and innocent in it.”

  Sweet and innocent?

  What the hell is that about?

  Unsure how to respond, I sputter out a disbelieving laugh. “Come on, Mom, you can’t be serious.”

  “Actually,” she snaps, “I am. Please, don’t argue. Just wear the dress.”

  My eyes widen in shock. The request is so strange and uncharacteristic that I’m not sure what to make of it.

  She’s stressed. That’s all this is. Tomorrow the party will be over and we can move on with our lives. Sort of.

  “Summer,” her sharp voice cuts into my thoughts, “did you hear me?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble, “I’ll wear the stupid dress.” I stomp up the staircase to the second floor, mumbling under my breath the entire way before slamming into my room. Any good vibes flowing through my veins from the run are long gone.

  With hasty movements, I jerk off the athletic top and mesh shorts before stalking to the bathroom and running the tub. To get through this, I’m going to need a long hot bath.

  To drown myself in.

  I snort at the thought.

&nbs
p; The bizarro conversation with Mom continues to play through my head. There’s more going on than what my parents are willing to acknowledge. Maybe after this is over, I’ll have to snoop around in the study and see what I can uncover.

  Once the tub is filled, I strip off my panties and sports bra before sliding into the water. Warmth surrounds me as I rest my head against the smooth porcelain and allow my eyelids to feather closed. Tension seeps from my body as if the water has the ability to leech it away.

  My mind wanders, and I end up dozing off. When my eyelashes flutter open again, I’m startled to find Kingsley sitting on the edge of the tub staring at me. I blink, needing to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination. When the vision doesn’t shimmer into nothingness, I jerk to a sitting position and draw my knees to my chest before banding my arms around my legs.

  “What are you doing here?” As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing further to discuss. I’ve done my best to push him to the far recesses of my brain and pretend he doesn’t exist.

  Has it been working?

  Not one bit. But what other choice is there?

  One side of his mouth hitches into a lazy smile as his gaze drops to my naked body. “You realize that’s unnecessary. I’ve already seen the goods.”

  True.

  “But that doesn’t mean you’re going to continue to see them,” I snap, exasperated to find him invading my space with the same persistence he invades my brain.

  The arrogance dissolves from his expression as his eyes soften. “Believe it or not, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

  Ha!

  “Then why are you here?” It takes effort to keep the waver from my voice.

  Glancing away, he trails the tips of his fingers through the now lukewarm water. “We need to talk.”

  I force out a laugh. “In that case, you can leave as quietly as you snuck in because we have nothing further to say to one another.”