by Cassie James
What the hell is it about this guy that turns me on so freaking much? I’m trying not to forget what an undeniable asshole he’s been, but that’s harder than I anticipated when his thumbs start rubbing circles on the inside of my thighs.
I have to clear my throat twice before I manage to speak. “Why are we in here then?” His thumbs still.
“People are talking.” He studies me as he says the words, but if he’s looking for a reaction, I don’t have much of one. This isn’t news to me. I know people are talking.
“There’s nothing I can do about it,” I say with a shrug. I hate knowing I’m at the center of the gossip mill, I’ve hated that since arriving here, but I can’t control it. People are going to talk. Especially when I’m doing something they see as so out of the ordinary by openly dating multiple guys.
“That’s not even remotely true.” He rakes his hands up my thighs until his fingers are clenching the side of my ass. I’m starting to think maybe the touching is a distraction. “There is something you can do. Something that you need to do.”
“And that is?”
“When the opportunity comes up—when someone tries to start shit because they’re making a play for your spot—you need to shut it down. Hard.”
I scoff. That’s the exact opposite of what I want. Please, please let someone make a play for my spot. I’m more than happy to willingly hand it over. When I first got here, I thought being ignored was the worst possible thing, but it turns out being the center of everyone’s attention is much, much worse. I was never used to that, and I don’t want to deal with it now.
“Listen, Princess. You can roll your eyes at me all you want, but you and I both know this is your birthright. What happens when Pearl isn’t here anymore? Are you really going to be able to live with yourself if you give up one of the few things she really wanted for you?” I open my mouth to protest but he shakes his head. “The house, the money, and the status—am I wrong?”
Dammit. He’s not wrong.
Is this what it means to take ownership of my name? Jax called this my birthright. Am I somehow neglecting the family legacy if I choose to turn my back? And more importantly, do I really want to risk finding that answer out the hard way? If I let myself fall prey to social suicide, there’s a good chance there’s no coming back. It’s easy to say I don’t want the attention while I’ve got it, but what about when it’s gone? Am I really Juliet Lexington if I don’t take everything that was meant to be mine?
I don’t understand the obsession with family names here, but maybe that’s only because I haven’t taken the time to try. Nearly everyone else seems to think the hierarchy matters. Maybe it’s for reasons I just don’t understand yet.
“I don’t even know how to do what you’re telling me to do,” I admit.
Jax studies me, searching for sincerity in my eyes. “Your name makes you royalty and that means you choose the law of the land. If someone has something to say, remind them of that. You don’t have to be an outright bitch like Kathryn was, but people will respect you if you’re firm.”
If Jax had been giving me advice even just a few months ago, I would have questioned his intentions. Now, though, I suspect he’s being honest. Or maybe that’s my hormones talking, because it sure is one hell of a distraction trying to listen to him talk as he kneads the sides of my ass with his knuckles.
Patrick might be more popular and well-liked overall, but it’s Jax that everyone turns to for social cues. He might be one of the world’s biggest assholes, but he knows what he’s talking about.
“Okay,” I finally say simply.
“Okay?” He looks surprised. Not that I blame him. I’m sure he expected me to fight him a lot more on this. The two of us definitely have a tendency to be oil and water together. It does help his case that in the back of my mind I can’t stop thinking about how often this summer I had to listen to everyone telling me to go easier on him and give him a chance. Here’s his chance. If this turns out to be some sort of cruel joke, I’ll never fucking trust him again.
“Okay,” I repeat with a nod. This is his one chance.
He breathes a sigh of relief as he works his hands up and flattens his palms against the small of my back. Something about the gesture immediately rockets me right into the danger zone. I watch my hands run over his chest as if they’re attached to someone else. His eyes go hooded as he lets me touch him. This is such a bad idea.
And then we’re kissing. There’s no easing into it or anything, we’re both just suddenly there, our mouths fusing in a kiss that’s not even remotely appropriate for a school building. He takes his hands off my back so he can tangle them in my hair, tilting my head to the side to get an angle he likes as he leans over me. I feel needy and hot as I shift on the desk, trying to find some relief against the cool wood.
It’s amazing that no matter how much I’ve loathed Jax over the past year, he can still manage to work me up into such a frenzy. It’s frustrating and sexy all at once. I have no self-control, dammit.
Jax is the first to pull away, his breathing ragged as if he’s just run a marathon. Mine admittedly isn’t much better. He turns away for a minute, bending over with his hands on his knees. I open my mouth to ask him if he’s okay but before I can get the words out he’s on me again, kissing me this time with a frenzy that makes me a little anxious. His hands seem to touch me everywhere at once, lighting a fire in me that I’m not prepared for. By the time he’s pushing my skirt up my legs, I almost don’t even notice through the haze he’s caused to my brain.
“What are you doing?” I break our kiss and push my skirt back down to cover my underwear.
“I thought—” He steps back, pulling away from me completely. “Forget it,” he mutters, reaching down to adjust himself through his pants. My eyes can’t help but drop as he does it, and I get one hell of a look at his straining bulge. Only for a second, though, before he’s yanking the door open.
“Where are you going?” I try to ask, but he’s already slamming the door closed back behind him. I have no idea what the hell just happened. Did he really think that I wasn’t going to put a stop to that? I’m still not even sure I should be letting myself get caught up in kissing him, much less letting him hit a home-run in the middle of a school day.
I don’t understand him. It seemed like he was doing something nice by giving me advice, but was it really just a means to an end? Pretend to care so that he could try to get in my pants? I’m so tired of second-guessing everything with him. Eventually, something’s got to give. And I sure as hell don’t intend for that something to be my panties.
Not wanting to spend another minute in that tiny box of a room, I start to head back toward the cafeteria where I should have been in the first place. I’m just turning down the main hall when a group of juniors come out of one of the classrooms, their teacher leading them probably to the library, if I had to guess. I don’t think anything of it until I’m passing them and get shoulder checked. Any other time, maybe I could ignore it, but Jax’s words are still ringing in my ears, whether his intentions were really good or not.
I turn on the blonde girl that bumped me. “Is there a problem?”
Her eyes go wide as she quickly looks to the front of the line. If she’s looking for her teacher to save her, she’s out of luck. The woman is far enough ahead that she’s already turned the corner and is surely out of earshot. She looks back at me and quickly shakes her head. The people around her saw what happened and are now frozen, waiting to see what’s going to happen.
It would be over right then if she didn’t mutter, “Slut,” just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Because if there was a problem,” I continue as if she hadn’t said anything, “it would be with you, not me. I mean what kind of girl worries about what another girl’s got going on in the bedroom?” I glance to the girl standing closest to us. “That’s just sad, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yeah,” the bystander agrees emphatically.
/> The girl that shoulder bumped me looks positively green now. It’s more than obvious that she thought she was going to get to be an asshole and not get called out for it. She glances around and I know she sees the same thing I do, not one of these people is willing to stand up for her. In fact, they’ve all put shuffled slightly further to the side, as if afraid of being guilty by association.
“Sorry I bumped you. It was an accident. There’s no problem.” The girl’s words sound insanely robotic, but it’s clear she’s making the choice to back down. I can’t believe that actually fucking worked, I think to myself.
“Great. See you around,” I say pointedly as I continue down the hall like I wanted to in the first place.
I have a lot of mixed feelings running through me as I enter and take my seat with the crew—minus Jax—in the cafeteria. I want to feel good knowing I stood up for myself, but I can’t help feeling bad for embarrassing someone like that. Sure, I wasn’t nearly as mean about it as Kathryn or Cece would have been, but I’m still not sure I really did the right thing. I don’t want to be a mean girl. Especially not when the idea of it just make me replay the words Jake said when he left me at my birthday party.
“You’re different here, and I don’t think it’s in a good way.”
Even though we haven’t talked in months, and even though I know he betrayed my trust to the woman I once thought was my mom, I can’t help the lingering part of me that still cares what he would think of me. He would never have wanted me to be a pushover. He always gave me shit about being too nice at home. But there’s a fine line between sticking up for yourself and putting other people down—and I don’t know that I actually know where that line is.
Smith’s hand finds my knee under the cafeteria table. “What’s wrong?” he asks quietly enough that the others can’t hear him. Even though this is supposed to be study hall, it tends to be loud as hell in here. That’s what happens when you put an entire class of seniors in one big room and tell them to prepare themselves for college.
“I’m afraid of losing myself.” It terrifies me to say the words out loud, as if somehow that will make the prospect more real. If I don’t say it, acknowledge it out loud, I’m worried I’ll lose myself without ever even stopping to notice.
“What makes you say that?”
Salma, who’s sitting right across from him, tunes in as I start explaining what just happened in the hall. I even mention Jax’s advice, though I leave out the other details of what happened in the study room. It feels like I’m protecting him by not saying anything, though I can’t for the life of me understand why I care. It’s not like he deserves my protection—or even really needs it, for that matter.
“I don’t know what to say,” Smith admits.
“I do—or rather, I know who does.” Salma stands up as the end of the day bell chimes and beckons me to follow. I go along with her, even though I’m not sure what she’s got up her sleeve. I’m a little surprised when all she does is to take me to the women’s restroom in the main hallway. Usually we avoid this one because it gets so crowded.
With eyebrows furrowed, I follow her into the empty bathroom. Thanks to Salma’s speed walking, we’re the first ones in here. I open my mouth to ask what’s going on, but the words disappear into thin air as Salma tugs me into one of the stalls with her.
“What—” This feels like it’s about to turn into a bad porno or something.
Salma shushes me and holds a finger over her lips. The universal sign for be quiet. I watch with horror rolling through me as she steps up onto the toilet seat and crouches. What the hell? It takes me a second to realize she’s probably trying to hide the fact that there’s two of us in here.
“Salma, what are we doing?” I whisper. She just shushes me again.
Maybe a minute passes before the bathroom door creaks open and I can hear a flood of girls coming in. They sound like they’re all trying to talk at once, but after another minute it finally calms down a little so that I can make out bits and pieces of conversation. It’s the least I can do to distract myself from the fact that I’m currently hiding out in a bathroom stall. Rich kids or not—school bathrooms are what nightmares are made of.
“Did you hear what happened to Megan Oliver?”
“Yeah, girl! Can you believe she had the balls to call Juliet Lexington a slut right to her face? I mean, I knew she was dumb, but that’s some next level shit.”
“Social suicide, for sure.”
“Don’t tell me you feel bad for Megan, of all people?”
My heart squeezes in my chest. This is it, confirmation that I’ve turned into an unlikable bitch instead of an unlikeable outsider. I cover my eyes with my hands, as if that could somehow block out all the shit I’m sure I’m about to hear about myself.
“Hell no, I don’t. Apparently, after Juliet handed her ass to her, Megan ended up apologizing to those two freshman she was bullying the hell out of. She’s terrified now that Juliet’s going to send her to social purgatory, so she’s actually being fucking nice to people for once. I was already on Team Lexington anyway, but now I’m double sure that she’s the one that should be leading things.”
Oh. Oh. That is not even remotely what I expected to hear. I uncover my face, only to see Salma with a big ass grin on her face as she watches me while I listen.
“God, can you imagine if Kathryn were still around?”
“Yeah, Megan would have been shit out of luck. This way, at least she sort of gets a chance to clean up her shit.” There’s a lull in the conversation as someone turns the water on full blast. “Fuck, it’s too bad we didn’t have Juliet all along. It’s a lot more bearable around here.”
“Yeah. Hell, if her only flaw as the new reigning queen around here is that she stole the four hottest guys in school for herself, I think I can live with that.”
“I mean, honestly, who can blame her right? Who wouldn’t want to date all four of them if we had the chance?”
The two girls burst into laughter that fades away as I listen to them leave the bathroom.
After another minute or two, the bathroom starts to go quiet as everybody leaves for the day. Only after the coast is clear does Salma step down and let us out of the stall. I’m pretty damn thankful for that, since the last thing I need is more rumors floating around. Salma is gorgeous and I adore her, but not like that.
“See?” Salma gloats as we both come stumbling out.
I have to admit, “That wasn’t what I was expecting.”
“You might have seen it as being mean, but other people saw it as you not taking any crap. Now, it’s like any of us could have a harem of boys at our beck and call. You gave us that hope,” Salma jokes. I shake my head at her even as I laugh a bit myself. There’s one thing I still don’t understand.
“How did you know to bring me in here?”
“Are you kidding? This is the best place to come to find out what’s at the heart of the gossip.” She takes her phone out and scrolls to something, then hands it to me. “Plus, I happened to see this probably seconds after you put that girl in your place. So I knew people would be talking about it.”
I study her phone screen with a sinking stomach. It’s one of those goddamn pictures of me in my underwear. I knew people would have saved the pictures, there’s nothing I could do about that, but I didn’t think anyone would have the nerve to repost any of them. Especially not on this site, which functions as The Patience School’s private discussion board for students.
Salma sees my face and reaches over me to scroll down the screen. “Read the comments,” she instructs.
So, I do. I read them all. There are literally hundreds of them already, and at one point I at least let Salma drag me out of the bathroom so that we’re standing in the hallway as I scroll. Salma wasn’t kidding. People have really stuck up for me and what I did. They’re calling me one of the best things to ever happen to Patience. That’s quite a stretch from starting as the girl no one even wanted to be seen talking
to.
“This is insane,” I say finally, handing Salma back her phone.
Salma’s grin widens. “Juliet, the only thing people around here like more than having a clear leader, is having a leader like you.”
Chapter Twelve
It’s a few weeks after the start of school when I come home to find a vaguely familiar car in the driveway. I don’t realize why it’s so familiar until I’m turning my key in the front lock and a voice coming from Pearl’s temporary room drifts out to greet me.
“Someone’s going to sell eventually,” he says.
There’s a break as if he’s listening to another person respond. Pearl, I presume, considering the direction the voice is coming from and the fact that her voice has gotten so small these last couple weeks that it’s barely more than a whisper anymore.
The man continues, “I think it’s a mistake. It’s reckless to think a teenage girl is ready for that kind of responsibility. The amount of property she’ll have to deal with alone. How do you not see that it’s too much?”
There’s another brief moment of quiet before I hear footsteps. I’m halfway across the entryway myself when Brock Forrester appears in the doorway to the formal sitting room. He freezes in place when he sees me, his eyes doing a slow perusal of me that makes me decidedly uncomfortable. At least with Mr. Forrester, I’ve seen proof he can take no for an answer, unlike Kareem, who gives me that same uncomfortable vibe. If I had to choose the lesser of two evils, it would definitely be this guy.
“I didn’t know we were expecting company,” I tell him in lieu of an actual greeting.
Brock glances behind him into Pearl’s room before scoffing as he looks back at me. “Your great aunt is a very stubborn woman. When your time comes to make decisions alone about all the property you now own, I hope you’ll discuss things with me. Unlike some people—” he definitely means Pearl— “I know the value of the Lexington fortune. And sometimes the best value is in selling rather than holding.”
