by Erin Watt
“Maybe I want to be ruined,” I say lightly.
She lets me go, pulling her hand back, retreating inside herself. “No one wants to be ruined. We all want to be saved.”
“There has to be at least one decent guy out there.”
That makes her laugh. Hysterically. And the laughter just keeps going and going.
I leave her to it, heading upstairs with the sound of her giggles tickling my back, this woman who honestly doesn’t believe she can find a man who doesn’t hurt her.
Why that conviction feels like she scraped a knife down my spine, I don’t know.
21
Reed doesn’t drive me to work the next morning. He’s already left for football practice when I step out of the house, and I’m not surprised. I’m pretty sure that the last thing he expected to get from me last night was a truce offering. Which means he’s probably on his way to school right now, obsessing about whether or not my apology was just another trick.
It wasn’t, though. I’m sticking to the decision I made yesterday. I’m done antagonizing the Royals.
I take the bus to the bakery and work alongside Lucy for the next three hours, then walk over to school and duck into the bathroom to change into my uniform.
When I exit the ladies’ room, I bump into the girl Easton was supposedly dating before. Claire, I think.
The second she sees me, her mouth pinches in a tight line. Then she brushes past me, leaving one hiss of a word in her wake.
“Slut.”
That single syllable is like a fist to the stomach. I falter, wondering if I’d misheard her, but as I walk down the hall and every junior girl I pass glowers at me, I realize something’s up. From the guys, I get grins and smirks. It’s painfully obvious that for some reason, I’m a hot topic today.
It isn’t until Valerie finds me at my locker that I’m brought into the loop.
“Why didn’t you tell me you made out with Easton Royal?” she demands in a hushed voice.
My calculus book almost slips from my fingers. Wait, this is about Easton? But we were in my bedroom when we kissed, and there’s no way Reed would have blabbed about that. So how the heck does everyone know—
The club. Crap. The memory whizzes into my head at the same time Valerie starts to laugh.
“I knew I should’ve kept a closer eye on you that night,” she teases. “But we weren’t even drinking! That means you made out with him sober! Do I need to hold an intervention for you?”
I sigh. “Maybe?”
The girls Val had introduced me to at Jordan’s party—The Pastels, she’d called them—walk by. All three of them turn to look at me and whisper amongst themselves.
“It was a stupid move,” I admit. “I didn’t really think it through.” No, all I was thinking about that night was Reed and the way he looked at me when I was in the cage. “Does everybody know, then?”
She grins. “Oh, they know. It’s all anyone’s been talking about this morning, and the first bell hasn’t even gone off. Claire is pissed.”
I bet she is. And if Claire’s mad, I can only imagine what Jordan will have to say about it. A “casual” like me putting my grubby hands all over one of her precious Royals? She’s probably freaking out right now.
“What about you?” I ask the only person who matters. “Are you pissed?”
Valerie snickers. “Because you stuck your tongue down Easton’s throat? Why would I care about that?”
It’s the answer I’d hoped for, and I cling to it as we part ways in the hallway and go off to our morning classes. It doesn’t matter that everyone is whispering, or that chicks glare daggers at me whenever I enter a classroom. Valerie’s opinion is the only one that matters to me.
Still, by the time lunch rolls around, I’m ready to pull my hair out. Every girl that passes me in the hall looks ready to murder me. Easton makes it worse by going out of his way to pay a visit to my locker and give me a prolonged full-body hug. He pretends not to notice all the stares we’re getting, but I’m excruciatingly aware of them.
“You’re Ella, right?”
I’ve just shoved my textbooks in my locker when a guy with spiky blond hair and a striped rugby shirt approaches.
His question is ridiculous, because he damn well knows who I am. These kids have all gone to school together since kindergarten probably, and there isn’t a single soul at Astor Park Prep who doesn’t know about the new “Royal.”
“Yeah.” I paste on an indifferent look. “And you are?”
“Daniel Delacorte.” He sticks out his hand, then awkwardly lowers it to his side when I don’t shake it. “I’ve wanted to introduce myself for a while, but…” He shrugs.
I roll my eyes. “But it was against Reed’s rules?”
He nods sheepishly.
God, these people are the worst. “So why are you introducing yourself now?”
That earns me another shrug. “A couple friends of mine were at the club on Saturday night. They said they saw you with Easton.”
“So?” I anticipate some kind of insult, but I don’t get one.
“So the rules have changed. Nobody was allowed to ask you out before because of Reed. But you were with Easton the other night, so things are different now.”
Wait, he’s asking me out?
I narrow my eyes at him. “What, you’re not going to call me a slut for making out with Easton at a club?”
His lips twitch with humor. “If I called every girl who’s made out with Easton a slut, there’d be no one left in the school.”
I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m serious,” Daniel insists. “Drunken make-outs with Easton Royal are like a rite of passage at Astor Park.”
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” I ask politely.
He flashes a grin. The guy’s cute, I’ll give him that. “Luckily, no. Anyway, I just came over to ask if you wanted to go out for dinner sometime.”
A jolt of suspicion travels through me, and Daniel must sense it because he quickly says, “It doesn’t have to be a date. We could make it a friend thing if that makes you more comfortable. I just want to get to know the girl who’s got all the Royal panties in a twist.”
I’m still hesitating, so he lets out a hasty breath. “Can I see your phone?”
Although I’m not sure why, I stick my hand in my back pocket and pull out my phone, passing it over to him.
His fingers move briskly over the touchpad. “There. You’ve got my number now. So how about this? Think it over, and if you decide you want to do dinner, shoot me a text.”
“Um. Okay. Sure.”
Daniel smiles again and gives me a little salute before striding off. I watch him go, my gaze focusing on his cute butt. He’s got the toned body of an athlete, and I suddenly wonder if he’s on the football team. I hope not, because that means Reed will probably hear about Daniel asking me out when they’re at their afternoon practice.
But I underestimated the grapevine at this school. The news of Daniel’s invitation comes out literally five minutes after he issued it. I’m two steps from the cafeteria when I get a text message from Valerie.
Daniel Delacorte asked u out????
I respond with yeah.
Did u say yes?
I said I’d think about it.
Don’t think 2 hard. He’s one of the nicer ones.
Another text quickly pops up. Captain of the lacrosse team. She adds this as if that makes a difference to me.
Rolling my eyes, I enter the cafeteria and track Val down at our usual table in the corner. She grins the moment she sees me, tucks her phone away, and says, “Okay. Tell me everything. Did he get down on one knee? Did he give you flowers?”
For the next hour, she barrages me with questions about a guy I only spoke to for two minutes. Truthfully, it’s a nice distraction from this morning’s whisper fest, and it stops me from obsessing over what Reed will have to say when he finds out.
22
I don’t see Reed
until after school, and when I do, he’s not racing over to demand that I stay away from Daniel. Instead, he’s bracing himself against the driver’s side door talking to Abby. And the soft blonde is leaning against Reed’s Rover with one hand on his hip. The whole scene makes me want to gag.
“They look cozy.”
I turn to see Savannah next to me. We haven’t spoken at all since the day she gave me a tour of the campus, so I’m surprised to find her there. “I guess.”
“Heard Daniel Delacorte asked you out today.” She smooths a hand over her stick-straight hair.
“Apparently it’s a slow news day at school,” I joke. “But yes.”
“Don’t do it,” she says abruptly. “You’ll regret it if you do.”
After dropping that bomb, she steps off the curb and hurries to her car, leaving me open-mouthed and confused.
Before I can make sense of the warning, a low slung convertible sports car moves into my line of vision. Daniel smiles up at me from the driver’s seat.
“Nice car.” I peer at the interior. It’s black and full of shiny dials. “Sounds like a beast.”
“Thanks. Gift from the parents when I was sixteen. I was a little concerned when I heard it had four hundred horsepower. I wondered if my dad thought I needed to overcompensate for something.”
I grin. That he has the ability to make a joke about himself makes me warm up to him. “And do you?”
“Ella,” he tsks jokingly. “You’re supposed to reassure me that I have nothing to worry about in the man department.”
“How would I know?” I tease.
“Here’s a secret.” He leans across the console and gestures for me to come closer. “We males have very fragile egos. It’s best to always compliment us so that we don’t turn into psychopaths.”
“You have nothing to worry about in the man department,” I dutifully reply.
“That’s my girl.” He nods in approval. “Want a ride home?”
I straighten and scan the lot for Easton, the twins or even Durand, but it’s empty of Royals except for Reed, who doesn’t see me. His attention is on the angelic faery girl who reminds him of his mother.
Daniel tracks my eyes straight to the couple. “Abby and Reed,” he muses. “That’s a couple destined to be together.”
“Why do you say that?” I sound annoyed and I am, but I wish I hid it better.
“Reed’s picky, not like Easton. I’ve seen him with one girl the last two years. I think she’s it for him.”
“So why aren’t they together?”
We both watch as Reed’s head dips close to Abby’s, as if they’re about to kiss.
“Who says they’re not?” Daniel’s observations are careless, unintended to hurt me, but the pain spreads inside me anyway. “You give more thought to my proposal?”
My eyes shift away from Reed toward Daniel. Daniel is the quintessential rich boy. Kind of like what I thought the Royals would look like: blond hair, blue eyes and a face that probably adorns paintings in old English museums. The Royals are almost thuggish compared to his easy elegance. Any girl would be thrilled to be asked out on a date by Daniel, and I think it says something bad about me that I can’t summon up any excitement for him.
“I’m kind of a mess right now,” I inform him. “There’s better—more together—fish in the pond.”
He studies me for a moment. “I can’t figure out if you’re trying to let me down gently or if you aren’t giving yourself enough credit. Either way, I’m not giving up.”
I’m saved from making a response when a loud horn blasts behind us. We turn to see that Reed has maneuvered his Rover so close to Daniel’s sports car that the fenders are nearly kissing. The juxtaposition between the two vehicles is almost laughable, with the Rover towering over the smaller two-seater convertible. It looks like the Rover is just waiting to drive right over the top of Daniel’s car.
Daniel leans back into the driver’s seat and puts his car in gear. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he tilts his head toward Reed. “Someone is overcompensating but I don’t think it’s me.”
With that, he peels away, leaving a space that Reed quickly occupies. Daniel’s wrong. Reed has nothing to overcompensate for. His oversized SUV matches him perfectly.
“You going out with him?” Reed asks the moment I close the passenger door.
“Daniel?”
“Did some other guy ask you out, too?”
I wish he wasn’t wearing sunglasses. I can’t see his eyes. Is he mad? Frustrated? Pleased?
“No, just Daniel. And I’m thinking about it.” I search his profile. “Any reason not to?”
A muscle in his jaw flexes. If he gives me the smallest opening, I’d take it. Come on, Reed. Come on.
He offers a brief glance before returning his eyes to the road. “I think we called a truce last night, right?”
I want it to be more than a truce, and the thought surprises me. A ceasefire is one thing, but admitting to myself—and to him—that I want to act on the attraction between us? That feels like a dangerous mistake.
“Yeah, something like that,” I murmur.
“Then I’d be a dick if I told you not to go out with him.”
No, I think, you’d be telling me you cared about me. “I don’t think looking out for someone’s well-being violates the spirit of our truce,” I say lightly.
“If you’re asking if he’s going to hurt you, I’d say no. Haven’t heard of him bragging in the locker room about girls he’s hooked up with. I think everyone considers him a decent guy.” Reed shrugs. “He’s with the lacrosse team. Those guys tend to stick together so I don’t know him too well, but well enough, I guess. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t object to her dating him.”
That’s not my question! I shout at him in my head. Out loud, I poke at him from a different angle. “Are you and Abby getting back together?”
“We were never together,” he says roughly.
“You looked kinda cozy just now. Daniel said you two are meant to be a couple.”
“Did he?” Reed sounds amused. “Didn’t know Daniel had that kind of interest in my love life.”
“So Abby is part of your love life?” I’m a glutton for punishment with all these questions.
“What exactly are you asking?” He turns left and I can’t see his face because of it.
Too embarrassed to press the topic, I slump back into the seat. “Nothing.”
After a beat, Reed sighs. “Look, I’m going away to college next year. And unlike Gideon I’m not coming back every other weekend. I need time away from this town. This family. Abby and I had a nice time, sure, but she’s not my future and I’m not going to dick her around—or anyone else, for that matter—just to get my nut off.”
And there’s my answer. Even if he is attracted to me—though I notice he was careful not to say it—he’s not going to do anything about it. He’s leaving as soon as possible. I should admire that kind of honesty, but I don’t. Some silly part of me wants him to declare that if he wanted me bad enough, no principles would ever prevent him from having me. God, I’m a sick puppy.
I turn away from him and watch the city pass us by as Reed navigates home.
Finally, tired of the silence, I blurt out, “Why do you fight? Is it for the money?”
He releases a sharp bark of laughter. “Hell no. I fight because it makes me feel good.”
“Because you won’t let yourself sleep with Abby? So you have to go out and pound a few guys to get rid of whatever is building up inside of you?” The words slip out before my brain catches up.
Reed stops the Rover and I look around, surprised to see we’re already home. He pulls off his sunglasses finally and stares at me.
My throat goes dry. “What is it?”
He reaches out and fingers a lock of my hair. His knuckles are inches away from my breast and it takes superhuman effort not to lean into his touch, not to press his hand fully against me.
“Do you really think
it’s Abby who’s keeping me up at night?”
“I don’t know.” I hesitate. “I don’t want it to be.”
I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer, but all he does is drop my hair and grab the door handle.
Without turning back to look at me, he says, “Daniel’s a good guy. Maybe you should give him a chance.”
* * *
I sit in the car after he leaves so I can regain my composure. Neither of us explicitly stated it, but I know it’s out in the open now. I laid my feelings out there and he told me to keep them. He did it in a nice way, but a clean knife still makes a painful wound.
Brooke is sitting poolside when I enter the house. She seems to have recovered from last night’s drinking session. She’s babbling away to Reed, who stands next to her lounger, stiff as a board, as her hand runs up and down his bare calf. I’ve seen her touching Gideon like that, too, and I wonder why the boys put up with that. I know they can’t stand her. If there was one thing that Callum could do to repair his relationship with his sons, it would be to jettison Brooke.
Lonely and irritated, I seek out Easton, who’s slumped on his bed watching a car show where they take it apart and put it back together so it looks like a cartoon vehicle.
“So we’re trucing, huh?” He grins when he spots me.
“Is that even a word?” I ask as I walk into his room.
“It sounds like a word, so I guess it has to be.”
“Douchetard sounds like a word, too, but I’m pretty sure you won’t find it in the dictionary.”
“You calling me a douchetard?”
“Naah. You’re just a regular old douche.”
“Aw, thanks, little sis.”
“You know we’re the same age, right?” I roll my eyes and climb onto the bed next to him. Easton rolls over to make room for me.
“I’ve always been older and wiser than my years.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Seriously, though. Reed says we’re all cool now. Is this for real, or are you playing another game?”
“I was never playing a game to begin with,” I grumble. “And yeah, I think it’s for real.” He looks more relieved than I expected. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something. What do you think of Daniel Delacorte?”
