Elusive: Princess Presley Duet Book 1 (Full Circle Series)

by S. E. Hall

  “Okay, let’s review one more time. We’re going to a frat party because? They’re dumb as fuck? Unsafe? You’re not in a frat? Half of us already graduated? Gimme something here, J, I’m running out of guesses,” I gripe at him from his backseat.

  “Because…” Bellamy chimes in, riding as designated co-captain in the passenger seat, “it’s at Camden’s fraternity. Brynn might not admit it out loud, but she really wants to go. Don’t ya?”

  I look at Brynny, beside me in the back, one antsy wiggle in her seat as she inspects a strand of her hair. “I’m not completely opposed to going. Might be fun.” She shrugs. “And, I’ve never been to one. Try everything once, right?”

  “See?” Bellamy chirps. “Even closer to admitting it than I expected! And maybe if we’re super lucky, we’ll find you a new guy to add to your dating roster, Presley.”

  “Had there ever been a roster… it’s… it’s been cleared,” I clear whatever just caught in my throat. “Very subtle try by the way. But, I’ll see your cockamamie bullshit attempt, and raise you two follow-up questions. Where is it Uncle Dane thinks Brynny’s headed tonight, and who did the lying to him?”

  JT jumps on answering. “Dad was told the truth, by me. That Brynny’s going out with me, you and Bellamy, and would you lookie here, that’s exactly what’s happening. My turn now, I’d like to revisit to the whole ‘cleared roster’ thing. Did you mean totally cleared, or cleared except, and for Sutton?”

  “Since I seem to be the only one in this damn car who knows what the word roster means, let me give ya a quick vocabulary lesson. A roster means… wait for it…. a list. Assuming you all know what a list is, now ask yourselves, if I had one of those, to clear, or not to clear, why would I have asked for help finding dates?” I pause, giving everyone a minute to catch the hell up, and interpret their prolonged silence as realization, so I move on. “Brynny, about this frat party, I think it’s a badddd idea. And what’s going on with Ryder? I thought you were really feeling him? He’s so good to you?”

  “As good as Sutton is to you?” She snaps right back, one brow hitched in honor of hypocrisy.

  “It’s n-”

  “The same? The hell if it isn’t. Don’t throw stones at me, Princess. I know how to catch.”

  “Touché, you little shit. What’s gotten into you lately?”

  “Age. Age… and moderate to severe nausea. I may be the youngest in the Squad, but I’m not the youngest on the planet, and I’m sick of being treated like it. I’m nineteen years old, older than Mom was when she got with Dad, lived in a dorm, went to parties. I like Ryder, a lot. He’s a great guy, and I never said I wasn’t still interested in him, but we’re not an official anything, so I’m doing absolutely nothing wrong by slowly exploring a slight attraction to Camden. Which is, in fact, all I’m doing. So you, Presley Alexandra Beckett, aren’t allowed to serve me up any sermons about stuff you don’t practice! How hard would you laugh if Pastor Floyd preached about not drinking when he parks, almost daily, in front of Last Sip liquor. At least pull around back there, Holy Hypocrite!”

  “Talk about sermons… you done yet?”

  “Almost. One final thought, that you may wanna think on… Sutton’s head-over-heels for you, yet you try your damndest to make him miserable. Why is that?”

  “Brynn, that’s enough,” JT barks. “P wasn’t nasty to you, she said one thing, nicely, because she cares. You’re way out of line, taking out your frustrations on her in one long-ass bitchy monologue. Apologize. Now.”

  “It’s okay, no apology needed.” I reach over and squeeze Brynn’s knee. “I know exactly where you’re coming from… all too well. Don’t get me wrong, we’re lucky to have such a tight-knit family, and chill, down-to-earth parents who’d literally do anything for any of us, but the flip side of that can get a little old. Always under a microscope, everyone thinking they know what’s best for you, and telling you often, in front of everyone else. I can only imagine how hard it is being the baby, but trust me, being the oldest is no cakewalk. All you mofo’s owe me for paving the way. When y’all fucked up, it wasn’t as big of a deal… ‘cause I’d already done it first. Broke ‘em in. You’re welcome.”

  “Never thought about it like that. I’m sorry, P,” sweet Brynny sighs.

  “Nah, don’t be.” I shrug, giving her a smile. “You’re right about the Sutton part. I’m working on being… more open to things with him, though. I just… honestly, I worry I’ll end up hurting him in the long-run. But you’re still right, I really should go all-in… or out. Anyway,” I stop before saying too much, “we’re good, Brynny. Promise.”

  “I just care about you too, P. You’re, well kinda like my hero. One of them anyway. I want you happier than happy. Plus, you do realize… we’re the last two standing… alone that is.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake! Go easy back there, Thelma and Louise. You’re not exactly old maids yet!” JT yells his interruption. “As you pointed out, you’re nineteen, Brynn. You’re supposed to be standing alone.

  “Jefferson, lower your voice, and let them talk. Your help isn’t needed.” Bellamy calmly schools him.

  “They’re done talking. We’re here.”

  I glance out the window and see that we’ve pulled up in front of a house on campus — it, and the street, both filled way past capacity — and roll my eyes clear to the back of my head. From where I sit, still in the car, it looks identically stereotypical of every college party in the history of “bad idea then, worse idea now.” There’s bodies, beer cans, and, of course, toilet paper strewn everywhere. I understand the first two, but the age-old fascination with toilet paper has always stumped me. And I swear to God, if Long Duck Fucking Dong falls out of a tree and lands on top of me — we’re leaving.

  Since we’re here, opening our doors would seem the natural next step, which is why we… start to open our doors… stopped cold by a harsh bark from JT. “Close ‘em, lock ‘em, and listen up, ladies! Mandatory pre-party speech, every word counts. There’s three of you, and one of me, so I need ya to act right, help me out, not kidding. Party Rule A, see that guy with the hose in his mouth?” He points, and it takes a second to spot the exact dumbass he’s indicating in the sea of such. “That’s a beer bong. If your name starts with a ‘B,’ don’t even think about that shit. If your name’s Presley, can’t tell you what to do, but I’d advise against it. Rule B, the girl by the kiddie pool, being held upside down? Called a keg stand. Again, no fucking way! Not only is it a no because, because it’s a no, but also due to the shocking bonus factor, that being held upside down shows her tits. If any of you lets one of yours flop out, I’ll whoop your ass all the way back to this car. Moving on, only take a drink from my hand. If you have to go to the bathroom, tell me first, so we can make an adventure out of it, ‘cause you’re all going, in a group, while I guard the door. This is a biggie, if ever, ladies, I can’t see you, you’re standing in the wrong damn spot! And rule number … whichever I’m on… if you feel uncomfortable at any time, scream…” he rubs his jaw while pondering, and hopefully, taking a damn breath, “funeral! Hell yes, perfect code word. Pretty proud of myself on that one. ‘Funeral,’ get it? Whoever’s fucking with you will be having one soon. Nice, right? And ‘fire’ would just cause panic, mass chaos, making it harder to find you. Be sure though, no crying ‘wolf funeral,’ ‘cause I’ll come rollin’ in hot, no questions asked. Be a shame to kill a man by mistake. And last but not least, I’ve got a bottle of pepper spray for each of you. Handle with care, people, these are not toys! One wrong move and you’ll be sorry. And in respiratory distress. Oh and possibly temporarily blinded.”

  He reaches past Bellamy to open the glove box, and sure enough, pulls out three bottles of pepper spray. I thought he was kidding; he’s never gone to these extremes before, when we’ve went… anywhere. “Excuse me, Sergeant Shithead?” I tap his shoulder. “What’s with the extra precautionary measures tonight?”

  “Like I said earlier, Private PainInMyAss,
there’s three of you, one of me, and hundreds of them. Also as mentioned before, this is Bellamy and Brynn’s first frat party, so unlike any other type of party… that’s a factor I considered while prepping.”

  “Speaking of things mentioned earlier, I believe you’re making the point I tried to for me. You know, that this is a really bad idea. The fact you feel it necessary to equip us with a multi-step, tactical plan, and weaponry, like we’re being deployed to Desert Storm, might be a sign that I’m right?” Surely, they’ll all see reason and finally agree with me. I’m always up for a party, good time… if it’s safe. This is not. I knew it before we got here, and now that we are on scene, my gut’s screaming in warning. I didn’t correct JT before, but this is my first frat party too… for reasons I’ll never list.

  “Desert Storm ended well over two decades ago,” Brynny says. “Over before anyone in this car was even born.”

  JT and Bellamy laugh, but I don’t think she’s funny — and scowl at her accordingly. “Brynny, as fascinated as I usually am by your amazing brain-bank of random factoids, I’m feeling sort of off tonight, so could ya maybe not? You know the point I was trying to make, so feel free to miss me with the pointless history lesson.”

  “Sorry.” She pats my shoulder. “J, you’ve got Presley all wigged out. Now’d be a great time to tell her about the surprise.”

  “Then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he immediately chides the standard response, his tone telling me he’s a phony — anything but excited about this “surprise.”

  “Jefferson,” Bellamy urges, “time is now, she needs a pick-me-up.”

  “Fine,” he groans, turning to look at me. “Don’t say anything until I’m done talking, okay?”

  “Oh yeah, good start, babe,” Bellamy giggles. “That’s exactly how I would’ve approached it.”

  “Not helping, woman,” he grumbles at her, then pleads with me. “Seriously, P, let me finish first. Okay?”

  “Did you hear me speak?” I bulge my eyes out in nervous impatience and roll a hand in the air, urging him to get on with it. Not a fan of surprises — especially ominous ones, sprung on me, nowhere near a holiday or my birthday, while parked.

  “Swear you won’t hit, kick, bite or physically attack me in any way. And no payback, ever. Zero revenge, I mean it. No public humiliation, no setting me on fire, and definitely no shaving my head in my sleep, again. Swear to me, P.”

  Seems I’m not the only one feeling “off” tonight — he forgot the “Holy Grail” of Squad rules — “no tapping-in another member to do your dirty work for you.” Dumbass.

  “Swear,” I quickly reply before he realizes his grave mistake and adds it to the list.

  He sighs heavily, then fesses up. “I may have already ensured that you will find a date tonight.”

  “Why the hell would you do that?” I screech, punching the back of his seat, wishing I hadn’t sworn not to punch him. “All that talk about Sutton, and ‘clearing the roster,’ like you were rooting for him? Which you should be, he’s your friend! What was that, just a bunch of bullshit? Huh? And hello, paintball, today, he was with me? After spending the night? Which you also knew! Nope. Not cool.” I shake my head. “Pretty fucking shitty, J. Shitty cousin, shitty friend. I don’t want any part of it. Take me home.”

  “Told ya,” Bellamy snickers, reaching over her headrest to high-five Brynn.

  “Told who what?” I hiss, more than done with surprises. Her reaction a huge one.

  “You’ll see,” JT chuckles, also unexpected after an ass-checking. “Not taking ya home. You’re going in, gonna have to trust me.”

  “Because of your recent stellar record with that? Yeah, trusting the fuck outta ya right about now. Pepper spray, blind set-up with a frat boy… remind me to call and change you to my “decide whether or not to pull the plug” person tomorrow.”

  “Just get your ass out of the car, Princess Pants,” he laughs.

  “Whatever,” I grumble. “But there better be a mutt-pound-rescue-puppy waiting for me somewhere in the shitshow I’m about to enter.”

  “A what?” Brynny laughs.

  “Nothing. You’re one of them, in cahoots, you don’t deserve my secrets.”

  She just laughs harder.

  As do her cohorts.

  And though I’m not actually that mad, even fighting a small smile, the weirdest, unimaginable thought sneaks up on me… amongst my Squad, I feel alone. Without my person.

  The one, that no matter how stubborn, pissy, or irrational I’m being, is on my side.

  Sometimes out loud, more often silent, with just a simple wink, grin, or touch of support.

  Damn…

  I miss Sutton…

  *****

  “What’s so funny?” Bellamy yells over the music.

  “This song. Every time I hear it, I can’t help but laugh at the huge contradiction.” Her brows bend in confusion, so I explain. “Awful catchy and upbeat for an all-time low, don’tcha think? Call me crazy, but I’m guessing my all-time low point would have a couple of eerie violins, or…” I halt mid-thought, frantically scanning the packed room.

  “Presley?” Bellamy lays a hand on my shoulder, the worry in her voice voluminous now that the music’s died down. “What’s is it?”

  “Where’s Brynny?”

  “Right over there.” She points to where my baby cousin stands not ten feet away, Ca… I’m usually good with names, right beside her, and JT strategically placed at the precise halfway point between them and us. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Not sure.” I rub the back of my neck, every fine hair there standing on end, tingling with an unsettling current. “Just got a strange feeling all of a sudden. This whole thing we’re doing already has me on edge, but that, I don’t know what that was. Except kinda creepy.”

  “Okay, just calm down. Everything, everyone’s, fine. You wanna go outside to get some air?”

  “Yeah, sounds good. You’re coming with me, right?”

  “Brynn, let’s go, P needs air!” JT screams at her the second the words leave my mouth, before Bellamy can even answer me. He is so his father’s son. Even amidst all the noise, not only did he have one ear on our conversation, but I guarantee he’s heard every single word of Brynn’s as well.

  With what’s his name following along, the five of us navigate our way through the crowd and out to the back deck, but no amount of warm night air I drag in puts me any more at ease. Something is still stirring in my gut, stronger than ever now, my sixth sense, turned up to ten.

  “You feeling any better?” Bellamy asks, rubbing my back.

  Not even a little bit, but Brynny’s beaming from ear-to-ear, laughing at something dude just said, so I lie. “Much, thanks.”

  No sooner than I speak it, the lie becomes the truth. I do suddenly feel better, done worrying there’s some imminent danger lurking nearby, because the source of my odd inkling reveals itself. And with it, brings an instant peace… to which I can’t, no matter how badly I want to, become addicted.

  “Man, talk about a small world. Sutton, what are you doing here?” JT does the worst job in… ever, of playing dumb. Disappointing really — he usually nails dumb… ass.

  “JT Kendrick,” I grate. “Bring your ass over here, pronto.”

  “Eh, think I’ll stay right where I am. Thanks though. And from this spot, I’d like to remind you that you did ask us to set you up with guys we thought might be right for you. So, Bellamy took her turn.” He gives Sutton a shove, meant to propel him forward, but of course doesn’t budge the behemoth. “She chose Sutton.”

  “That I did,” Bellamy happily concurs.

  “Guess who I’m picking when it’s my turn?” Brynny joins the rest of us, who aren’t no-name to add.

  “Majority’s spoken,” Sutton murmurs seductively deep, smirking as he stalks toward me. “Hey there, Hot Shot. You look even prettier than when I saw ya last.”

  “You trying to be funny?” I cock a brow and hip. “You saw me
last a few hours ago. Granted, I was covered in paintball splatters, and dirt, but this…” I motion up and down myself, and the extra special style I’m rocking. “This is me trying to actually blend in with the dirt. These are my dad’s old sweatpants, there’s not a drop of make-up on my face, and this particular hairdo is what happens when you mess up a messy bun.”

  He crowds me, tracing a single fingertip down my jawline and whispers, “Even when the sun hides behind a cloud, it’s undeniable light shines through.”

  “Come again?” My request is wispy — with want to hear it again — slightly posed as a confused question.

  A weak disguise he sees right past and chuckles, warm and faint. “You heard me, and know exactly what I meant, but I’m more than happy to tell you more. Presley Alexandra Beckett, you can’t hide your beauty, no matter how hard you try. Especially from me. I see you. Dressed up, dressed down, across the room or right beside me, I see you. And I like what I see.”

  I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest, in hope of caging the delight blooming therein. I’m my own worst traitor — asking to hear more, only to force myself to fend off what it does to me. And naturally, I use my tongue to slice… really cutting into my own flesh the deepest. “You talk real pretty, I’ll give ya that, but new words come easy. I give in, chase is over, and you’ll get bored. After a while, you’ll look at me, and nothing will shine. So you’ll start looking somewhere else.”

  “Says the girl that’s never happened to. Or seen it happen to anyone she knows. You need to lay off whatever movies, books, or Facebook posts of the scorned you’re taking on like they’re yours, Hot Shot,” he laughs. “They’re not.”

  “I don’t scroll Facebook posts!”

  “Know what I think?” He leans in, foreheads touching, noses flirting. “I think you’re extra grumpy tonight about the dog thing.”

  “Well, I am now. Again. Thanks for reminding me.”

  He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his huge frame, a hint of crisp cologne and onslaught of comfort dismantling any last, lingering shred of defense I might’ve tried to have. “We’ll get it fixed tomorrow, Sugar. I promise. You let me worry ‘bout that bored theory of yours too.”