by MV Ellis
But then this party came up, and from the moment she heard about it she seemed really invested in not just being here, but in looking amazing and getting noticed too. It doesn’t fit her usual MO, but I get the distinct impression that she’s out to impress, big time, tonight. Whom, and why, I have no idea.
Even though my mom is an MUA, unlike most girls my age, and especially the rich bitches at St. Joseph’s, I’ve just never really got into it makeup myself. When I was younger, she would always try to give me makeovers for fun, and I was never interested. In fact, any time she attempted to doll me up, I would bitch at her until she stopped.
I never told her the reason I wasn’t really into it, but the truth was that because Mom used her kit to live a lie, covering up the damage Dad did to her regularly, for me, makeup has more negative associations than positive, so I don’t want much to do with it.
I’ve made even less effort with my hair today, wearing it down and not especially styled, as always. Though, to my credit, as thick and unruly as it is, any attempt to style it requires a couple of hours’ notice—not a few minutes—so it was only ever going to be this way, even if I’d wanted it different.
My outfit continues with the casual theme—ripped tight black jeans, black Converse and a tight black cropped tee. Most of the kids at the party probably think I’m the cleaner, and I don’t even blame them. I’m really not sure why I’m here myself, or convinced I should be, anyway, so it would make a lot more sense if I was at least earning myself some cash at the same time.
That thought jars me out of my daydream—or should that be waking nightmare?—and as I go to spin on my heel, ready to make a beeline for the stairs, Zeph pulls out of the blonde girl abruptly. A surprised gasp escapes me before I can stop it, but looking back into the mirror, it seems that nobody is more shocked than Miss Thang herself.
She tries to salvage some dignity, pulling her panties up and her skirt down, smoothing it across her thighs, as if a few creases are anything to worry about after I’d seen Zeph Cross balls-deep in her from behind. Some people make no sense.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Don’t look.
Damn. I can’t help myself.
Again.
My eyes pan down Ground Zero. As I get a sneak peek of Zeph’s shaft my heart jumps. I manage not to show any reaction, except the rapid creep of burning heat from my chest and up my face, which is humiliating enough. Mr. Cross however, has nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing. At. All. He has plenty to work with, and he’s beautiful there as he is everywhere.
Zeph responds with a twinkle in his sexy eyes, which then morphs into a cruel leer. Jesus. He has swag for miles. He doesn’t even bother to cover himself up. His sheathed cock is just out there, loud and proud, and still standing at attention, even though I’m pretty sure he just came
“You still have your dick out,” the girl hisses at him through clenched teeth as she cuts me a loathing glare. “Thanks a lot, bitch.”
“Now, now, you’re being rude, Naughty Girl.” Zeph wags a stern finger at her, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Where are your manners? You haven’t even invited our guest to join us.”
The girl gives him an appalled glare. “Are you serious right now?”
I have to admit that I second that emotion.
Zeph ignores her. “Do you? Want to join us, I mean?”
His confidence is off the charts. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s crazy, really. The guy has no shame. It’s like he wants me to keep looking at his dick.
I’m just as horrified as the blonde, and suddenly my body kicks into gear, finally catching up with my brain. I bail, tearing toward the stairs before I make an even bigger fool of myself, though I have a sinking feeling I’ll never in a million years live this one down. It will probably be etched on my tombstone. “Here lies Blake, who really knows how to crash a good fucking session.”
Embarrassed as I am, the situation leaves me in a confusing combination of freaked out and turned on. As much as I want to be totally disgusted with Zeph, and turn off any kind of feelings I have toward him, I’m no longer in total control of my mind and body, and I can’t get the vision of his hauntingly beautiful piercing blue eyes out of my head. It’s like his tantalizing stare will be ingrained into my brain for the rest of eternity and then another eternity after that.
Chapter 13
Blake
* * *
Back downstairs, I scope the main room until I find Geneva dancing by herself in the corner, nursing a glass of something strong, like a true red-cup rock star. Her eyes are closed and she’s swaying back and forth like nobody’s watching.
There’s something ethereal about her internal peace that I am drawn to. I wish I could be like her and not give a fuck about most things or what other people think of me. Back home I was way more that way, but here, it’s impossible. I’m just too out of place not to feel self-conscious all the fucking time.
Geneva is the “weird one” in our cohort, with her eclectic styling choices, long raven hair, and a not-at-all veiled distaste for basically every girl in the school—except me—and almost all the boys. But despite being a loner who has no qualms about telling people exactly what she thinks of them, in no uncertain terms, her face still fits, and so does her wealth. The same can’t be said for me on either front .
I make my way across the room, accidentally bumping into several people as I weave a path through the writhing sea of wasted kids. Geneva is my ride back to school, and I want to get the hell out of this house as quickly as possible, with whatever tiny shred of dignity I may still have left. I cup my hand over her shoulder and gently pull her backward into the shadows of a recess at the back of the room.
“I need to get the fuck out of here.”
Geneva turns toward me, shooting me a perplexed look, and the little lines in her forehead wrinkle.
“Hey roomie. Where’s the fire?”
“I just… oh my God, Neve, you can’t even imagine—” I’m still a little shaken, and I can’t even formulate a legitimate sentence.
She clamps her hands over my arms and locks me in place, gazing intently at me. “Breathe. Then tell me what happened.” Her eyes flicker with excited intrigue.
“It’s not that big of a deal, really. You’re going to be disappointed when I tell you. Maybe I’m a little hormonal, so blowing shit out of proportion in my mind, or something.” I take a deep breath, and as I begin to tell the story, I wave my hands animatedly, and toss a paranoid glance over my shoulder.
I groan and close my eyes, cringing at the memory of standing there as though I’d been turned to stone, staring at Zeph’s junk. “I need to move. I’m talking cross-country relocation. Maybe that’s not even far enough. I—”
“Blake?” Geneva’s expression is impatient.
“Yeah?”
“What happened?”
I lick my lips. “I’m getting to that.”
“Well can you get there a little faster?” she teases.
Geneva is stunning, and that is no exaggeration. She’s off-the-charts gorgeous, though she carries herself like she couldn’t care less about that fact, and I believe that’s true. I’m so thankful for her quirkiness, and lack of fucks to give, and I love that she’s not ultra-girly like the other girls we go to school with, because neither am I. I’m pretty sure that it’s one of the main reasons the two of us get along so well.
Sure, she’s feminine in her own way, with her long glossy hair, and deep, dark eyes, but she’s a badass, and I respect her so much for being able to stay that way in the face of a whole lot of girls who look and act like they are copy-and-paste versions of each other, all made from the same mold.
Everything about her is authentic, and because she doesn’t have a filter, she says exactly what she’s thinking, and doesn’t play games. With Geneva, what you see is what you get. Rich or poor, she’s my kind of people, and I’d be lost at St. Joe’s without her.
“I just burst in on Zeph fucking a girl in the bathroom,” I confess, feeling my cheeks burn again at the memory that just won’t leave my mind.
Geneva’s deep chestnut eyes dazzle with amusement. “No shit? Where?” She cranes her neck over my shoulder with a curious expression.
“Upstairs. Will you please focus? I’m dying here.”
She frowns. “Upstairs? Why were you up there? Everyone knows you only go upstairs at a party like this if you’re DTF. I mean… unless… sorry, I just assumed. You know what? Forget I said anything.”
“Actually, not everyone knows that, because I didn’t.” I guess it’s another thing I have to learn about rich kids, because it definitely isn’t that way where I’m from. “And no, I didn’t go up there to get laid. I needed to pee, and all the bathrooms down here were full, is all.” It’s the first time I’ve thought about my bursting bladder since I crashed Zeph’s “party.” The shock of the encounter must have chased the urge away, but the minute the thought is back in mind, the need returns with a vengeance. Shit.
“Okay, so you interrupted Zeph being Zeph. I mean, it may not be the most fun you’ve ever had with your clothes on, but we all know he’s not about to take a papal vow of abstinence. It’s a day that ends in a Y, so it’s not exactly a surprise to find he has his dick stuck in the girl of the hour. Besides which, I’m sure he was too busy getting off to even notice you. You’re right, it’s not that ba—”
“Oh, he noticed me alright, because I pulled a classic Blake move, and stood there like a lobotomized monkey, staring at them while they fucked.”
“Dude, please tell me that did not happen, and you just silently backed out of there without a trace.”
I give her a deadpan look. “It one hundred percent did fucking happen. Not only that, but then he just kind of stopped what he was doing—”
“You mean who he was doing.” She cackles at her own joke.
“Ha ha, very funny.” It’s clear from my voice that I’m not in any way amused. “Yeah, that too. He just stared back at me. It was like we were frozen in time for a moment. And there’s this other girl, bare ass hanging in limbo—”
Neve snickers. “I just got a funny image of some chick’s ass in limbo.”
On a normal day, I would see the funny side, too. Today, not so much. “—while Zeph and I silently angry-eye-fuck each other. It was one of the most bizarre situations I’ve ever found myself in, and trust me, there have been a few in my life over the years.”
“Jesus. Bizarre doesn’t even begin to cover it. Two things, though. One, what the fuck is Zeph’s problem with you? I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s an asshole to everyone, twenty-four seven, but it’s like he’s taken it up a gear and reserved the worst of his wrath for you. I just don’t understand why.”
“That makes two of us. All I know is what I’ve told you. He took an instant dislike to me that first night, and it’s not getting any better. In fact, if anything, it seems to be getting worse.”
“So weird.” Geneva nods sagely.
“You won’t hear any arguments from me about that. Anyway, what was the second thing?”
“Hmm…?” She’s clearly not concentrating on my question or her response, nor is she looking at me anymore. I follow her eyeline, and it becomes obvious why. Jagger and Lennon, the impossibly good-looking twins, who also happen to be close friends of Zeph’s and part of The Fallen, have just walked into the room.
They look around with sweeping hungry gazes, like wolves hunting their prey, and, like the hunted, Neve can’t seem to take her eyes off them.
“Earth to Geneva, come in Geneva,” I boom into her ear in a faux announcer’s voice.
Geneva jumps out of her skin, which in itself is weird—she’s normally the most laid-back person in the room.
“Huh?” I’m secretly glad it’s not just me who does the rabbit in the headlights thing. She’s staring at me as though seeing me for the first time.
“The second thing. You said you had two points, but you only told me the first one.” Given that she’s still not looking at me—although I have my full attention on her—I follow her gaze again, and find her still staring at the twins, much the way I was staring at Zeph earlier. And just like the situation with Zeph and me, the twins are staring right back, equally hungrily. What the fuck is going on?
“Uh, yeah. I was just gonna say that…” she licks her lips, but doesn’t pull her focus from the guys, or move, except to rake a hand nervously through her midnight-black hair.
“That...?”
“What? Oh, yeah. I was just going to say that it sounds hot as all hell. I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall.” All of this is seemingly delivered to the guys, because she sure as shit isn’t directing her attention at me. “Then what happened?” She’s still facing Lennon and Jagger.
“Well, then Zeph asked me if I wanted to join them for a gang bang.”
“What?” She snaps her attention back to me, and just like that, the spell is broken. The twins turn on their heels and walk out of the room without saying a word.
I still have no idea what is going on, but now that I have Geneva’s attention back, I don’t want to lose it again by asking. Plus, the fact that she doesn’t mention the weird interaction has me thinking that she isn’t about to tell me, anyway.
“What the fuck did you say?”
“What was I supposed to say?” I mean, what is the right and appropriate response to a question like that? “I got the fuck out of there. What the hell else was I going to do, screw him and a random girl, who by the way, was starting to really lose her shit at this point?”
“I mean, there are worse ways to spend a Saturday night, for sure.”
I shoot her a look of, Are you out of your fucking mind? There are better ways too, like curling up in bed with a book, as I had been planning to, until Geneva dragged me out to this party.
She takes one look at my face, and changes her tune. “Okaaaaaaay. So clearly that’s a no, and you’re on a sense of humor bypass. Listen, if you really want to leave, then I’ll call my driver.”
“Thanks.” I scoop her up in a relieved hug. “I owe you one. I know you’re having fun…”
“Not really. I mean, have you taken a look around at these bitches?”
I roll my eyes. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Just let me step outside. I don’t have much cell reception in here for some reason, and it’s at least a little quieter out there, too.” She jerks her chin toward the garden.
“You’re the best,” I say, and I sincerely mean it.
It’s still hard for me to wrap my head around the resources that Neve and the other kids at St. J’s have at their fingertips. Having a driver on speed dial is just next level loaded. But then, that’s exactly what Geneva is. Her mother is a successful actress, and her father is some kind of Wall Street god.
As much as I love her, and I truly do, I still sometimes struggle to see her perspective. For example, there am I, so grateful for the opportunity of being at St. Joseph’s that I would probably have done anything to make it happen, and there she is, intentionally fucking up so that she can get expelled from multiple schools just like it. She’s been kicked out of every school she’s ever been to, mainly for getting lit; either on booze, or weed, or both.
She isn’t alone, either. Zeph and a few of the other kids are the same. I guess it’s easy to take what you have for granted when you have so much, and new opportunities are presenting themselves all the time. I had no idea how much money there was out there to throw away on pointless shit, until I came to this school.
On the other hand, the rational part of me gets it—life isn’t necessarily a walk in the park just because people have money. I know that rich people have issues too, but the less rational, less understanding part of me still can’t help thinking that money really fucking helps solve a lot of them.
Definitely in my situation, and for lots of the kids I know back home, it
would make a huge difference, but then taking a look around at the kids at St. Joseph’s and what fuck ups many of them are, that clearly isn’t always the case.
They are loaded beyond my wildest dreams, and have never had to struggle for anything, yet none of them seem truly happy.
Just like me before I enrolled at St. J’s, they’ve never known, or even seen any other life but their own, and those of people like them, and they have no idea how the rest of us live. I really wish I could wave a magic wand and have them transported to a high school where I’m from, like reverse Cinderellas. That would open their eyes to the reality of the world outside their rich bitch bubble.
Most of them wouldn’t last out a day before they were calling their drivers, begging and crying to return to the comfort of the gated paradise that most of them laughingly refer to as jail. They really have no fucking idea.
That said, Geneva and I hit it off the minute we were assigned as roommates, and I do love how her carefree attitude rubs off on me.
I watch as she pushes the sliding glass door open leading out onto the pool deck and then slides it closed behind her. I look around, assessing the party. It’s a predictably debauched scene, and getting worse by the minute. Looks like my timing on deciding to leave is pretty perfect, because something in the air tells me that shit’s about to go down. Big time.
Chapter 14
Blake
* * *
My jaw tightens as I watch Trinity and Divinity—the crazy twins who welcomed me the first day—who, along with a handful of their cronies, are white-girl wasted. I’m talking falling on the floor, completely torn up shitfaced. Not cute.
Despite the perfect appearances they project for teachers, parents and people who don’t know them well, it’s become apparent that the girls are actually a train wreck. On the one hand, they act like the perfect daughters—God-fearing, rule-abiding, hard-working straight A students, school captains, joint-head of the cheerleading squad, and the leaders of the school choir; the list goes on…
