by Angel Lawson
That was the night Rochelle was attacked, and we put an end to Luke’s reign of terror.
Maybe tonight we can finally do the same with Trip.
The boys wait at the top of the stairs. They’re dressed less formally than last time but still in nice suits. Everything about our relationship has changed since then. I see them, and my heartbeat goes into overdrive, not because I’ve fallen for them, but because I know them. I know how their mouths taste and their skin feels. I know what they look like the second before they orgasm. I know what brings them to the edge.
When their eyes sweep over me as I climb up the steps, my skin prickles in anticipation, and I know they feel the same way about me.
“Jesus,” Theo says under his breath.
Hawk’s jaw tenses, the muscle in the back turning into a tight, clenched ball.
Gray moves first, closing the distance, and kissing me on the cheek. He whispers in my ear, “I’m going to be hard-pressed not to find a dark corner to defile you in before the night is over.”
I laugh, pretending my cheeks aren’t on fire. “You did not just say that. We’re the chaperones. We can’t do things like that."
“No one said we can’t have fun while we’re doing our job.” He holds the crook of his elbow out for me. “You look fantastic.”
The dress is a little flirtier than I’m used to. It’s strapless, with a bodice made of shimmery blue sequins and a full-netting skirt. My heels are ridiculously high, with a thick platform on the bottom giving me extra height. When we reach Theo and Hawk, I realize I can kiss them much easier this way.
Rochelle appears in the doorway with John Anderson a step or two behind. He looks nice in a suit. “The juniors did a great job, come check out the decorations.”
Gray escorts me over the threshold, and I’m stunned by what I see. The whole room is filled with the warm glow of red and pink twinkling lights. Metallic hearts hang from the ceiling, reflecting the lights, casting the whole room in a fever dream. We’re early, arriving before the party officially starts, but food and drinks are set up along one wall and a DJ occupies the stage, already playing upbeat music.
I walk into the center of the room, basking in the decorations. The music shifts to something a little slower, and Theo walks next to me, sliding his hand in mine. “Dance with me?”
I look around, we’re alone on the floor. Gray and Hawk are checking out the food and Rochelle and John Anderson standing by the door. “There’s no one else out here.”
“Come on,” he says, tugging me to him. We’d danced together at his grandfather’s party. “It may be our only chance.”
He pulls me into his arms, and I link my hands behind his neck. His hands steady on my waist. Of all the K-Boys, I’m most familiar with Theo’s body. Not from sex, but from our time in the water. Neither of us are great dancers but our movements fall in sync, in a rhythmic, calming way.
“I don’t get to see you as much as I want,” I tell him, looking up at his handsome face.
“Swim is consuming.” His forehead drops to mine. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize. You love it, and I love watching you do it.”
“The season is over soon.” He kisses my forehead sweetly and spins me around. “Some recruiters have been coming.”
“College recruiters?” This is the first I’ve heard of it.
“Yeah. If I keep my grades up, my drug tests clean, and my times on target, I have a shot.”
“That’s amazing!” I pull him to me, and he gathers me into his arms.
“I can’t even really think about it.”
I look at him. “You’ve got this, Theo. I know you do.”
“Because of you,” he says, squeezing me with his hands.
The energy between us lifts, and I think maybe, maybe things are starting to go our way. That feeling is short-lived because the song ends just as the room fills with students arriving for the dance. They look amazing; the boys cleaned up and handsome, and the girls in sparkly, fun dresses. I see a few girls I met the night before. Something weird happens though. They walk in and split apart, moving to opposite sides of the room, like elementary school kids.
I frown. “What’s this about?”
“Did you not hear about this last night?” Theo asks. “One of Trip’s rules for the contest is that they can’t date. He’s cockblocking the hell out of those guys.”
Hawk speaks to a few younger guys, ones I assume were at his video game tournament, then appears by my side. He shares a look with Theo.
“I’d hope they’d get the balls to defy him.” He’d obviously heard about this as well. “It’s just a fucking dance.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gray walking toward the door.
“What’s he doing?” Hawk asks.
Gray stops before a girl with long, dark hair and holds out his hand. She takes it, and they come toward the middle of the gym. He winks at me before placing one hand on Emma’s hip and another clasping her fingers. They begin to dance.
“He’s breaking the rules,” I say, looking at the kids around the room. “Pick someone and dance. Encourage them to dance with one another. Trip isn’t going to win this one.” I look over at a familiar face and nudge Hawk in her direction. “Ask her.”
He grimaces, but I push him along. Theo’s easier to get to comply, and he approaches one of the girls from the party the night before. She looks flabbergasted and glances in my direction. I give her a thumbs up in approval.
It’s a small, seemingly ridiculous gesture, but the iron grip Trip has on the school has to be chipped away one event at a time. Right now, it’s a dance. Tonight, hopefully, Marissa and the other girls still in the contest will stand up to him and put an end to his bullshit.
I notice one of the boys Hawk was talking to earlier leaning against the wall. He watches me closely as I walk over, a slight look of panic crossing his face.
“What’s your name?”
“Max.”
“Hi Max, I’m Eden. I thought maybe you’d like to ask me to dance,” I say, standing a few feet away.
“I know who you are.” He swallows and glances over my shoulder. “And I don’t think your boyfriend, uh boyfriends, would be okay with that.”
I step forward and take his hand. It’s clammy from nerves, but his face is cute, and he’s tall in that way girls like. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be partnered off with someone right now.
“The men in my life don’t tell me what to do,” I tell him, “and if you haven’t noticed, they’re all a little occupied right now.”
The dance floor is filling up, mostly mis-matched couple like Rochelle with a younger guy and John Anderson with a sophomore girl. The K-Boys awkwardly sway around the room, keeping a safe distance from their partners. No need to give anyone any ideas.
I drag Max out on the dance floor, positioning his hands for the temp of the music. He looks anywhere but at me. “I’m not going to bite,” I tell him.
He doesn’t look convinced.
At the end of the song he tries to let go, but I hold his hand. “Look, I know you’re afraid of the K-Boys, as you probably should be, but I’ll let you off the hook if you man up and go find a girl your own age to ask to dance.”
“Right. I’ll do that.”
“Don’t let Trip or any of the other assholes at this school ruin your life—got it?”
He nods furiously. “Got it.”
I release him and a few moments later, Gray sidles up to me and scoops me in his arms. “No one wants to dance with me.”
“Because you’re marked, Princess. Even if it’s a good cause, the K-Boys don’t share very well.”
Slowly the room starts to feel like a normal party, with normal couples and smiling faces. Even the girls convinced they needed to participate in the contest relax and start to have a good time. It hits me harder than ever that, ultimately, they’re kids, and it’s time for them to stop using their bodies for games.
“
I’m going to get a drink. Want something?” I ask Gray, slipping out of his hands.
“I’m good.”
I cut through the crowd and stop at the refreshment table. Marissa stands at the other end, picking up a cookie.
“Hey,” I say, handing her a cup of punch. “This one isn’t spiked.”
She laughs. “Not that the one last night had much 'punch'.”
“How are you feeling today?” I ask, not meaning her health. I notice the sparrow is still pinned to her dress.
“Better. Stronger.”
“You think you’ll walk?”
She looks into the room of dancing classmates. “I’m considering it.”
“Whatever you decide, we’ve got your back.”
Her eyes flick over my shoulder and I turn. Dorian stands a few feet away with a weird expression on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. He’s not in nice clothes. “What’s wrong?”
He swallows and steps closer. “There’s an emergency. I need you to come with me.”
“My mom?” I ask. It’s the first thing that pops in my mind.
He shakes his head. “No. Hope.”
There are a few places I think Dorian may take me.
The hospital and police station are on the top of my list.
I don’t expect the morgue.
A man with a thick mustache and a white lab coat meets us in the hall. “Ms. Warren?”
I don’t respond.
“Yes, that’s Eden Warren. I’m Dorian Miller, her social worker.”
I’m not sure if Dorian has authority but someone has to. My mom isn’t here and I’m…
“It was an overdose,” the man says. “It’s impossible to tell if it was an accident or not. There is evidence of past self-harm.”
“There was?” My voice sounds weird. “How? Where?”
“Scars on her arms. A prior visit to the hospital.” He gives Dorian a meaningful look. “I do need someone to identify the body.”
“Of course.”
“No. I’ll do it.”
“Eden, you don’t need to—”
“Yes, I do.”
We follow the man down the gray hallway and enter a room. There, a woman stands over a steel bed covered in a white sheet. She lifts the edge and there she is. The ghost I’d chased for months, the girl that rejected me for money and status, the sister I used to know.
Her face is pale. So pale. Lips purple. It’s hard to recognize her—Hope was always filled with life. I followed her around like she was the sun—the only thing that gave me light in the dark alleys of the Park.
That light had been waning for some time and now it’s completely snuffed.
“It’s her,” I say, turning to press my face into Dorian’s side. He’s kept his distance. He’s my social worker, but the circumstances are extreme, and I don’t care who knows that I need him. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight. I guess he doesn’t care either.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” the woman says.
I wipe under my eyes. “Thank you,” I say, “but I’d already lost her a long time ago.”
Dorian’s jaw tenses, eyes dark with worry. The man comes back and leads us into the hallway. He gives Dorian a clipboard to fill out, along with a small package of belongings. I take the package and look inside. There’s nothing but a few pieces of jewelry and a folded, creased envelope, with my name on it.
“Where’s her ring?” I ask.
Dorian looks up from the clipboard. “Ring?”
“Her engagement ring.” I look around. “Why isn’t Tyson here?”
He frowns. “What’s in the envelope?”
I slip my finger under the flap and open it.
Eden,
“It’s a letter. For me.”
I walk over to the chair against the wall and sit.
Eden,
There’s no easy way to start this letter, so I’ll dive right in. I’m sorry. For the last year. For the way I treated you. For the fact I ran and left you alone. I wanted out, by any means necessary. And out has led me to this place—a place so much worse than the life I left behind.
Tyson offered me the golden ticket. A place on his arm as long as I did what he wanted. I thought as long as I pleased him he’d take care of me, but you saw what I couldn’t. I was a pawn to be used. Sold. Tossed aside for something new and shiny. I gave him everything, Eden, and the instant his father came calling, he left me.
And now that he’s gone, there’s nothing left for me.
I thought the Park was hell on earth, but then I left and entered the world of privilege and entitlement. Back home we fought and stole to survive. Here it’s for amusement and pleasure. I hate it and what I’ve become. I’m sorry I left you, but I know you’re in good hands. The K-Boys love you. They always have. Thank them for me.
Love you sis,
Hope
I stand, thrusting the letter and package at Dorian and run down the hall, stopping only when I reach the parking lot. I stumble on the stupid heels. I’m in this stupid dress, from a stupid dance, where I’d been involved in another one of the Cohen brothers' stupid games. Trying to save another group of girls from their toxic reach. I bend over and take off the shoes, throwing them across the parking lot, each one landing with a pathetic thud.
From behind, a pair of strong, arms wrap around me. The tears I’d been holding back start to fall, along with deep, soul-wrenching sobs. His face burrows in my neck, his breath warm on my bare shoulder. He strokes my hair, and for once, says nothing, just allowing me to pour out my sorrow.
“She was so unhappy,” I say, once I can find my voice. “So miserable. Why did she trust them? Why did she go off with him?”
He turns me around and cups my face in his hands. His dark brown eyes bore into mine. “She was miserable a long time before she left Kingston. She took risks she shouldn’t have. Trusted the wrong people.”
“I hate them.”
“I know.”
“I should have fought harder for her.”
“That’s not possible. You did everything you could. She was hell-bent on this life, Eden.” He smooths my hair. Our faces are close. Nose to nose. I feel his breath on my lips. “You may not have been able to save Hope, but you never gave up on those girls at the Academy.”
Exhaustion rolls through me. “I’m tired of fighting, Dorian.”
“I know.”
His arms are around my waist and we’re in the middle of the parking lot. What we just went through was hell, and I want something, need something good in my life. I look up at him. “Please kiss me.”
A line creases his forehead. “Eden—”
“I came to you once before and you turned me away. Don’t do that again.”
Like an avalanche on the verge of falling, Dorian holds firm for one last second, then he crumbles, mouth crashing into mine. Months of want releases, fueling a desperate fire between us. His hands are gentle while his mouth firm, tongue sweeping against mine. I taste the salt of my tears as we explore one another. I feel the shuddering relief at having something good in my life. Someone strong and stable when I need him the most.
Adrenaline pumps through my veins, only waning after I’ve run out of breath, and my heart is hammering so hard I have to take a step back.
He runs his hand through his hair, and says, “That was—”
“Perfect,” I say. “Thank you.”
We look at one another, both wanting more, both knowing that can’t happen. Not now.
Dorian links his fingers with mine and walks with me across the parking lot, picking up my shoes along the way. At the Mustang, he opens the door for me and helps me inside, bending down to give me a gentle kiss on the forehead.
My heart aches for my sister.
My mind pleas for her to find peace.
When Dorian gets in the car and reaches for my hand over the center console, I take it, knowing that I have something Hope never did. Trust in three boys that
love and cherish me. Faith in the man next to me.
I’m ready to go back to the Academy and finish what we started.
I’m not losing anyone else.
32
Hawk
The clock inches toward ten, the time the girls are supposed to meet in Trip’s room for the next phase of the contest. The DJ hasn’t stopped playing and the party-goers are still partying.
“The Princess may have actually gotten through to these girls,” Gray says, taking a sip of punch and grimacing at the taste. “This would be way better with some vodka.”
Theo checks his phone.
“Any word?” I ask, knowing there hasn’t been. Eden and Dorian dashed out of here quick. One word and we all understood. Hope. From Dorian’s expression it couldn’t be good news. I only hope Eden doesn’t spiral, she’s worked too hard to cast out that demon.
“No,” Theo says, slipping it back in his pocket.
A peal of laughter comes off the dance floor.
“They’re having fun,” Gray says. “Maybe some of those guys will finally get laid. Take off the edge.”
“Hopefully they’ll earn it,” I remark.
He snorts. “Look at you, the prude all of a sudden.”
“I’m not a prude.” I cross my arms defensively. “The system here is askew. Guys need to respect these girls and take care of them. Fall in love maybe, stop being perverts that demand sex as part of a scheme.”
“Eden’s rubbed off on you.”
I glance at the younger classmen. “This whole place has, I guess. Puts things into perspective. I thought we were scoundrels in the Park, but those girls were tough. Look at Eden. I thought my balls were going to shrivel up from lack of use before she finally accepted us.”
Figures move in the doorway and we all look up on instinct, hoping it’s Eden. Immediately, it’s clear that it’s a small pack of boys. Trip steps into the room, face pinched and angry.
The kids on the dance floor don’t notice, but a few on the peripheral do. They shift anxiously. I take the lead, casually walking across the room.