Her Secret: A Reverse Harem Romance (Bad Influence Book 1)

by Ivy Fox

  “Maybe not Tyler, but I don’t think Mason will be too upset about having her here. He missed her too much.” I add to his reasoning. I leave out the fact that Mason wasn’t the only one who missed her. I’m not saying that shit out loud. Not even to my twin, who knows my every thought even before having it.

  “How do you know? He hasn’t been that vocal in the last few years where Freya is concerned.”

  “And that’s exactly how I know he misses her,” I grunt, hitting my head on the sofa’s headrest, no longer pretending the TV is of any interest to me.

  “Really?” Chaz asks, turning his face towards me, with his hidden vulnerability seeping through.

  “Didn’t you?” I ask, showing my own defeated colors. There is no response from my twin, but I feel his ache just as much as my own.

  “That’s what I thought,” I tell him, not feeling good with the fact that we’re still so raw after all these years. Freya did a number on all of us. She deserves retribution, but what happened tonight was as far as I was willing to take it. I want to put a big old block of cement over anything related to Freya. My brothers might not be of the same mindset, but I would rather spend the rest of the summer having fun than wallow in self-pity. Been there, done that.

  “We had our fun and gave her a little prick, but that’s it for me. She’s no one, as far as I’m concerned.” There is a pregnant pause between us, but I feel Chaz’s mood shift.

  “Oh, I think we can still have a bit more fun,” Chaz says mischievously.

  “Didn’t you hear anything I said?” I huff out, not interested in whatever he came up with that is making him beam with excitement. “Freya is no longer a concern. Let her stay or let her leave, I don’t care. But I don’t want anything to do with her. And neither should you.” I deadpan, trying desperately to convince him to let go whatever harebrained scheme he just came up with. Chaz continues to grin and pats my knee patronizingly.

  “Whatever you say, Car. No more messing with Princess. Got it,” he replies, but the asshole is clearly lying through his teeth and doesn’t even have the decency to hide it.

  She hasn’t even been in this house an hour, and she’s already consuming our every thought.

  This will not end well.

  Chapter 4

  Freya

  As expected, the next couple of days are awkward and uncomfortable. I limit the time I spend downstairs when I know the boys are home. Luckily, they haven’t had anyone over since that fatal night. I stay up in my room staring up at the ceiling, repeatedly thinking about my welcome on that day, like the masochist that I am.

  The blatant disrespect that was shown to me is still hard to stomach. I couldn’t wrap my mind around why they would feel the need to embarrass me so. I drew a blank every time I tried to get a logical explanation as to why I had to see with my own two eyes the twins and Drew getting their very own lap dances, ready to enter into some serious orgy scenario. It was sickening and upsetting.

  So much so, the morning after the whole disastrous affair, I woke up nauseous and barely made it in time to the bathroom to puke my guts out. What were they thinking? They knew I was going to be here, yet they didn’t feel there was a need to take their private party elsewhere. Someplace where I wouldn’t have to witness the show.

  I summon the image of Chaz and Carter to my mind, and the memories I have with them seem tarnished with this little spectacle somehow. Every laugh and stupid childish thing we did, like climbing trees, being on their shoulders in the pool, or just goofing off, seem like dreams that never took place.

  They still held their golden glow though. Both of them still wore their summer-blond hair, long enough that you would yearn to rake your fingers through it. The twins were every girls’ dream pair. Actually, all five brothers were the perfect example of California’s finest. All blond and blue-eyed, tanned all year long.

  You couldn’t help but compare them to those guys you would see on the beach every day, surfing and riding wave after wave, with the sun kissing their naked, muscled chests. And you wouldn’t be too far off. The boys all loved outdoor sports, but water for them was life. They couldn’t live too far from it, hence the massive pool in the backyard and living twenty minutes away from the ocean. Anyone who wanted to be in their presence would be in for lazy days soaking up the sun, listening to waves crash at their feet, or hugging their waists for dear life while speeding away on the jet-skis with their hair blowing against the wind.

  I loved that about them.

  While they screamed outdoor living, I filled the indoor bookworm persona to a T. My skin is so porcelain white, you would think I lived in Alaska instead of Southern California. And unlike most of the girls who went to our high school, I did not have golden locks but sported long ebony hair instead, usually placed in a tidy little bun on top of my head. I didn’t wear skimpy clothes either because I just didn’t have the confidence or the body to pull it off. My generous sized breasts and peach figured ass, made it hard to find the right bra and skinny jeans, let alone halter-top and miniskirt.

  If you took one look at me and then at the Perry household, you would know straight away I did not fit in. But I had never felt so excluded from it, as the boys had made me feel the night I showed up at their doorstep. They saw I was upset, and not only they did not ease the awkwardness, but they also fueled my discomfort by teasing me. I can still hear Drew tell me to run along. When he called me Princess, I was dumbfounded and, at the same time, insulted, that he even remembered the nickname and used it so callously.

  Drew. What happened to the easy-loving, carefree boy who fantasized with me about all the places we would see together? Drew used to share my love of picking a spot randomly on a globe, and then searching for any kind of pictures or information we could gather of the town or country on the internet. We used to dream up fantastic stories about how we would travel to all these exotic locations and just absorb the beauty around us. Each one of the boys would also chime in on what they would do in our made up trip.

  Mason and Tyler would surf waves on every beach they found.

  Carter would scope every town to get that perfect picture on his Canon camera, to add to his scrapbook.

  Chaz would eat only traditional foods and learn the recipes so he could duplicate it with his own twist. No junk food in Paris, he would say. Croissants and brie all the way.

  Drew and I always talked about visiting museums and national hallmarks. But what really got our juices pumping was to put our willing hands to work, and help when there was some natural disaster somewhere, so that we could make a difference. To be able to help people who had lost so much, would be a reward in itself – people that lost their families, homes, and livelihood to a storm, an earthquake, or a wave so big that not even surfer enthusiasts like Mason or Tyler would ever wish to see in their lifetime. That’s what we wanted to do. Help where help was most valued and needed.

  Where was that boy? Where was Chaz’s vulnerable appeal, or Carter’s caring heart? They were nowhere to be found, and in their place, three arrogant, insensitive boys filled their shoes. I missed them all the time, but somehow I’m missing them even more now living under their roof.

  A quick knock on the door breaks my melancholic mood, only to be replaced with anxiety. I sit up on the bed and wait to see if it wasn’t my imagination running away from me. Neither Carter, Chaz, and much less Drew, have said a word to me since I arrived, so any of them seeking me out willingly doesn’t bode well. Another quick knock on the door confirms I didn’t make up the sound in my mind. I crawl out of bed, and walk to the door cautiously, opening it ever so slightly, afraid of what they might be up to now. When I see the familiar, soft-eyed Carter, I relax a little bit, even though I shouldn’t. The Carter I hold dear to my heart no longer exists, but he looks me straight in the eye, wearing a tender smile, which brings out the small dimple on his left cheek, melting me to the floor and burning any logic away.

  Stupid dimple.

  His hand comes to
the back of his head, and he lowers his eyes to the floor. I follow suit, not really sure why he knocked on my door in the first place.

  “Hi,” he finally says, still unable to look at me. I stare at my naked feet, and hush the same greeting.

  “Hi.”

  He continues to rake the back of his head, and I can tell he’s nervous. Why, is beyond me, but by the way he acted all week when I was around, as if I was invisible to him, may have something to do with it.

  “I just wanted to let you know there is going to be a party tonight, so it’s going to be a little crazy,” he says, still looking at the floor.

  “A party like the one I walked in on Monday night?” I ask, and I hear the resentment in my voice loud and clear. Carter raises his head immediately and locks eyes with me. It’s been so long since I’ve been this close to him, I forgot how he and Chaz have a bit of green mixed in with their blue. Breathtakingly beautiful. A shame, having to pretend they aren’t.

  “No, the normal kind. Those won’t be happening again. Well, at least not while you’re around,” he states stoically.

  “Lucky me!” I reply sarcastically. As if I wanted to hear their orgy-bitch fest, the minute I walk out of this room. Do I sound bitter? Well, I guess I am. I bite my inner cheek, hoping it’s enough to hold my tongue. I don’t usually act out, but the Perry boys have a unique effect on me. I can’t help but vomit out everything I’m thinking – reason number three hundred and twelve for having to end our friendship when I did. Oh yeah. I made a big-ass list of pros and cons before I made up my mind. The cons outweighing the pros in my brain, but not my heart.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know, since there will be drinking and what not, you should lock the door just in case someone ventures upstairs.”

  “Can I come?” The words are out of my mouth before I even think them through, and they surprise both Carter and me.

  “I didn’t think you’d be interested, but if you want to, I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t.” He grins.

  I could think of five bad reasons of why I shouldn’t, but I wasn’t going to admit them to Carter.

  “Well, then maybe I’ll go.”

  “Well, then maybe I’ll see you there,” he jokes, and a little warmth heats up my cheeks. I nod and close the door abruptly, ending the most significant conversation I have had with any of the Perry boys in years.

  My heart covets me to open said door and keep our banter going, but my brain is still in control and chides me for suggesting to attend their party in the first place. I pay attention to neither and walk over to my drawer to check if I brought anything suitable to wear to a party. The days have been extremely hot and the nights haven’t been any better, so I’m sure this party will probably take place in the backyard. A bikini is a must, but I’ll be damned if I go anywhere near the pool with mine on. Still, for appearance’s sake, I’ll wear it under my tank top and jean shorts. The ensemble is discreet enough, so I won’t call any attention to myself and still fit in nicely with the crowd. I’m betting most of the popular kids from school will be here as well as their beach buddies.

  I stop mid-thought when another concern hits me square in the face. It’s Friday night, which means Tyler and Mason will also be here. Butterflies start to form in my belly, and my anxiety level soars to the white ceiling above me. Do they know I’m living here this month? Would they even care? A sudden sadness replaces my unruly butterflies, with this unpleasant thought. I don’t think they would care at all.

  Both Tyler and Mason didn’t seem to notice when I stopped coming to their house. Always so busy with their own lives. I can’t blame them though. I was a freshman in high school when I stopped coming around, while Mason and Tyler where already sophomores. Maybe to them I was like a kid sister, who just preferred to spend time with her own friends, rather than play basketball with the Perry boys. Totally normal and understandable. So, they didn’t even give it a second thought. It hurt how they had outgrown me. For a split second, I actually thought Mason saw me differently, but I was mistaken. Both he and Tyler were too enamored with their surfboards and beach bunnies to notice that I was gone.

  They’ll be here tonight, I’m sure of it, and maybe they won’t remember the girl next door, who used to follow them around like a lost puppy. The twins and Drew may not like me, but I’m still a bleep on their radar. Tyler and Mason, not even close.

  I shake my head, hoping these stupid thoughts and feelings fall out of me, and run to the bathroom to take a long shower. Tonight, this house will have many more people than just the Perry brothers. It might just be the reprieve I need to get me out of the funk I’ve been in for the past week.

  With a busy house, I doubt I’ll get a chance to put my eyes on the boys. And I’m pretty sure none of them will seek me out willingly. Sure, Carter gave me the heads up about the party, but that was just for safety measures, and probably to avoid getting in trouble with his folks if any harm came to me while in their care. I doubt very much it was done out of concern, even if it was the first time he acted halfway decent to me.

  This evening has all the elements of being the diversion I need. Most likely I won’t seek to talk to anyone proactively, but maybe someone will engage in friendly conversation, enough to feel a little bit human, after all the side glances and cold shoulders I’ve gotten these past days. I’m so desperately craving any type of affection and attention, any small chat will do to uplift my spirits. As I wash my body with strawberry scented soap, I repeat this mantra to myself.

  Tonight will be awesome.

  Tonight will be fun.

  Tonight I won’t obsess about the Perry brothers.

  Nope. Not tonight.

  Tonight is a total bust. Every Tom, Dick, and Harry is too wasted, doped up, or skeevy for me to even consider having any type of conversation with. I forgot why I hated high school. No one there held any interest to me whatsoever. It’s not their fault really. I mean, they are just having fun. Normal teenage fun. Why can’t I relax enough to have that?

  Maybe the solution is alcohol. If everyone is getting plastered, I might as well enjoy a beer or two. Perhaps if I get a little tipsy, I’ll relax and find the people around me more amusing and exciting. Maybe the jokes being told won’t seem offensive to me, but hysterical. Why does my brain always have to be on overdrive? Why can’t I just shut it off and dance on tables like the girls outside in the backyard? I could dance if I wanted to. Of course, maybe I wouldn’t let fifty people look up my skirt while I did it, but I could shake my butt just as good.

  You wouldn’t mind if there were five people watching, now would you Freya?

  The stupid thought shines in neon colors in my mind, and I frown at how everything always leads back to them.

  Beer it is then. Vodka even. I don’t care. Anything to stop my thoughts of blond Viking gods making their appearance in HD. After this week, lord knows I need it. I’m sure there is enough alcohol in this house to erase them completely. How many shots of tequila would be required to get the job done, I wonder. Could I do something that reckless? Get so shit faced that the hangover on the morning after would feel like bliss, as I’d be too sick to recall any of the brothers’ names? Even if this was a plausible solution, I’m sure throwing up all over this house and making the boys clean up after me, won’t win me any brownie points. But wouldn’t that be a sight? It kind of serves Drew and the twins right, after the way I’ve been treated.

  I want to laugh at the idea, but I’m too level-headed to do something so impulsive. Never one to draw over the lines. The most rebellious thing I ever did was not applying to any colleges my senior year. I should do it though. I really should get my act together and just leave this place. Leave the Perry boys behind me once and for all.

  If anything has opened my eyes to how they feel about me, it has been this last week. They loathe me. Maybe even hate me. Was it just me ending our friendship that made this hatred grow in their hearts, or was it always there and I was too lovesick to
see it? I mean, I never did anything to them. Not really. I just vanished from their lives. Most guys would appreciate that, wouldn’t they? How would they explain to their girlfriends that their best friend was a girl? A girl who was undoubtedly in love with them? Any girl dating either one of the brothers would see me a mile away, and find means of pushing me out of their lives. I did the right thing. For all of us. Yet this week it seems they are punishing me for it.

  “Freya!” I hear someone call out to me. I look up to see it’s an old friend from high school bellowing out my name. Well, neither old nor a friend really, since Brad Mitchell was the high school quarterback and I spent most of my time in the library, but we attended a few classes together, and he was always decent to me.

  “Oh. Hi, Brad,” I answer back smiling, happy to see one person at this party who doesn’t think I’m a pariah. His stunned expression doesn’t go unnoticed though, but neither does the devilish grin tugging on his lips.

  “Freya Wilson. Well, I’ll be damned! You are the last person I would think to see here,” he remarks, giving me a side hug, leaving his hand on my waist a little longer than I would like it to be.

  “Really? Why is that?” I ask, moving further to the side and grabbing a solo cup to get a comfortable distance between us.

  “Well, I thought by this time you would have been long gone,” he says while eating up the space I created, with just two steps. He’s so close, I can almost make out the peppermint toothpaste he used to brush his teeth before he came here. Again, too close for my liking.

  And here lies my problem. Brad is an attractive and intelligent guy, and he has always been kind to me. In the looks department, he’s the poster child of a high school jock, that every teenage girl swoons over. Brown messy hair, piercing green eyes that put mine to shame, and a genuine smile that could sell ice to Eskimos. A normal girl would be thrilled he’s leaning into her, the way he is just now, and would not feel repulsed at his innocent flirting. But, if you haven’t gotten the picture yet, I am not a normal girl. Nope. Not even a little bit.