Damaged Elite (The Darlington Elite Book 2)

by Waverly Alexander

  Darlington crushes Sailsbury, and we head to the diner so the boys can strut around and exercise their bragging rights. None of them seem in the mood, though, and the only time I see any life in Miles is when Ms. Anna snaps her fingers in front of his face telling him she doesn’t have all day. Tommy barely glances at any of the waitresses, and Zach is scowling at me because I purposely slid into the booth so that Patrick and Everly were seated between us. If he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend, I’m not giving him boyfriend privileges anymore.

  During the game, I filled Everly in on a little bit of what happened, minus the gory details of my first blowjob endeavor. I bite my lip to keep from smiling and focus my eyes on the dessert menu when she elbows me and asks, “So, when are you seeing that guy who asked you out the other day? He’s in my bio class, and he seems super nice and really smart too.”

  “Excuse me?” Patrick is the one who barks the words, but Zach is boring holes into my head with an intense stare. He’s not happy, but I can’t say I feel bad for him.

  “Not for me.” She laughs. “He’d be really good for Kennedy,” Everly says, nudging him, and I see the wheels spinning in Patrick’s head. I’m willing to bet he’s going to burn down her biology lab to prevent her from being in the same room as Tim again. He’s a psycho, but he loves her, and I don’t question that.

  “I don’t know. I guess we’ll see. There’s a lot going on right now,” I say honestly, and I also know she’s only bringing it up to make a point to Zach, which I’m all for. It’s true, Tim is nice and smart, but my feelings are all wrapped up in Zach. I’m not sure it would be fair to go out with Tim to try and get over Zach, especially with everything else going on. He doesn’t need to be dragged into our drama. I rub my hands over my face because it all just feels like too much.

  “Well, I think you should. He’d treat you right,” Everly says, but she’s looking right at Zach, who stiffens under her gaze. It occurs to me then how strong she really is, and how she lets Patrick take the lead in their relationship because she wants to, not because she’s too weak to stand up to him.

  I can’t help but laugh when Patrick’s fingers gently tip her chin toward him, broody stare already in place. “I don’t like him,” he growls. She grins up at him before pecking him on the lips softly, which reduces his scowl slightly.

  “You don’t like me either, so maybe Tim and I will be the perfect couple,” I tease, sipping the Sprite I got instead of the Coke I ordered. We saw Ms. Anna leave earlier, and she looked upset, so I’m hoping it’s not a family emergency or anything.

  Patrick gives me his attention for a millisecond when he asks, “You’d move out? With what’s-his-face?” I snort because Patrick must think all men are like him. As if Tim will show up for our date, club in hand, and drag me down the road by my hair to his dorm.

  “No,” Zach snaps, and for the first time I meet his eyes and I can see the anger swirling there. I’ve seen him worked up before, especially since I’ve moved into the Elite house. But this is different, he looks livid.

  Serves him fucking right.

  Miles returns when Tommy finally shows up, and I note how exhausted they both look. Miles is so pale, and the circles under his eyes seem to dull their bright blue color.

  “Stop looking at me like that,” Tommy says, and I’m glad Miles is between us because I know Tommy’s going through a lot right now, but if he keeps up that tone I’m going to twist his nipple through his shirt again to get him back in line.

  I squint my eyes and lean in toward Tommy, because I think this is what he needs right now. He’s been itching for a fight since he found out about Jackie and his son. “For speaking to me that way, you’ve got one more strike before I start retaliating.”

  He reaches across the table, swiping my Sprite and taking a big gulp. He slides the nearly empty cup back to me, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, then he raises his voice in what I assume is supposed to be his best impression of me. “I’m, like, super scared.”

  “Bro, don’t.” Miles claps him on the shoulder and then slings an arm around me before saying. “I don’t want to have to worry about her booby-trapping the bathroom or putting itching powder in my sheets, can you just pick a fight with someone else? Anyone else?”

  “Are you scared of me?” I ask Miles, grinning, and he nods without any hesitation.

  “I’ve seen how that twisty little mind of yours works. No thank you.” He shakes his head, making Everly laugh as Henry finally approaches.

  He looks agitated, which is weird for him. He’s normally so unbothered, and I wonder where he’s been. Everly seems to think he has something going on with that waitress, Isobel, who tutors him, but I can’t see Henry sneaking around with a girl. He’s too dignified and emotionally closed off to have some hot and heavy affair. My eyes drift over to where Isobel’s now standing by an empty table, furiously wiping it down even though it’s already spotless. Her long black curls graze her lower back with the quick movement of her hand. I glance back over to Henry, who is now seated at our booth, and I note his rigid posture.

  Holy shitballs.

  She’s got him all worked up, and he’s having a really difficult time hiding it. Our fearless leader, Henry fucking Aldridge, is doing the dirty with Isobel Fuentes and that’s where he’s always sneaking off to. Everly and I thought he was spying on the Learys without any of us there to blow his cover. Henry always keeps us guessing, and he does it on purpose. Playing up how secretive his father is, the whole British boarding school story, but he never mentions anyone or any events from the years he spent there. He wants us to think his dad is some undercover agent, which makes me think he’s probably a used car salesman or something.

  But I don’t even care anymore because Henry has feelings.

  “Did you put that look of utter joy on her face?” I ask Henry cheekily, nodding my head to Isobel, who has moved onto a table of patrons who don’t appear to be associated with the hockey teams. His expression changes instantaneously to unreadable, composed, and I smirk because he can try to hide it all he wants. Henry actually likes someone and I’ll never let him live it down.

  He clears his throat, and I decide to let it go for now because Patrick reaches around Everly to tug on my ponytail, and he’s giving me a look telling me to knock it off. I realize he knows more than he’s letting on.

  I settle for kicking him in the ankle.

  “Fuck,” Patrick winces, and I pull the straw out of my nearly empty glass and slide it in front of him.

  “Here’s a straw so you can suck it up.”

  “Enough,” Henry says, adjusting his watch and then crossing his arms in an authoritative pose. “We need to talk about Cassandra and Beth.” I feel Miles straighten next to me.

  “I’ve been visiting her every day. Sometimes twice.” His voice sounds smaller than an Elite’s should, and I’m guessing he hasn’t slept more than a few hours a night since the attack. “She’s showing no real change,” he adds in a grave tone. “I heard a doctor in the hallway today say that even if she does wake up, she’s going to have a long recovery.”

  “Have any of the Learys been there to see her? Other than when Coach showed up the first day when we were all there?” Zach speaks up, and the compassion in his voice—the tone he only uses for us—hits me right in the heart. He thinks he’s such a screw-up that he’ll twist my life up and leave me in shambles. But he’s been the glue that’s held me together since we met.

  “Nope.” Miles fidgets with the straw in his milkshake that he’s barely touched.

  “Not even her mom?” Everly asks.

  “No one. I’m starting to wonder if Coach only showed up that day to make sure she wasn’t aware enough to tell on his precious sons.” I reach over and rub Miles’s back in what I hope are comforting circles, and I feel Zach’s eyes on me.

  “We need to get a hold of Beth, I’ve tried calling her over and over, but she’s not answering,” Everly says quickly, wiggling out of Patrick’s hold s
o she can rest her forearms on the table. “The Leary boys wouldn’t have left any witnesses. Andre doesn’t make sense. Who would have done it?”

  “Maybe one of the dirty cops that are wrapped up with the Learys?” Patrick suggests, his palm going to the back of Everly’s head, sliding down her long hair. I wonder if it’s instinct with him or if he makes a point to be touching her at all times.

  “Maybe they got scared off? It was very public, maybe they got interrupted before they could hurt Beth worse,” Zach suggests, and it doesn't escape me the way his eyes seem to migrate to me every few seconds. God, he has the most mesmerizing honey-colored eyes, and my stomach flips when he looks at me. It’s like he’s seeing my soul.

  “My gut is telling me the Leary’s aren’t behind this one,” Patrick says, and Henry nods silently in agreement. That’s how it is with the two of them.

  “Why does it always have to be the least appealing solution,” Tommy practically whines, rubbing his hands over his tan face, letting his head fall back against the booth. “Beth creeps me out.”

  The ride home isn’t any different than the rest of the day. Zach insists on sitting next to me, but there’s an invisible barrier between us. I decide right then and there that there’s too many bigger, important things happening in the world to be getting hurt all the time by the one person who is supposed to have my back no matter what. Cassandra might never wake up, just like my brother and Darcey didn’t. I could die tomorrow at the hands of the Learys, a freak accident, or because Tommy really does hang me from the flagpole like he’s always threatening.

  I need to make the most of the time I have, and if that means giving Zach the distance he wants, then that’s what I’ll do. That night when I get ready for bed, I lock my door. Not because I’m afraid of the Learys breaking in, but because if Zach gets any ideas and tries to come in my room like he sometimes does after we fight, he’ll know I mean business.

  10

  Zach

  I should be in history class right now with Kennedy, but instead, I’m once again in the Phi Delta Theta parking lot watching for any of the Learys or Coach. I purposely volunteered to take this shift, knowing I'd miss class with her. I can’t be that close to Kennedy, I can’t sit there watching the way she shifts in her chair, playing with her curls that are just a little too short to pull up like she used to, but long enough for me to fist in my hand.

  Fuck.

  I need to get her and the other night out of my head, but I can’t because I fucked up and let things go too far. Now I know how sweet she tastes, how she moans my name, how her plump lips feel around my dick.

  I know she doesn’t have a gag reflex, for fuck’s sake.

  But the rage I felt run through my veins when that dipshit in class was talking to her like he had some kind of right to—it’s enough to tell me that I need to call things off. I wanted to snap him in half just for looking at her, let alone asking about her plans, and that’s exactly how my father was with my mother. I remember one time when I was really young walking down the street with my parents. My father thought a man in a parked car was looking at my mother and he snapped, the very same way I wanted to snap on the dude in history. Before my mother could stop him, he ripped the guy through his window and beat him to a pulp.

  Patrick is that way with Everly, I know he would annihilate anyone who dared try to take her away in any capacity. So what’s the difference between guys like Patrick and guys like my father? When my mother tried to calm him down, he beat her, too. Patrick would never put his hands on Everly, but would I? Would I turn on Kennedy if I was angry enough? I can’t risk it, and she’d never understand. She didn’t know my father, she doesn’t know about our shared blood that runs through my veins, mixing with rage.

  She only knows my softer side, the side I show her because that’s what she deserves.

  I shift in my seat when I notice Kevin, the oldest douchebag that Coach spawned. He’s standing by a small red car I don’t recognize, and he looks fidgety as he peers in the window and then dials a number on his phone. I recline my seat in the Escalade, which I swiped from Henry this morning so I could blend in. The windows are tinted, so I’m pretty sure he can’t see me, but after the other night when they nearly rear-ended us, I feel uneasy.

  Kevin bangs a fist on the roof of the car and appears to growl something into the phone. He’s evil and wants to ruin people, it's evident by just looking at his cold stare. It’s hard to believe that he’s related to Cassandra and Andre. Even though Andre was always an entitled prick who thought the world owed him because he was a Leary, and he liked to fuck with everyone, run his mouth until Patrick was ready to beat him within an inch of his life...he never struck me as the type that would do the shit he’s being accused of. The whole dating Darcey Carter covertly thing was a shock to all of us because frankly, I don’t know any motherfucker suicidal enough to fuck around with Patrick’s sister. Or at least I didn’t think I did until the truth about Andre and Darcey came out.

  Everly swears they loved each other, and while I can’t envision Andre having a meaningful relationship with anyone, I do believe her. Everly was Darcey’s closest friend, even though they were polar opposites. Everly is a bookworm, beautiful in a quiet sort of way, and Darcey was loud, always moving and telling some convoluted story to entertain us, or ragging on her brother because she was the only one who could.

  Say something nice! I can almost hear her chiding Patrick, and it makes me chuckle softly. I think Darcey would have liked Kennedy if they’d known each other. They’re a lot alike, both strong-willed and don’t let us get away with much. Darcey was more serious, though, and Kennedy—that girl’s heart is so full of compassion. But the guys probably would have packed their shit, moved to Canada, and taken on aliases if they’d lived in a house with Darcey and Kennedy at the same time.

  What do you fucking know? I lean over the console, trying to get a better look at Kevin. Now he’s talking to Coach, who has the same bored look he always does unless he’s yelling at someone. Kevin is yelling, but with the windows up and being a few rows away, I can’t hear anything. Coach grabs Kevin’s phone and glares at whatever is on the screen. Surprisingly, he almost instantly hands it back, waving his hand dismissively.

  It’s then that my phone starts vibrating. I glance at the screen, and I immediately know it’s not good because Henry doesn’t talk on the phone unless it’s important. And important things lately are never good news.

  “Tell me something good,” I say, and he doesn’t laugh because it’s Henry.

  “Meeting tonight, guys only,” he sounds bored, like I’m the one who called and bothered him, instead of the other way around.

  “What’s going on? Are the girls okay?” I raise my seat, my stomach twisting at the thought.

  “They’re as fine as they were this morning, I suppose.” He’s such a cheeky motherfucker.

  “What’s going on?” I ask point-blank. I’ll never understand how Henry and Patrick are so close because I would think this ominous bullshit would be enough to make Patrick throttle him.

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll see you back at the house.” And then there’s nothing but empty air.

  I’ll be early, but I feel an intense urgency to go pick up Kennedy from class. It’s a weird twist of emotions—part of me knows I need to stay away from her because if I don’t, I’ll fuck her life up, while the other part knows no one can possibly protect her the way I can.

  Today, the protective part wins.

  I crank on the truck and glance over to where Kevin and Coach had been. I didn’t see them leave while I was focused on Henry’s call, but the red car is still there.

  When I get to the building our history class is in, I decide to wait in the downstairs lobby because I know if I wait in the hallway where I can see Kennedy through the door, I’ll be tempted to storm in and interrupt the class. I don’t give a shit on my account, because what will they possibly do to me? The school is already covering up murde
rs, sex scandals, and god knows what else. But it would embarrass Kennedy, and she’s already mad at me.

  I regret my decision when I see her practically floating down the stairs, her curls bouncing with the movement. She’s with that fucker who wouldn’t take the hint that she’s off-limits, the one Everly brought up in the diner the other night. Kennedy’s mine. Even though Everly’s my cousin, she’s made it clear she’s ‘Team Kennedy’ when it comes to the dynamic of our relationship, and I want her to be. Kennedy deserves a friend like Everly, loyal to a fault. But if she thinks this clown is good enough for Kennedy, she’s delusional.

  “Hi Zach,” Kennedy chirps when she reaches me, but I’m already trying to murder her classmate fifty-six different ways in my mind. That’s all he’ll ever be. They’re not friends, not like we are.

  “Hey, man,” he extends his hand like an actual prick, and I don’t shake it. I don’t care if I’m the asshole here, he needs to know that I’ll make his life a living hell if he doesn’t back off and get any ideas of Kennedy and him being more than classmates out of his brain.

  “We need to go,” I say to Kennedy. I keep my voice hard, and she narrows her eyes, pinning a hand on her hip and looking me up and down like she’s trying to figure out who I think I am speaking to her that way.

  “Rude,” she says, then purses her lips and turns her body toward what's-his-face. “I’m sorry about him. I’ll see you next class, though?”

  I don’t wait for him to answer, instead, I wrap an arm around her and usher her down the hall toward the exit.

  “I’ll text you about that study session!” I hear him call to her, no malice in his voice for me. I tighten my arm around her and keep my mouth shut, because getting in a pissing match with some dickwad in the hallway isn’t going to do any of us any favors.