by Mj Fields
“I haven’t allowed them to target me. And I gotta be honest with you, I may be a little offended that you think them targeting you and Kiki doesn’t make me want to cunt punch a bitch, because it does. But”—she holds up my phone—“I ignore this shit. And if I didn’t think you’d get in trouble, or Uncle Cyrus would show up because he tracks your ass on this thing, I’d chuck this in the Atlantic right now.”
I shake my head and try my best not to smile at her. “When did you start becoming a badass?”
She grins. “When I saw that you stepped up when Kiki was down. I’m just following suit.”
I nod and smile at her. “Gotcha.”
“Now, come on and have a drink. We’re celebrating finally being done with that bullshit show.”
“You did great, Brisa,” I say as I follow her toward the cooler.
“Learned from the best. Been watching you dance all my life.” She opens the cooler and grabs a beer.
I shake my head. “Gross.”
“How about a White Claw?”
“Fine, but just one.”
Brisa paws through the cooler, asking, “Black cherry, raspberry, lime, mango, or—”
“Hit me with a mango.”
She tosses one to me, and I snap the tab and hold up the can. “Fuck them.”
Four mango Claws down, and I’m actually enjoying myself; somewhat because of the slight buzz, partly due to the fact that Brisa has yet to give me back my phone, which is clearly a trigger for my foul mood, and partially because we’ve been dancing.
It’s been a while since I let go, got lost in the music, the beat, and not worried about who saw me—judged me. Even on stage, I held back. It’s been that way for about a year now. The only time I haven’t had to hold back is around my family and crew. This is definitely the first time I’ve had fun with anyone at Seashore. Hell, I never even had fun at rehearsals for all those seemingly wasted months.
With Gabrielle and her crew running the show, and being completely on edge at choreography rehearsals, never knowing when the assistant choreographer, one Harrison Reeves, would show up and sit in the auditorium, tapping out notes on his phone that he’d message to the actual choreographer before leaving abruptly, never staying to give us the notes himself.
To think, I had a crush on him due to his bio and good looks. Okay, I still do a ’lil bit, but there’s no way in hell I’m acting on it.
There’s a big difference in confidence and arrogance, and it is all too clear that he’s the latter.
“Get out of your head, T. Steel.” Brisa nudges me with her hip. “Let’s dance!”
I look around and notice the little party has dwindled in size. I guess I didn’t realize it until now, but it’s just Baker, Abhi, James, Alexa, Bris, and me still here.
“You think we should head home?” I ask Brisa as I toss the can in the bag of empties.
“Hell no,” she says as she grabs Baker’s phone that’s hooked up to the Bluetooth, hip checks him, laughing, and then turns on “Seize the Day” from Newsies.
Handing it back to him, she points at me. “I, Brisa Steel, challenge the best dancer at Seashore Academy to the “Seize the Day” challenge.”
I start to shake my head, and they all boo at me. I can’t help smiling as I shake my head, looking down.
“Do it, do it, do it!” they all begin to chant.
“Fine!” I point at Brisa. “You’re next.”
“Let’s do this!” She throws a fist in the air.
Every one of us does the challenge, and yes, it’s fun as hell, even in the sand.
When it starts to rain, Baker suggests we go inside.
“Where?” I ask, looking around.
He points across the road to a small beach house.
“This your place?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nah. This is Easton’s. He rents it out during the summer and for occasions like this.”
“Easton, as in the president of the student government?” I ask, following behind him.
“Yeah.”
We all follow Baker across the two-lane street, partially covered in sand.
I look around at the neighboring houses, all similar. “Does he own it?” I ask.
Nodding, Baker looks at his phone as he punches in the door lock code then opens the door. Then he waves his hand in front of him. “After you.”
Chapter Two
Idiom
Never judge a book by its cover.
Truth
It’s what’s inside that matters.
Walking in, I notice that the interior doesn’t match the exterior at all. It’s more modern than one would assume, and from what I could see of the outside under the dim lighting, I certainly didn’t expect to see this. Reason number one: it’s clean, damn near sterile, scantily furnished, and very modern. Reason number two: Tobias Easton, the boy with the perma scowl, the one who held his head up and yet never gave anyone eye contact, the boy whose style was envied by boys, unlike my cousins or brother, who gave a shit less about labels, couldn’t possibly live like this. But, as Baker said, it was apparently a rental.
“So, he just rents out his place for parties?” Brisa asks.
I notice Baker, Abhi, James, and Alexa all glancing at each other.
“What?” Brisa muses.
Alexa, who’s a bit tipsy, too, giggles. “Like Vegas—what happens at the pounding palace stays at the—”
The pounding palace?
“Lex,” Abhi interrupts her with a warning.
Brisa scowls slightly. “Like we can’t keep a secret. Our cousin Kiki is married to Brandon Falcon and having his baby. We’ve—”
“Brisa,” I interrupt and say the opposite of what I really want to say, because it pisses me off, too. “Fuck. Them.”
She smirks and nods, repeating the words she said to me earlier, “Fuck. Them.”
Baker jumps in, “It’s just, you know, we don’t want any trouble. He’s never rented this place to Abhi and me before.”
James interrupts, “He doesn’t even look at me.”
Same, brother, I think.
Baker continues, “None of our parents are chill enough to rent us a place. We had to have the guest list approved, pay extra because it was a first time and he’s not sure he can trust us yet, and promise to keep—”
When he starts nearly tripping over his words, all my annoyance shifts from those around us to … them. The four fuckers who rule the school with secrecy and some kind of sorcery. I mean, what else could it be but evil magic of some sort that keeps everyone tripping over ourselves in one way or another, including moi?
“Fuck. Them,” I interrupt Baker.
He runs a nervous hand through his blond hair. “Yeah.”
“You know what? I have no idea what crap happened before we rolled into town. Won’t even begin to try to figure out why everyone bows to them. But fuck them. I’m not playing bitch to anyone anymore.”
James chuckles. “Not one of us is playing bitch to any of them. We just wanna be them someday.”
“What’s wrong with being you?” Brisa asks.
“Not a damn thing.” Abhi, who looks like Zayn Malik with a bit darker skin, from Indian descent, answers her while tossing me a White Claw. “Life is good.”
I kind of dig his laid-back vibe, but still, he cautioned Alexa just seconds ago.
As a seeker of truth … and the fact that I’m buzzed, I ask, “What do the four horsemen of the freaking apocalypse have that you want?”
“The reins.” James chuckles.
“Har, har,” I say then huff. “I won’t ask anything else, but what the hell does that mean?”
“It means …” Alexa begins.
Abhi quickly cuts her off, “Alexa.”
“Not like a girl will get anything out of being quiet, except maybe an orgasm, so why should I be quiet?”
“You know”—Brisa smirks as she holds her hand up and wiggles her fingers a bit—“you can do that all by yoursel
f.”
“I think I’m in love.” Baker coughs loudly, holding his hand over his chest and batting his eyelashes.
“Oh, aren’t you adorable?” Brisa croons.
“Go to prom with me?” he asks.
Of course she’d get asked.
“I’m all sorts of sorry, Baker, but I’m taken.”
“So, who’s my competition?”
Here we go, I sigh loudly in my head.
Holding up my Claw, I answer for her, “Me.”
“You don’t have a date?” Alexa gasps.
“Hey.” Brisa laughs. “She has me, and I guarantee a good time.”
Abhi chuckles. “Now two of us are in—”
“Stop trying to poach my date.” I laugh.
“Don’t worry; no one could take me away from you.” Brisa grins then jumps and pulls my phone from her pocket and looks at it.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“Uncle Cyrus, but your battery is dying,” she says, typing back a message … to my father.
“What did he say?” I ask.
She holds up my phone. “That you need to charge your battery.”
“Jesus.” Alexa laughs. “He runs a tight ship, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I sigh, scanning the room for a charger.
“I’ll get it charged.” Brisa walks toward a closed door.
“Don’t go in there, Bri,” James calls after her.
She holds up my phone. “Trust me; Uncle Cyrus is scarier than the …” She looks back at me. “What did you call them?”
“Four horsemen of the apoc—”
“Yeah, that.” She pushes down on the door handle then pushes open the door and slides in.
“Jesus,” Baker grumbles.
“It’ll be fine,” Alexa says on a hiccup.
“Fuck it will,” Abhi huffs.
“Back off,” James, the laidback, shaggy-haired stoner one of the group, grumbles, surprising us all.
Brisa walks back into the room as quickly as she walked out. “Found one. Should be good to go.”
When they all look at her, she asks, “What?”
Baker sighs. “Nothing.” Then he looks at his watch. “We have an hour.”
“What is this? Motel 8?” I ask, plopping down on the couch that is much more comfortable than it appears.
They all look at me with disgust.
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “You’re all too much.”
Alexa sits next to me. “Have you actually stayed at a Motel 8?”
Brisa sits on the other side of me and gives me a very quick, pleading look that I’m sure no one else caught.
The truth is no … “I wouldn’t be opposed to staying at a motel.”
“Girl.” Alexa laughs. “Two words—Bed. Bugs.”
“More than two words—that’s so freaking gross.” I laugh, and Brisa does, too.
The guys sit across from us on the other sofa, looking much more relaxed now. Thank God.
“So,” I say, looking around.
“So …” Brisa sighs, leaning into me.
“Let’s play three lies and a truth.” Alexa grins.
I hold back correcting her by mentioning that it’s normally two truths and a lie … for now.
“Really?” Abhi quirks a brow.
Alexa defends, “What? It’s a good way to get to know people.”
Baker sighs. “It’s lame.”
I don’t want to point out that we—all six of us—are actually, in fact, pretty lame at this moment. Buzzed or not, I’m not about to put that out for them to chew on, because I am pretty sure, when I go to school Monday, I will do so knowing at least these three aren’t judging me, Brisa doesn’t count, she’s Crew. Crew doesn’t judge… publicly.
“I’ll go first,” Brisa pipes in, clearly helping Alexa off the hot seat.
I hold up two fingers reminding her it’s two truths and she begins, “My parents encourage masturbation”—the guys laugh, and Alexa giggles—“my younger sister had a boyfriend before me, and I loved my old school.”
“Number one was a lie.” Baker laughs, and everyone agrees.
“That’s definitely a truth.” I raise my near-empty drink.
“Shut up!” Alexa gasps.
“Sunday dinner with the Steel family is always interesting,” I say then take a drink.
“Why would your dad—”
“They want us to know the difference between physical and emotional,” Brisa cuts Alexa off.
“I don’t understand.”
“It means an orgasm can trick a young, impressionable mind into thinking the boy, or girl, caused it when in fact, it’s the body’s natural reaction to pleasurable touch.”
“Fuck …” Abhi sighs.
When I look at him and see he and Baker both staring at Brisa, I glance over at her to see she has a smirk playing on her face.
My cousin is certainly a natural flirt and, in a way, I envy that. When I try to flirt, I’m a million percent sure I look more crazy than cute.
“I get that,” James speaks for the second time this entire evening. “But if two people are into each other on a spiritual level, that orgasm can be way more intense.”
I notice his eyes shift, albeit briefly, in Alexa’s direction. I also notice that she doesn’t notice at all.
“My turn.” Alexa grins.
“Two truths and a lie,” I whisper.
She nods. “My mom made me get a nose job last summer, I’m going to fat camp for the third year in a row, and my dad isn’t really my real—”
“I call bull on fat camp,” James interrupts.
“No, those are all true. I haven’t said my lie yet.” She smiles. It’s that same plastic smile that I see every day at school that all the girls exchange with one another. The kind of smile that is so disingenuous that I can’t wrap my mind around, or fathom why, they bother offering a smile when there is no truth behind it.
My heart literally aches for her truths, and I immediately want to take them away.
“You’re not fat; you have big boobs and—”
“Curvy hips,” James interrupts me. “Hips that a real man, and a woman, want, not jealous, delusional people feeding into an unrealistic social norm set by wannabe waifs.”
Alexa’s face starts to turn red as she looks down at her hands. “That your lie?”
He narrows his eyes as he looks at her. “No, that’s the truth.”
Brisa and I glance at each other, both thinking the same thing.
Aw …
Regardless of the incredible sweetness James just tossed to Alexa, I know what it feels like to see yourself through others’ eyes, and I won’t let her be alone in it.
“My turn.” I hold up one finger. “My brother shot six inches vertical overnight, while my ass did the same thing horizontally.” I hold up a second finger. “My ass is the reason I stopped dancing at my old dance school.” And finally, a third finger. “I don’t care.”
“All truths, too?”
I shake my head. “I do care.”
Alexa looks up at me. “But you killed it on stage. Held nothing back.”
“Working on accepting my wagon.” I smirk.
“God, you two are insane,” Brisa groans loudly. “People pay big money to have juicy asses like you’re sporting. Matter of fact, if mine doesn’t go horizontal soon, I’m gonna start a savings fund.”
I nudge Brisa. “You leave your booty alone.”
“I’d rather have yours,” she sighs and flops back with true Brisa, dramatic flair.
“How did I not notice the nose?” Baker asks before taking a drink.
Alexa looks at him, and they both start laughing.
“And what the hell is fat camp?” Baker shakes his head. “You’re not fat, for fuck’s sake.”
“Agreed.” Abhi holds up his drink. “But why are we focusing on bullshit and not the fact that she just told us her dad’s not her dad?”
Alexa holds up her hand, stopping them, and cle
ars her throat before she begins, “Mother said that I am genetically disposed to have weight issues, so she thinks it’s best I learn healthy eating habits. And although we do have a cook, Mother’s not around summers to ensure the housekeeper and I stick to her menu.”
“Control issues.” Baker nods once.
“But what about—”
She holds her hand up and stops Abhi. “No one in my family has weight issues. So, obviously, my father isn’t my real father.”
“That’s seriously all you have for evidence?” Brisa asks.
Alexa looks at her confused.
“Babe, you’re not fat, either.”
She scratches her head then smiles. “Then that was my lie.”
We all bust up laughing. Bless her heart. She’s a sweet girl, but wow, just … wow.
“One of you guys are up now,” Brisa tells them.
They all look at each other.
Baker is the first to speak. “I’ll go for all three of us.” Before we have a chance to object, he begins. “One, we’re all spoiled fucking rotten, entitled pricks who really haven’t a clue about the real world. Two, all our parents should be divorced, but money and partnerships come before love. And three, none of us want to have sex with any of you.”
Silence.
I look at the other guys, who should be a bit offended, but they’re not. Then I swing my gaze to Brisa and Alexa, who are both wide-eyed. Then I look back at Baker.
“Well, then,” I say.
No male has ever said they wanted to have sex with me. They wouldn’t dare. Can’t say I dislike it, but obviously, the whole “any of you” part seems kind of desperate and is off putting.
“Offend you?” Abhi asks.
“Have you met my family?” I joke.
Abhi shakes his head. “We’ve gone to the same school since when?”
“November, right after Thanksgiving,” Alexa answers.
Abhi nods. “You walk in together, you congregate between classes, and sit together at lunch. So, basically, we know that your brother, Justice, and cousin, Tricks, get a lot of ass and do so without the girls becoming all clingy or angry, and you Steel girls, with the exception of Katherine, have your virtue protected like the US Mint protects its gold bars. Any guy looks at you, and they’re met with laser beam intensity from the guys and knows damn well you wouldn’t give them a second thought.”
