The Heartbreaker Society Curse (The Heartbreaker Society Series Book 2)

by Jessica Sorensen

  Ashlynn

  During the rest of the drive to school, we keep the conversation light and focus on planning stuff for tonight’s get-together while guzzling blue slushies and stuffing our faces with candy.

  “I have to be at my mom’s store until about seven,” I inform Clove when he asks me what time everyone should come over. “And then I have to ride the bus back to my house, which will take a while.”

  Clove dismisses me with a flick of his wrist then stuffs a handful of M&Ms into his mouth. “I can give you a ride home from the store.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask because, while I’d totally rather ride with him, I don’t want to make him drive across town just to pick me up. “The store’s all the way across town in that rundown section where all those old shops are, and you’re already giving me a ride there after school.”

  “So? It’s close to where I live,” he explains as he veers into the school’s parking lot.

  “Oh.” I become suddenly aware that, up until now, I had no clue where Clove lived. Whenever we’ve hung out, it’s usually at school or Maxon’s place. I wonder why.

  He maneuvers into a parking space and parks. “So, you want me to pick you up at seven then?”

  “Sure.” I smile thoughtfully. “I’m kind of glad I don’t have to ride the bus home. The last time I did, I had to sit by this forty-year-old guy who smelled like onions. And he stared at me the entire way home. It was creepy and gross.”

  The corners of Maxon’s lips tug downward. “You should call us anytime you need a ride. Don’t ride the bus anymore.”

  I unfasten my seatbelt. “I’m not going to make Clove come pick me up every time I need a ride.”

  Maxon pushes open the door and slings the handle of his backpack over his shoulder as he scoots to the edge of the seat. “You don’t need to call Clove every time. You can call me.”

  “Why?” I tease. “Did you finally build a car out of all those spare parts you have lying around your room?”

  He smiles at me. “Those aren’t car parts. They’re from a vacuum I disassembled.”

  “You say that like it should be obvious,” I say with a smile. “But for us common folks, it’s not.”

  “Ash, you’re far from common.” He traces his fingertip along the brim of my nose.

  My eyelashes flutter, and my stomach spins with cotton candy.

  When I speak again, I sound stupidly breathless. “If you say so. But that still doesn’t explain how you’re going to pick me up.”

  He climbs out of the car then offers me his hand. “Because I built a motorcycle.”

  I start to reach for his hand but freeze. “You built a motorcycle …? How…? Huh?”

  Smiling proudly, he grabs my hand and pulls me out of the car. “It’s something I’ve been working on for a couple of years with Clove, and we finally got it finished last night.”

  I shake my head in awe. “Dude, my boyfriend is so badass. He can build motorcycles and cook, and he’s super sweet and smart. Tell me again how you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

  “Because he’s also super awkward,” Clove says as he hops out of the car.

  “Whatever. So are you,” Maxon retorts, brushing strands of hair out of his eyes.

  “It’s okay that you’re awkward.” I thread my fingers through his. “I like that you are. And besides, sometimes I’m awkward.”

  He snorts a laugh. “You’re awkward in a quirky, adorable way. I’m just weirdly awkward.”

  “Well, I love weirdly awkward.” I give him a kiss on the lips.

  When I pull away, I spot a few people who hang out with my old group of friends watching us and whispering to each other. This has happened a few times since Maxon and I showed up at school holding hands. It was actually the day after Clarissa helped me reveal that Knox and Jett were the ones who lied about me hooking up with Queeny’s crush. And the reason they did it: so they could sleep with Queeny. Of course, both of them didn’t realize the other wanted to hook up with her.

  But anyway, that’s all in the past now, and the staring doesn’t bother me too much, especially when I have Maxon holding my hand and walking beside me and Clove walking on my other side.

  Neither of them appears to notice the gawking, but I’ve learned enough about them to know that they’re aware we’re being stared at. They just don’t care.

  “So, about this motorcycle,” I say to Maxon as we start toward the school. “When do I get to see it? And where is it even?”

  “Clove and I rented a storage unit—it’s where we work on it,” he explains as we reach the entrance doors. He opens one with his free hand and holds it open for me. “But I’m thinking about bringing it home over the weekend so we don’t have to pay for the unit anymore. Although, we have other stuff in there, too, so we still might need to keep it.”

  The three of us step inside, and Maxon lets go of the door.

  “I already told you we need to keep it because I’m so not ready to give up my man cave.” Clove stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’ll try to find a way to pay for it myself, because I know you need the extra cash.”

  “Wait … A storage unit is your man cave?” I ask him with a raise of my brows.

  He shrugs as we start down the crowded hallway. “I hang out there sometimes when I need a break from my family, or when I want to smoke a bowl. There’s a TV and a sofa there, so it’s a pretty comfortable place to hang.”

  I want to ask him why he needs a break from his family, but he comes to a stop in front of the science room.

  “I have to go do a couple of things in here,” he announces, opening the classroom door. “I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

  I wave bye to him then continue walking toward my locker while holding Maxon’s hand. “So, he really just hangs out a storage unit?”

  He scratches his neck, seeming a bit uncomfortable. “Clove’s kind of got a complicated home life, so he tries to avoid being home as much as possible.”

  “Does he not get along with his parents?”

  “Not really. But there’s more to it than that,” he says then sighs. “Look, I don’t really want to say anymore because it’s not my place to tell anyone. You can ask Clove more about it, but I should warn you, he’s not a fan of talking about his family.” He wavers, chewing on his bottom lip, strands of his dark hair falling into his eyes. “Although, he might tell you.”

  I flutter my eyelashes at him. “Because I’m so charming?”

  The corners of his lips quirk. “Yes. And because of the whole blue morpho butterfly thing.”

  I smile thoughtfully. “You know, one day, I think I’m going to have to get a picture of one tattooed on my body.”

  His gaze fleetingly skims up and down my body. “Where would you put it?”

  “I don’t know … I haven’t really thought about it much, but maybe on my wrist or shoulder. Or maybe here.” I touch the side of my thigh on a spot between the top of my knee-high stockings and the bottom of my shorts.

  His gaze tracks the movement. “That’d look nice,” he murmurs, blinking his gaze up to mine.

  “Would it?” I bite back a smile. “You have a thing for tattoos, don’t you?”

  He hesitates as he wets his lips with his tongue. “It’s not that I have a thing for tattoos. Just a thing for tattoos on you and those sexy legs of yours …” He hastily clears his throat, a flush creeping up across his neck.

  I’ve never actually heard him use the word sexy before, but good Lord does it do weird things to my stomach, and I can’t keep a goofy grin from spreading across my face.

  “You think my legs are sexy?”

  He nervously scratches his arm. “Of course I do. And I’m sure almost everyone else here does, too, especially when you wear those tights you have on right now.”

  My pulse pounds through my body as I step toward him. “You like the knee-highs, huh?” I peer up at him as I fiddle with one of the zippers on the side of his pant leg.

  When he nods, I
stand on my tiptoes and place a kiss on his lips while looping my arms around the back of his neck. His hand instinctively wanders to my back as he presses me closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue parting my lips open—

  “Maxon, Ashlynn, don’t make me write you up,” Mr. Chester’s voice interrupts the moment like a cold bucket of water dumped over our heads. “This school has rules about PDA.”

  Maxon and I jerk back.

  “Sorry, Mr. Chester,” Maxon sputters, his cheeks bright red.

  Me? I remain calm on the outside. Inside, though, I’m a frazzled mess, but that’s mostly from the kiss.

  Things have been pretty PG between Maxon and me, but the stuff he just said to me and the way he kissed me were totally hot.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I say in an even tone.

  Mr. Chester glances between the two of us, and I can tell he’s trying to appear sterner than he wants to be. “Just don’t do it again, or I’ll have to write you up.”

  We both nod, and he relaxes, tucking the stack of papers he’s holding underneath his arms.

  “Now that that’s settled”—he looks at Maxon—“I was wondering if I could talk to you about the district’s science fair. It’s being held at our school, which means I’m in charge. And I need a few ideas on a couple of things.”

  Maxon nods. “Of course.”

  A cheerful smile breaks across Mr. Chester’s face. “Great. If you have time right now, we can discuss it in my classroom. I think Clove’s in there already, and I was going to ask him for his input as well.”

  “Okay.” Maxon glances at me. “Are you going to be okay going to your locker by yourself?”

  I motion for him to go ahead. “I’ll be fine. No one’s really bothered me since Clarissa and I took down Queen Bitchton.”

  Maxon brushes his fingers along the back of my hand. “See you at lunch then?’’ He waits for me to nod then follows Mr. Chester into the classroom.

  I turn and wander down the hallway toward my locker, trying my best to ignore the looks getting thrown in my direction. I’m doing pretty dang awesome until I hear a voice that makes me both want to cringe and punch something.

  “You know, I’ve heard of people losing their sanity, but I’ve never actually witnessed it until now,” Queeny remarks as I pass by her locker.

  She’s wearing a skirt, a white top, and high heels, all of which I’m assuming are designer, and her long hair is curled at the ends. Standing beside her and dressed in equally as expensive outfits are her two friends, my two ex-friends, Janie and Reina.

  All of their attentions are fixed on me, but not wanting any drama, I do my best to ignore them as I stroll on by.

  “But what I’m wondering is why you lost your sanity,” Queeny continues, stepping away from the locker and walking beside me, her heels clicking against the linoleum.

  Janie and Reina trail us, the sounds of clicking heels and bubblegum being popped floating through the air.

  “It’s probably because we’re not friends with her anymore,” Janie sneers.

  Queeny doesn’t even so much as crack a smile, her gaze fixed on me. “Oh, I highly doubt that, since Ash and I were never really friends. Isn’t that right, Ash?”

  “Yep,” I reply easily because it’s the truth.

  After I became friends with Maxon, Clove, and Clarissa and discovered what friendship really was, I realized Queeny had just been using me for all those years.

  “You seem so happy about that, Ash,” Queeny says, flipping her hair off her shoulder. “But deep down, I think we both know you’re miserable. Well, either that or you really have gone insane. Seriously, what’re you thinking making out with Maxon Harter?”

  “It’s so disgusting,” Janie chimes in with a giggle.

  “What’s disgusting is the smell of your perfume.” I wave my hand in front of my face and crinkle my nose. “Seriously, it smells like you bought it from the Dollar Store and then bathed in it.”

  Janie’s eyes widen as her gaze darts to Queeny. “It’s designer. I swear.”

  I smile to myself.

  When I was friends with Queeny, she made up a rule that only designer perfumes were allowed in her car. I was stupid enough to obey the rule. While my family could afford designer perfume at the time, although we were never super rich, I had to save up like a month’s worth of allowance to buy it. Once my dad fell off the roof and my family had to start living off just my mom’s income from the store, designer perfumes weren’t an option anymore. Allowances weren’t an option anymore either. So, since I still wanted to ride with Queeny to school, I used those free perfume samples from magazines. It was ridiculously pathetic of me, but I was a ridiculously pathetic girl back then.

  “Chill the eff out, Janie,” Queeny says with her gaze glued to mine. “Ash was just trying to get a rise out of you. Isn’t that right, Ash?”

  This entire conversation is super strange. Queeny hasn’t really spoken to me since I turned down her offer to be “friends” again. And before that, she’d spent weeks making my life a living hell. So, why is she talking to me now? Because I kissed Maxon in the hallway and she wants to mock me? Or is there more to it than that?

  I’m not sure, and I really don’t care enough to find out.

  “Well, it’s been a pleasure talking to you guys,” I say dryly. “But I need to get to my locker.” I start to step toward my locker when Queeny snags the sleeve of my jacket.

  My guard instantly goes up as I recall the last time she grabbed my shirt and how she ended up tearing it open.

  “Let me go,” I warn in a low, calm tone.

  Smirking, she releases me. “Jesus, chill the hell out. What is with everyone and being so nervous around me?” She says it like she’s clueless about the answer, but her smile suggests she knows exactly why. “I come over here to talk to you, in front of everyone, I might add, and you act like I’m the biggest bitch ever.”

  So many comebacks bite at the tip of my tongue. But, not wanting any drama this morning, all I say is, “Hmmm …”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever, Ash. I don’t have time to deal with your passive aggressive shit. I just wanted to give you this.” She sticks her hand into her purse, pulls out a purple, glittery envelope, and hands it to me.

  I take it, beyond confused. “What the heck is this?”

  “It’s an invitation to my Halloween party.” She pulls out a stick of gum, unwraps it, and pops it into her mouth. “I’m having it next weekend.”

  I glance from the envelope to her. “You do realize Halloween is only a few days away, right?”

  She shrugs. “I know. And I know you and I used to do that whole pre-Halloween party thing, but since we’re not friends anymore, I thought I’d mix it up and have an after-Halloween party. You know, like an after-show party. It’s what all the Hollywood stars are doing.”

  “Good for them.” I pat the envelope against the palm of my hand, trying to figure out what she’s up to. “I don’t get why you’re inviting me, though. Like you said, we’re not friends.”

  “Call this my olive branch.” She spins around, her hair whipping me in the face. “You can bring a plus one, but everyone is required to wear a costume. All the deets are on the invitation.” She waggles her fingers at me. “See you there.” She saunters off with Janie and Reina hurrying after her.

  Shaking my head, I turn around and walk toward my locker, confusion swirling in my mind. Why in the hell did she invite me to her party? This has to be a trick, right?

  As that thought crosses my mind, I tear open the envelope, half-excepting some note about how crazy and pathetic I am. But nope. It’s an actual invitation with a little card that reads: for your plus one. And there’s a buttload of glitter in there as well that gets all over my outfit.

  “Awesome. It looks like a faerie shit on me,” I mutter as I try to brush it off my shirt, but it only seems to spread.

  Sighing, I stuff the invitation into my bag then head into the bathroom. I grab a bunch of paper
towels, put a little bit of water on them, and start wiping the glitter off the front of my shirt.

  As I’m trying to clean up, one of the stalls opens, and Ava walks out.

  Lovely. Just what I need when I’m elbow deep in glitter and the stench of Queeny’s perfume still lingering in my nostrils. But I do my best to put on a smile.

  “Hey.”

  A spiteful smile tugs at her lips. “Cut the shit, Ash. Maxon and Clove aren’t around, so you can stop pretending to be nice.”

  I roll my tongue in my mouth, mentally telling myself to be calm. “I’m not pretending.”

  She snorts a laugh as she walks up to a sink. “That’s total bullshit. I remember how you used to be, and while you may be pretending that you’re some nice girl now, the kind of meanness that you radiated before doesn’t just go away. It’s branded into your personality like an iron rod singes flesh.”

  “Um … That’s darkly poetic.” I throw the ball of paper towels into the trash then turn on the water to wash my hands. “But completely inaccurate.”

  “Says the biggest liar I’ve ever met.” She shuts off the water, grabs some paper towels, and then dries off her hands. “You don’t have me fooled. I remember when you used to think it was funny to shove people off lunch benches and dump food on their heads.” She tosses the paper towels into the trash. Then, smirking, she walks by me, slamming her shoulder into mine.

  I stumble, smacking my hip against the sink. Then I quickly regain my balance and reel toward her, but she’s already walking out the door.

  I shake my head, stunned. Not just over how mean she was, but because I know I never shoved anyone off a lunch bench and dumped food on their head. Sure, I did a lot of mean stuff, but it was mostly verbal things. So, what the heck was she talking about?

  Shaking my head, I grab the door handle with the intent to chase after her and ask her why she said that, when my phone vibrates from inside my pocket, distracting me.

  I fish it out, expecting it to be from either Maxon or my mom. But nope. It’s from THS, also known as The Heartbreaker Society. Since Clarissa has stressed that secrecy with the society is important, I decided to use an abbreviation when I saved their contact info in my phone.