The Heartbreaker Society Curse (The Heartbreaker Society Series Book 2)
Page 8
Clove moves quickly and catches up with me before I get inside.
“Hey, are you sure you want to do this meeting right now?” he asks, a little out of breath. “I’m sure no one will make a big deal if we move it to another time.”
I grab the door handle. “I’ll be fine.” I start to pull open the door.
He pushes it shut and gives me a really look. “You’ll be fine? Really, Max?”
I grit my teeth. “Yes, really.”
He shakes his head. “Whatever, man. You’re not fine, but if you want to pretend you are for now, then go ahead.” He casts a glance at something over my shoulder then leans in toward me. “But don’t treat Ash like shit. Find a way to explain to her that you don’t want to talk about it without acting like a dick, because this thing you have with her, it’s really good. And she deserves better than that shit you just pulled in the car.”
I press my lips together as his words sink in. “Yeah, I know that. I just …” I grow fidgety. “I don’t want to talk about my father.”
“So tell her that. But do it nicely.” He gives my shoulder a pat then pulls the door open and walks into the diner.
I blow out a shaky breath, knowing he’s right. I may be used to shutting down whenever complicated stuff enters my life, but I need to find a way to not do that anymore. At least not with Ash. Not that I’m ready to tell her everything, but maybe I can try to explain to her why I shut down sometimes.
Taking a deep breath, I twist around to face her. She’s walking toward me, her steps cautious, her expression guarded. When she reaches me, though, she offers me a tentative smile.
I stare at her for a moment, taking her in. The way her long, brown hair blows gently in the wind. The way the sunlight reflects in her big, gorgeous eyes and highlights the freckles on her nose.
She’s so beautiful. And sweet. And caring. And funny. And smart.
“I’m sorry,” I sputter.
Her brows spring upward in surprise. “For what?”
I let out a sigh. “For acting like a dick while we were in the car. For pulling away from you. For shutting you out.” I rake my fingers through my hair, struggling to find the right words because I feel out of my element. “I just … I can’t talk about him yet. I mean, I can talk about some things, but what just happened … stuff like that …” My hand falls to my side, and I blow out a breath. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Or maybe ever.
She offers me a small but ridiculously gorgeous smile. “Okay.” She reaches forward and gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry for being pushy. I just want to make sure that you’re okay and to make sure you know that, if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m totally up for listening.” The corners of her lips tug upward. “I mean, I kind of owe you a lot of listening for all the babbling I did to you the other day when I became obsessed with that book and would not shut up about it. Seriously, I don’t know how you didn’t end up taping my mouth shut.”
My chest suddenly feels a little less tight. “I thought about it a couple of times, but I was running low on tape.”
Shaking her head, she swats my arm, and I manage a laugh. How I can after what happened, I don’t have a damn clue, other than it’s probably because of her.
Ash has a lightness to her that can make people smile even when they don’t feel like doing so. I’m not sure she’s even aware that she does it or just how amazing she is.
“I’m just kidding,” I add with a small smile.
“I know.” She smiles back at me, but I detect a hint of worry in her eyes. “I won’t bother you again about this, but can I at least hug you?”
“You always can,” I tell her.
Smiling, she loops her arms around the back of my neck and presses her chest against mine. My heart slams against my chest from the contact and a shiver rolls through my body as I pull her closer and breathe in her scent.
For a moment, nothing exists but her and me. At least, that’s what it feels like.
“I have a confession to make,” she whispers, holding me tightly.
“What?” I ask, tracing my fingers up and down her spine.
“I didn’t make a PowerPoint presentation for this meeting.” Her voice rings with amusement as she leans back and looks me in the eye. “You’re not going to hold that against me, are you?”
Again, the pressure in my chest alleviates a bit. “I don’t know. I might.”
She scrunches her nose then lifts her hand to lightly swat my arm again. But I capture her hand and jerk her toward me until our bodies are touching again. Then I lower my head and seal my lips to hers.
“Stop worrying about this meeting,” I tell her as I pull back from the kiss. “No one takes them that seriously anymore.”
She lifts a brow. “Even you?”
I waver. “Okay, I may take a lot of things seriously, but I won’t with this.”
She hesitates. “What if I want you to?”
Puzzlement webs through me. Just what is this meeting about?
Before I can ask her, the diner door opens and Clarissa pokes her head out.
“Will you two quit making out and get your asses in here? We have a meeting to start.”
Ash gives her a salute, to which Clarissa responds with a grin. Then she opens the door up all the way and motions for us to come in.
The second we step inside, the peaceful moment Ash created slips away, and I’m thrown back to what happened with my dad.
Questions cram my mind. Why is he here again? What does he want? Does my mom know he’s here? Part of me wants answers, while part of me is afraid to hear them.
9
Ashlynn
I can tell Maxon is upset about seeing his dad, and I want him to talk to me, open up to me, but he’s clearly not ready to, so I’m trying to let him be. It’s hard, though, when he looked so torn up about what happened. And who can blame him? I was terrified when his dad pounded on the window. It makes me question if there’s more as to why his dad took off.
All Maxon has ever told me is that his dad treated his mom and him like crap. He never mentioned physical abuse, but after witnessing what just occurred, I have to wonder …
“Ash, are you ready to do this?” Clarissa asks, tearing me from my thoughts.
Huntley, Kinslee, Clove, Clarissa, Maxon, and I are sitting in a corner booth. The waitress has brought us drinks, and everyone has been chatting lightly about classwork and stuff. Maxon, however, has been super quiet. So have I, worrying about him.
“Yeah, I think so.” I take a sip of my soda, nervousness creeping up on me again.
I wish I could be more confident about this; wish I didn’t always worry about my friends dumping me if I say or do something they don’t like. But I haven’t gotten over that insecurity yet.
“Awesome.” Clarissa is sitting across from me on the edge of the booth, but then she stands up, signaling for me to do so, too.
Since Maxon is sitting beside me, he has to let me out, yet he makes no effort to move.
“Maxon.” I place my hand gently on his leg. “Can you let me out?”
He blinks his attention to me then hurriedly stands up. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s okay.” I get to my feet and place a kiss on his cheek.
He smiles, but the move is forced. Then he sinks back down in the booth.
“So, what’s this meeting about?” Kinslee asks, pushing her glasses up the brim of her nose.
She has a similar look as Ava; her hair is braided, and she’s wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. But unlike Ava, Kinslee’s style is more simple and less trendy. Not that she isn’t pretty. She is. She just covers it up with worn clothes and glasses that are a little bit too big for her heart-shaped face.
“It’s about a newcomer who has pushed her way into our group,” Clarissa explains, digging her phone out of her jeans pocket.
“Wait …” Clove gives her a funny look. “This meeting is about Ava?” When Clarissa gets distracted
by her phone, he looks at me. “Ash?”
I release a weighted sigh. I really didn’t want to be the one to explain this, which I guess kind of makes me a coward.
Suck it up, Ash.
My lips part. “Yeah—”
Clarissa grabs my arm. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer, towing me with her as she hurries across the diner and toward the bathrooms.
The rest of our friends give us perplexed looks while Maxon takes out his phone. A second later, my phone buzzes from inside my pocket.
I dig it out with my free hand as Clarissa drags me into the bathroom.
Maxon: What’s going on?
Me: I’d really like to know that, too. Hold on a second.
I put my phone away as Clarissa stops in front of the sink area. Then she lets go of my arm.
“What’s up, dude?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Why the heck are you freaking out suddenly?”
She doesn’t answer as she crouches down and checks underneath the stalls. Then she goes over and locks the door.
My confusion shifts to worry. “Okay, seriously, what the heck is going on?”
She comes over and stands in front of me. “I just received a message from THS saying we can’t go through with this meeting. That they want Ava to be friends with us for now.”
I gape at her. “How the heck did they know about the meeting?”
She lifts a shoulder. “There’s a lot of people in the society. People who go to our school. And those people report back to them.”
“Well, that explains how they knew about Queeny giving me an invitation to her party,” I mumble with a frown.
“Yeah, they told me about that, too,” she informs me.
“Really?” I ask, and she nods. I pause, considering my next question carefully. “Did they tell you what they’re offering me in exchange for me going to this party and trying to befriend Queeny?”
She shakes her head. “No. And you probably shouldn’t tell me. For now, anyway.” A warning rings in her tone.
Frowning, I shake my head. “Fine. Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Trust me, it’s for the better if we follow their instructions. I’ve seen them kick people out for talking about stuff they weren’t supposed to, or not following through with deals.” She shifts her weight, leaning against the sink and folding her arms. “Also, I’m supposed to pass along a message that I’m going to be your plus one to Queeny’s party.”
“Why?” I ask skeptically.
She chews on her bottom lip. “I’m not supposed to tell you much because you’re still in the initiation process, but I’ll say this because you’re my friend.” She steps closer to me and lowers her voice. “While we’re at the party, I’m supposed to snoop around and look for a specific item that belongs to Queeny.”
“So, you’re going to steal from her?” I question. “That’s what this is about?”
She shrugs. “I’m not completely sure what THS’s full plan for Queeny is. They give me only minimum details.”
“And you never question them?”
“Sure I do, but they’re helping me with my own stuff, so I don’t protest too much.”
I lift a brow. “You mean, they’re helping you get revenge on Judd?”
She gives an indifferent shrug. “Maybe.”
“What about Will?”
“What about him?” she asks, giving me nothing.
I sigh in frustration. “Well, can you at least tell me who’s running THS? Or how you found out about them?”
“I can’t tell you who they are.” She hesitates. “But, as for how I found out about them”—she swallows hard—“let’s just say they came to me in a point in my life when things were really dark, and they offered me a bit of light.”
My gut churns. “Clarissa …”
She holds up her hand. “That’s all I can tell you for now.” She lowers her hand and glances at the door. “We need to go out there and tell everyone the meeting has been postponed.”
I shake my head, irritated. Not with her, but with the society. “Fine.”
She reaches for the door but pauses and looks back at me. “This thing with Ava? It’ll be fine. Maxon is totally in love with you. Plus, he’s not the kind of guy who’d ever cheat on his girlfriend.”
“He’s not in love with me,” I point out. “But yeah, I know he’s a good guy.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know, for someone who spent a ton of time being popular and being surrounded by guys, you really are kind of clueless when it comes to them.”
“Hey, I am not,” I protest.
She just shakes her head. “If you say so.” Then she unlocks the door, pulls it open, and walks out of the bathroom.
Sighing, I follow her, telling myself this will all be okay. That Maxon and I will be okay.
But a voice in my head reminds me of how Knox was cheating on me with Queeny. And I know Maxon isn’t like Knox, I really do, but still, I can’t get rid of my insecurities. I’m going to need to, though. Somehow.
Everyone’s really confused when Clarissa and I postpone the meeting, and during the drive back to school, Clove relentlessly tries to drag out the reason from me.
“We just changed our minds for now,” I tell him for at least the hundredth time.
He steers into a parking space, shoves the shifter into park, and then shuts off the engine. “Come on, Ash. There’s more to it than that. I can tell.”
“Really?” I question. “How?”
His lips pull into a grin as he touches his temple with his fingertips. “I’ve got telepathic abilities.”
“And I can totally go invisible while flying to outer space on my magic carpet,” I quip, my tone oozing sarcasm.
He points a finger at me, highly amused. “And that, little weirdo, is why I like you.”
“Because I’m crazy?”
“Crazy creative, which is kind of one and the same.”
I smile, but my smile falters as Maxon mutters, “Great.”
He’s been fairly quiet during the drive back to school, but I’m not that surprised. Although, I wish it wasn’t the case.
“What’s up?” I ask, turning toward him.
He has his phone out, his gaze fixed on the screen. “My mom’s here to pick me up.” He glances up and scans the parking lot, his gaze landing on his mom’s car parked a few rows over from us.
“Crap, are you going to get in trouble for ditching?” I ask.
Shaking his head, he stuffs his phone into his pocket. “Probably not since I’m pretty sure she’s here to tell me my father’s back in town. Plus, all I have is study hall right now.” Sighing, he shoves the door open and climbs out, mumbling, “I’ll see you guys later.” He starts to shut the door then pauses and ducks his head back in. “I’ll see you later tonight,” he tells me then kisses me on the lips before he gets back out, closes the door, and walks over to his mom’s car.
“I hope he’ll be okay,” I mumble.
“Yeah, me, too.” Clove fiddles with the keychain dangling from the ignition as he watches Maxon’s mom’s car back out of the parking space and pull onto the street.
I glance at Clove. “Did you …? Did you know his dad was like that?”
Clove rubs his lips together then shrugs. “Max has never flat-out said it, but sometimes, when he was younger, he’d come to school with bruises and cuts, and he’d always tell me he fell. That was it. He just fell. And then, one time he came with a cast on his arm, and again, he told me he just fell. That’s when I started wondering if there was more to it than what he was telling me. But when I asked him about it, he shut down. And I was too young to realize I should’ve told someone.” He shrugs again, guilt creeping across his expression.
“It’s not your fault,” I say, my heart aching for Maxon. “Like you said, you were super young.”
“I know.” He blows out an exhale, sinks back into the seat, and then tugs off his beanie and rakes his fingers throug
h his hair, making the strands go askew. “I hope his dad isn’t planning on moving back here.”
“Me neither,” I agree. “He seemed …” I waver for the right word. “Honestly, he kind of seems crazy.”
“Yeah, I know.” He momentarily stares off in space as he puts his beanie back on. Then he straightens in the seat and looks at me. “You wanna take off now? I mean, Maxon was the only reason we had to come back here—so he could pick up that box of parts from Mr. Chester after school was over. But that’s not gonna happen now, so …” He shrugs.
I glance at the time. “Sure. But I can’t show up at my mom’s store until three or she’s gonna know I ditched.”
“Wanna go get some frozen yogurt?” he asks, starting up the engine. “We can play See Who Can Make the Most Awesome Flavor Ever.”
“Sure.” I smile, but it feels a bit forced, my thoughts stuck on Maxon.
And the society.
And how the hell I’m going to befriend Queeny.
And of course, how the hell I’m going to learn to deal with Ava.
My life is getting so complicated. But I guess that’s sort of life.
I can handle it, though.
At least, I hope I can.
10
Maxon
After seeing that my dad is in town, I wasn’t surprised that my mom came to pick me up from school. But what does surprise me is what she has to tell me.
“God, I hate that I have to tell you this,” she mumbles as she drives toward the trailer park where we live. “But sooner or later, you’re going to find out, and I figure it’s better you find out from me than him.”
“Mom, I already know Dad’s back in town,” I tell her, scratching one of the scars on my arm. A scar put there by my dad when he shoved me onto a glass table that ended up breaking and a piece sliced open my arm. I had to get stitches, and my dad told everyone I fell. And me? I stupidly played along, too afraid to tell the truth.
A cut on the arm was mild compared to some of the other things he did to me.