Devil May Care: Enemies-to-Lovers Standalone Romance: Boys of Preston Prep

by Angel Lawson

  “Same,” Tyson says miserably.

  Xavier’s gaze flits to me. “Hey, Gwen. How are you doing?”

  “Fine.” It’s my understanding that Xavier had nothing to do with the vandalism at school, and unlike the other guys, he didn’t even get punished. Regardless, I can’t help that my hackles rise in his presence. But in the spirit of trying to be a more forgiving person, like Micha suggested, I’m willing to give Xavier a pass. “You?”

  “Okay, I guess. Things have been a little weird the last few weeks.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You know, since shit hit the fan.”

  A look passes between the two of them. A long, meaningful look.

  I raise an eyebrow at this. “Am I missing something?”

  Tyson wrinkles his nose. “I just didn’t really think you wanted to know what was going on at Preston, and you know, particularly with certain people.”

  “And you’d be right,” I say, turning back around. I chew on my lip for a moment before whirling back around. “Okay, nevermind. Spill.”

  “Well,” Xavier hesitantly begins, “it’s just that it’s about Hamilton.”

  “What did he do now?” I grunt in distaste, firmly ignoring the way my heart squeezes painfully at just the mention of him. “Did he, like... record me when I wasn’t looking? Is there a sex tape out there or something?” Oh, god. Is there a sex tape? I wouldn’t even know. I shut off all my social media.

  “There’s not a sex tape,” Xavier assures me. “It’s just… well, I guess it all started that day. Before we cleaned up the wall, you know? He was spoiling for a fight with Heston, and—” he gives Tyson and I a significant look, “—I use the word ‘fight’ very loosely here. Heston didn’t even want to, but he couldn’t back down. Long story short, Hamilton absolutely pummeled him. It took three of us just to pull him off. It was really ugly.”

  I grimace, guessing, “Because Heston found out about us.”

  He shakes his head. “No. It wasn’t like that. For Heston, it probably wasn’t even about you. He just wanted to challenge Hamilton’s place. But for Hamilton? It was mostly about what Heston did to you.”

  My stomach flip flops traitorously. “I doubt that.”

  “No, I’m serious,” he says, eyes wide and earnest. “After taking out his rage on Heston, he kind of just…well, Hamilton’s just lost now. Barely recognizable.” I must look skeptical because he adds, “Well, for one, he quit the swim team.”

  I’m not sure I do a good job of hiding my shock. I look at Tyson and he nods in confirmation.

  “And,” Xavier continues, “he’s completely cut off his parents. Not to mention, he skipped the deadline for turning in his applications for Duke and Wake Forest.”

  My heart thuds. “What? But those are his dream schools.”

  “Hamilton made it pretty clear that those are his father’s dream schools. Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s going to college at all anymore. I don’t know what he’s doing.” A line creases his forehead. “He’s living with his sister over the break. It wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t even come back to Preston in January.”

  “Is this true?” I ask Tyson. It’s not that I don’t believe Xavier… I just can’t comprehend a universe in which Hamilton quits swim, doesn’t care about college, and could drop out. “But what about valedictorian? I practically handed it to him.”

  Xavier shrugs. “Yeah, well, turns out that when you left, so did his motivation.” He holds my eye. “You’re the only person who ever really challenged him, Gwen. The Devils just did what he wanted. You know he had the faculty there in the palm of his hand. And girls?” He snorts. “They gave him whatever he wanted. Academics came easy to him. His father didn’t challenge him so much as make demands. But you? You pushed him. You made him hold a line.” He laughs. “And I suspect you were the first girl to ever make him work for it.”

  My cheeks heat. The “it” is implied. And he’s right. I did.

  “Next.”

  I glance over at the cashier and realize it’s my turn to check out. The exchange goes quickly, and Xavier also pays at the register next to mine. We all leave the store at the same time.

  “Have a good holiday,” Xavier says, offering me a grin. “And please tell Skylar I said hello?”

  “I will.” I give him a tight smile. My head is reeling from everything he just revealed, but something else pops in my mind. “I told her what you said before—your apology and everything.”

  “Yeah?” His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, something nervous and hopeful illuminating his expression when he asks, “And?”

  “I think…” I shift my gaze to my shoes, swallowing thickly. “I think that Skylar is better than I am at forgiveness.”

  He exhales loudly, seeming relieved. “That’s good to hear. Do you think it’d be out of line for me to call her some time?”

  “I think she’d probably appreciate that.” His face lights up. “Merry Christmas, Xavier.”

  He’s smiling as he walks off, and I possibly have a better understanding of what Micha was trying to tell me. Forgiveness doesn’t have to be a show of weakness, or an invitation for more hurt. It can also bring people together, help them heal those gaping, invisible wounds that fester into something deeper and lasting.

  Maybe it’s time for me to offer a little of my own.

  29

  Hamilton

  “Are you seriously watching that again?” Hollis mutters, walking across the room. She stops to pick up a pair of shoes—my shoes—and dumps them on top of my suitcase. “Isn’t that like, the third time?”

  “Only the second,” I say, but she has a point. It’s not like I didn’t just binge watch Stranger Things three weeks ago. There are a few reasons I keep going back to the show. It’s easy, first of all. I don’t have to pay attention. But it’s also a nice distraction. I need something to keep me from remembering the look on Gwendolyn’s face the last time I saw her. I thought I knew what hatred looked like, and especially from her, but that had been so much worse. It had been betrayal, and emptiness, and pain. Even if I hadn’t meant to, I’d hurt her, and she’d made it clear that there was no going back.

  My sister stops in front of the TV. Babysitter Steve is in a battle with a Demogorgon and I don’t need to look too deeply into why the ‘douchey boyfriend turns into the unexpected hero’ trope is so appealing to me right now.

  Hollis says, “Hamilton.”

  I tilt to the side to peer around her. Steve is kicking some serious ass here. “Hmm?”

  “We need to talk.”

  I nod distractedly. “Sure.”

  She shifts into my line of vision. She’s got her hands on her hips, and her jaw is stubbornly set.

  Oh.

  I grimace and turn off the TV. “Sorry.”

  She circles the coffee table and sits on the couch next to me. “Look, you know I don’t mind you being here. In fact, I love that you’ve come to me. I will always be here for you, even when you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

  I give her a dubious look. “But…”

  “But I would be able to help you better if I knew what was going on.”

  “It’s nothing.” I shrug, shifting my gaze to the dark TV. “Just school bullshit. You know how it is.”

  She nods. “I do. Or, well, did. But this is obviously a whole new caliber of ‘school bullshit’. I can tell, because…” She trails off, eyes sliding reluctantly to me.

  “Because what?”

  “Because, dude, you are rank. You need a shower.” She looks me up and down, grimacing. “And to change your clothes, and to get off the couch and do something—anything. And if you wanted to start by cleaning up the mess you made in the kitchen, then I’m just saying, I wouldn’t have any immediate objections.”

  My late-night attempt at cooking hadn’t turned out particularly well.

  I rub my chin—there’s at least a week’s growth there—and sniff my shirt. When was the last time I took a shower? Honestly,
I can’t remember. I guess I am a little gross.

  “It’s winter break.” She says, shaking my shoulder. “Go do something fun with your friends. Call the girl you told me about.”

  I suck on my teeth and reach for the remote. “Not possible.”

  She grabs the controller from me. “Why?”

  “Because I fucked it up, that’s why.”

  “It can’t be that bad,” she says, and I snort, shaking my head. “Have you talked to her?”

  I run my hand through my greasy hair. “Hol, she doesn’t want to talk to me. I screwed up. Big time.”

  My sister isn’t an imposing person. She inherited my mother’s grace and beauty, but her face shifts, eyes flashing in something sharp and vaguely terrifying. “If you did something to hurt that girl, you need to apologize. Right now.”

  “Yeah, that’s the thing.” My laugh is entirely without humor. “I didn’t actually do anything. She thinks I did it. The school thinks I did it. Dad thinks I did it. But I didn’t. Figures, right? All the shit I’ve gotten away with over the years, and I end up going down for something I didn’t even do.” I give her a bitter grin. “Guess that’s like karma or something, right?” My smile falls. “But how do you apologize for something you didn’t do?”

  She blinks at me. “I’m going to need more information. And possibly wine.” She stands up and heads to the kitchen, deciding, “A lot of wine.”

  So, I tell her. I dump it all on the table. The last month—hell, the last year. I tell her about the party and Skylar. I tell her about canceling Gwendolyn. I even tell her about the sex—how at first it was rough and maybe questionably consensual. How she got under my skin, and how I think I got under hers. How slowly, we became more than enemies, more than competitors. How we became partners, and then possibly even friends. At some point, lovers. And then, with my head in my hands, I tell her how it all imploded.

  It feels like something gnarled and parasitic is being pulled out of me with every breath I take to get the words out. I wonder if maybe this isn’t the best thing I can do; just exorcise it from myself, lay it bare, let someone else do the judging for once.

  When I finish, Hollis has a sad, pitying gleam in her eyes.

  “So, I should apologize, right? But where do I even start? Do I apologize for a month ago? Six months? Five years? Do I take the blame for what Heston and the guys did at school? For the fact she thinks I used her?”

  Hollis has waited patiently for me to stop. Her wine glass is empty. “If I’m reading this right—which... god knows, I may not be—I think that it’s less about apologizing and more about proving to her that you really do care for her. That you see her. And that you’re not ashamed to be with her.”

  “I’m not,” I insist, feeling the first spark of defiance in a long time. “I only wanted to protect her.”

  “You can’t protect someone by keeping them a secret. Own your feelings, Hamilton. Actions speak louder than words, you know this.”

  I think miserably back to Buster’s words that night. ‘What you’ve done is all that matters.’

  My phone buzzes and Xavier’s name flashes on the screen. Hollis retrieves it from the table and purposefully hands it to me. “Talk to your friend, Hamilton. This wallowing thing you’re doing? I get it. But the sooner it ends, the better you’ll feel. Clean up and get some fresh air.”

  I frown at the phone. “And then what?”

  “If you want her, figure out how to get her, bro.” She gives my shoulder one last pat. “It’s the only way.”

  So, going to Gwendolyn’s house was a mistake.

  This is made clear to me when her brother, Brayden, intercepts me before I can even step a foot off the driveway.

  “Nope,” he says, thrusting a finger at my car. “You’re going to want to get back in there and drive away.” When I just stand there, staring blankly at him, he adds, “Or you can stay here and get your ass kicked. Up to you.”

  I could take Brayden.

  Like.

  Possibly.

  “I’m here for Gwen,” I explain, squinting against the late evening sun. “I just wanted to talk to her, try to clear up some—”

  Brayden looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Are you deaf?”

  I sigh, face falling. “Come on, man. I’m not here to start anything, I’m just—”

  “Wasting your time.” Brayden steps closer. His hand slams into my shoulder, making me stagger back two steps. I can’t help the yelp I make, nor the way my hand comes up to protectively cradle it. The pain is sharp enough that my eyes prickle, teeth clenched against the stabbing tide of it. He scoffs. “Seriously? This is the great Hamilton Bates? Can’t even handle a push to the shoulder? Pathetic.”

  I gnash my teeth as I straighten, swallowing against the nausea building in my gut. “Brayden, just—”

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. None of us want to talk to you.” He looks me up and down, mouth curled in disgust. “You know what the messed-up thing is? I’m not even sure what to beat your ass for. For Skylar, for Micha, for Gwen? Maybe just for having the nerve to show up here.”

  “I’m not trying to—”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Would you shut up!” I explode, heedless of the surge of red rage on his face. “Jesus Christ, none of you will let me finish a fucking sentence.”

  “Because we don’t want to hear—”

  Now, I get to interrupt. “I didn’t do it!” I pitch forward, feeling another one of those little surges of defiance. I clutch it like a lifeline. “I had nothing to do with what happened to Micha! Trust me, I was just as pissed as you were when I found out. Would you just—” I press my fingers to my temples, battling the impulse to tear out my own hair. “Just please, listen to me?”

  “I don’t want to hear your excuses, Bates.” Brayden crosses his arms, a challenging look in his eyes. He shrugs aggressively. “I don’t care. You’re a shit person with shit friends and a shit personality. That’s all I need to know.”

  I look at him, suddenly feeling the urge to laugh. “Are you sure you and Gwen aren’t genetically related?” His eyes flash again, but before he can get started, I hold up a hand. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what happened to Skylar, and I’m sorry for what happened to Micha. Even though I didn’t have anything to do with either of those, it doesn’t make me any less sorry about it.” I take a deep breath, relieved just to see he’s letting me talk. “I know you don’t think I’m a good person, and that’s... that’s fine. That’s fair. But I swear to you, Brayden, I didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  I’m not sure. Maybe he can see the plea in my eyes. Maybe he can hear the tremor of remorse in my voice. Maybe he can feel that I’m being sincere. Either way, he finally drops his gaze, jaw going tight. “Even if what you’re saying is true, it doesn’t matter. I know you, Bates, and I know the Devils. You might not have put the poster of Micha up, or put Skylar into that room,” He looks at me, eyes blazing, “but you created the environments, the situations. So how exactly does that make you blameless?”

  “It doesn’t.” I shake my head, conceding, “I’m accountable for that, and I am trying. I’m trying to make it better.” Brayden raises a skeptical eyebrow and I remember my sister’s advice. Actions, not words. I add, “I got that wall cleaned up as soon as possible. I mean... after beating the shit out of Heston, but that’s—” Probably best to skirt around the bloody violence. “And I dissolved the Devils. And I already apologized to Micha.”

  Brayden looks taken aback by this, arms dropping. “What? When?”

  “About a week after it happened.” I shrug, remembering how awkward the moment had been. I’d cornered him after his nanny had driven away, and Michaela looked about three seconds away from kicking me in the nuts and yelling some scary Stranger Danger shit. But Micha had been surprisingly forgiving for a kid living in the Adams house. He looked me right in the eye and said, “Just keep me out of your dumb straight white boy drama from now on,
” and then walked off.

  “He never said anything to us about that,” Brayden argues.

  I nod. “We pretty much agreed it’d be best if he didn’t. Considering, you know.”

  “And Gwen?” Brayden asks, face stony. “Do you really think an apology is going to make things better for her? Do you realize you’re the first guy she was ever with? And the messed-up thing is that I told her—I told her you were playing her—and she actually defended you.” He shakes his head, cold gaze boring into mine. “She really thought you’d changed, you know.”

  “But I did!” I insist, willing him with my eyes to listen. “She thinks it was a trick, but it wasn’t.”

  He laughs. “Sure, you were hooking up with my sister for weeks because you liked her.” He watches me for a long moment before his expressions falls, transforming into something flat and blank. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “Yeah.” I give him a sad, defeated smile. “I’m sort of stupidly in love with her, actually.”

  I don’t react soon enough to protect my shoulder when Brayden pitches forward, shoving it again, growling, “You’re such an idiot.”

  This time, I don’t even try to hide my cry. The pain is swift and intense enough that it bends me back and makes me stumble to my knees. “Son of a bitch!”

  Brayden gapes down at me in disbelief. “Have you been watching too much soccer or something? It was just a shove, give me a break!”

  “It was already injured.” I pant through clenched teeth as I climb to my feet. “Fucked it up swimming and just made it worse when I—” Right, skirting around the violence. “Jesus.”

  Brayden watches me nurse my shoulder with a series of very complicated winces, before huffing. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but get in the damn car.”

  Little kids run past me, shrieking and squealing. The room looks like North Pole vomited all over it. Twinkling lights, crafts and glitter, elves, music, and of course… Santa.

  “Why are we here again?” I ask, flinching when another little kid runs by.