Anywhere but here. Anywhere but with Dad.
I could go somewhere where no one knew who the hell I was, or that I’d killed my best friend. Taylor nudged me. I looked over at her, and she raised her brows.
“You did good,” she said, her voice tinged with approval.
I flexed my arm. It hurt like a mo-fo. Now I remembered why I’d stopped taking notes, damn it. “Uh, thanks?” I looked toward the front of the classroom. The professor was done talking, so the class must be over. I looked at my notes. They all made complete sense. “Good thing Dad sent someone here to make sure I could still write.”
She ignored me. “You have Management and Organization Theory next, right?”
“Um…” I thought about it. “Yeah.”
“Me, too.”
Of course, she did. She couldn’t babysit me if she wasn’t glued to my hip. “I figured.” I shoved my stuff into my bag, ignoring the looks that kept getting thrown at me. People needed to learn how to mind their own damn business. “Are you in every single class of mine?”
“Yep, pretty much. I told you that last night.” She shrugged and hauled her bag onto her shoulder. “Your dad is nothing if not thorough.”
Yeah. I knew that all too well. “Why did he send you, of all people?”
I knew why, but I was curious if she did, too.
Shrugging, she started for the door. “I guess he thought you’d accept me easier?”
“I don’t know why he’d think that,” I said, looking her up and down.
She glanced away. For a second, I thought I’d hurt her, and I almost felt sorry for it. Almost apologized, even. But she looked back my way, and her eyes were hard, and I remembered why she was here in the first place. She needed the money my father had offered her. Plain and simple. All the guilt left me just like that. I’d make sure she got her cash, and her education, but I didn’t have to make it easy on her.
“Yeah.” She twisted her lips up into a mockery of a smile. “You made that perfectly clear. Luckily for you, your father likes me enough to trust me to get the job done.”
“He doesn’t like anyone unless he’s fucking—” I looked at her. “Shit. Are you—?”
The idea of my father touching her literally made me sick. I was going to fucking puke.
“God, no. Ew.” She gave me a dirty-ass look, and I almost took the insult back. I knew deep down that she wasn’t with my dad, but I wanted to get under her skin the same way she’d gotten under mine. “Screw you for even thinking I’d be that girl.”
“What girl?”
She rolled her eyes. “The one who slept with a rich guy for rewards.”
“Well, he is rewarding you.”
“For a job,” she seethed. “I’m your tutor, not his girl.”
“Is he paying for your boarding, too?”
“Yeah. Are you kidding me? I couldn’t afford to dorm otherwise.” She stole a quick glance at me. “Your dad pays well, but not that well. This is a huge step for me. A big opportunity.”
So she got an expensive degree and all she had to do was make sure I passed all my classes. Not a bad deal for her. “How’s it feel, selling your soul to the devil?”
She turned red. “Dark and twisty. You’re a hot mess, and there’s nothing I can do to help you through that, but I’ll try my best for you.”
Taylor? One. Me? Zero.
“I wasn’t talking about me, and you know it.”
She pushed through the door. “Oh, wait, did you mean how it is working with your dad? It’s fine. He, at least, has his shit together.”
I clenched my jaw. She’d grown claws. Time for a change of subject before she scratched me too deeply. “What’s your major?”
“Same as yours. Business Management.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I want to own my own company someday. Maybe be a CEO, like your dad.”
I shuddered. “You shouldn’t strive to be like him.”
“Being a CEO doesn’t have to mean being evil,” she said defensively. “There are good ones out there, who care about people and are altruistic.”
She kept answering me calmly, even though I was attacking her with every question. It was annoying as hell that she was so fucking calm all the time. What did I have to do to piss her off? “But why would you want to be a CEO, out of all the things in the world you could do?”
I honestly didn’t get it.
I’d only chosen my major because I’d been planning on playing for the NFL. Business management had seemed like a simple enough major that would allow me to sail through college with minimal effort since I’d been watching my dad run the world for years. But I didn’t want to actually do it my whole life, damn it.
Now here I was. Stuck with a career I hated.
“It pays well.” She laughed a little. “For a girl who barely ever had anything in life, that’s a huge draw. I could support my parents when they retire, since they used all their savings for my community college tuition. Your dad coming to me for help was a frigging dream come true for us all…” She turned down the path to our next class. People blinked at us, obviously taking in the fact that I wasn’t alone. “But you wouldn’t understand any of that.”
I stiffened. “Why? Because I’m filthy rich?”
“Exactly.” She stopped walking and looked up at me through her lashes. “Do you deny you wouldn’t understand the monetary struggles of normal people?”
I should probably say something cocky and rude to that, but instead I heard myself say, “I understand more than you’d think.”
She considered me. “I’m sure you do. You always had empathy, when we were kids.” She licked her lips, leaving a trail of moisture behind. “Not sure about now, though.”
I stared at her mouth, wondering what she’d taste like. I’d almost kissed her once. I’d just turned sixteen. She’d been fifteen. For me, our friendship had always been more than platonic, but she’d never seen me as more than someone to waste time with in between books.
“Why did you stop talking to me?” I asked, my voice raspy. I hadn’t even meant to ask, but there was no backing down now. “What did I do?”
“Nothing,” she said, her voice cracking.
She bit down on the corner of her lower lip. It was hot as hell. My cock hardened, and I looked away before I forgot all about who she was and why she was here.
“Then why did you stop?”
She hesitated. “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah. It fucking matters.”
“I had it explained to me that ‘a gentleman of your class doesn’t form permanent attachments to young ladies from the lower orders, and I should look elsewhere if I hoped to increase my social standing.’” She paused. “Yes, he actually used those words. He sounded like he was reading from a regency novel.”
I stared at her.
It was my father’s fault. Why was I not surprised?
She lifted a shoulder. “He wasn’t wrong.”
I wanted to be pissed, but honestly, I should have known he would kill the one friendship I’d ever truly valued. First, he ruined my mother, and now me. Anger swept over me, but I shoved it down. This wasn’t the time or place.
Not when his employee was right in front of me.
“No, he wasn’t wrong. I mean, look at us.”
She paled. “Yeah. I know. You’re in Gucci and Prada, and I’m wearing Old Navy.” She tilted her head. “What if my poorness rubbed off on you? Before you knew it, you’d be dining at McDonald’s for fun instead of the Ritz.”
A laugh escaped me. I don’t know who was more surprised by it: her, me, or the girl that almost walked into a pole at the sound. It drove home how far I’d fallen in the past few months. I used to run this place.
Now I was the fucking Hunchback of Villanova.
I tore my attention from the girl who was now glancing at me with something akin to interest in her eyes. Had I known her before I’d changed? I couldn’t remember.
Man, I really was an assho
le.
“I don’t know about that, Mousey. I think maybe I would have rubbed off on you.”
She sucked in a deep breath, her pupils flaring.
I immediately regretted my words. “That’s not what I meant,” I said in a rush. “I mean that maybe you’d like the Ritz, or fancy cars. Not…that.”
The last thing I needed was her thinking I was hitting on her. I wasn’t. If this tutoring for college thing was going to work, lines needed to be drawn in the sand between us, and those lines could never be crossed.
No matter how pretty she was.
She met my eyes with challenge clear in them. “In case you didn’t notice, Chase, I’m not exactly mousey anymore.”
“I disagree.” I stepped closer, towering over her petite frame. What was she, anyway? Five foot one? She was ridiculously small. It was seriously doubtful she’d grown a millimeter over the last six years. I lowered my hand from my head to hers. “You’re still as tiny as a mouse, and I think you’re still the shy little girl you always were. Do you still read books all the time?”
“Yes.” She twisted her lips and put her hands on her hips. “And I might be tiny, but I can kick your ass so hard you’ll—”
“Hey, look. The freak’s talking to someone,” someone called out just loud enough for me to hear. “Did he already forget what he did to Joey?”
I spun around and easily located Gary, a former teammate of mine. We’d been friends, before the accident. But that had been before I killed Joey.
No matter what I said, or how many times I said it, no one believed me when I said I was trying to save him. No one believed me when I said that we hadn’t been racing, that I’d been trying to stop him. I’d stopped trying to convince them.
Myself, too, I guess.
The thing was, I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol that night—Joey had. I’d been trying to get him to stop drunk driving, and stupidly chased after him in my own car when he took off before I got the keys out of his hand. He’d laughed and stepped on the gas, flipping me off, and I’d sped up, motioning for him to stop and cursing him out through our open windows.
Begging him to pull over.
Until…he was gone. I’d slammed on my brakes, but I still lost control. By the time, I’d managed to crawl out of my totaled Ferrari, it had been too late. I’d struggled to my feet, wheezing for air, and bam. Joey’s Porsche had exploded in a fiery blaze.
A new me had been born that night…
And I’d hated him.
Still did.
“Fuck off, asshole,” Taylor said, her face flushed.
I blinked, jerked back into the present. “Taylor—”
Gary stepped forward, anger clear in his eyes. “What did you say to me?”
“I said, fuck off, asshole.” She smiled real pretty, looking like an angel come to earth. “Need me to repeat it again for you? Or maybe I could write it down so you can sound it out when you’re alone in your room?”
Holy shit, the girl had backbone. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or nervous around her now. Maybe a little bit of both. I pulled her back behind me. Gary had always been a hothead, and I didn’t trust him not to strike back. “Taylor.”
Gary laughed. “You realize who you’re defending, right?”
“I think she knows, considering my face was blasted all over the news for weeks,” I said, speaking the first words to anyone here besides her since the accident. At least the first words since I’d sworn my innocence and no one had listened. “But thanks for checking.”
Gary gave me a hard look before staring at Taylor. “You should think twice about the company you keep, or you might end up like his last buddy—dead.”
I curled my hands into fists and watched him go, feeling as helpless as ever. I hated this place. Hated it all. Maybe I should forget about the degree and just run, after all.
And keep running.
She growled low in her throat. “God, what a douche. Come on. Let’s go inside.”
I looked down at her, torn between awe at her spitfire attitude, and the desire to tell her to leave me alone so I could deal with this latest attack in peace. She wasn’t my friend, and she needed to stop acting like she was. “He’s right. You should keep your distance. I’m the big bad wolf around here. If you get too close, I might bite.”
“Well, lucky for you I’m not Little Red Riding Hood, and I’ve never been scared of your bark before.” She shoved her glasses back into place and stomped toward the doors. “I’m not about to start now, either. Now, come on.”
I followed her. All I could think was that if she kept playing with the beast, I just might catch her. Once I had her in my arms, I’d taste every square inch of her body until I drove her insane with desire. But she shouldn’t worry because, even though I’d love every second of it and so would she…
I was never going to let that happen.
Chapter Three
Taylor
I’d been at Chase Maxwell’s beck and call for a whole month, and he was freaking killing me. He was so demanding, snarky, bossy, and cruel—yet I still wanted him like I’d never wanted anything else before. Badly. I was trying my best to ignore that attraction, to pretend it didn’t exist, but nothing worked. We’d spent almost every second of our free time together, pouring over chapters and chapters of coursework, and he kept pushing me closer and closer to my metaphorical edge without even trying.
He wasn’t nice. He was an asshole. He never once made it seem like he liked me, and yet I was the stereotypical heroine in the book who couldn’t get enough of the hot guy who treated her like shit. I made myself sick sometimes.
And yet, I kept doing it.
Each time we were together, he repeated the same not-quite seduction, a process he never completed or even seemed to be trying to start. First, he’d start with invading my personal space, sitting too close or standing right in front of me. And then it would turn into small, glancing touches of our arms as he leaned in to look at my notes. Sometimes, he’d rest his hand on my lower back as he read. He never acted as if my closeness had any effect on him at all…beside his grades.
Meanwhile, I was burning alive in a freaking inferno of stupid desire.
It. Wasn’t. Fair.
I headed down the hallway toward his room, texting my mom as I walked, assuring her that all was well in my world. She was worried about me being away from home for the first time, since I’d commuted to community college freshman year.
Well, technically it was the Maxwell family’s house, but we lived there, too.
Just downstairs.
Her concern for me was cute, but she still thought of me as a little kid sometimes. Maybe that was my fault. I’d spent most of my nights as a teenager at home with them. I’d watched TV in their quarters with them—buried at the bottom of the Maxwell mansion—and chatted about our favorite TV couples. I’d occasionally gone out with some friends from school, but that pretty much summed up my social life.
Luckily, no one here knew that.
Except being around Chase again…it was almost too tempting to slip into my old pattern of being the mousey little girl that used to follow him around. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I refused to ever be her again. He was just playing with me.
I hesitated in the hallway outside of his room. For the first time since the night we’d reconnected, we were meeting in private. Alone. All of our other studying sessions had been in the library or at the cafeteria. But tonight, he’d asked me to be at his room by five, and I wasn’t sure what to expect out of him—yet again. He hadn’t stopped hating me, though, and he still took every opportunity to remind me of that.
But at least he was paying attention in class now.
Guess I was doing my job.
I smoothed my hair, cleared my throat, and knocked on his door. Someone looked at me weird but kept walking. It was so freaking ridiculous, the way people treated Chase around here. His father had told me he’d insisted Chase continue attending here, despite t
he hatred getting thrown his way. Life-hardening is what he’d called it. I got why he said that, because he was a douche in the first degree.
But why did Chase let his dad bully him into staying?
Didn’t he see he could just up and walk away from this all? Ah, but he wouldn’t get his trust fund. Chase Maxwell couldn’t exist without that, I’m sure.
Maxwells needed their money.
They probably padded their mattresses with it.
The door opened and Chase motioned me inside without a word. There were a bunch of books spread across a table, and he wore a black T-shirt and a pair of sweats. I took the opportunity to check out his room. Last time I’d been here, I hadn’t looked at anything but him. There was another bed in the dorm, but no sign of his roommate.
A pile of football gear was in the corner by the empty bed. It was also made and the comforter was smooth, with not a wrinkle to be seen. It looked way too neat to be lived in by a guy in college. Chase’s bed, however, looked exactly what I’d thought a dude’s dorm room would look like.
It had his bag on it, a bunch of pens, a calculator, and a sling. I pointed toward his bed with my thumb. “Do you still need to wear that?”
He looked at his bed, his cheeks flushing a little. “Yeah. Sometimes. My shoulder isn’t better yet. It might never be.”
I couldn’t imagine a world where Chase wasn’t quarterback of some hugely successful NFL team. He had to get better at some point…right? “I’m so sorry.”
He glared at me. “I don’t need your fucking pity. If my arm’s bugging me, I put it on. End of story.”
I ignored the attitude. I tried to remind myself for the millionth time that he was injured and lashing out at me because of my affiliation with his father. But sometimes, it was harder to do. Like right now. I was tired, starving, and ready for a shower. It had been a week since I had one that lasted more than three minutes, and I was pretty sure my evil roommate stole my shampoo.
But that wasn’t his fault.
I took a steadying breath. Don’t be a hangry bitch, Taylor. You need this job. “So it was bugging you tonight?”
The Backup Plan (Back in the Game) Page 3
