by Rachel Shane
“How many more are we waiting for?” one of the guys asked.
Brett heard the quick pounding of phone buttons.
“Two. They’ve got one more minute to show up or they’re out. For good.”
Keeping a tight grip on him, they nudged Brett a few steps toward exhaust fumes and the rumble of an engine. Brett heard the pop of metallic doors being pulled open before hands shoved him into the back of a van. His knees scraped against a dirty metallic floor and he scooted forward, bumping into something else.
That something else mumbled.
The van doors slammed shut and all traces of light snuffed out. A minute later the vehicle jerked into motion and Brett crashed forward into the person beside him. He rolled his torso to get away but collided into someone else on the other side. All of them were mumbling against their duct-taped mouths. Brett tried to scream out his sister’s name in case one of the others was her but his words lodged against the duct tape.
The scariest part about being kidnapped was not the fact that his life was in danger but that Brett’s first thought after finally getting settled against the back of the van, sandwiched between two others was: how the hell am I going to finish the scavenger hunt now?
CHAPTER 13
HARPER
Harper huddled together with the soccer team, her head in the center of the circle.
“Those jerks keep me up all night with their loud music,” Starr said, her face fierce. “I’m ready to do this.”
“We need a plan,” one of the girls reminded them.
Every head glanced to Harper. “First, we have to lure Prince Royal Jerk out of his room.”
According to Connor’s most recent status update a minute ago, he was already back inside. She’d missed her window. Unless they created a new one.
“How?” someone asked.
“With…” Harper glanced at the rag tag group. “Are any of you twenty-one yet?”
Half the girls raised their hands while the other half mumbled about fake IDs.
Harper nodded. “With a keg. A makeshift party. DJ. Wet t-shirt contests—or at least the rumors of them. Whatever it takes. I think it’ll be easier to lure the entire dorm outside rather than just one person.” Or maybe it would just be easier for Harper. Less chance of Connor catching on. Less chance of someone spotting her unscrewing his doorknob to get inside.
One of the soccer girls held up her hand. “Wait. That’s not allowed on campus.”
Harper flourished her hand toward the window. “That’s why we set it up in the hotel parking lot across the street.”
“And what do we do once they leave their dorm?”
The grin stretched wider on Harper’s lips. “We make them wish they never left.”
Harper and Starr spent the next hour knocking on each and every door of Frick Hall. Girls squinted at them, some in states of half dress. The duo begged the residents to help get back at all the boys next door who kissed them and ditched them…or simply didn’t pay attention to them at all.
They were met with a few enthusiastic yeses and several hell no’s that quickly converted to yeses once the majority of the dorm rushed to get ready, trailing curling iron cords through the hallways.
Harper herself got ready by shedding her gifted uniform and donning a black t-shirt and leggings. There was a reason all black was a classic choice for burglars, criminals, and girls who liked to appear slim. It went unnoticeable.
Starr laughed at her choice of outfits. “We’re throwing a party, not a funeral.”
“My relationship is already dead and soon his ego will be too.”
Starr pointed a finger gun. “Then let the procession begin.”
Harper slung on her heavy backpack filled with supplies. “I’m ready.”
On the way to the make shift party, Harper made a pit stop on the south side of Frick hall, using the compass app on her phone to guide her. Just like Blake said, there was a smear of melted shaving cream dripping down the brick wall. His version of graffiti? She smiled to herself at his quirky view on life. Here she’d started to worry he was some criminal graffiti artist who likely dabbled in worse stuff too. But he was just trying to make her laugh.
Though she still didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about with these “clues” he kept mentioning.
Two girls rolled heavy kegs into an empty parking space and a friend of a friend who was a part time DJ—aka he had a program on his mac and an amp—set up beside the keg.
Standing in the lot gave Harper the feeling of being watched by an audience of dorm buildings and the shadow of a hotel. Pinpricks of light sparkled in the sky, drops of graffiti on an inky black canvas. Thirty or so girls trekked to the parking lot, decked in their most cleavage bearing outfits. Harper’s army hadn’t just doubled. It had multiplied exponentially.
“You kick it off, girl.” Starr patted Harper on the back.
Harper spread her legs into a battle stance. She poured the first cup—a foamy, yeasty mix—and took an inaugural chug while pointing to the make shift DJ. Music blasted with the hard thump of a bass.
“Whoo!” one of the girls shouted, wiggling her hips to the abrasive beats. Within seconds a queue had formed at the keg. A few of the guys trickled out of their dorm to see what the commotion was.
Harper slipped away, letting Starr run the party while she shoved her foot into the front door of Day Hall as it swung closed after another guy walked out. She slipped inside the dorm, pinching her nose against the odor of Doritos. She skated past the security guard, keeping her head bent, her giveaway traffic cone hair hidden beneath a black hoodie. Her eyes locked on her target: a red lever stuck to the wall at the far end of a hallway.
She yanked the lever with all her strength, her chest aching at the reminder of the last time someone pulled a fire alarm in her presence. Sirens wailed. Her feet amped, running fast and hard for the side exit. Adrenaline pumped in her veins, hard and fast, the way it always did during her soccer games. Her lungs burned the same way too, but she tried to ignore it, stilling her shaking hands against her sides as she ducked into the nearest bathroom. She shoved the brick door stopper she’d brought into the bathroom door to keep it propped open, just slightly, as the pounding of boys’ feet sounded in the hallway.
She’d also learned another thing from Brett—she had to make it believable. So she pulled the metal wastepaper basket filled with papers from her backpack and flicked the lighter she’d brought. Flames shot up, dancing into the night air and releasing warmth. She pushed the basket inside the hallway. Smoke curled to the ceiling in twisted tendrils and the scent of ash and barbecue flooded the hallway.
Harper poked her head out of the door crack to watch. A few of the boys loped toward the entrance without rush, and then paused to sniff the air. They amped their pace. The security guard doubled back to knock on a few of the lower doors, urging people to come outside. Soon there was a stampede of sneaker-clad feet racing for the night.
Five minutes went by and the trickle of footsteps ceased. Harper’s phone buzzed in her pocket and her stomach did a little flop flop of excitement. Blake! But when she clicked on the text, it wasn’t from him. It was a photo of a dark night from Starr, of hundreds of boys and girls mingling around a keg.
The wastebasket fire died down to only ash. Harper wrenched open the side exit. There, a pack of girls huddled in the shade of one of the big green garbage bins. They rose to their feet, each lugging a giant overfilled garbage bag. Harper held the door for them as they swept inside. She grabbed her own bag from the pile.
Each girl separated out into a different wing. One teammate dumped her trash along the bottom floor hallway. Cans rolled, papers fluttered, and milk dribbled down the muted gray carpeting. Harper tiptoed past most of it, stepping over a plate of uneaten spaghetti, before finding the stairwell and heaving open the door. She lugged her bag up four flights of steps until she reached Connor’s floor.
With utter glee, she spread the trash along
the hallway, piling most of it right up to Connor’s door. The place reeked of rotten banana and day old bread and, of course, fish guts, which she happily squished with her foot right beside his door. She pulled out a black permanent marker from her backpack and uncapped it, reveling in the pop the cap made. She pressed the pen to his door and scrawled out the words she should have said to him all those years ago. Before he’d convinced her he changed.
This is all because you’re trash.
But Harper didn’t get to finish the last curve of the h because Connor’s door swung open, causing Harper to fall forward. She landed on his bare chest, her face pressed against his nipple. He grinned at her wickedly, as if he’d purposefully removed his shirt just for that to happen. Harper used to run her hands along his defined pecs with no abandon. But now all she wanted to do was slap him so hard she left handprints on his tanned skin.
He pushed her backward, hard. She stumbled away and landed on the garbage she’d just laid out. Fish guts oozed around her butt. He stood over her in a very metaphoric gesture to prove he held all the power. The threat raised the hair on her arms and she turned her face away, hating that he had to see her this way. Defeated.
“Just remember,” he said, his voice full of icy venom. “You’re the one that started this.”
“Pretty sure your blackmail started this.” She pushed herself to her feet, hands balled into fists.
“Started this.” He gestured to the garbage surrounding his feet. “And This. Is. War.”
He slammed his door in her face, blocking Harper out for good.
A year and a half ago he had seemed like her knight in shining armor…not her downfall.
CHAPTER 14
HARPER
One and a Half Years Ago
Harper clutched her clipboard against her chest, wiping sweat off her brow as she stepped over a pile of wood and stared at the empty parking lot. Her mouth moved in a silent prayer. Please come. Please come. Even the three people she could count on being there: Brett, Poe, and her brother Jackson, hadn’t shown up. Jackson refused to come an hour early with her, claiming he’d already given up too much of his Spring Break for this crap. His words. But Harper explained to him time and again that spending his week off building a house for Homes for Charity was for a good cause. And it would look good on his college applications.
But of course, organizing the whole thing would look even better on hers. Not that that was her main motive. Helping someone in need was. Of course.
Her soccer skills might set her apart on the field, but she still needed to find away to set herself apart from the other B-average applicants.
Everyone was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago but the only people besides Harper were the officials and construction workers from Homes for Charity. Hot sun beat down on her shoulders and glinted off the metal tools piled on the grass. The plot of land they’d acquired stretched an acre deep with thick trees swaying too far in the distance to provide shade. Clear blue skies loomed above, void of any clouds. Harper nibbled her inner cheek. She’d spent the last month painstakingly organizing this event. She’d even braved the terrible prospect of public speaking to encourage students to sign-up during an assembly two weeks ago. A few of her soccer teammates claimed they were thinking about giving up their spring break for hard labor, but thinking about it was just code for no, hell no.
Her soccer teammates tolerated her during practice but never made plans with her afterward. The people who identified her as Poe’s friend would glance at her with looks of either disgust or awe, probably wondering how she could stand so close to a ticking time bomb. The ones that dismissed her as Brett’s friend looked at Harper as if she might break out at any second and tattle on them for whatever unimportant thing they were doing wrong. But she was neither Poe nor Brett. She was in the middle. Somewhat bad, somewhat good, but also her own person. And this was her way to prove it. To organize something good for the community but with plenty of opportunity for “bad” in the form of after parties each night.
Finally, an unfamiliar car swung into the street, tires crunching slowly over the gravel road. Harper’s heart thumped and she squinted at the prospect of not being a total failure. The car parked a few feet away and Connor Cunningham loped out, shaking out his blond hair and stretching his arms over his head so his t-shirt rode just a little too high, revealing the curved hipbones that descended into the depths of his pants.
Harper’s hands balled into fists at the very sight of him. The guy who threatened to send Poe’s breasts around to the whole school if she didn’t write his essays. A world-class asshole. What the fuck was he doing here?
She stalked toward him, not daring to wait until he came forward with that easy gait of his that sent all the girls that didn’t know about his extra curricular activities swooning. She’d rather build an entire fucking house alone than have to sit in the same vicinity as him for the next seven days.
He lifted his hand in a wave, as if they were the kind of friends who exchanged complicated handshakes in the school hallways. But of course, he had no idea she was the one who deleted everything on his phone. He’d accused Poe the next day and Poe had gladly taken the fall, saving Harper the same way Harper had saved her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The venom seeped from Harper’s voice with sharp lances.
He held up both hands, practically stumbling back a step. “Whoa. Am I too early? I wanted to get a head start but—” He glanced around at the empty site.
“No, you’re actually a few minutes late but…seriously, why are you here?” She squinted at him, her legs spreading in a defensive stance. Probably there was a girl coming he wanted to sleep with. Or blackmail.
“You say that as if you’re accusing me of a crime.” He laughed, a rich velvety sound. Harper’s muscles tightened to avoid falling for his charm. “But I’m here to help.”
“You,” Harper practically spat the word. “Want to help?”
“Not sure why that’s so surprising considering this is a charity event.” He shot her that brilliant smile again. “So point me to the hammer.”
She let out an exasperated breath as she led him to the frame and put him to work at the hardest task she could find on her clipboard. Set floor joists and lay floor decking. There, that sounded difficult with a lot of bending on hands and knees work required. She practically hurled the hammer at his face. “Who else is coming?” she barked.
He shrugged. “No idea. None of my friends, if that’s what you mean.”
She didn’t buy it. Her entire body was in attack mode. “No offense but you don’t exactly seem like the type of guy that spends his spring break anywhere but at the lake.” The lake was the prime choice for debauchery at their school with many students renting lake houses for the week sans guardians.
“Maybe that’s entirely the point.” He winked at her. “I’m not trying to be that guy anymore.”
That took her aback slightly. “What does that mean?”
“It means I’m trying to be a better person.” He scrubbed at the stubble of his chin. “You seem surprised by that.”
Harper pushed a tangled strand of red hair away from her face. “Not surprised so much as skeptical.”
Just then another car pulled up and Emma Sanchez and Mackenzie Donnelly stepped out. Two of the most popular girls in school. Now it all made sense. Connor was a dirty liar. He hadn’t come here to better himself. He’d come to get in their pants.
Harper ditched Connor to introduce herself to the girls. Whatever brought them here, Harper would embrace it because the more hands, the more help. Even if some of those hands had ulterior motives.
An hour later only a few other stragglers had shown up, including Brett with Maya in tow. Harper led them far away from douchcanoe Connor and doled out the easiest task on her list. Brett breathed a sigh of relief and concentrated deeply on staining wood beams while Maya flounced around refilling water cups since she was too young to do actual work. Emma an
d Mackenzie were busy sheathing wall panels on the completed frames. Harper herself had started to nail the remaining beams into place in the frames as a few other volunteers held them steady. Poe and Jackson had not shown up.
And would not.
A few minutes after Connor arrived, Harper texted Poe the situation and granted her a get out of jail free card. Since Poe was Jackson’s ride today, that meant he was out too.
It was the right thing to do but Harper had overheard one of the organizers from Homes for Charity complaining about the lack of volunteers. Grunting, she drove the nail into the beam hard and fierce, relishing in the force of it.
“You’re gonna break the board. Here, let me help.” Strong hands came around Harper. She caught a whiff of Connor’s boy scent, a mix of cologne and something sharper, like pure earth. His touch made her stomach clench, both by the way his fingers left tingles on her wrist and also because he was the last person on earth she wanted touching her. His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake before he cupped his hand firmly around hers and shifted her fingers down.
“There,” he said. “Hold it closer to the bottom like this.” He lifted the hammer up with both their hands, his hot breath moving her hair around her face. “And then you drive it down in a nice arc.”
Harper caught Brett’s glare across the way. She scrambled out of Connor’s embrace so fast, she tripped on a stray piece of wood and fell to her knees.
“Whoa. You okay?”
“Don’t—” she swallowed hard. “Don’t touch me, okay?”
Connor lifted his hands in surrender. “Just talking. I promise.”
And he stuck to that promise, sitting by her and chatting casually. It was almost as if he was getting to know her but that couldn’t be true. He already knew the most important part about her: she was friends with Poe. Still, she made up ridiculous answers to his ridiculous questions as Emma and Mackenzie watched on longingly. They were surface level questions. Idle time questions. Favorite foods. Favorite movie. Song. Place to visit. School subject. All the things no one actually cared about. And she certainly didn’t care about his answers. She let them fall right out of her ears as he said them, burying them beneath the planks she drilled nails into. She certainly didn’t look when he ripped off his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow, his six-pack abs rippling and glistening in the hot sun. But she must have been looking since Connor caught her, giving her another smile. When she tore her head away, Brett was staring at her again.
