by Nicole Fox
And where has it gotten me?
My own mother barely tolerates me, Noah still hates me, and the more times goes on, the more I hate myself, too. I’m miserable.
“I can’t do this.”
“The party?” Anika asks.
“Any of it.” I grab my purse and keys out of my locker and slam the door shut. “I have to get out of here.”
Before they can say anything else, I sling my purse over my shoulder and head for the front doors.
As soon as I walk into my house, I hear Delanie giggling in the other room. I drop my backpack on the floor and go looking for her.
She’s on the floor of the living room with her nanny and an assorted stack of puzzles, blocks, and stuffed animals around her.
The nanny, Samantha, turns around when I walk in. “Oh, hey, Penny. I didn’t expect anyone to be home for a few more hours.”
“I cut school,” I admit.
Samantha is a part-time nanny and part-time student at the community college. Mom hired her to sit with Delanie a few afternoons a week while she gets happy hour drinks with her friends or a manicure or her hair done. She’s actually pretty cool.
“Bad day?”
I answer by loading a pretend gun and aiming it at my temple.
“Woof.”
I nod, but I can’t focus on my issues for too long.
Delanie finally realizes I’m home and runs over to hug my legs. Her light brown hair is in a mess of curls held back by one pink bow that is trying its best but can’t quite tame her mane.
“Play with me?” she asks in her tiny voice, dark brown eyes wide and innocent.
“Duh,” I say, tweaking her nose.
“Yay!” She squeals with delight, and I ruffle her hair.
“You can go if you want, Sami. I can take over.”
Samantha twists her mouth into a knot. “Do you think I should ask your mom first?”
“I babysit Delanie all the time. It’s not a big deal.”
I can tell she’s hesitant, but considering. “I have a massive paper due tonight and a few extra hours could be the difference between a B and an A.”
I wave her on. “Go. Get.”
Samantha folds her hands into a prayer and bows, kisses Delanie’s head, and hustles out of the door.
“Well, kiddo?”
Delanie looks up at me, her tiny eyebrows drawn into a ferocious frown. Then, for no reason at all, she laughs and darts into the kitchen.
We play hide and seek around the kitchen island—she always hides under the bar stool, and I repeatedly pretend I can’t see her—and then run up the stairs to her room to play in the pretend swimming pool on her rug.
Around snack time, I grab her spare car seat from the garage, install it in my car, and load her up.
As we drive, Delanie yells for me to change songs she doesn’t know, but jabbers along to the songs she does, nodding her head and kicking the back of my seat to the rhythm—or, at least, to her best approximation of the rhythm.
Life with Delanie is easy.
There are tantrums, sure, and she is still in diapers because she refuses to even attempt potty training, but her fears and desires are easy to track.
She likes music, playing pretend, and ice cream.
She’s afraid of the robotic vacuum cleaner and slides that are too high at the park.
Her problems are easy to solve, and I like being able to kiss her scraped palm or hand her a gummy bear and make everything in her world bright again.
I wish solving my own problems was so easy.
I get a large cup of frozen yogurt with strawberry slices in it for us to share, and Delanie delights in pretending the strawberries are sharks she has to spear with her spoon—her imagination is a little dark like mine.
All in all, it’s a good day.
Until we get home.
Momma’s car is in the driveway when I pull up.
Before I can even turn the car off, she storms out of the door, frantic.
“Where have you been? Where did you take her? Why didn’t you call me? What happened to her?”
She runs to the backseat and jumps inside like this is a hostage exchange.
“Samantha had a lot of homework, so I told her I could watch Delanie.”
Delanie starts relaying everything we did in the last few hours, though her words get jumbled from her excitement.
Regardless, it’s obvious she is perfectly healthy.
Still, Momma strokes her hands down my little sister’s face and kisses the end of her nose.
I can’t imagine her ever being that way with me. Even when I was small.
It’s almost impossible for me to picture my mom being… a mom.
For as long as I can remember, she has been my harshest critic, my personal trainer, and my dietician.
Never a nurturing figure. Not even once.
“She’s fine,” I say, jealousy biting at my heels. “We got frozen yogurt.”
She turns on me, her nostril flaring as she cradles Delanie close to her chest. My little sister reaches out an arm for me, but Momma tucks it back in, as if she’s protecting Delanie from me.
“Go to your room,” she grits out. “And stay there. I don’t want to see you for the rest of the night.”
Fine by me. I didn’t have plans anyway.
Sweatpants, a romantic comedy movie, and a king-size chocolate bar I keep perpetually taped under my desk in case of emergencies.
The perfect night.
Stepdad Steve called up the stairs for me at dinner time, but Momma quickly told him I wouldn’t be joining the family.
I don’t miss family dinner, though the smell of steak wafting up the stairs makes my mouth water.
I suck on my chocolate bar, savoring it, and watch as Tom Hanks types his way into Meg Ryan’s heart, even though she actually hates him.
That’s an enemies-to-lovers storyline I can get behind.
There are a few misunderstandings, some bumps along the road, but in the end, they realize love is bigger than their differences.
If only real life was so simple.
I’m halfway through the movie and burrito wrapped in my blankets when my phone starts buzzing.
I ignore it at first, assuming it’s Anika or Jennifer messaging me about the party.
But then, it keeps buzzing. Call after call after call with no break.
When I look. It’s Noah.
I click the phone on, say “I’m not coming,” and hang up before he can respond.
Ten seconds later, the vibrating starts again.
Noah requested my presence twice before, I listened, and I’m worse off because of it now. I won’t go willingly again.
If he wants me to go with him, he’ll have to come in and drag me out of my house.
I let the phone vibrate for a while, counting the number of times he calls: three, four, seven.
Finally, it stops, and I ease back under my fleece blanket and into my movie, finally able to relax.
The second I do, the phone starts to ring again.
I jump, startled, and grab the phone.
“Leave me alone!”
“Watch your mouth, angel.”
My breath catches in my throat, and I pull my phone away to look at who I’m talking to, though I already know the answer.
The number is unidentified.
The caller’s voice, however, is not.
It’s Tank.
“How did you get my number?”
“The same way I know you’re tucked up in your room for the night, watching a chick flick.”
I spin around and look through my window. It’s dark outside, so all I can see is my reflection. I yank the curtain closed, and Tank laughs on the other end of the phone.
“That won’t keep me out.”
A shiver runs down my spine, and I pull my blankets up to my chin. “What do you want?”
“Word on the street is you left school early today.”
I sigh. “Can I
not have a sick day? Does that put me in danger of voiding our contract?”
“We don’t have a contract, angel. We have a promise. A promise from me that you’ll regret not keeping me happy.”
Delanie’s face appears in my mind, her chubby cheek resting on her arm as she sleeps in her bed.
“I’m just calling to make sure you’re keeping your mouth shut,” Tank says. “You’re getting close to this asshole, and I’m calling to remind you of what’s at stake. Delanie’s counting on you.”
“Keep my little sister’s name out of your mouth, you motherfucking—”
“Ah ah ah,” he tsks. “Keep me happy, Penny. Or else.”
I bite my tongue so hard I’m sure I’ve drawn blood. “I remember what’s at stake.”
“Great. So long as we’re clear.”
He hangs up, and I stare at my phone, wondering if Tank has hacked it. I doubt the Hell Princes are capable of that kind of sabotage, but you never can tell.
I pull back my blinds again, and put a hand to the window, trying to see out.
Going back to watching the movie feels weird now when I know Tank is out there monitoring me somewhere. It feels like trying to pee when someone is listening under the crack of the door. A little privacy, please!
And then I see something else.
A sickeningly familiar car.
Noah is out front, waiting for me.
My door flies open behind me, and I jump so hard I smack my forehead on the window pane. I spin around and see my mom standing in my doorway.
“What are you doing in here?” she asks.
I rub my forehead, wincing. “Getting a concussion. You scared me.”
She hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “Noah Boone is sitting outside of our house.”
I shrug innocently, as if my heart isn’t pounding in my chest. “So?”
“So,” she retorts. “Why are you still in your room?”
“How do you know he’s here to see me?”
She raises a brow, giving me an exasperated look. “Get real, Penny. Who else would he be here to see? What does he want?”
“There’s a party tonight, but—”
Before I can even finish the sentence, she grabs my remote and turns off the tv. “You’re going.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Who are you in this town if you sit at home in your room, watching movies and avoiding nice guys who want to take you out?”
“You mean rich guys? Because he isn’t nice.”
“Neither are you,” she says with a humorless smile. “Which means you can’t afford to pass up opportunities like this.”
She throws me a sheer black top with a bralette attached to the inside and a pair of black jeans. Then, with one final warning glare, she leaves me to get dressed.
Guess I’m doing what Noah wants after all.
“I knew you’d come around,” Noah says by way of a greeting when I get into the passenger seat.
His car smells like him, woodsy and spicy.
It’s clean, too. Spotless.
I’m not surprised. He never was the messy teenager type.
Noah has a place for everything and everything has a place, his emotions included. He sets aside what isn’t currently serving him in favor of whatever best suits the moment.
When I’m around, it seems cold displeasure is his baseline.
“What changed your mind?”
The three most vexing things in my life converged on a single issue, is what I want to say.
I don’t, of course.
Because that would break my deal with the Hell Princes.
And my mom’s plan of marrying me off to the first rich boy who comes along, regardless of how gross the whole arrangement feels, would probably fall through if I told the boy in question about the plan.
Men don’t often like being taken advantage of. Though, Noah sure enjoys taking advantage.
Unfortunately, for him, he’s fucked with the wrong girl.
Whatever he has planned for me, I can endure.
I know how this is going to end.
“I need a drink.” I buckle my seatbelt and lean back in the seat. “Drive.”
28
Noah
Penny’s lemon and cinnamon scent fills my car. It makes me want to roll down the windows.
It’s only been a day since she came to my house and we had sex in the basement, and what the fuck was that?
Not part of the plan, that’s what.
My schoolboy crush on Penny is over, done. This party tonight is the way to show her that, once and for all.
I’m a man of my word. I promised her misery.
And I will deliver.
The house is on the edge of town, a renovated barn house with two giant wings added on to each side and a two-story addition on the back. Massive floor-to-ceiling windows reveal our classmates drinking and dancing inside.
“Whose house is this?” Penny asks, leaning forward to look out the windshield. “Not great in terms of privacy.”
“Are we going to need privacy?”
She glares at me. “I meant in case the cops get called.”
I pull the key out of the ignition and twirl the keyring on my finger. “We’re covered if that happens. This is Brian Murphy’s house.”
“The sheriff’s son?” Penny gapes. “Are you fucking serious?”
“He’s out of town, and I doubt his house is on the officer’s patrol routes. Even if it is, do you really think they’ll cite the sheriff’s son for throwing a rager? ‘Cause I sure don’t.”
Penny seems satisfied enough with the answer, though she looks nervous as we walk inside.
I let her go in front of me. I want to take a moment to examine her.
She has on a tight pair of black jeans with a sheer top you can see her bra through. Her waist is slim and toned.
I can practically still feel it in my hands, feel the way her abs contracted under my fingers as I pulsed behind her.
A junior from the football team—Braydon, if I remember right—walks up to her before we are even through the entryway. His eyes are bloodshot and hungry, obviously liking what he’s seeing.
“Cool shirt,” he says, grabbing the sheer hem between his fingers.
Penny smiles and opens her mouth to respond, but I swat Braydon’s hand away before he can.
“Cool shirt? Really?”
He looks startled and ready for a fight until he sees it’s me. “Oh, Noah. Hey, man. Sorry, I didn’t know you two were together.”
“We aren’t.” Penny nudges me aside and smiles at Braydon. “Thank you. Your shirt is cool, too.”
Braydon’s shirt is not cool. It’s a cotton polo that hasn’t been in fashion for at least ten years, though no one appears to have told Braydon.
Now that Penny has complimented it, he’ll probably wear it every day for the rest of eternity.
Braydon looks nervously from me to Penny, and I feel for the kid. He doesn’t want to blow his change to talk to Penny, but he also doesn’t want to piss me off.
He may be horny, but he’s not as dumb as he looks.
“She’s right—we aren’t here together,” I say, clapping Braydon on the shoulder and raising my voice. “You called dibs, so you can have her first. Just make sure you let me know when you’re done. I’m next in line.”
A chorus of oohs echo through the crowd around us.
Penny’s face flushes red.
Braydon, once again proving his intelligence, decides to bail, disappearing back into the crowd.
I’m sure Penny is going to slap me or go on a rampage, her voice high-pitched and nasally, her mean words as sharp as razors.
In fact, I’m counting on it. Cool and detached, waiting for her to explode so I can put her right back in her place while everyone watches.
To my utter surprise, she doesn’t do any of that.
Instead, Penny tips her head to the side, smiles, and walks towards me.
She grab
s the front of my gray t-shirt in her fist and tugs me forward, her eyebrow arched suggestively.
“Why wait in line when you can have me right now?”
Again, the crowd audibly reacts.
We’ve just arrived at this party. It is customary to at least grab a drink before you pair off and head upstairs, but Penny is dragging me through the parting crowd with purpose.
I don’t stop her. Mostly because the sway of her hips as she moves up the wooden stairs to the second floor is mesmerizing.
The first two rooms she checks are occupied, but the third is empty.
Clearly, it’s a guest room. The bed is perfectly made with a mountain of throw pillows on it, and there are even small mints in dishes on each of the bedside tables.
Penny shuts the door and leans against it, her hands behind her back. “I hope I didn’t ruin your plans.”
I shrug out of my bomber jacket, suddenly too warm for it, and sit on the edge of the bed. “What plans?”
She reaches behind her and locks the door without looking, her green eyes looking me up and down
“Your plans to humiliate and belittle me all night.”
The sound of the tumblers sliding into place is like a gavel dropping.
Like a judge tolling out my prison sentence.
I condemn you to one or more hours of hard physical labor…
She crosses the room slowly, one foot in front of the other until she’s standing between my legs.
I rest my hands on her hips, unable to help myself.
“That’s what you had planned, isn’t it?” she asks, sliding her body closer to me, her lips only a few inches away. “You wanted to humiliate me in front of the school the way you think I humiliated you?”
Her words surprise me, but not as much as I surprise her when I spin her around suddenly and wrap my arms around her midsection, pulling her back flush against me.
I slide my hand down her stomach, teasing along the top of her jeans as I bring my lips to her hear. “You didn’t humiliate me.”
Penny laughs and rolls her hips, grinding against my cock. “According to you, I did. That’s why you’re doing this now. It’s revenge. Right?”
I can see her pulse fluttering in her neck like a trapped bird, and the fruity smell of her skin draws me in closer.
