CW Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by C. Shell

  “Is that a D?” Nate stupid question pisses me off. He’s looking right at the paper on my desk, so of course he knows what grade it is.

  “Shut it,” I growl back.

  I scowl at the near failing grade on my paper wishing for it to catch fire and burn down the whole damn school. That might sound extreme, but this isn’t the first bad grade I’ve gotten this week. My GPA has taken a nosedive and it’s only a matter of time before the school contacts my parents. When that happens, all hell will break loose.

  Science is one of my best subjects, so this paper should’ve been an easy A for me. It might have helped if I had paid a little attention in class. That’s the root of the problem with everything I do these days. I can’t fucking concentrate anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I see Addy back in that hospital bed, her face bruised and swollen and that look of complete and utter fear in her eyes.

  I’ve got to somehow pull my shit together. I sweep a hand down my face as a litany of curses spew from my lips. Everything’s got to get better before our winter vacation this weekend. We’ve got one week of fun in the snow, followed by Christmas, Nicholas and Lacey’s pretrial conference, New Year’s, and then we’re back in school. Before our life gets too crazy with more eyes on us and lawyers at our heels, I promised Addy a fun, drama free vacation. And that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

  “If you don’t get that shit up along with your other classes, Coach will bench your ass from the next game.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” I answer with an eye roll. “Coach has already given me a verbal warning. I’m officially on his shit list.”

  My mood started out shitty after a bad night’s sleep and is getting worse with every class I visit. My only bright spot in the day was seeing the killer skirt and kitten heels Addison wore to school today. She dressed up for a mock debate in her economics class and one look at her slinky tight skirt gave me an instant hard-on. Just thinking about it now has my pants tightening up.

  “So, what’s the plan?”

  I’m tempted to tell him that there isn’t one and to mind his own business, but Nate has known me for far too long to believe that line of bullshit. I’m facing being benched in soccer for failing most of my classes…so, of course I’ve got a plan. It might not be a very good one, but it’ll do until I can come up with something better.

  “I convinced my counselor that my grades are a byproduct of the shit that went down with Nicholas and his twisted family. She’s allowing me one extra week to study during winter vacation, then I’ll take the finals verbally through a video conference she’s setting up.”

  Nate blinks, then looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “We’ll be on vacation next week.”

  “I know that.” My voice grates at him, pointing out the obvious. As if I could forget a no parent chaperoned vacation with Addy by my side. I’m counting down the days until our plane takes off and I get my girl all to myself. When it comes to Addy, I’m a greedy bastard.

  "You would have to sit your ass in the cabin all week with your nose in a book to pass all those tests.” He gives me an incredulous look. “Are you seriously telling me that you’re forfeiting a week of skiing for studying?”

  “Hell no,” I scoff. “I’m going to have fun, just on a smaller scale than I previously planned. And when I’m not embarrassing you and Jimmie on the slopes, I’ll be busy being tutored by one of my trusty friends.”

  “You can’t be serious?” His reluctant tone pisses me off.

  If I ever needed my friends to pull me through something, now is it. My grades must get to a satisfactory level or I can kiss any chance at a career in soccer goodbye. With scouts circling like buzzards at every game, I can’t afford to be benched right now. I need as much field time as possible to impress them so I can get a scholarship.

  “As a heart attack,” I deadpan, my glare coming back in full force. “I don’t need help in all my courses. In fact, chemistry and English are the only classes that are giving me a lot of trouble. I know enough in the other to skirt by with at least a B.”

  Our teacher, Ms. Rickets, breezes by our table, tapping a perfectly manicured finger on my open textbook. “Gentleman, if you are done with your work, then you are welcome to start reading the next chapter.”

  I lean forward, elbows propped on my desk and deliver her with my most charming smile. “Great idea, Ms. Rickets. We’ll do just that.” Her tight face relaxes to one of amusement, and Nate and I don’t begin talking again until she strolls on past us, heading to a small bookcase in the back corner of the room,

  Nate’s brows are raised as if he’s thinking over everything I just said. “Between the four of us, we might be able to teach you a thing or two in those courses, but I don’t think for a second that it’s going to be easy.” He glances at me and lets out a low sigh. “If this doesn’t work, do you have a plan B?”

  I crack a grin. “I do, but it’s a last-ditch effort that’s tricky at best. Trust me when I say, it’s not something any of us will want to chance.”

  “Do I even want to know?” Nate asks, his voice sounding bored despite the curious glint in his gaze.

  “Nope, not in the least. Besides, we’ll cross that bridge if it comes. Until then, we’ve got a lot of information to cram into this brain of mine before vacation ends.” I nudge his arm, making the pen in his hand go askew. The soccer ball he was drawing now looks more like a wrinkled orange.

  I ignore his disapproving grunt and continue talking, keeping my voice low so the teacher and noisy students around us don’t overhear. “Is Addy still coming over after school to wash your laundry?”

  “Last I checked.”

  I crack my neck side to side, easing the tension taking root. I don’t want to be a dick and jump to conclusions, but my bullshit meter has been reading red for days now. I can’t ignore it any longer.

  “Is there something going on that I need to know about?” I clear my throat and meet his stare straight on. If Nate even tries to lie to me, I’ll know immediately.

  “You mean besides my dirty underwear?”

  I fold my arms across my chest and lean back in my chair so I can get a better look at Nate’s face. “I’m not talking about your stupid laundry. That shit you pulled at her house this weekend was out of character for you. Knowing how I would react, why did you play me like that?”

  Nate rolls his eyes, his face stern. “It was a joke, Dex. Something you seem to have forgotten how to do lately. Stop always assuming the worst” Placing a hand on my shoulder, Nate pulls to his side as if to tell me a secret. His voice is barely a whisper when he speaks. “You need to get your shit together and calm the fuck down before you push Addy away. She’s got enough on her plate without you going all caveman on her.”

  My fists clench against my sides in both anger and worry. I try not to let his words hurt me, but like a parasite, they latch on and burrow deep. Nate isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, but hearing my concerns voiced out loud makes the threat all too real. Instead of accepting his warning for what it is, I act like a prick and funnel my frustrations into a new emotion. Raw anger. Not my proudest moment.

  “Mind your own business, Nate,” I demand. “In fact, why don’t you do yourself a favor and find your own girl.”

  There is a beat of silence before Nate answers me with a low chuckle. “Be careful what you wish for, brother, or one of these days, you might be eating those words.” His tone isn’t angry, but it does hold a hint of annoyance.

  In the back of my mind I hear the school bell ring and before I have a chance to question him further, Nate is up and striding out of the room, leaving me far more worried than I previously was, and a whole hell of a lot more suspicious as to what his intentions are towards my girlfriend.

  Chapter Seven

  Addison

  With a hand planted firmly on my hip, I give Nate my best no-nonsense face. “I’ll wash and fold, but you get to separate everything into piles by color and
type of fabric. I have my limits, and I never agreed to any of that.”

  Nate’s eyes twinkle with mirth as he smiles down at me. Being this close to him, I notice the pale set of freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. When we were younger, I used to beg him to let me play connect the dots with them. He never gave in, but that only made me more determined to see what hidden creature or object I could make from them. Even now the urge to grab a pen is hard to resist.

  Nate shakes his head at me. “For such a short shrimp, you sure are full of demands.”

  “Only when it counts,” I counter, my eyes narrowing a little. “And I’m not short.” I punctuate my statement by straightening my shoulders and standing as tall as my five feet four inches will allow. Of all days for me to wear my flat-footed tennis shoes instead of my high wedged sandals.

  I hate being called short. It’s something my dad used to do. One of the few memories I have of him before we moved to Florida was him calling me his short pipsqueak. Back then I thought my father hung the moon, now anything remotely connected to him leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Whatever you say, Addy Bear.” Turning away from me he drops to his knees and begins sorting through the huge pile of dirty clothes taking up one whole corner of his room. He wasn’t lying about needing his laundry washed. From the vast amount of clothing taking up residence on the floor, I’m surprised he has anything clean left to wear.

  “How did this happen exactly?” I question. Bending down, I scoop up a heaping pile of clothes and start toward the laundry room. I move slow so as not to drop anything, but even doing that I can still feel a sock or two threaten to slip from my arms. Making my way down the hall, I raise my voice as I speak so Nate can still hear me. “I thought your mom still did all your washing for you?”

  “She’s got on this kick lately where she thinks I need to be more self-sufficient. I overheard her telling my dad that she’s worried that I won’t be able to feed and clothe myself when I start college. I think she’s making it her mission now to teach me how to do the basic things in life.”

  A snort of laughter leaves me at the thought of the CW Boys being domesticated. “Well, considering that you talked me into helping you today, I think you will do just fine in college. I expect that you’ll have the girls lined up and falling over themselves to help you out any way they can.”

  “What about you?” Nate’s hand settles on my shoulder, pulling me back a step so he can reach above me and get the bottle of laundry detergent from the top shelf above the washer. When he hands it off to me, I want to tell him that I could’ve gotten it myself, but judging from how tall the shelving is, I’m not sure that would’ve been the truth.

  “What about me?” I dump my armload of clothing into the washer while Nate fiddles with the dials. For someone who’s never done much laundry, he sure seems to know what he’s doing.

  “Well, assuming we end up at the same college, would you be one of the girls fighting for the chance to help me navigate through the cruel world of cooking and cleaning?”

  My brain short circuits for a moment, making me think for a second time in less than a week that Nate is flirting with me. He isn’t, right? I mean, that would be…wrong? And kind of hot. I shake my head as if trying to wake myself from a bad dream. No, that would definitely be wrong. Innocent or not, flirting between us would cause havoc between the boys. I can’t let that happen.

  “Um…” I lick my parched lips and wrack my muddled mind for a safe answer. Something that’s platonic, yet friendly. I don’t want to sound like an after-school special gone wrong. “Um…” I’m on the edge of panicking. My chest feels tight and I can’t come up with anything useful to say. What if I’m overthinking this and he really wasn’t hitting on me at all. How embarrassing would that be? My mouth opens and I ready myself to be brave and tell Nate exactly what’s on my mind.

  “Should I use a full or half of cup of detergent?” I wave the heavy bottle in the air like a flag as my cheeks heat with shame. I wouldn’t be surprised if I sprouted wings and started to cluck because apparently, I’m a big old chicken.

  Nate doesn’t seem fazed by the rapid change of subject. If anything, I think it amuses him. “I think a half cup should do the trick,” he replies, brandishing me with a smile so big I can see all his pearly whites.

  Getting back to the task at hand, I finish filling the washer with the right amount of detergent and pay careful attention to the dials and buttons Nate switches on so that I can perform the next load on my own. When we’re all done, I follow him back to the basement, where I take a seat on the couch next to him while he flips through channels, searching for something other than news and soap operas to watch. I’m not a big fan of drama filled shows, so when he lands on an old episode of Gilligan’s Island, I snag the remote from him.

  “What is it with you and that old television show?”

  Kicking off my sandals, I stretch out on the couch and curl myself into a ball until Nate snags my feet and pulls them into his lap. I’m tempted to yank them back until he starts massaging the soles of my feet. His strong fingers digging into my tender muscles feel too good to deny. Besides, we're old friends who have slept in the same bed numerous times and seen each other at our worst. This is nothing compared to all that.

  “I enjoy how simple life is portrayed in older movies. Even their drama is light-hearted and easy-going. It’s like night and day from the bullshit we deal with.”

  Nate is staring at me. I can literally feel his eyes, trying to penetrate through my thick layers. I do my best to ignore him, but his stare is too intense for me to overlook, and despite my resolve to be invisible, I find myself turning in his direction and acknowledging his presence.

  There is a deep furrow between his brows and Nate is now slowly squeezing the life out of a few of my little toes. Easing my foot from his grasp I give my poor toes a little wiggle to get the blood flowing back into them before propping myself up on my elbow so I can see him better.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask.

  “You never talk about it.”

  “Nate,” I begin, not wanting him to continue, but he cuts me off with a firm hand over my mouth, turning anything else I was going to say into a mumbled mess of sounds and grunts.

  “Don’t Nate me, Addy Bear,” Nate’s voice holds a warning that makes me go still. “I’ve been patient since everything happened. I gave you space so you could process everything that’s happened in your own way.” His hand falls from my mouth and he tugs at his hair, making the perfectly placed strands go wild and untamed. His dark gaze pierces through my thick armor making my heart hurt in ways it hasn’t in a long time. “I thought you would come to us when you were ready to talk, but you never did. I know it’s selfish of me to push you, but you can’t keep everything bottled up, babe. That shit will eat you alive. If you don’t want to confide in us, then at least talk with a counselor.”

  I blink back the tears I feel gathering in my eyes. I hate getting all mushy and teary-eyed around the boys, but with the tortured way Nate is looking at me, I can tell he isn’t going to let this go. My explanation comes out in an uneasy rush. “No counselors. I don’t want to talk to a professional about my personal life or the things that happened with Nicholas. And I don’t need you or the others giving me space either. I never asked for that.”

  “Then talk to me,” he pleads. His hand finds my feet again and this time when he rubs them his touch is light and soothing. “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  A long sigh slips past my lips. “What do you want me to say?” I ask, my voice tight with emotion. “You want me to tell you how I remember exactly the way Nicholas touched me, how he spoke to me as if I were nothing but an object he could manipulate and use?” I shake my head and stare back at the television through bleary, tear-filled eyes. “I remember it all Nate, but unlike Dex, I refuse to let what happened change me. Dex wears his revenge like a shield, it controls his every action. The nightma
res are the worst, having to relive it all as if it’s happening for the first time. I won’t be a victim, and I sure as hell won’t let the hate I have for Nicholas and Lacey consume me until it drowns out anything left of the old me.”

  Nate is quiet for a long beat. I’m afraid I’ve said too much. What if he calls Dex or Jimmie and tells them everything I just said? I was stupid to open my mouth. My confiding in Nate would crush Dex. In a move I don’t see coming, Nate reaches out a hand, wraps it around my waist, and pulls me onto his lap. I let out a squeal of surprise as his hands settle on my cheeks and his face hovers inches away from my own. I want to fight back, but his severe eyes have me pinned in place.

  “Have you spoke to Dex about any of this?”

  ‘No,” I mutter, my voice low. “I’ve tried bringing up a time or two, but it always ends with him pissed off and me feeling like a shithead for bringing it up.” When I can no longer hold Nate’s intense gaze my eyes flicker down to his shirt. This is the point where I should shut my mouth and keep quiet. Too bad my lips never stop moving. My damn mouth has gone rogue. “I feel like if I just keep smiling and following all his stupid rules, then Dex will eventually calm down and stop worrying all the time. I can’t sneeze these days without him freaking out. His fear that something will happen to me is driving a wedge between us. I’ve never seen him so invested in revenge, and honestly, it scares me at times.”

  “Do you love him?”

  I blink in thought, not expecting the question, but answering it with full honesty. “Of course, I do. With every fiber of my body.”

  “Then make it work,” Nate says, drawing my eyes back to his. “You know just as well as the rest of us how bullheaded Dex can be. He never does anything half-assed and that includes screwing up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

  I swallow hard, my heart racing. “Do you mean that?” I question softly as if raising my voice would break whatever private moment we’re having right now. It’s a stupid notion, but being alone in his basement, this close together while talking about our private thoughts makes it feel like we’re in our own little bubble and no one can touch us. “You think I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him?”