Heirs of War

by Mara Valderran

  "From him. So what's the deal? You don't like him?"

  She slammed her locker shut, but remained facing it. "Did I miss something? Are we friends now? Because last time I checked, you're another asshat I wish I'd never met."

  He shut his own locker—albeit more gently—and leaned his shoulder against the cool metal. "I am still an asshat, but I'm an asshat who happens to be friends with the guy you're dating. For some reason unbeknownst to me, he likes you."

  "Unbeknownst to you," she repeated as she rubbed at her forehead. "Because you never actually cared about me, right?" She started digging around in her book bag for her notebook, her hair covering her face.

  "Call it temporary insanity."

  She whipped around to face him. "What did I ever do to you to make you hate me so much? Because there used to be a time when you called me your best friend, so it can't be that I'm a terrible person. Or do I embarrass you now? Don't want the poor girl from the wrong side of town hanging around now that you're friends with the cool kids?"

  He snapped to attention at the sight of her face, shoving off the locker and straightening. "What happened?"

  She took an abrupt step back as he leaned closer. "What do you mean, what happened? You're the one who told everyone I was easy! Why don't you tell me what the hell happened, Kyle?"

  He shook his head, placing an urgent hand on her arm as he stepped closer again. "Your eye. Who did this to you?"

  Her face fell at the mention of the purple ring on her face. "Who do you think? I was completely wasted, and you dropped me on the doorstep. Did you honestly think I wouldn't pay for it?"

  He scanned the empty hallway over the top of her head, then grabbed her hand and led her into the art room across from them. Clearly ignoring her protests, he positioned her in front of the window for light and began examining her eye again. "So you remember me taking you home?"

  "I remember enough," she huffed though she was still being compliant to his examination. Part of her wanted to jerk away from his touch, but the bigger part just wanted to relish in it. For the first time in months, he was acting like he cared. And though she would definitely hate herself for it in the morning—or maybe even five minutes from now—she was melting at his touch.

  "How much is enough?"

  "Why?” she asked, her dark eyes accusatory. “What did you do?"

  He pulled her closer with distinct impatience at her question and started running his fingers over her skull to check for bumps. "I didn't do anything but take your drunken ass home. I could have left you lying there."

  Zelene scratched her head, wincing as she touched a sore spot. "I just had one drink. I don't know how I got so bad off."

  "Did you ice this?"

  "Yes."

  "Switch to heat after the first forty-eight hours?" Satisfied with the nod she gave in response, Kyle continued by brushing her hair behind her back after spying a few bruises on her neck. "She really went to town on you this time."

  "Well, according to her she wanted to teach me a lesson. Drinking underage is bad," she said sardonically. Like a woman who used teenagers as punching bags had any right to talk. "She thought I drove home, too, which didn't help. So thanks, but maybe you should have left me there."

  He leaned back with a challenging stare. "Because I’m sure you’d be thanking me if you were covered in ant bites right now. Or if someone else had found you and decided taking you home wasn't a fun idea. By the way, for the record, I dropped you off with Miss Lucy. I didn't expect her to walk you next door."

  "Oh, I don't remember that.”

  "Well, maybe you should get your story straight before you go accusing your knight in shining armor of anything so malicious as dropping you off with your abusive foster parents when you were drunk. I might be an asshole, but I still—"

  He stopped himself mid-sentence and she found herself holding her breath as she waited for him to continue. “You still what?”

  "I don't want anyone to get hurt. Is this everything?"

  She simply stared at him for a moment. "My arm, but I'm pretty sure it isn't broken or anything."

  "Let me see." At her hesitation, he tugged on the sleeves of her jacket until they revealed a spaghetti strap tank top underneath. "Where does it hurt?"

  "Just the back of my arm," she responded automatically. Was she imaging his breathy tone? Or could he really still be just as affected by her as she was by him? She turned around, shuddering as he lifted her hair off her back. "It, um, sort of collided with the dresser. And yes, I iced it."

  "There's going to be a bruise," he managed weakly before clearing his throat. "Keep it covered." In response to his words, he pulled her jacket back up. He turned his attention back to the bruise surrounding her eye. "Don't forget to massage it. The bruise will go away quicker."

  She reached for the offending area, using her finger tips to knead the area around her eye and wincing. "I hate that part."

  "I remember." He removed her hand and replacing her fingers with his own and massaging gentle circles into the purpling areas. "I know it hurts, but this is for the best."

  She looked up at him from under her lashes, more confused than ever before by his actions. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

  He gave her a half-hearted smirk as his fingers stilled against her face. "Old habits."

  They stood staring at each other for what must have been an eternity. She didn’t know how they had gotten so close, but his face was only inches away from hers. She didn’t pull away as he leaned down, his tentative lips brushing against hers.

  "What are we doing?" she asked as her lips grazed against his with each word.

  His blue eyes bore down into her, searching her face for something, though she had no idea what. She felt her mouth pull into a smile, and he responded by crushing his lips against hers. For one beautiful moment, she allowed herself to think their story-book romance had a happy ending after all.

  The moment died as his hand managed to find her bruised arm, and she cried out in pain. She pushed away from him, her hand tentatively resting against her mouth as she processed the last ten minutes, the fury building within her.

  "What the hell was that?"

  "Old habits."

  She nodded, her whole body trembling with anger. "Well, keep your old habits to yourself. And stay away from me. I can take care of myself. I don't need you anymore."

  He opened his mouth to retort, but he bit down on whatever it was he intended to say and let out a sigh. "You're right. You'll be eighteen soon anyway, and you won't even have to put up with them anymore, right?"

  "Right."

  "Guessing you'll be moving in with Varrick?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but yes."

  "Well, looks like you get to get rid of the Kruegers and me in one fell swoop. Since you'll have to transfer schools, I mean."

  "Looking forward to it," she responded, though her anger waffled at the thought of never seeing Kyle again. Was that really what she wanted? She shook off the questions in her mind as she headed for the door. She needed to get as much space between her and Kyle as possible if she ever wanted to think straight again.

  "I won't say anything to Rob about what happened if you want to try to work things out with him. He's a good guy."

  "Don't worry about it," she said over her shoulder. "Like you said, I'll be leaving soon." She turned around to face him, one hand on her hip and the other on her door. "So I guess you were wrong about something."

  "What’s that?”

  "It's not that I don't fit in your world," she said, throwing the words from their breakup back at him, "it's that you don't fit into mine."

  "I thought you didn't remember anything," he challenged.

  “I never forgot. And I never will.”

  She turned on heel and marched away, slamming the second door of her day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Taking pictures.” Ariana gestured to the stadium in front of her and turned to her best frie
nd in exasperation. “That’s what my life has come down to. Taking pictures.”

  “Oh, it’s not that bad,” Emma, ever the pure-hearted optimist, lifted a shoulder to the edge of her light blonde bob. “I mean, I know your parents are a little strict—”

  “I’m a spectator of life.” Ariana gestured angrily to the cheerleaders she was photographing from the bleachers as they went through their practice routines. “I should be cheering with them, not sitting here watching.”

  “You’re capturing memories, ensuring these moments will stand the test of time.”

  “You’ve been watching Win a Date With Tad Hamilton again. And besides, capturing memories is great and all if I actually had some of my own to look back on with fondness in ten years.”

  Emma’s normally tan complexion turned a bit green as her wide eyes focused on someone crossing the football stadium. “Then again, it might be nice if you were alive in ten years to reflect on life at all.”

  Ariana’s lavender eyes followed the path of Emma’s gaze. Her jaw dropped as she recognized the bulk of a man making a beeline to her, either completely oblivious to the football players he was weaving through or just not caring. The latter seemed more likely.

  “I can’t believe they sent Varrick after you. Is he, like, your Dad’s errand boy or something?”

  “More like his enforcer,” she muttered. Somehow, whenever Ariana was in trouble—or even afraid of getting in trouble, Varrick was there. She lowered her camera and placed a hand on her hip, attitude in hand, as Varrick approached. “How’d you find me?”

  Varrick let out a gruff laugh. "You're the only kid I know who sneaks out of the house to come back to school after-hours." He turned his head to the blonde at her side and gave her a nod. “Emma. Nice to see you again. I’m assuming your parents know you’re here?”

  Emma’s mouth opened and closed a few times before she let out a squeak and mumbled something about going home. Ariana waved her off. Emma’s parents always knew where she was as there was hardly a rebellious bone in her best friend’s body, but Emma was terrified of Varrick. Most people were. Even Ariana had to (reluctantly) admit he was pretty intimidating.

  But Ariana was just as stubborn as he was intimidating, so her hand remained firmly on her hip as she addressed him. “I wouldn't sneak out if my freak-show parents would loosen the apron strings a bit."

  "I understand you're mad at them—“

  "They told you? Good. Now you might understand why I hate them so much."

  He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing a pair of laugh-line-framed eyes that were both impatient and understanding. "Look, Ariana—“

  "No, you look. I worked my butt off for the past four years so I could get into a good college. A good college, Varrick. Like NYU or UCLA. And now they aren't even going to let me apply. How unfair is that? I'm getting ready to turn eighteen, and they think they can rule my life once I'm an adult! I hate them."

  "No, you don't."

  "I will if they don't let me go. My Dad might be your best friend, but he isn't exactly a contender for Father of the Year right now."

  "I'm sure they have their reasons, Ariana. You're growing up, but you don't know much about the worlds."

  "World, you mean," she corrected him.

  "Of course, the world." He stood up, and shoved his hands into his pockets. "I should get you home."

  "I think I've got everything I need for my yearbook assignment." She gave the field a cursory glance, watching as her classmates and friends had fun. "Must be nice."

  "What?"

  "Getting to do this stuff. I used to think I would run track or something. But instead, I have to find activities I can do at home in case I can't get a chaperone."

  He tapped a finger on her camera case. "Come on, kiddo. If I don't get you home soon, your parents are going to rethink this whole dance thing I convinced them to let you go to."

  "You convinced them to let me go to the Homecoming Dance?" She let out a squeal at his nod of confirmation, jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. "Varrick, you are the absolute best!"

  He gave her back a halfhearted pat. "Easy, now. There are two conditions." He waited for her to ease herself off him before he continued. "One: I am chaperoning. If something happens and I can’t chaperone, this whole thing is scrapped. Understand?"

  "That doesn't sound bad. What's the second one?"

  "Tate has to be the one to take you."

  She deflated completely at this. "What? Why?"

  "What's wrong with Tate taking you? He's your best friend.”

  "And so not dating material for that reason," she countered. "Fine, Tate takes me, but I don’t have to stick with him the whole time, right? I mean, I could dance with other guys and hang out with my friends. Right?"

  "You're asking my permission to ditch your friend? Who, by the way, is pretty much the only guy I trust within ten feet of you."

  "You're the one they're sending to spy on me, so yes. Come on, Varrick. I like this guy. A lot. I'm sure you would like him if you met him."

  He grunted. "You can dance with him, but nothing else. Don't even try to sneak off under the bleachers. Understand?"

  She nodded with enough enthusiasm to rival the cheerleaders practicing in nearby. "No make out sessions outside of your view, got it." She smirked at his predictable wince. "I'm kidding. I promise to introduce you before the dance. Assuming you'll be in town all week?"

  "Maybe. Depends on how work goes. Let's get you home for now before your Dad starts blowing up my phone.”

  Ariana floated through her entire weekend, and as she returned to school Monday, she had the same lift in her step as she went from class to class. She went through the usual parts of her day, anxiously awaiting her last class. When the bell rang, she rushed from the room and down the halls, coming to a stop outside the doors of her French class and tidying the dark hair she had spent hours curling that morning.

  “Hey beautiful,” a tall, red-headed boy with youthful good looks said as he approached her. His chin dimpled when he smiled, and gave her a light kiss on the lips.

  “Hey handsome,” she said as she returned the smile. “Guess who gets to go to the dance after all…”

  His mouth hung open as he stared at her. “You’re kidding. Your parents are gonna let you go?”

  She nodded, still beaming. “There’s one catch though. Tate has to be the one to take me.” She held her hand up to halt his angry protests. “I know, Allen, but if I want to go I have to go on their terms. Varrick is going to chaperone, and he said as long as I don’t go sneaking off to dark corners he doesn’t care who I spend my time with.”

  He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Well, that’s a shame cause I had a special dark corner picked out just for you,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Take all your conquests there, do you?” she asked with a coy smirk.

  “Oh, no. Just the ones who play hard to get.”

  She smacked him on the arm with a laugh. “I don’t play hard to get, I am hard to get thanks to my parents.” She cursed under her breath as the bell rang. “I worked out the details with Emma already since we’re meeting at her house, but I’ll explain later.” She lifted herself onto her toes so she could kiss him again as people filed into the classroom. “We better get inside.”

  Almost as soon as class had begun, Allen passed her a note, and she could see a confused frown on his face from across the room. She opened the folded sheet, trying to hide it under the table.

  Who is Emma taking to the dance? Was scrawled across the top of the page. She pulled out her pen and suppressed an eye roll as she responded. She is taking you, technically, but she has a crush on Tate, so it works out. A double date!

  Ariana took advantage of the fact her teacher was distracted by a new student coming in late and quickly passed the note back to the person in front of her, who continued the message on its path until the note reached Allen. She watched him read her response and sha
ke his head with a laugh. She wiped the amusement from her face the instant the teacher called on her.

  “Yes Madam?” she replied innocently.

  “Can you let Mademoiselle Loch share materials with you for today?” the teacher asked as she inspected the schedule the blonde girl had handed her. She didn’t wait for Ariana to respond before directing the new girl to take a seat next to her.

  “Hi,” the new girl said timidly as she sat down. She had blonde curly hair framing her petite square-shaped face and a pair of glasses sitting on her small nose. She held out her hand. “I’m Sheri Loch. I mean, my name is Sheridan, but most people call me Sheri for short.”

  Ariana shook the girl’s hand brightly. “Nice to meet you, Sheri. I’m Ariana.”

  “Oh wow,” Sheridan pulled her classmate’s hand closer to inspect the upturned wrist. “Is that a tattoo?”

  Ariana eased her hand away, rubbing her wrist. Her birthmark was shaped like a five-pointed star inside a ring of what people described as Celtic looking knots. “No, it’s a birthmark. I know, it’s totally weird.”

  “No,” the girl breathed, her emerald-green eyes alight, “I think that’s so much cooler. It’s like a tattoo. But you’ve always had it, right?”

  Ariana nodded. “I mean, it’s always been there and always looked like this, but kinda became clearer over the years, but whatever. I guess it’s cool.”

  She placed the text book between them, noting their teacher’s disapproving gaze. She turned her attention to her notebook and began working on conjugating the verbs written on the board. She didn’t notice the note being passed back to her until she discovered Sheridan reading Allen’s response. The new girl looked up and around the classroom in confusion.

  Ariana plucked the note from her fingers. “I think that’s for me.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Sheridan said, red-faced. “I didn’t understand why they were handing it to me, and I didn’t read much, I promise.”

  Ariana couldn’t help but laugh at the girl’s profuse apologies. “It’s okay. They didn’t pass notes at your old school?”

  Sheridan blushed further as she pushed the glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “I was home schooled. I’ve got the whole socially awkward thing going on, don’t I?”