“No!” I pull the keys from the ignition and grab my backpack from the passenger seat before rushing out of the car.
I’m not quick enough. The video is already playing by the time I’m on my feet. Cole’s face falls as he watches, his throat bobbing as he swallows. His eyes squint as they briefly flicker to me, his jaw set. There’s no question, he’s developing feelings for Violet.
“Where did you get this?” he grits out.
I don’t even attempt to take my phone again, slamming my car door shut then hitting the key fob until I hear the beep. “Arwen.”
His knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the phone. I slip my backpack over my shoulders, watching him watch her.
“This is an invasion of her privacy. Does Violet know you have this? Arwen is supposed to be her friend.”
My stomach tightens with guilt, and I run a hand through my hair. This isn’t what he’s thinking. There was a time Arwen would take videos like this one for me to use as blackmail. It’s not like that with Violet. I’d never do anything to hurt her, and I know Arwen wouldn’t either.
“She is. I doubt Arwen told Violet, or she even knows Arwen was taking the video. But she’s only trying to get me to act. She’s trying to force my hand the same way you did at the party.”
“That’s not the same thing at all,” he protests.
His body tenses as Violet says, “I love you,” and I hold out my hand as the video ends. My silent demand doesn’t work. His thumb slides across the screen from right to left, and his eyes bulge in surprise, heated anger radiating from them as they slip over to me.
Saturday morning, I received another text message from Arwen, likely pissed I ignored the first one. This time, it was a picture of Violet sleeping peacefully in her bed—her blonde hair fanned out across her pillow and covers tucked under her chin—looking like a goddamn angel. The message that followed read: I woke up next to this. Jealous?
“What the hell is going on?” he seethes, shoving the phone into my chest. “This is all starting to seem very familiar. Violet is not a fucking mark.”
I cringe at the term. One we haven’t used in a long time. Marks were how I referred to the venomous assholes who used to run this school before we took them down. One by one. I’m not proud of the things we’ve done, but I don’t regret them either.
“No fucking shit, asshole. You need to get your head on straight. You’re falling for her.”
“What if I am?” he challenges, quirking an eyebrow as my nostrils flare. His lips twitch in amusement as my fists curl at my sides. I can’t tell if he’s serious or fucking with me.
“Well…then we’d have a problem.”
“Why? Because you’ve already fallen for her?” He pauses, nodding as if my silence is his answer. “You fell for her the first time you laid eyes on her and have been staking claim to her since. But the thing is, you won’t let yourself be with her. I know I’m not good enough for her either, but at least I’m willing to let her make that decision on her own.”
He stays planted as I take a threatening step toward him. “She’s mine.”
He chuckles, scratching at his jawline as his head thoughtfully tilts. “Who the fuck says?”
“I do!”
He smirks, his eyes roaming over the tight features on my face. “Prove it.”
Before my brain even has a chance to form a response, he jogs off, his laughter echoing through the parking lot.
The girl chatting me up in the hallway seems oblivious to my sudden mood change, flipping her hair and giggling as I glower over her shoulder at my soon-to-be ex-best friend and the girl at his side. This shit with Violet has officially gone too far. She’s wearing his fucking plaid button-down shirt, laughing and talking with him as she walks down the hall with his arm around her damn shoulder.
Skirting around the girl in front of me, I charge toward them, the sea of people parting as I make my way through like I’m freaking Moses. Cole sees me coming first, halting their steps and grinning before whispering to Violet. Her eyes lift to find me, pink coloring her cheeks before she has a chance to school her features.
She holds my gaze as I reach them, her mouth twisted and brow raised in defiance. When our staring match continues, Cole clears his throat to steal her attention.
“I’m going to go to class. Are you good here, Saint?”
She nods, and I growl as he gives her a quick kiss on the side of the head then winks at me before stalking off.
“Did you need something, Rebel?”
My lips twist as I bite back a smile, balling up some material of Cole’s shirt in my fist. “Come with me,” I demand.
She looks down at the bundle in my hand, sighing as her eyes meet mine again. “I need to get to class.” I tug on the shirt, slamming her body into mine, and she gasps. “People are watching,” she breathes.
“I couldn’t care less right now. If you do, I suggest you come with me. Because prying eyes aren’t going to stop me.”
“Fine.”
I walk toward a tutoring room, pulling her along behind me by Cole’s shirt. The final bell rings as I nudge her inside the tiny room and shut the door. The sound of her heavy breathing fills the small space, the table and chairs occupying most of it. Her worried eyes dance around the room before settling on me.
That’s right, baby doll, there’s nowhere to go. I’ve got you trapped, and we’re going to get some things straight before you leave.
“What are we doing in here?”
I chuckle at her attempt to sound stern, my gaze sliding to her chest. She’s wearing Arwen’s clothes again, a tight black crop top paired with some loose-fitting jeans, revealing a sliver of her thin midsection. I’d nearly thrown my jacket over her this morning when she walked into Spanish. I should be grateful to Cole for offering her his shirt, but seeing her in it makes jealousy twist my stomach.
Violet clears her throat, drawing my eyes back up as color splashes across her cheeks, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
She stands her ground as I rush her, though her stiffening back gives her away. My hands slip under the straps of her backpack, pushing them off her shoulders, and she arches back, allowing it to fall to the floor. A small whimper escapes her when my fingers skim across her collar bone and under the opening of Cole’s shirt.
“I think the three of you are trying to unman me,” I hiss, trailing my hands over her warm skin as I guide the shirt down her arms.
“What are you talking about?” Her words come out in pants.
Smirking, I throw Cole’s shirt into the tin trashcan in the corner. She huffs as I block her efforts to retrieve it, my hands landing on her hips to keep her in place.
“What are you doing? You can’t throw that away.”
My thumbs caress the exposed skin between her shirt and jeans, closing the space between us and pressing my body into hers. “Why were you wearing his fucking shirt?”
“I was cold.” Her head sways as she gives into the pull of her heavy eyelids “Why do you care?”
Taking advantage of her exposed neck and closed eyes, I lean in and feather kisses over her throbbing pulse. “He’s falling for you. Both of my traitorous best friends are.”
Her hand flies to my chest, pushing against me as she leans back. Those brilliant blue eyes search mine as her brow crinkles. “They’re my friends, Rebel.” There’s no certainty to her words; she senses it too. “But again, why do you care?”
I step back, shrugging the black military style jacket off my shoulders and placing it around hers. “If you’re cold, you can wear my jacket.”
She yanks it off and thrusts it back at me. “No thanks.”
“Why the hell not?”
She sighs, folding my jacket into her arms as she crosses them. “If I go around school wearing your jacket, everyone will think—”
“You’re mine?” I cup her face in my hands as I close the gap between us again. The desire to taste her is strong. It’s been far too long. “Go
od. They should know.”
My mouth connects with hers, my tongue slipping inside as she moans. The kiss is desperate yet deliberate, both of us reveling in the euphoric state. My hands travel to the base of her hairline before falling to the small of her back. She melts into my arms, the jacket she’s still clutching keeping a barrier between our bodies.
It takes me by surprise when she shoves me, breaking our kiss as I stumble back.
“No.” She heaves, her eyes dark with lust. “You can’t keep doing this.”
A mixture of anger and hurt shadows her face, and my heart sinks into my stomach like an anchor into the sea.
“You can’t kiss me as if I’m your life source only to push me away again. You don’t have a right to act possessive all the time either. I’ve already told you I won’t be a doll you keep on the shelve under the guise of protecting me.”
“Guise?” I sneer.
She boxes her shoulders, her defiant stare returning.
“You have no freaking clue what these people are really like—thanks to me.” A humorless laugh rumbles from my chest as I tear my jacket from her grasp, and her forehead crinkles as I put it on. “I saw you on your first day here, all doe-eyed and innocent. You’re not made of plastic like the rest of them. They would’ve broken you if I hadn’t stepped in.”
She balls her hands at her sides, her jaw ticking as she moves toward me. “You don’t know what I am or am not capable of handling,” she seethes, pointing a finger at my chest. “I’m not the fragile little girl you’re trying to paint me out to be. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I never wanted your ‘protection’ then, and I certainly don’t need it now.”
“Fine. Have it your way.”
Sighing, I remove her finger from my chest and take her hand in mine. She watches with curiosity as I bring it to my lips and place a light kiss on her knuckles.
“Consider yourself officially discharged from my protection.” She flinches at my cold tone, jerking out of my hold as a wicked smile blooms on my face. “This should be interesting. I hope you’re ready. We’re about to see what you’re made of, baby doll. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
She gapes at me, her lashes fluttering as she tries to figure out what to say, but I turn toward the door before she has a chance.
“And what happens when I prove you wrong?” I freeze, my hand gripping the doorknob. “Once you see I can stand on my own two feet, what happens then?”
My shoulders slump as my head falls. I’m grateful she can’t see the fear on my face. This will end badly—possibly for us both—but I can’t keep fighting all three of them.
Ensuring a quick escape, I throw the door open before answering her. “I’ll come for you, and you’ll regret it.”
She inhales a sharp breath, but I’m out of the room and down the hall before I have the chance to take it all back.
Chapter Twenty
VIOLET
Arwen bumps her shoulder into mine, snapping me out of my thoughts. The noise and chaos from Sal’s on a Friday night filters back into focus, and my stare slides from the half-eaten, cold burger in front of me to her.
Thatcher was back to ignoring me, which certainly didn’t feel like winning, no matter what Arwen thought. She said he was giving me what I asked for. That if people knew how he felt about me, they’d still consider me under his protection. She believes he’s testing me, not trusting I’ll be willing to follow him down the rabbit hole. And while she seems to be certain everything will work out, I haven’t been able to get Thatcher’s parting words out of my mind.
“I’ll come for you, and you’ll regret it.”
She gestures across the table with a flicker of her eyes, and I look to find Aidan staring at me while Samantha chats next to him, desperately trying to gain his attention.
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to plan a group outing with Aidan. I thought it was the perfect solution to our situation, pushing Aidan and Samantha together without making it painfully obvious, but it’s been agonizingly awkward.
Aidan has been ignoring Samantha and treating Arwen like she’s Satan. It could have something to do with her very apparent hatred toward him. While she was thrilled with the idea of me booting Aidan, she seemed less excited with the prospect of me hooking him up with Samantha—which I found odd given her general dislike for both. Shouldn’t she think they’re the perfect pair?
There’s a heaviness on my chest as I give him a tight smile. When he reaches across the table for my hand, Samantha falls silent, and Arwen stiffens next to me. Not wanting to upset Aidan, I don’t immediately pull away from him, giving him a quick squeeze before moving my hand to my lap.
“Do you have plans tomorrow night?” he asks, hope laced in his tone. “I was thinking we could catch a movie—just the two of us.” His words are slow and deliberate, his glare darkening with disdain when it swings to Arwen.
“Sorry, we have plans,” Arwen chirps, followed by a fuck you grin.
I’m not entirely sure what Arwen’s deal is with Aidan, but the tension between them is palpable. Thatcher and Cole seem to be a part of the Aidan hate club too, though none of them have given any explanation as to why. I figured Thatcher was jealous and Cole was being protective of his friend, but Arwen is an “all’s fair in love and war” kind of girl. Her issue with Aidan appears to be personal and long-standing.
“We do?”
“Yep, Thatcher is throwing a party.” Her eyes cut to Aidan. “Invite only, sorry.”
Aidan ignores her, staying focused on me. “You’re partying with them now?”
“Watch it, Shaw,” Arwen hisses.
My eyes snap over to my new best friend in surprise. Her stormy eyes are wild and feral as she glowers at Aidan, daring him to cross her. She’s always so easy going and sweet with me, I sometimes forget she can be as threatening as Thatcher. I’ve seen even the meanest girls at school cower down after nothing more than a look from Arwen. Although the guys are usually too busy drooling over her, I’m sure she has the same impact on them. Even if she wasn’t scary enough on her own, everyone knows Thatcher and Cole would murder anyone who dared to mess with Arwen.
Aidan’s jaw ticks, but he stays silent, his eyes never leaving me. “What movie do you want to see?” I ask, and Arwen groans in protest next to me.
Aidan perks up, his face much brighter and tone much lighter. “There’s a new horror movie out.”
I smile, ignoring the pang of guilt in my chest. He remembered my love of horror movies, which means he cared enough to listen. Aidan isn’t a bad guy. It almost makes me wish I liked him. He’s certainly less complicated than Thatcher. There’s no challenge, no fear, no…excitement. And that’s the problem. Aidan doesn’t make my pulse race, heart drum, or body pulse the way Thatcher does. Maybe there’s something wrong with me, but now that I’ve felt something so intense, I’m not sure I could ever settle for less.
“Oh, Sam, isn’t that the movie you’ve been dying to see?” Samantha blinks at me in confusion, and I flare my eyes, willing her to understand.
“It is!” she exclaims once my intention clicks, a smile breaking across her face. “I love a good scary movie.”
“That’s perfect,” Arwen chimes in. “Aidan can take you to see the movie, and Violet will come with me to the party.”
“Why don’t you let Violet decide for herself, Star,” Aidan grits.
Star? What the hell is that?
“Actually…” I bite my lip, “that sounds like a good idea. Samantha wants to see the movie, and I’d like to go to the party.”
Arwen chuckles, and Aidan sighs with disappointment, his eyes falling to the table as he gives a slight shake of his head.
Chapter Twenty-One
VIOLET
“What’s the deal with Aidan?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
My parents agreed to let me go to the party and stay with Arwen. Since her house is within walking distance to Thatcher’s, Arwen made me promise to rela
x and have a few drinks tonight. She said she wants me to act my age for once and have fun without worrying about the consequences. In theory, it sounds nice. I just hope I don’t come to regret it.
“Aidan?” Arwen echoes from her closet, continuing her efforts to find me the perfect outfit. My eyes wander as I rest my head on her gray upholstered headboard, my bare feet running over the velvety pink comforter. Her room is insane. It has a huge walk-in closet, and an en-suite nearly as big as my entire room. The walls are painted a deep mauve, and the light fixture above her bed is shaped like a star. It looks like something out of a magazine. “What do you mean?”
I scoff. “Come on, you know what I’m talking about. You, Cole, and Thatcher obviously don’t like him, and he doesn’t care for any of you either.”
“Fuck Aidan. He’s a douchebag.”
A douchebag who had a nickname for her. One that seemed personal and special.
“Why do you think he’s a douchebag, though? He’s only been sweet to me, maybe even when I didn’t deserve it.”
She pops her head out of the closet, her brow crinkled. “Didn’t deserve it? Why? Because you didn’t swoon over his gorgeous eyes, killer smile, and football skills?” She buzzes her lips, and I laugh, deciding not to point out the fact that she complimented Aidan. “He should consider himself lucky you’ve had anything to do with him.”
She disappears back into the closet, and I sigh. “I’m starting to feel like you’re purposely evading my question.”
After a couple minutes of silence, Arwen walks out carrying some clothes in one hand and a pair of shoes in the other. She approaches the bed, not meeting my gaze until the outfit is thoughtfully laid out on the end. When her eyes lift to mine, there’s worry and fear swirling in them.
“In short, it’s complicated,” she says, hugging herself.
“Does the longer answer involve an explanation for him calling you star?”
When the Saint Falls: a high school bully romance (Westbrook three Book 1) Page 10
