“Caught that, did you?” I nod. “Aidan and I haven’t always been enemies. But that was then, and this is now. And in the now, there’s a lot of bad blood between us. If I’m being honest, a lot of it is my fault. I have stolen several of his girlfriends.”
I laugh, thinking about how jealous Aidan seems when I’m with Arwen. Makes a lot more sense now.
“So, what’s his issue with Thatcher and Cole?”
“That’s something different entirely. Of course, they’ve given him hell over the years because of me. But they also haven’t always seen eye-to-eye when it comes to high school politics. Aidan’s been quick to place judgment on them without having all the facts.”
“Judgement for what?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “Sometimes you have to do something bad to achieve something for the greater good.”
“That’s super cryptic. You aren’t freaking vigilantes. You guys are high school students for Pete’s sake,” I tease. She doesn’t laugh, though. There’s not even a hint of humor on her stoic face. “Why do you seem so tense?”
“It’s the party,” she answers, letting out a weary sigh as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to me. “I think Thatcher is aiming to prove his point tonight.”
“You mean about me not belonging in your world?”
Her eyes fall to her lap. “He’s not completely wrong, you know. Things are different in that element. We’re different. Thatcher, Cole, and I. You’re going to see and hear some things you don’t like tonight.”
“Different how? Why would you change for those people? Why can’t you be yourselves?”
“High school is a lion’s den—you’re either the hunter or the prey—the lion or the lamb. So…we show our teeth, letting them believe we’re fearless and ruthless.”
“Lions don’t typically eat lambs, not a lot of those running around in their neck of the woods,” I mock, trying again to lighten the mood.
She shoves my shoulder, a smile spreading across her lips, but not reaching her worried eyes. “I’m being serious here. You’re the only person I’ve let in for a long time, the only one who truly knows me besides the guys.”
“If you’re worried tonight will change things, that it will change how I feel about you, don’t be. You’re my best friend. Literally the best one I’ve ever had. I’ve seen those teeth of yours before, I can handle it. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Promise?” she rasps.
Her lips spread into a bright smile as I nod, her eyes glossing over as I reach out and take her hand. Then, the strong, badass Arwen does something I never thought I’d see: she cries. Well…it’s only a couple tears, but I’m totally counting it.
“Great…” She uses her free hand to dry her face. “Now I’m getting all emotional. I can be such a boy sometimes.”
“Boy?” I chuckle.
She smirks, giving my hand a squeeze before standing. “What? Were you expecting me to say girl? Fuck that noise. We both know women are the superior sex. We’re stronger, smarter, braver. Men are big babies. Thatcher and Cole would be lost without me.”
Arwen spent thirty minutes doing my hair and makeup before leaving me to get dressed in the outfit she picked out for me. I avoided the mirror until I was done, only allowing myself a quick glance before heading downstairs. Anything more, and I might’ve never left her room.
Don’t get me wrong, I look amazing, but the entire ensemble is way out of my comfort zone. My hair is laying in beachy waves around my shoulders and my makeup is flawless—a smoky eyeshadow making my blue eyes pop and a perfect shade of red painted on my lips. My white Led-Zeppelin ringer tee has a knot tied in the front, revealing a peek of my midriff. Arwen paired that with her black jean miniskirt and a pair of fishnets, but I insisted on wearing my boots.
Arwen is with her father in his office when I find Cole alone in the foyer, looking deep in thought as he paces the floor. His steps halt once he senses my presence, and my breathing shallows as his stare glides up my body. By the time it meets mine, his mouth is hanging open and his green eyes are glazed. My body heats uncomfortably, and I pull down on my shirt.
“Do I look ridiculous?”
His eyes skim over me again. “Ridiculously hot maybe.” He whistles, then playfully licks his lips. “Damn, girl…Thatcher is going to lose his mind when he sees you. It might break him.”
I scoff. “Break him?”
He sighs, the same worried expression I saw on Arwen’s face darkening his features. “You know he’s going to act like an asshole tonight.”
“And? That’s no different than any other day.”
He laughs. “Good point, but he’s not the only one I’m worried about. You need to stay close to me.”
I groan, though my attempt to look annoyed is foiled by my curving lips. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to start that protector bullshit now too.”
“Seriously, Cole,” Arwen adds as she walks up next to me. “She doesn’t need you to be her white knight, and she won’t be riding your trusty steed, so back off.”
My face heats as I groan in embarrassment. Cole hooks his arm around mine. “Look what you’ve done. She’s all flustered now.”
“Sorry, Saint,” Arwen says as she takes my other arm. “But your rosy cheeks are so freaking adorable.”
My heart feels full sandwiched between my two new best friends. Thatcher’s best friends. No matter what happens with him, I’m so glad they’re in my life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
THATCHER
I watch from the game room window as more people file inside the house, none of them my best friends or Violet. My chest is tight as I pull my phone from my pocket and check the time again. Arwen was supposed to be here with Violet an hour ago, and Cole’s punk ass was supposed to be here before the party started. Something tells me he ended up at Arwen’s to pick up the girls.
He wasn’t happy when I told Arwen to bring Violet tonight, knowing I fully intend to scare her away for good. I’m not a fool, I know Cole is falling for her. He can’t see past his own feelings long enough to realize it’s for the best—which is a problem for me.
If this is going to work, I need him to get on board. Arwen is a lost cause. She’s not going to do anything to jeopardize her friendship with Violet. Not that I would ask her to. Still, it would be a lot easier to convince Violet to stay away if my best friends hadn’t befriended and fallen for her.
They’ve both tried to convince me she’s strong enough to handle whatever these people can throw at her, yet I’m the only one willing to test that theory. None of us will ever forget the hell we endured, and they should know I would never allow anything like that to happen to Violet. I only plan to give these assholes enough leeway to prove my point. She needs to open her eyes. I’m no good for her.
“Dangerous” by Big Data begins to play through the sound system the second I spot Violet’s golden hair. It feels like an omen. Cole is on one side of her and Arwen on the other, all of them smiling and laughing as they make their way up my driveway. Before they step out of view, Violet looks up and smirks at me, as if she knew I’d been watching her all along.
I take my time making my way downstairs, playing a quick game of nine-ball first to appear less eager to seek her out than I actually am. When I locate her in the living room with Arwen, I immediately want to shut the party down and send everyone home except for Violet. The girls are dancing to “Pure” by October. Every guy in the room is watching with drool on their chins as the girls jump around and move to the music.
My first instinct is to put a stop to it. I want to pull her away and have her all to myself. But I’ve never seen Violet look so carefree, and it doesn’t seem right to take that from her. So, I merely stand and watch like the rest of the assholes in the room.
She has a warm smile on her face—possibly from the liquor likely streaming through her veins—and her eyes are closed as her head sways back and forth to the rhythm of the song
, her blonde locks perfectly unruly.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m totally screwed.
“She looks happy, doesn’t she?” Cole asks as he steps up beside me, offering me a drink. My jaw ticks, but I take the drink and lift my chin in thanks. “You aren’t going to let any of these shit faces do anything to jeopardize that, are you?”
“She’s the one who asked me to back off, I’m only respecting her wishes.”
His face contorts with disappointment. “That’s bullshit and you know it, man. She’s only trying to get you to let her in. Why are you so hellbent on continuing to push her away?”
“Because she doesn’t know what she’s asking for. She doesn’t know the real me. If she did—”
“What? She’d hate you?” He lifts his eyebrows, waiting for me to dispute him, but I merely narrow my eyes. “Jesus, you’ve acted like a jerk for the better part of two years, and the girl still seems to see something good in you. Is all the bullshit your father has said to you over the years so deeply seeded you can’t even consider the possibility of someone like Violet caring for you?”
“Screw you, Cole. Don’t bring my father into this,” I seethe. There’s no denying my father managed to royally fuck me up. But there’s more at play here than my lack of self-esteem. “I believe Violet could fall for me. Despite everything, I believe it’s possible she already has. But that doesn’t mean she should. I’m not a good guy.”
Though Cole and Arwen seem to be able to ignore the horrible things we’ve done, I can’t. They weigh on me every day. We may have done them in the name of justice, but doing bad things to evil people doesn’t make it right.
I mean…Dexter killed sick serial killers, but he was as messed up as them.
They’re both living in denial, believing Violet wouldn’t look at them differently if she knew about the things we’ve done. She wouldn’t understand we were only trying to survive. We were monsters—ruthless, cunning, cruel. It was the only way to defeat them.
“If you’re so corrupt, what the hell does that say about me and Arwen?”
“This doesn’t involve the two of you.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” he growls. “We’ve always been a packaged deal. Anything you’ve done, we’ve been right there with you. If you’re one of the buy guys, we are too. You won’t only be pushing her out of your life, but we adore Saint and we’re not about to give her up without a fight.”
Cole stalks off, ending our conversation and joining Arwen and Violet in the middle of the room. My nostrils flare as he sandwiches himself between them. The three of them look like a freaking orgy waiting to happen, hands roaming and hips grinding. All of them purposely avoid looking in my direction, but the flush on Violet’s skin gives her away. She feels my eyes on her. They’re trying to bait me. They want me to snap—to stake my claim on Saint in front of everyone. So, I fight every urge to do precisely that and walk away.
Chapter Twenty-Three
VIOLET
My head swims a little as I walk up the stairs, checking over my shoulder to be sure Arwen and Cole aren’t following. They reluctantly agreed to let me go to the bathroom by myself, and I should feel bad about giving them the slip, but I’m a girl on a mission. I’m not drunk, though there’s enough liquor in my system to make seeking out Thatcher seem like a good idea.
Arwen and Cole haven’t left my side all night, ensuring everyone else keeps their distance. The party might even be fun, if not for Thatcher avoiding me like the plague. I saw him in the living room while I was dancing with Arwen, felt the heat of his stare as he watched me. Then he was gone and has been MIA since.
Much like the rest of the house, the white and black walnut wooden staircase is grand. It curves next to a wall of windows showcasing their perfectly sculpted lawn. Hanging from the ceiling in the center of a staircase is a wrought iron chandelier with fake candles flickering. There’s a final bend before I see the end, and I sigh as I reach the top.
This place is huge. Finding Thatcher before Arwen and Cole realize I’ve snuck off might be impossible. There are three hallways, one straight ahead, one to my left, and one to my right, each revealing rows of closed doors.
After humming Eeny, meeny, miny, moe to myself, I go with my gut and head left, carefully listening for any sign of life behind each door as I pass. Light peeking out from the bottom of the door to my right draws my attention, and I step closer, pressing my ear to the door. There’s some music lightly playing. It’s too low to hear what it is, but there’s a darker feel to it than the music playing for the rest of the party.
My hand is shaky as I tap on the door. When there’s no response, I wipe my clammy hand on my jean skirt and reach for the handle. It turns with ease, and my adrenaline spikes as I push the door open, only to fizzle out with disappointment when Thatcher isn’t on the other side.
It’s his room, though. I’m sure of it. I step inside anyway. Nine Inch Nails’ “Hurt” strums as I take in my surroundings. The walls are a dark charcoal gray, the furniture black with a sleek finish, his bed covered in a white comforter with red and black pillows. I can’t say I’ve ever imagined what the inside of Thatcher’s bedroom might look like, but if I had, this wouldn’t be it. It’s so…emo.
I walk over to Thatcher’s desk, running my hand over his leather jacket hanging on the back of the chair. His scent is all around me, and I take in a greedy whiff. It’s the best kind of torture.
There’s a sketchbook resting on the desk, and I scan the room one more time before reaching for it. I flip it open to a drawing of a girl—or a porcelain doll. There’s a crack right down the middle of her head with flowers flowing out. Violets. A chill runs down my spine, and I quickly close the pad.
“Saint?”
I nearly jump out of my skin, a small scream passing through my lips as I turn around. An amused Cole saunters toward me as I place a hand of my pounding heart and try to catch my breath.
“Jesus Christ, Cole. You scared the holy hell out of me.”
He laughs. “Serves you right, sneaking away the way you did and snooping around in Thatcher’s room.”
“I wasn’t snooping,” I protest.
He lifts an eyebrow. “You definitely were. Find anything good?”
“I got lost.”
He tsks at my poorly thought out lie. “Come on, Saint. You can think of a better excuse. You were supposed to be in the bathroom, it was literally only a few feet from the kitchen.”
I bite down on my lip to hold back a smile. “This place is big and confusing.”
Cole scoffs. “That’s true, no one needs a house like this. Especially when no one is ever actually in it. It’s wasteful.”
My forehead crinkles at the annoyance in his tone. “What? Does your house only have a four-car garage instead of a six?” I tease.
He huffs, a sadness washing over his pretty face as his eyes fall to the floor. “My family isn’t rich like Thatcher’s and Arwen’s. Until a couple years ago, my mom and I lived in the guesthouse of the family she worked for. It’s the only reason I was able to attend school in Westbrook with the rest of the rich brats. We’ve only had our own place for a couple years, and that’s only because Arwen’s dad gave my mom a job working as his assistant. Pretty sure he pays her way more than the average assistant makes.”
I gape at him, feeling like a total ass. I’ve grown strangely close to Cole over the past couple months, but I still know so little about him. I always assumed all three of the amigos came from wealthy families. Cole always looks the part, dressed in the same designer digs as the rest of Westbrook High, but maybe that’s with the help of his two best friends. Arwen has certainly made a difference in my wardrobe since we became friends.
I bump his shoulder with mine, giving him a bright smile. “You know that’s nothing to be ashamed of, right? My family doesn’t have money either. I almost think it’s better that way. I mean, look at the rebel with a silver spoon. He doesn’t seem like someone who
had a happy childhood.”
Cole’s face lights back up, his eyes twinkling with their normal playful mischief as he cackles. “Rebel with a silver spoon? Are you talking about Thatcher? Oh my god, that’s freaking perfect.”
I grin. “I know, right?”
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze as he leads me out of the room. “We better get out of here. Let’s get you another drink and find your rebel.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
THATCHER
My grip on the Xbox controller tightens as Cole walks into the game room with an obviously tipsy Violet glued to his side. She giggles as he whispers something in her ear, and it takes all my willpower not to jump off the couch and punch him right in the dick.
I do my best to ignore them as they make their way over to me, keeping my focus on Borderlands. Cole takes a seat on the other end of the couch, placing Violet between us. Her honeysuckle scent is mixed with a hint of whiskey, and my blood begins to pump a little faster as I imagine tasting that whiskey on her breath.
“Hey, man, are you going to play by yourself all night or share like a big boy?” Cole mocks.
Without acknowledging his comment, I save my game and start a new one before tossing the other controller his way, careful not to meet Violet’s gaze. A few minutes later, Cole is kicking my ass because I’m too distracted by Saint—aware of every little move she makes. When she gets up and tells Cole she’s going to go to play some pool, I freeze, my eyes cutting over to him. The lopsided expression on his face reminds me I’m the one who wanted to bring her here—to expose her to these people.
I watch out the corner of my eye as Jared Anderson racks the pool balls, and my hackles go up. He and Chad Barns seem to be having a silent conversation, their eyes skimming over Violet before connecting again. Their devilish grins make my stomach sour. Whatever the two of them are planning can’t be good.
When the Saint Falls: a high school bully romance (Westbrook three Book 1) Page 11
