Devious Little Liars: A High School Bully Romance (Saint View High Book 1)

by Elle Thorpe

  “If that’s what you want.”

  That was what I wanted. For now, anyway.

  10

  Lacey

  I’d never been to the mall in Saint View. I gawked around at the different stores, food courts, and the Saturday morning crowd like a little kid who’d never seen the ocean.

  Jagger thought it was hilarious. “How much of a bubble do you rich kids live in that you’ve never been to the mall?” she asked, dragging me along a tiled floor toward her favorite store, where she’d assured me I’d be able to buy an entirely new wardrobe full of clothes for less than a few hundred bucks.

  I was trying super hard not be skeptical about that. I knew Meredith would have been horrified. Which was exactly why I’d lied to her when she’d asked me what I was doing this morning, and I told her I had a study session with my new tutor before I went to the party tonight. She’d sounded a bit miffed, but I’d promised to pick her up first thing Sunday morning for breakfast. First thing meaning ten, because Meredith didn’t do early mornings.

  “I’ve been to a mall,” I said to Jagger. “Just not this mall.”

  She shot me an incredulous look. “By mall, do you mean you walked down Woodline Avenue, where all the designer boutiques are?”

  I grinned. “Okay, I’m a snob. But I swear it isn’t my fault. I didn’t even know this place existed. I actually like it.”

  Jagger hooked her arm through mine. “Me, too. Well, I like it when I have money to spend. Spending other people’s money is a second best. Here we are.” She took a sharp left into the nearest clothing store, and I blinked in the sudden change of lighting. The store was much darker than the rest of the mall, and colored strobe lights flashed across the painted black ceiling. Spotlights lit up the racks of clothes, and music blasted through a sound system, loud enough that I had to raise my voice in order for Jagger to hear me.

  “It’s like a nightclub in here!”

  Jagger’s hips swayed in time with the beat. “I know! Isn’t it great? And the clothes are awesome. Hey, Maya!” She waved to the tattooed girl behind the counter, who waved back.

  “How often do you come here?” I asked curiously.

  “It’s my home away from home. I like to come at least once a week. Check out anything new. They normally restock on Thursdays, in time for the weekend rush.”

  “They should give you a job.”

  “I wish. I’d love a job where I got to work with clothes.”

  “You’d be a great designer. I love the outfits you put together. That’s why I made you come with me today.”

  Jagger picked up a slinky green dress and ran her hand over the sparkly fabric longingly. I recognized that move. It was the same thing I did with musical instruments I desperately wanted to play. She gently put it back on the rack, tucking it between other dresses, and instead chose a short, tight, black one. She held it out in front of me. “Nah, you just asked me because I’m the only one in school who isn’t scared by this little war that Gillian and Colt have declared on you.”

  I cringed. “War? That’s a bit extreme. We had a few jabs at each other, yeah. But that’s not exactly a war.”

  The rest of the school week hadn’t been much better than my first two days. I’d managed to avoid any further run-ins with Colt and Gillian, but other than Jagger, nobody made an effort to speak to me. I’d tried a few times to introduce myself to the kids I sat next to in my classes. At best, I’d received an awkward smile and a polite dismissal.

  Jagger shot a worried glance in my direction.

  “What?” I asked.

  She sighed. “It’s a war. They put a blast out on Instagram.”

  “What? Show me.”

  Jagger shook her head. “Babe, no. Don’t worry about them. I don’t. Colt and Gillian are so full of shit. They think they own the school and that the rest of us are their minions. I’m not. I’m sure there’s others who feel the same.”

  “Jagger!” She was stalling. No doubt about that. “Show me what they did!”

  Her lips pressed together, making one long purple lipstick line. But she reluctantly pulled her phone from the back pocket of her ripped up jeans.

  I crowded in on her, trying to peer over her shoulder. She brought up the Instagram app and scrolled until she found what she wanted. Then she thrust it into my hand.

  “They share an Instagram account?” I scoffed, taking in the username. Gillyncolt. “Jeez, co-dependent much?”

  Jagger sniggered.

  I tapped on the first post on their profile. It was a stock photo by the looks of things. A golden crown against a bright-pink background. But someone had drawn a circle in thick black ink, with a diagonal cross through the middle.

  “How artistic,” I said sarcastically. “But this could be about anything.”

  “That’s optimistic of you. Read the caption.”

  “There might be a new princess in town, but Saint View High already has a king and queen. This is one throne you won’t ever get to sit on.”

  I passed the phone back to Jagger and rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You’re worried by this?”

  Her eyes were wide. “You should be, too. Did you see how many followers they have?”

  I shrugged. “So they paid some click farm to look extra popular.”

  “Or they just are that popular. Seriously, Lacey. I told you about the Untouchables. There aren’t going to be too many who will go against whatever Gillian and Colt are putting out there. This is something to be worried about.”

  I bit my lip. This wasn’t at all what I’d envisioned when I’d enrolled in this school. I’d imagined waltzing in, flying under the radar, and just casually poking around for information. I imagined watching from afar, taking notes, maybe even sitting in my car and taking photos from a safe distance. Yet somehow, in the space of a week, I’d managed to put myself right into the middle of some sort of popularity contest for an imaginary throne I didn’t even want any part of?

  I pulled my shoulders back and took another too-short dress from the rack in front of me, holding it up for Jagger’s approval. She nodded enthusiastically and towed me toward the back of the store where the changing rooms were.

  “Yes! Try that on. You’d slay in that at the party tonight.”

  I let myself be tugged along and slid the thick curtain across the changing room to give myself some privacy. It was only then I let out a shaky breath and wondered what the hell I’d gotten myself into.

  Many hours and sore feet later, Jagger and I emerged into the sunshine of the ginormous parking lot that served the mall. We trudged back to my car, arms laden with more bags than I think I’d ever held at one time. Jagger sure knew how to shop. We’d bought enough clothes to last me almost a year, and her eyes had gotten big when I’d pulled out a black AMEX card and charged the lot.

  I dumped everything into the back seat. All except one bag. “Here,” I said, thrusting it into Jagger’s hands. “For you.”

  “What?”

  “Just open it.”

  She did, pulling out the shimmery green dress I’d seen her eyeing. I’d snuck it beneath a pile of my own clothes when she’d been trying on sunglasses and making faces at herself in the store mirror.

  “You like it, right?”

  She nodded but bit her lip. “I didn’t need you to buy me this, though.” She pushed it back at me and dropped her hands to her sides.

  “I know,” I said. “But you gave up your Saturday morning to come shopping with me, and you’re the only person at school who has been nice to me. So consider it a thank-you present.”

  She crinkled up her face, and I could practically see the thoughts whirling around her mind. She didn’t want my charity. But she really wanted the dress.

  “Jagger. Seriously. If you don’t take that dress, I’m going to use it to change my oil.”

  Jagger’s eyes went huge, and her lips formed a tiny O. “You wouldn’t!”

  I just looked at her.

  “Oh my God, you�
�re a beast.” She snatched the dress from my hand, then wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you.”

  I hugged her back. “That dress was made for you. You’re going to have guys passing out as you walk by them tonight.”

  “I hope not. A roomful of unconscious men doesn’t sound like much of a party. They kind of need to be awake to be any fun.”

  I giggled. “True.”

  Movement across the parking lot caught my eye. Two guys talked by a dark green sedan. It had probably once been a nice car, but now it was in need of some serious TLC. One of the guys looked older, his blond hair cropped close to his head and light stubble across his jaw. His shoulders were broad, his chest thick beneath a tight white T-shirt. He passed a small package to the other guy, who tucked it into his pocket.

  “Ah fuck,” Jagger said.

  I glanced over at her. “What?”

  She nodded in the direction of the two guys. They slapped hands and parted ways. The blond guy got back in his car, while the other turned around.

  “Is that Rafe?” I hissed. “And was that what I think it was?”

  “Did you think it was a drug deal? If so, yeah. I wonder if Banjo knows.”

  I frowned. “What’s it got to do with Banjo?”

  She folded her arms across her chest, and we watched Rafe quietly thread his way through the parking lot, toward us. “That was Banjo’s brother he just scored from.”

  The green car reversed slowly out of its spot, Banjo’s brother’s tanned brown arm resting on the open window.

  “Banjo’s brother deals?”

  She didn’t answer. Just scowled at Rafe as he approached.

  He was busy shaking his head at Jagger, so I let myself check him out. Yep. Still as cute as he’d been at school. Brown shorts that showed off athletic calves. A white button-down rolled up at the elbows. Dark hair artfully slicked and the same black-framed glasses he’d worn at school. He was more dressed up than most of the guys at the mall had been. Was that so nobody expected he was here to score? Or maybe he was on his way somewhere? Rafe’s clothes made me think his family might have been a little better off than most of the families in Saint View. I wondered what his mother did for work. I couldn’t imagine that a public school principal would earn all that much money.

  “Don’t give me that look, Jagger,” he complained, stopping in front of us. His gaze strayed to me, wandering over my features, and then lower before drifting back up to my face. He shook his head slightly, like I’d somehow disappointed him just by standing there. He turned back to Jagger without even a hello to me.

  “You want to kill your brain with drugs, go at it. But do you really think that scoring in the middle of the day, from Banjo’s brother, of all people, is a good idea?”

  He sighed. “Just don’t say anything, all right?”

  She softened a little. “I know you’ve got your problems.”

  He snorted on a laugh. “Babe, you knew my problems when we were fourteen. You’ve got no idea.”

  She frowned. “Then tell me.”

  “What for?”

  “Because I care about you.”

  “Like a brother.”

  She stared him down, while I wondered what the hell was going on.

  “I still care,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t. Just promise me you won’t say anything to Banjo.”

  She ground her teeth together. “Fine, asshole. I won’t say anything.”

  “Good. Because it’s really not your business anymore.”

  Jagger seemed like she wanted to argue about that. But then she nodded. “I guess not. See you around, Rafe.”

  He walked off without saying goodbye or glancing in my direction again. Jagger got in the car and slammed the door. I followed suit, getting in behind the steering wheel.

  “Okayyyy,” I drawled, letting out a long breath. “Do you want to tell me what the hell all that was?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose like she had a sudden headache. “Old history with a sad ending. Can I tell you later, though? It’s a downer, and we’ve got a party to get ready for.”

  I desperately wanted to know what had gone on with the two of them, but I respected her enough to not want to pry either. It’s not like I’d told her all my secrets either. So I just nodded and got us back on the road to Jagger’s house.

  My first Saint View High party was only hours away. I didn’t have to ask to know there’d be alcohol. Alcohol meant loose lips, and another chance to find out more about who killed my uncle.

  11

  Lacey

  The pounding bass line greeted us the minute we stepped out of Jagger’s car. It boomed through the entire suburban neighborhood. I was sure if I put my hand against the wall of the house we were parked in front of, it would be vibrating.

  Jagger locked her car and came around to my side, straightening the shiny green dress I’d bought her earlier. It really did suit her, skimming over her hips and ass, the neckline plunging between her breasts.

  In comparison, my dress was tame. But it was shorter and tighter than anything I’d ever worn before, the material black and slinky. If a breeze picked up, I was gonna feel it on my backside. Especially since Jagger had talked me into wearing a thong. My aunt would have had a fit and compared the dress to something a two-dollar hooker would wear. Okay, perhaps she wouldn’t have said it in those exact words, but I could easily imagine her horror. Which was exactly why we’d gotten ready at Jagger’s place. Jagger’s mom was young—like, actually young, not full of Botox young—and she’d said our dresses were hot. That was it. No, be home by midnight. No, be responsible.

  I didn’t know what to make of that.

  We joined the stream of people crossing the patchy lawn leading to a single-story house. Nobody stopped us at the door. In fact, nobody even knocked. They just let themselves inside like they owned the place. Jagger had called it the nice side of town as we’d driven in, and now, I tried to check my privilege. While the house wasn’t completely ghetto, it wasn’t what I would have described as nice either.

  “Are you sure we’re not overdressed?” I asked, eyeing the jeans on the girl ahead of us and tugging my hemline down.

  “Hell no. We look fine. And just wait. You’ll see. There’ll be plenty of booty shorts and miniskirts.”

  I followed Jagger through the unfamiliar house, trying to catch a glimpse at the photos on the walls as we passed. There was a heavy football theme to most of them. Individual photos of a little kid in pads that were too big for him, right through to what had to be last year’s photo. He smiled widely, his football helmet tucked under one arm, and right by it, was that photo of the team from last year.

  Tate Masters, I realized with a start. I’d spent all week trying to memorize the names of the team and match them with their photos. I was semi-proud of myself for remembering.

  Jagger’s hips swayed in time with the beat, and she nudged me playfully. “Loosen up!”

  “I’m loose!” I yelled back over the music.

  The look she gave me said I was anything but. “Okay, I’m scared if this is you loose. Let’s get a drink.”

  I shook my head. “No, I’m good. You go ahead, though.”

  We found the kitchen, and Jagger ignored my protests, filling a red Solo cup from the huge keg and passing it to me.

  Truthfully, I wanted a drink. Butterflies rioted around my stomach, and my gaze flitted from person to person, trying to take in the scene. I wasn’t sure if I was dressed okay. I wasn’t sure if I should be here at all, though I now understood that invitations weren’t the done thing around here. Mostly, I was worried about who I might bump into tonight. And what I might find out.

  I took the drink from Jagger and swallowed, the beer sliding down the back of my throat. It wasn’t particularly nice, but at least it was cold. I surveyed the array of alcohol bottles on the counter and watched other kids mix drinks with a complete lack of skill or finesse that even a brand-new bartender wou
ld have. I winced as one kid filled her cup almost all the way to the top with vodka, adding a splash of soda at the end. I recognized her from my English class. I mentally vowed to check on her before we left and make sure she wasn’t passed out somewhere.

  “Where did they get all this alcohol from?” I asked Jagger.

  She took a sip of her beer then we were on the move again. I was grateful to get out of the crowded kitchen.

  “It’s a football party. It was probably donated.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Not officially, of course, since they’re underage. But it’s not hard to get a backdoor delivery when you’re one of the Untouchables.”

  I took another sip of donated beer and pondered a town that held high school football players in such high regard.

  “Ah shit,” Jagger said, stopping so abruptly I near spilled my drink all down her back. “I can’t watch that.”

  She turned around to face me and held her cup to her mouth, chugging down her beer. Past her, Rafe sprawled on the couch, legs spread wide, a blonde girl straddled across his lap. One hand gripped the back of her head while they kissed, the other held a lit joint.

  I tilted my head, studying Jagger. “How long did you two date for?”

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. A year, maybe? We were fourteen.”

  Wow. That was a lifetime for a high school relationship. I’d never dated anyone close to that long. I’d never really dated anyone actually. I went out. With friends, and with guys, but nothing had ever turned into a real relationship. “What happened?”

  “I broke up with him.”

  I tried to ignore the warmth settling low in my stomach as I watched Rafe kiss the girl on his lap. His fingers were tangled in her hair, and the kiss was slow and drugging and…hot. A tiny flare of jealousy sparked inside me. I hadn’t ever been kissed like that. The two of them looked like they’d forgotten there were other people in the room. “You broke up with him?”