by LJ Byrne
He leans forward on the table. “Angel, you’re out for blood, aren’t you?”
I know he’s talking about the competition. “Yes, I am. I’m here to win.”
Liam and I make a powerful team. While guzzling Red Bull – which is a terrible habit, by the way – and eating pizza, we tackle the hackathon. Most teams consist of more than two people, but the synergy between me and Liam more than compensate for our lack of manpower.
There are two challenge events. The first is to develop a filtering program to wipe negative associations about you in your social media feed. I nickname it the “happy status” filter. The second challenge is to find a solution to negative reviews on products and services.
The first challenge is easy. Liam and I use existing code to flag potentially negative associations. Think of it as a virus, except instead of infecting a computer, it infects certain words. The second one is more difficult. We decide to create a program that alerts a company when certain negative words are used during the review process. A chat box opens that connects the reviewer to a representative, thereby bypassing the negative review before it happens. Liam works on the user interface while I work on the main body. Programming is a lot like putting a puzzle together – at least to me. I start with the edges – the framework, you might say – and then fill in the middle. It’s hard to explain how the code comes to me. It just appears.
Hackathons are won through sheer determination, fast programming, and a viable solution. We have all three and snag the top prize. It’s fun, exhilarating, and, five days later, I’m still on a high.
Here’s the thing, though. I need to come clean with Aunt Erika and Uncle Robert soon. I mean, my name is on a check, the event was public, and Uncle Robert works for an Internet security company. It’s possible that being CEO means he only gets tidbits of what happens at hackathons, and there are a lot of them around the world. I’ll have to wait and see for now. Right now, I’ll keep Arch4ngel101 under wraps.
010000
“I’m so glad you decided to come,” Darcy says to me at the lake house. She’s dressed in a hot pink strappy mini dress that Ethan can barely take his eyes off. “I know Ingrid is a PITA, but it means a lot to Ethan that you’re at this party since he’s hosting.”
My cousin is at the bar grabbing drinks for us: wine for Darcy, club soda for me, and a rum thingy for himself.
“What’s going on with you and Ryder?” she tries to ask me nonchalantly.
“We’re on a break.” It sounds weird even to my ears. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m not ready for a relationship.”
Ethan hands us our drinks. Brittany won’t be here for two reasons: Royals and Court only, and she’s still overseas. I’m not officially Court, but Ethan is my cousin so I’m pseudo-Court. I know it rankles Ethan that he can’t invite who he wants. He’s a king with limited powers. Across the room, Erin salutes him – or we think she does. We return fake smiles her way.
That’s when Ryder shows up with Ingrid. There’s a twinge of resentment when I spy them. Are they here together? No one expects me to come to parties, so maybe Ryder thought it was safe to come with Ingrid. Xander, Connor, and Nate enter right after them, but it’s Xander who realizes I’m here first. He looks alarmed next to Connor.
Ingrid grabs Ryder’s arm and says something at the same time as his eyes meet mine. If they are together, it shouldn’t surprise me. Ethan may have broken tradition, but Ryder isn’t Ethan.
“Oh, boy,” Celeste says, arriving at my elbow.
Ryder frees himself from Ingrid’s grasp, but he doesn’t move away. He’s dressed far more casually than normal – button-down shirt with slacks – and I hate that he looks so good in clothes. It’s just not fair.
Connor joins us while his cousin continues to stand and stare. “Hey, Celeste,” he says, and I note the way he rests a hand on her back in a familiar way. I raise a brow at Connor.
“Is there something I should know about you two?” I tease gently.
Celeste blushes. “Maybe.” Her brown eyes are filled with affection.
Connor returns Celeste’s look. “Sorry my cousin is being a dick,” Connor says. “I have no idea what’s wrong with him. Why he wants to take a break is beyond me.”
Ingrid, wearing a near see-through dress, walks over to Ethan on wobbly heels. I’m tempted to push her. Her sly eyes flicker over me before she tells Ethan, “When I’m ruling the school, we’ll have to fix all the things you broke during your reign.”
“Ingrid, go fuck yourself,” Darcy says sweetly.
Ethan pushes Ingrid’s shoulder with a finger, eliciting a shrieky gasp. “Ingrid. You aren’t Queen yet. Get out of my face.”
Ingrid’s face mottles with rage, turning downright unpleasant. “You’ve sullied the Royals with your lowlife girlfriend! Erin didn’t have the guts to tell you off, but I do! We’ll be glad when you’re gone.”
Darcy puts her drink down and slams her hands into Ingrid’s chest. “What’s the code again? Girls deal with girls, right?” In one smooth move, she grabs her wine and throws her drink into Ingrid’s face. “You’re nothing but a needy bitch!”
There’s a satisfying silence as the wine stains Ingrid’s dress and makes it even more transparent.
“Ingrid!” Erin’s voice shatters the silence. “That’s enough.” Her heels tap loudly on the floor. “You need to leave. Now.” Erin is furious, her words are full of warning. The two girls stare at each other. Then Ingrid bursts into tears, fleeing the room. Erin’s face turns stony as she addresses Darcy. “You may be Ethan’s girlfriend, but I’m the Royal Queen here, not you. Remember that.”
Ethan snaps, “Watch yourself, Erin!”
The two key Royals glare at each other, but Erin breaks eye contact first, and the Court members whisper among themselves as Erin walks back to Arthur Huxley. The music starts up, and Celeste and Connor dance on the floor together. I head to the bar to get another club soda.
“You look nice.”
I don’t have to turn. “Did you have a nice spring break, Ryder?” I’m all politeness.
“Not really. What about you?”
With my fresh club soda, I face him, lifting my chin. “I did have a good break.”
A flash of pain before the walls go up again. “I’m glad. If you’ll excuse me.”
I spend most of the party with Celeste or with Darcy, but eventually, all the club soda gets to my bladder. But when I leave the toilet, I’m cornered by Daniel.
As a Court member, Daniel’s loyalties lie with Ingrid. He lurks and does whatever Erin and Ingrid ask of him. Frankly, he seems shady. He’s taller than me but not by much. His slightly hooked nose gives him a haughty appearance.
“Mira. Been wanting to talk to you,” he says, glancing around to be sure we don’t have an audience. We’re down a hallway away from the main room.
“Um, okay.” Talking is harmless.
“Be careful with Ryder Cabot,” he blurts, leaning towards me. “You probably don’t know this, but the old money guys here run bets. The guys are laughing about you behind your back. You’re part of the game.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I start to leave, but he grabs both arms and pins me to the wall.
“Listen, Ryder has a bet that he can ruin you to get back at Ethan,” Daniel says urgently, his eyes running up and down my body. “Everything’s a game to him.”
I struggle to free myself. “Let go of me!”
“I’ll help you if you want. You only have to ask.” Daniel’s eyes are bright with lust as he pushes himself against me. “If you help me win the bet, it’ll ruin Ryder.”
Trying to buy time, I ask, “How am I supposed to help you win a bet?”
“I think you know, babe. All I need is to take the top prize.”
What is he talking about? I try to push him away, but it makes him more determined to hold me. His slimy lips come closer. Gross! Is he going to kiss me? Just as I’m about to scream, Daniel’s mouth opens in pain as he
’s yanked away. Ryder, his face cold with anger, hauls Daniel back by his hair and flings him against a wall. Xander helpfully holds Daniel upright for his friend.
“Do not touch her!” Ryder snarls as his fist slams into Daniel’s face. When Xander lets go of Daniel, Ryder grabs the boy by the shirt and hits him again.
Daniel slumps, blood streaming from his nose as he struggles to stand. When he manages to hold himself upright, Xander punches him in the stomach. “He didn’t tell you to stand. Stay down if you want to live,” Xander sneers.
Ryder turns to me, his eyes wild as he scans me head to toe. He runs his hands gently over my face and my arms. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His words are at odds with the anger rolling off his body.
“I think you broke my nose,” Daniel whines.
Xander grabs Daniel by the collar. “I’ll throw the trash out,” he says to us, dragging Daniel away.
“I’m okay, Ryder.” I bite my lip. “You hit him rather hard.” I glance at the hand that’s beginning to swell.
Ryder brushes my hair back from my face, cradling my cheek briefly. “He touched you,” he bites out, rage in his eyes. “I’ll kill him if he touches you again.” Despite his harsh words, he closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine, steadying himself. “No one touches you.”
I try to move away, but Ryder refuses to let me budge. “Ryder, I’m fine. I should head back.”
“No, wait. Don’t go, Mira. Not yet.” Very slowly, he wraps his arms around me. “I need to hold you for a minute.” He tucks my head under his chin like I’m precious.
“You’re giving me emotional whiplash, Ryder,” I whisper. I hate that Daniel’s words linger in my mind, poisoning this moment. A bet? Get back at Ethan?
Ryder holds me tighter and makes a muffled sound. “There’s so much I want to say right now, but I don’t know where to begin. I should leave you alone. I should let you go. But I can’t do it.”
I press my ear to his chest, hearing his thundering heartbeat. Beneath my fingers, his body burns at my touch. “Ryder, what is it you want?”
“You. I want you.” When I squirm in his arms, he whispers, “Don’t. Don’t push me away. I need you, Mira. I know I keep messing up, but I don’t want to stay away anymore. Be with me.”
This is the part where I should give myself a pep talk about being strong. But I don’t. “You want to – date? Be together?”
“Yes. Yes to all of it.”
“What about Ingrid? I mean, you came here with her and…” Ugh, I sound like a jealous twit.
“Ingrid can go to hell. I didn’t come with her. I came with Connor.” He cradles my face with his hands. “Mira, please, give me a second chance.”
I bite my lips, trying to blink back tears. Ryder kisses the corners of my eyes, his murmured apologies fanning my skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m such a screwup.” He caresses my cheek with a hand, his breath hitching faintly. “I want to kiss you.”
I consider his words for a bit, and then my cheeks grow hot. “What’s stopping you?”
Startled, he looks at me with wonder before grinning. When he kisses me, I decide I’m glad I came to the party after all.
“Is it just me or did you and Ryder go from zero to sixty last night?” Celeste asks with a coy smile.
I throw popcorn at her as she laughs at my embarrassed expression. “Sort of. He’s mercurial. Take a break. Don’t take a break. Make up your mind.” I roll my eyes with exasperation.
“But you like him?” Celeste presses me with a raised brow.
I sigh. “I do. A lot. It’s weird. I blame hormones, but I can’t think clearly when he’s with me. He was an ass to me and then he suddenly stopped.”
Celeste hums. “Everyone could tell he was jealous when he saw you in Connor’s jersey.” She reaches out to grab my hand. “You didn’t have to push Connor away, you know. He liked you.”
“He liked the thought of me because I was new,” I correct her, and for some reason, I know this with confidence. I was an unknown, a mystery.
She considers my words. “You did that for me, didn’t you?”
“Yes and no. Connor landed in the friend bucket pretty much after we met. It isn’t right to lead someone on if you have no romantic intentions.” I pause to look her straight in the eye. “I think he just needed time to see what was in front of him.”
The flush deepens her beautiful skin. “I won’t lie that I’m a bit giddy with how things are going with Connor. But Ryder... The way he looks at you, Mira… He looks at you like you’re his world.” She chews on some popcorn thoughtfully. “Maybe he wanted a break because he felt vulnerable?”
“I don’t know. I just hope Ryder is careful. I’m not sure I could handle a broken heart right now.”
Celeste squeezes my hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Mira. A lot stronger.”
010001
Ryder rests his head in my lap, morosely reading Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights while the weather outside rages. He’s clearly not enjoying the book, but we need to finish it since we’re working on the project together.
“Just because it’s a classic doesn’t mean you have to love the book,” I say, brushing his black hair back. He captures my hand briefly to kiss it, and I want to giggle like an idiot.
Ryder’s gestures of affection make me tingle and feel warm. He doesn’t hide our relationship anymore. Much to Ethan’s chagrin, Ryder holds my hand in public and kisses me whenever possible. This new and improved Ryder is sweet, intense, and thoughtful. Ingrid constantly looks like she’s eating lemons.
“I don’t like the characters in the book,” he corrects me. “Heathcliff is a lousy antihero. He doesn’t even do the right thing. He isn’t a Byronic hero either. He’s capable of great affection only in the beginning. All he does is become consumed with bitterness and rage, hurting everyone along the way. He’s a total monster to his wife.”
I tilt my head at him. “I feel sorry for him. Think of all the pain he might have avoided had he bothered to talk to the girl he loved rather than storming off in a hissy fit.”
Veiled blue eyes hide Ryder’s thoughts. “Do you put the blame solely on Heathcliff, then?”
“No. Catherine herself is partially to blame. He had pride and she had her vanity. She shouldn’t have thrown away a chance at true love for money and security.” I bite my lip, thinking about my words.
Ryder sits up suddenly and the look he gives me is earnest, almost eager. “Do you believe that?”
“Money can’t buy love.” I frown, recalling a time when Ryder thought money could buy anything. “Or it shouldn’t.” I check the time on my phone. “Ugh. I better return to my room before Ethan gets upset with me.” I can hear the hard patter of freezing rain as it alternates between sleet, hail, and whatever else Mother Nature is whipping in her frenzy. “Will we lose power?”
Ryder shakes his head. “We’ve got backup generators,” he says before lowering his voice with a smile. “Let me walk you back to your room.”
“I’ll be fine, and you know how Ethan gets if he hears I’ve returned to my room late with you in tow.”
Ryder huffs, but after a short debate, Ryder gives in. “I’d rather you invite me back to your room since I don’t care about keeping Ethan happy. But since you want to keep him happy, I’ll just suck it up. Text me, though, so I know you’re still thinking about me,” he murmurs, snaking an arm around my middle. For a few minutes, we kiss, and I can feel his body yearning for more, but he never presses the issue. Okay, I yearn for more too. I know he’s done things – I don’t even want to think about that too much – but he lets me control the pace. I know I’m nowhere near ready to have sex. Call me old-fashioned, but sex is a big deal. It shouldn’t be done casually.
He groans a little when I pull away, but then he gives me a rueful smile before gently pressing his heated forehead against mine.
I take one of the tunnels towards my dorm – convenient that the school had t
hese built – while checking my phone for messages. Just as I’m about to reach the elevators, I bump into Ingrid, my phone falling from my hands and landing on the floor with a sharp crack. Crap.
Ingrid’s pale eyes gleam as she smiles at me with her red lips. “Hello, Mira.”
A wad of cloth is shoved into my mouth before my head is rudely covered with a pillowcase. I don’t get a chance to scream. Someone grabs me from behind, and I get a whiff of cologne. Whoever it is, he’s stronger and taller than me. I’ve watched a lot of self-defense videos, but I can’t remember a single move or manage a cohesive thought as I panic and thrash uselessly.
I don’t have a sense of how many people are helping Ingrid as I’m pushed, hands on my legs and ankles, and hauled. I hear the elevator open and close, and then a feeling of going up. I try to scream past the gag in my mouth.
I continue to struggle, twisting and jerking my body around. I don’t want to make it easy for them. My terror fuels me, but I can’t focus it to free myself. I’m being dragged somewhere; the main person holding me drops me slightly and I feel the sharp edge of a step dig into my side. I scream futilely in pain as I’m yanked up steps.
We stop, and I hear the clanking of something metallic. What sounds like a knob turning is drowned out by a burst of freezing air and icy water. I’m pushed, not carried, and drenched instantly as the hands holding me let go. I yank the hood off my head in time to see a door slam shut and to realize I’m outside in the storm, sleet pelting my body hard.
Pulling the rag out of my mouth, it takes me longer than I’d like to see that I’m on the roof. I run to the door, my fingers already numb, and find the door locked. I pummel the door with my hands, screaming. I run to the ledge. I’m six stories up, and there isn’t anyone walking around outside. Still, I scream for someone to help me. The wind rips away my words.
My clothes, now heavy with rain, saps my body’s heat. The wind pushes the cold in further. I run back to the door, hitting it repeatedly, sobbing. I’m not stupid. I could die from hypothermia.
