The Spare - Part Two (The Kings & Queens of St Augustus Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  “I look like Carrigan,” she whispers, her voice a little sad.

  “No, you look like you, and even if they put her in identical clothes, she’d be nothing but a lackluster copy,” I say, feeling the truth of my words down to my very soul.

  It doesn’t take long to get to school and the guys do their best to make her laugh and dilute some of the tension that’s pouring from her in waves. When we slow to a stop at the bottom of the school steps, we wait for the driver to open the door, then the guys file out first. “We’ve got this,” I tell her, a second before I exit, turning back to hold my hand out for her to take.

  When she doesn’t hesitate to slide her fingers into mine, I squeeze, rubbing my thumb over the huge Lexington diamond as she climbs out of the car. Everyone around us stops and stares, and as if we’ve done this a thousand times, I pull our joined hands over her shoulder so her ring finger is clearly on display as I keep her fingers captive.

  The whispers start the moment we move forward and I immediately know why. Carrigan is holding court at the top of the steps. Her glare is glacial, but I don’t even glance in her direction as we move as a group up the steps and toward the entrance.

  “Hey, sis,” Tally calls with a knowing smile as we pass Carrigan and her group of friends.

  I half expect Carrigan to pitch a fit, to scream and threaten, or even try to separate Tally from me and the guys, but instead she just nods her head offering Tally an almost impressed half-smile, like she knows exactly what we’re doing and approves of it.

  Tally’s new schedule is in the office waiting for her when we arrive and just like we were promised, she’s now in almost every one of her sister’s classes. We even got her homeroom changed to the same as the rest of us and although she doesn’t say anything, I can see how relieved she is to not have to face her sister on her own yet.

  The moment we step through the door, we’re bombarded by questions and interest. It’s not uncommon in our social circle for engagements between prominent families to be established in high school, but an engagement between the Archibalds and the Lexingtons is definitely a match made in money heaven.

  What surprises me, is that no one mentions Carrigan. It’s like now they can see Tally, her sister really isn’t that interesting. The girls clamor to talk to her, even though she’s little more than polite to everyone but us. I can feel the eyes of every guy in the room on her and the caveman in me wants to pull her onto my lap and piss in a circle around us, so they know she’s taken. But I concede for just glaring death at the ones who are stupid enough to catch my eye while they ogle my fiancée.

  Fiancée. Fuck, I shouldn’t like the sound of that as much as I do. I like that she’s mine, that she’s wearing my ring, living in my house, riding my dick. I like it too much, considering she’s all too quick to remind me it’s all a lie.

  Doesn’t feel like a lie to me though.

  Fifteen

  Tallulah

  I’m barely containing the rising panic that started to build inside of me the moment I took Arlo’s hand and climbed out of the limo. Somehow, in the space of ten days, I’ve gone from the girl that no one saw, to the one that they can’t stop staring at, and right now, all I want to do is run to my darkroom and lock myself inside, away from all of this interest.

  The only thing keeping me even slightly grounded is Arlo and the guys. I shouldn’t be relying on them as a lifeline, but I just can’t help trusting them, even though this could all just be another one of their games. The guys are incredibly good actors. I saw that the day Arlo fake proposed to me and they all played along like they’d known me forever.

  I’m not sure if they could keep that act up for all this time though, especially not while we all shared the same space, being together all the time. I don’t think they could and if that’s true, then they really are on my side and maybe it’s okay to trust them like my gut is telling me I can.

  When the first bell rings, I’m grateful to get away from my new homeroom. The teacher made me stand up when she introduced me, like I was the new kid, not someone who’s been attending the school for three years already. She even went so far as to congratulate Arlo and I on our engagement.

  How ironic is it that the exact same teacher who has been teaching me history for the last two years and barely even glanced in my direction, turning a blind eye to the fact that I skipped at least half of her classes because Carrigan had geometry at the same time, is now giving me her full attention.

  My first class of the day is now English with Arlo, Watson, and you guessed it, my sister. She hadn’t seemed shocked to see me this morning with my entourage of guys. In fact, she looked almost grudgingly impressed that I had the balls to so blatantly refuse to fall back into the role my parents have forced me into.

  My cell beeps with a text message just as we hit the hallway and I pull it out and quickly open it, already guessing what it’s going to say.

  Mom – As we discussed, you will be attending all English, math, and science classes.

  That’s it. No please or thank you, no platitudes to soften her order, because that’s what it is, an order meant to be obeyed without question.

  Scoffing, I lift my cell up and show the message to the guys.

  “Wow, your mom is a bitch,” Carson says drolly.

  “Yes, she is,” I say, loving that I’m laughing about this and not blindly doing her bidding because I don’t want to deal with the repercussions of disobeying her.

  “Do you think Carrigan will expect you to go in her place?” Arlo says quietly.

  “I don’t know, probably.”

  “Then we need to make sure everyone knows it’s you who’s there then. Do you know where she goes when you’re taking her classes?” Arlo asks, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his lips.

  “She used to sit in on my classes when we first started doing this, but now I think she goes to the senior common room,” I tell him.

  “I wish we had English with you guys. I want to see her face when she realizes you’re in all her classes now,” Olly whines, leaning forward and kissing me on the cheek, before he and a laughing Carson turn toward their own class.

  “Have fun,” Carson calls over his shoulder, blowing me a playful kiss.

  “You gonna reply to your mom?” Arlo asks. “You could tell her to go fuck herself. I would if it were me.”

  “Nope, I’m going to ignore her, it’ll drive her nuts.”

  Both boys laugh at my smug, smiling face as we head down the hallway to the first class of the day. The moment the teacher Mr. Jones walks into the classroom, Arlo makes a big deal of escorting me to him and introducing me, loud enough that no one in the room can possibly miss it. My new desk is on the back row, situated between Arlo and Watson. With our backs to the wall, we can survey the rest of the class and my eyes linger on my sister’s empty desk, three rows across, three rows back—just like every other class so we never sit in the wrong seat.

  “Miss Archibald, would you happen to know where your sister is?” Mr. Jones asks loudly from his seat at the front of the class.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know,” I tell him with a warm, trustworthy smile.

  “I think I saw her in the senior common room, maybe she lost track of time,” Watson says, not lifting his gaze from his textbook open in front of him and conveniently hiding the shit-eating grin I know is on his face.

  “Mr. Hilborn, perhaps you would be kind enough to go and look for her and let her know that she will receive a tardy mark should she not be in her seat in the next five minutes,” Mr. Jones says, a tight smile on his lips.

  “It would be my pleasure,” Wats says, pushing out from behind his desk and happily jogging out of the classroom, his face stoic until he’s out of sight, when he flashes us a cheesy thumbs up and disappears, smiling widely, to retrieve my sister.

  There are very few times in my life when I truly wish I had a camera, but the look on my sister’s face when she walks back into our English class
and spots me sitting next to Arlo on the back row is one of them.

  Just like normal, her hair is poker straight, her makeup soft and ultra-feminine, her lips pink and glossy. She always looks so polished and it makes me a little wistful, that even after being made up and styled by a stylist this morning, I still look a little rough around the edges, like the perfect just rolls off me. Strangely, it’s that imperfection that I like the most about myself. If I was perfect, I’d look like her, and that little bit of mussed uniqueness is how I know I’m actually staring at my own reflection.

  I fight back a smile as her eyes widen and she glances comically around the room. She looks like she’s making sure she’s in the right classroom, even though Watson is behind her, his shit-eating grin infectious, as he moves past her and slides into his seat next to mine.

  Right now, I’m sitting in the middle of the two most influential people in the room and she’s not. I’m not ashamed to admit I get a kick out of knowing that she probably hates me in this moment.

  “Miss Archibald, take your seat. I think we’ve waited for long enough for you. If you’re late for my class again without a hall pass I’ll fail you,” Mr. Jones, says, his eyebrows arched as he points at her empty desk, the seat I normally sit in, because I’ve taken more of his classes than she has.

  Arlo leans back, sliding his arm along the back of my chair. “How does it feel?” he whispers.

  Glancing at him, I smile and he smiles back. We don’t need to say anything else. This is only the start, but so far revenge is very, very sweet.

  Second period is statistics with Olly and he meets me outside my classroom and we walk there together. I take a moment to introduce myself to the teacher, then sit next to Olly and wait. Carrigan appears a moment after us, her eyes flashing to me, before she slumps down into her seat. Her shoulders are rigid, her back straight as the teacher delivers the lesson and, on several occasions, I watch her tapping on her phone in her lap.

  The text messages start just before lunch.

  Mom – We need to talk, call me.

  Ignoring it, I’m not surprised when another message appears a few minutes later.

  Mom – This is not acceptable behavior, call me now!

  The next one follows almost immediately.

  Mom – You WILL be attending chemistry, no excuses, and we will discuss today’s behavior when the driver collects you this afternoon.

  My heart starts to boom when I read the most recent message. She can’t force me to go home, can she? I don’t ever plan to show them to anyone, but I took pictures of my face the night they attacked me and if I have to, I can threaten to publish them. It’s my last resort, my ‘get out of jail free’ card, but it makes me feel better just to know I have it.

  “You okay?” Arlo asks, startling me as Carson and I leave our shared politics class.

  My first instinct when I see him, is to go to him, and I have to stop myself. This lie is beginning to feel a little too real, our fake relationship is being blurred by the sex and all the touching. I’m making this into something it’s not and I need to stop before I become too invested in something that doesn’t exist.

  “I’m fine, my mom’s been texting,” I say, walking toward the cafeteria. Right now, I almost miss the feeling of being overlooked, of assuming I’ll eat my lunch alone, because I could do with a few minutes reprieve. I need some time to just exhale and try to process everything this day has made me feel.

  “What did she say? You’re upset,” Arlo says, reaching out and taking my hand in his, entwining our fingers together.

  “I’m fine,” I say, flashing him an offhanded smile as I keep moving.

  “No, you’re not,” he snaps, pulling on my hand and stopping me, before he turns me and backs me against a wall of lockers. “You go ahead, we’ll be there in a minute,” he tells the guys, then he turns his insightful gaze back to me. “What happened?”

  “Nothing unexpected. I’m just tired and hungry, so let’s go and get some lunch before all the good stuff goes.”

  I try to move out of his way, but he leans into me, caging me in, his hands resting against the lockers on either side of my head. “Now, the truth,” he says softly.

  “I’m fine.”

  One of his hands leaves the locker, pinching my chin and lifting my face up. “I said the truth, little ghost.”

  “She sent me a text message saying that I have to attend Carrigan’s chemistry class this afternoon, and that she wants to discuss my behavior when the driver collects me later,” I tell him, blurting the words out in a half scared, half angry hiss.

  “Are you scared?” he whispers, his fingers releasing my chin to softly stroke my cheek.

  “A little. But I’m more angry, and sad, and confused too,” I admit, emotion making my voice thick.

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “Is it?” I ask.

  “Yeah it is. Together, we’ll make it okay.”

  When his lips press against mine, I open my mouth, daring his tongue to tangle with mine. I want him to be hard and put on a show, but his kiss is soft and sweet, and feels real and honest. With his mouth on mine, his hands on my face and my hip, I feel real and grounded because he sees me and that’s equally wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

  I’m not sure how long we kiss for, but it never builds into more. When it’s just me and him, a simple kiss tends to end with us naked and sweaty, but this is different. I pull away first, hating that I like kissing him, hating that a tiny part of me wishes I’d met him at a party, that we’d chatted and flirted and that we were a normal couple, instead of whatever we are.

  Fuck-buddies, friends-with-benefits, a hook-up?

  I have no idea, and now when I’m starting to think of him as comfort and support it feels like I should know. “Are we friends?”

  Running a finger down my cheek, he leans back, biting at his lower lip with his teeth as he fights back a smile. “Yes, little ghost, we’re friends.”

  “What about the sex?”

  Throwing his head back, he laughs in a way I haven’t heard before. It’s loud and wild and I find myself smiling at him. “I like the sex,” he chuckles.

  “I’ve never had sex with a friend before.”

  “I know that, because you were still a virgin this time last week,” he whispers mischievously against my ear.

  “I guess, I mean, I never thought I was the type of person who would have a friends-with-benefits thing. I don’t know the rules,” I say, cringing at how ridiculous I sound.

  His body stills and the smile falls from his lips. “We’re not friends-with-benefits,” he says, low and rough.

  “See, this is what I mean. I don’t know the rules about hook-ups and I think that maybe we should stop. It’s fun and everything, but I don’t want to make this more than it is.”

  “Little ghost, for a clever girl you’re being really fucking stupid right now,” he growls.

  “But—” His lips press to mine silencing me, and this time all of the softness has gone from his touch and instead he dominates me, slamming me back against the lockers, his body pressing against mine, his dick hard against my stomach.

  Another growl comes from him as he tears himself away. “Unless you want me to fuck you at school, we need to stop,” he pants raggedly.

  I nod, my chest heaving as I actually consider if there’s somewhere we could go. How did I go from telling him we should stop blurring the lines with sex, to wondering if there’s anywhere in school we could go for a quickie?

  “Dirty, dirty, little ghost,” he chuckles, “Let’s go and eat.”

  Sixteen

  Arlo

  The cafeteria is buzzing when Tally and I push through the doors. Her hair is a little mussed from where my hands were in it, her lips plump and kiss swollen. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that we’ve been making out and I don’t even try to keep the grin off my lips as I hold her hand tightly and lead her across to our table.

  Pull
ing out a chair for her, I drag my own chair closer to hers and sit down, draping my arm across the back of her shoulders, absently kneading the muscles in her neck.

  “We ordered for you,” Olly says.

  “Thanks, man, what did you get us?” I ask.

  “The sea bass for you and the gnocchi for Tally.”

  “Thank you, Olly, you’re an angel, I’m starving,” Tally says sweetly.

  Even though my ring is on her finger, my arm around her shoulders, I still feel a flash of annoyance at the smile she’s giving him. I shouldn’t be jealous. She’s been naked in my bed for the last three nights, but even though it’s obvious she wants me sexually, her ‘are we friends’ speech has left me wondering if I’m totally alone in these feelings I’m starting to have for her.

  She gave me her virginity for fuck’s sake, but I’m still not convinced that I won’t wake up one day to find her gone without a word, and damn it, I like her. A lot. More than I should and apparently more than she does.

  The room is loud and I’m sure someone is asking me a question, or expecting me to listen to what they’re saying, but I just don’t seem to be able to look away from the enigma sitting next to me. Even after all the time we’ve spent together in the last week, I don’t really understand her. She’s simple, yet complex; beautiful, yet completely unaware; and she’s changing me from happily being the villain to desperately hoping to be her hero.

  Gently grabbing her chin, I turn her to face me and press my lips to hers. She looks at me, her eyes questioning, and I wish she knew what I was thinking, because she’s not ready to hear the words from my lips and I’m not ready to say them.

  All I know for sure is that we’re more than friends, more than a hook-up, or a casual sexual encounter. In a week she’s become the most complicated, guilt-ridden lie I’ve ever told, and the only one I’ve ever wanted to be true.

  We eat, but for the rest of lunch all of my attention is on her. She’s worried. I can practically feel her anxiety, but I have no idea how to make her feel better. If I could, I’d take her home, but we need to be in that chemistry class this afternoon. This is the turning point, something to send a clear message to her family that she isn’t playing their game anymore.