by R. A. Smyth
“Come on, man,” I slap him on the back, jerking my head toward the exit. “Let’s get the hell out of here, we’ve got some celebrating to do.”
Chapter 11
Over the next week, things fall into a regular rhythm. I make an effort to stick to my normal gym routine—it eats significantly into my studying time, but it prevents at least one kid from ending up with a broken nose when they call me a slut. I thought that shit would die off when the Pricks all chose new girls, but it’s only gotten worse. The only problem is that Mason shows up at five a.m. every morning to get his workout in too. Neither of us says anything, not even acknowledging the other’s presence, but I’m aware of his every move.
On Tuesday, Bianca and Cam’s new girl, I think her name is Missy, corner me between classes.
“Bianca.” I sigh, as the two of them step in front of me. I’d stayed late to discuss my history assignment with Mrs. Beaufort, so now there’s hardly anyone in the halls, apart from the three of us. “Aren’t we done with this? You’re no longer Cam’s girl. Shouldn’t you be taking issue with Missy, who’s actually fucking Cam, instead of with me?”
The two girls scowl at me, and seriously, I can’t understand their problem. “I won’t let you do to Missy what you did to me.”
“And what exactly was that?”
“You took him! He was supposed to be mine for the month, and you stole his attention. He didn’t want anything to do with me!” Her last sentence comes out in a broken sob, the tears gleaming in her eyes. I almost feel bad for her, but if Cam didn’t want to spend his time with her, then that’s between them. It has nothing to do with me. It’s not my fault if he started chasing after me while he was with her. The guy is clearly a player, I picked up on that on day one, so surely she knew what he was like. Besides, from what I’ve heard, it’s not like there is any exclusivity clause in this whole antiquated tradition. Not that I’ve actually done anything fucking wrong here. “The other Princesses and I won’t let you do it to anyone else.”
“I’m sorry?” I struggle to hold back the snort threatening to spurt out of me. “You and the what?”
“The Princesses,” she states with so much seriousness that I’m biting my lip hard enough to break the skin in an attempt to keep my composure. “The other girls that the Princes have chosen.” She says it like that isn’t the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“The Princess Club?” The snort I was holding back bursts free. “What, like the mile-high club? You fuck a Prince and you get a badge or something?”
Neither girl seems to find the whole thing as funny as I do, glowering at me with unimpressed looks until I roll my eyes.
“You have to be chosen,” Missy emphasizes. “Trash like you could never be a Princess.”
Aw damn, but I always wanted to be a Princess.
Does this idiot seriously think I want to be part of their stupid club?
“Missy.” I sigh wearily. “I’ll say the same thing to you, that I said to Bianca. I’m not interested in stealing Cam from you. I suggest you learn from her mistakes and instead of worrying about me, focus on your relationship with Cam.”
Neither girl seems to know how to respond to that, so while they both gape at me, I step around them, having had enough of this pointless conversation, and head on to history before I miss the whole damn lesson.
What I said to Bianca and Missy is true, I don’t have any interest in being a part of their stupid club, but I continue to meet with Cam every night in the dining hall, where he regales me with stories of his childhood. He doesn’t talk much about his parents or the company he and the others are supposed to take over, so we end up mostly sticking to lighter topics of conversation. Every now and again he probes into my past, wanting to know more about me, but I manage to distract him, avoiding having to share much of myself with him.
It’s late on Sunday by the time I leave the library and the sun has long since set, the glare from the pathway lamps my only source of light as I step into the cool, quiet night air. I was the last one left by the time I packed up my things, and I’m supposed to meet Cam any minute now. I’m pulling the door to the front entrance shut behind me when a brutal force crashes into me, throwing me against the solid wood; a large body pressing up against me before I can bring my fists up.
Glancing up, I stare into the fuming eyes of Hawk. Great, just what I need today. His arms are outstretched, his hands pressed firmly against the wooden door beside my head as he glares down at me. His stony expression and icy eyes are menacing, and I have to push back some dark memories, forcing myself to stay in the present.
The corner of his lip curls up in disdain as he snarls at me, “I don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing with Cam, but leave him the fuck alone.”
I don’t react as all the different ways I could get him to back the fuck off flick through my mind. A well placed punch to the kidney always does the trick. Or a knee to the balls; although he’s a little too close to guarantee a direct hit.
“I don’t like you, and I sure as fuck don’t trust you. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I won’t stand by and let you screw with his head.”
“I don’t—”
“Bullshit,” he snarls. “You taunt and tease him. You have him chasing after you, going to secret little midnight meetings with you—yeah, don’t think I don’t know about that. If you wanted him, you’d just fuck him. I don’t know what it is, but you’re up to something, and I won’t let you mess with him anymore.”
He pins me in place with his penetrating stare, the faint light enough to discern the glow of hatred in his eyes. Having apparently said his piece, he stands up straight, giving me one last glowering look before stalking off into the night.
What a fucking douche.
His blitz attack has the adrenaline thumping through my veins, my hands shaking as I try to steady my nerves. Taking several deep breaths, I slowly exhale until my heart no longer feels like it’s trying to break free from my chest. Once I feel calm again, I scurry down the steps and head toward the dining hall, pushing open the door. Hawk might have caught me off guard tonight and given me a scare, but he’s going to have to do a lot better than that to get me to fall in line.
***
“You have to come! You haven’t been to one since the first party of the year,” Emilia whines on Friday night.
“I’m just not feeling it tonight,” I repeat for what must be the fifth time. When she continues to look at me like I’m deliberately being difficult, I tack on, “I just don’t think parties are my thing.”
I’ve managed to worm my way out of the last couple with one excuse or another, but Emilia isn’t hearing any of it tonight. Pushing out her bottom lip and searing me with those goddamn puppy dog eyes, I can’t help but roll my eyes at her antics. She’s pulling out the big guns—how the fuck can I say no to that?
Gritting my teeth, knowing I’m going to regret it, I grind out, “Fine.”
“Ahh,” she squeals, throwing herself into my arms. “We’re going to have a great time. Wait ‘til you see.”
“Uh huh.” I really don’t agree with her view of tonight, but I guess if I’m going, I may as well make the best of it and try to enjoy myself.
“Here, wear this. You’ll look fucking fine in it.” Emilia throws a tiny piece of black fabric at me that I manage to catch before it hits me in the face.
“Uh, no. No way am I wearing that!” I insist, holding it out in front of me. Without even trying it on, I know it will barely cover my ass. Thankfully, the neckline is high so my tits wouldn’t be on display for everyone to gawk at, but even so.
“Come on,” she whines, and I can already see her lip starting to pop out in a pout.
“Fine,” I cave, knowing it’s just easier to give in. “But you have to turn around.”
Rolling her eyes and sighing, she turns around, giving me a modicum of privacy to change. “I’ve never known a girl to have such issues changing in front of ot
her girls. Especially one that has as hot a body as you have.”
Not responding, I quickly strip off my clothes, pulling the dress on over my head, ensuring it covers my ass as I glance in the mirror, adjusting the neckline slightly before pulling my hair over my shoulders, attempting to flatten the curls. I like the little short sleeves that cover my shoulders and the fact it isn’t backless like a lot of dresses the other girls wear. When I’m happy, I call out, “Okay, you can turn around now.”
“Damn, girl, you are smokin’...but those boots? Hell no. Here, try these on with it.” Emilia holds up a pair of stiletto heels, but I’m already shaking my head, adamant that I won’t be wearing those death traps. Not tonight, not ever.
“Not a chance,” I assert. “You’d have to pin me down and strap them to my feet, and there’s no way I’m letting you do that.”
She roars with laughter, dropping the heels with a shrug, thankfully not pushing the matter. Pulling another dress out of the small closet, she strips down, not having the same issues with walking around in only her underwear that I do. She slips into a dark red dress similar to my own, except, more revealing, with a plunging neckline, finishing the outfit off with a pair of heels. I can’t deny she looks amazing, her black hair and tanned skin contrasting perfectly with the dress and shoes.
“Don’t we look pretty fucking hot?” She laughs, dragging me over to stand beside her in front of the mirror. I have to admit, I don’t look half bad. The way the dress hugs my curves, highlighting my narrow waist, it makes me look older somehow, sexier.
“Here, sit.” Emilia pushes me into the chair at her desk where she has set up all her hair and makeup stuff for tonight. “I’ll see what I can do with those curls.”
An hour later, I’m probably more primped than I’ve ever been in my life. My hair has so much hairspray in it, I could probably hang upside down from a tree and it wouldn’t move an inch. Despite that, though, Emilia did a pretty amazing job with it. I usually just let my hair drip dry, accepting that it’s going to be a frizzy mess of curls, but she somehow managed to get them all to behave and with some product and a curling wand they now sit in beautiful sleek ringlets down my back.
Regardless of how amazing I think I look, though, I’m already bored with this party. As I predicted, it is no better than the last one. Worse even, since this stupid dress keeps insisting on riding up my ass. I mentally curse Emilia out for guilting me into wearing the damn thing as I pull it down for the hundredth time, glancing around to check no one is watching me wrestle with it.
Everything looks just the same as the last party. The Pricks are once again congregated around the fire with their new girl of the month, while the rest of the year is spread out along the beach, most of them already looking worse for wear. I just don’t understand what the fascination is with getting rip roaring drunk and stumbling all over one another. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been able to let my guard down enough to just live in the moment, but the thought of not being in complete control, of not being aware of everything going on around me, sounds terrifying.
“You don’t exactly look like you’re having fun,” Michael jokes, coming up beside me. Emilia was whisked off to the dance floor with Andrew as soon as we arrived. I’m pretty sure he’s got a bit of a crush on her. Recently he’s been sitting beside her at our weekly movie nights and walking her to classes. It’s adorable to watch, and based on the way her cheeks flush and she gets all flustered when he’s around, I’d guess she likes him too.
“Ha, yeah. I’m not really a party person.”
“We could—”
A commotion over by the fire pit cuts off Michael’s words as yelling, loud enough to be heard over the heavy bass of the music, reaches our ears. The whole party seems to come to a standstill, everyone turning to watch the unfolding drama. Emilia comes stumbling over from the dance floor, excitement dancing in her eyes as she drags me forward toward the scene. “What’s going on?” I whisper-yell as we move closer, shoving our way through the crowd until we can get a good look at what’s happening. All four of the Pricks have gotten to their feet, standing with the fire at their backs, looking like the kings of hell as they face off against a bunch of jocks. Running my eyes over them, I count eleven guys, wearing jerseys, who I’m guessing make up the school's football team.
“What the fuck is your problem, Deke?” Cam growls, glowering at the guy standing front and center. He’s tall and muscular with styled brown hair and a cold look in his eyes. He’s nearly as tall as the Pricks and as broad as Hawk. Based on how the rest of the team swarm around him, I’m guessing he’s their captain.
“You’re our problem,” he snarls. “None of the girls are interested in us ‘cause they’re all holding out for one of you assholes to pick them.”
“Watch your mouth,” West barks, the hostility in his tone and the dark look on his face taking me by surprise. I’ve never seen him confrontational before. Unlike the others, he goes out of his way to fade into the background, never seeming to have an issue with anyone around him. The West standing up there right now is very different to the everyday West I’ve been watching far too intently for the last few weeks.
“You can’t blame us if your usual groupies want an upgrade,” Hawk drawls, a confident smirk lifting his lips. “Not our fault if the steroids have shriveled your dicks so much you can’t satisfy them.”
“You piece of shit,” Deke growls, taking a step toward the guys, his boy band stepping forward too, backing up their leader.
Hawk and the guys quickly adjust their stances, Mason stepping forward so he’s chest to chest with the captain. Both boys are as tall as each other, but seeing them standing facing one another, it’s clear Deke is nowhere near as broad or as muscular as Mason. Don't get me wrong, as a football player, he’s stacked. It just doesn’t compare to Mason, or the rest of the guys. Even West, despite being scrawnier, looks more formidable. It must be some sort of air that comes with knowing you’re invincible. In any other high school, Deke would probably be the typical reigning king, but here, he’s just another rich asshole in a sea of wealthy kids.
The two of them face off, the entire audience holding their breath, waiting anxiously to see what’s going to happen next. West steps up beside Mason, his gaze focused intently on the captain, sizing him up. I find myself, along with everyone else, leaning in to listen as his lips part, “Think very carefully about your next move, Deke. We’ll tear you to shreds—and I’m not just talking about a social beat down in front of the entire senior class.” West tips his head to the side and Deke turns to look at us all, his eyes widening as he finds us watching them closely, wondering what his next move will be. “You and I both know Mason here could beat the crap out of you. You think you’re having difficulties getting girls now? Wait until that ugly mug of yours is all purple and swollen.” I’ve never heard West talk like this to anyone. Never even knew he was capable of it, but the vicious smirk as he tears Deke down in front of the whole class says everything—he’s fucking enjoying himself.
Where the other three—particularly Mason and Hawk—get their kicks out of beating the shit out of disrespectful students, West gets his from eviscerating them with his sharp words.
With a shit-eating grin on his face, Hawk steps forward, joining the other two. “Not to mention, one word to the coach and, just like that, you’d be off the team. You’d probably lose your football scholarship to Arizona State, too.”
Deke is looking less and less sure about his stance with every word, his eyes flitting nervously around the crowd, hesitant to back down and look weak in front of his team and the rest of the school, but equally realizing he hasn’t a hope in hell of defeating these guys.
“Back down, Deke. Don’t throw away your entire future over some pussy. There’s a time and a place for this, here is not it.” West’s final cryptic words get through to him, and with an incomprehensible snarl, Deke stomps away toward the far side of the lake, the rest of the team following after
him like good little lap dogs.
As soon as the tension dissipates, the rest of the class break out into murmurs and it’s only then that I realize someone must have stopped the music at some point. With the action over now, the music starts up again and people are quickly sucked back into the party, the drama forgotten for now.
“Wow, that was tense.” Emilia chuckles. “But damn, what a showdown that would have been if Deke and Mason had gotten it on, right?”
“Sure,” I say distractedly, my focus still on the four guys as they huddle together whispering quietly to one another. Almost as though he senses me watching, Mason’s head whips up, his gaze instantly zoning in on me.
“Shit,” I murmur, ducking my head and breaking eye contact with him, pulling Emilia through the crowd away from the Pricks.
Once we’re safely on the far side of the beach, we drop down onto the pebbly shore. We’re a bit of a distance from the main party, the thud of the music not as deafening over here, making it easier to talk to one another without having to shout.
“So...Andrew?” I glance at Emilia, a sly grin lifting the corner of my lip as her eyes widen in surprise. Yup, I might not be tuned into my own love life, but I’ve been paying attention to hers.
“You’ve noticed it too?” She groans into her hands.
“Yup. What’s going on there?”
“Nothing...Something, maybe. I don’t know.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “He’s been so sweet this week, but I don’t know what it means.”
“Oh, he definitely likes you.” I laugh as she turns to face me, her lower lip caught between her teeth.
“You think so?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s been following you around like a lost puppy and he’s constantly glancing at you at breakfast.”
Her cheeks glow pink and I can see excitement brimming in her eyes.
“You like him.” It’s not a question; it’s clear to see on her face that she does, but she nods anyway.
