Glass Heart Hero: A Dark High School Romance

by Lindsey Iler

  “What are you doing over here?” I sit up to face her. She scoots away the second my boots hit the marble floor, and I rise. “He’ll hate seeing you speaking to the likes of me, you know?”

  “Who? Tripp?” She leans against the counter, rolling a shot glass between her fingers.

  “No, the other clown you showed up with, Delaney.” I roll my eyes. “Yeah, Tripp DuPont.”

  “What’s your problem?” she squawks, shoving her hand to my chest. “I came over to say hi.”

  “Don’t bother, Princess. I don’t need your pleasantries, and I sure as fuck don’t need you using me to make your boyfriend jealous.”

  “Tripp isn’t my boyfriend.”

  I spin, trapping her against the countertop. She doesn’t try to put distance between us. Instead, she settles in the spot where she belongs.

  “You fucking him?” My eyes skirt to her chest, then move to her eyes, daring her to try something cute. “Huh, baby girl, you letting him between those pretty thighs, yet?”

  “Fuck off, Breaker.” She attempts to escape, but I keep her caged.

  “Oh, I’m Breaker now, I see.” My tongue wets my bottom lip.

  “That’s what your friends call you, right?”

  Fucking ouch! At her blatant insult, I move one of my arms, freeing her. She scurries away but stops short of Tripp who seems to want to join this party.

  “We’re friends, right?”

  At her question, my breath hitches. We aren’t friends. We never were, and we never will be. I inch forward.

  “I’ve never known what one of my friends tastes like, Delaney, so I guess the answer is no. We aren’t friends.”

  “Come on, asshole.” Tripp wedges himself between us, blocking Delaney like I’m some sort of threat. To her, never. To him, always. “Don’t be crude.”

  “Eating pussy is hardly crude.” I laugh maniacally, completely making a scene. “Is this guy kidding, Delaney? Does he even know who he’s with? She’s never taken a ride on your face, has she?”

  “Breaker, stop.” The panic in her voice gives me more pleasure.

  “Your girl loves being lunch.” I grip Tripp’s chin. “Better start working on this weak-ass jaw of yours.”

  “Breaker!” Delaney shouts, earning us an even larger audience.

  “Preference doesn’t change overnight. For your sake, she’s going to pretend to be a soft princess to make you feel more like a man, but she’s going to be wishing you’d drill her into the wall at least once to prove there’s something in your weak, rich-boy body worth keeping around.” I grin, knowing very well my words will hit the target they’re intended for.

  “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Tripp comes chest to chest with me. The music halts, and the party goes dead silent. “I didn’t stutter, mother fucker. Who do you think you’re talking to like that?”

  “He fucking heard you.” Marek’s voice booms from behind me. “He’s wanting to make sure he heard you correctly, because no one, not even a rich son of a bitch like you, waltzes in here with one of ours and thinks they get to be disrespectful.”

  Marek Hawthorne. The cruelest student to come through Glass Heart Academy since Byron Decatur. I’m not going to lie. I’m thankful he’s on my side. Everyone knows he’s not someone to mess with. He’s the reason a ring of sexual deviants was shut down a couple of months ago. The group of sick fucks who had been building wealth and power for years, has finally ended because of him and the pretty little thing on his arm. My best friend, Palmer Weston, is the only girl to go toe-to-toe with us and granted the access to win us over.

  “Hey, man, I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Tripp holds his hands up, showing what a coward he truly is.

  “You should have a little more respect for the girl beside you.” Marek reaches forward and flicks the collar on Tripp’s shirt. “She’s precious to most of us here.” He circles around, making a show of Dixon, myself, and Palmer. “We aren’t opposed to killing for her, so remember that every time she’s gracious enough to allow a dumb fuck like you to touch her.”

  “Okay, enough.” Delaney comes between us and Tripp. Her hand presses on Marek’s unmoved body while her eyes beg me to take control. “Breaker, seriously!” That sweet whine of hers never gets old.

  “Naw, baby. I’m enjoying this too much.” I grin, goading her, knowing it will piss her off. Delaney is a firecracker. She’s sparking right underneath her skin, ready to lose her shit.

  “Marek, I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m fine.” She begs him with her eyes to let sleeping dogs lie.

  “Are you?” I intervene. “Because I see a broken girl.”

  “I’m not broken,” she demands.

  I hit a nerve with that one.

  “Broken is beautiful.” I point over her shoulder. “A guy like him may not see it, but the rest of us do, Delaney. When you’re ready for us to show you, you know where to find us.” I force through the crowd, refusing to let Delaney leave me in her wake.

  I hear Marek set off one more warning to Tripp. His protectiveness for Delaney is starting to rival mine of Palmer. Knowing someone outside of me has her, always, takes some weight off my chest.

  “Wait up, Break.” Speak of the fucking devil. A quick check over my shoulder finds Palmer jogging to catch up to me. “We need to talk.”

  “I’m not in the mood,” I announce, jerking my arm away before she can grab me.

  “Clearly, by that spectacle.” She grins. “Dude, you basically screamed I ate her box and she loved it to the entire party.”

  “Too harsh?” I lean against the hallway wall.

  Palmer takes up the space across from me and shrugs. “I know you’re struggling but she is, too. This Tripp phase will end sooner rather than later.”

  “I don’t care.” I cut my eyes to the opening front door. A group of drunk girls stumble inside, bringing in a cool breeze.

  “Oh, Barrett Davenport, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Palmer kicks at my leg, connecting with my shin. “You care more than any one of these assholes in here. You simply don’t like to show it. You’re a human amongst monsters.”

  “Who the hell are you calling a monster?” Marek grips her arm and yanks her to his chest. Over the top of his girl’s head, he glares at me. “That prick is going to be a problem.”

  “Well, he’ll need to be someone else’s problem.” I wave goodbye with two fingers and head for the door.

  When the cool air hits my face, I glance around and realize that sentiment is easier said than done. Tripp DuPont will be a problem, and by the way he’s grinning at me over Delaney’s shoulder, he’s plenty aware of the fact.

  He has something over me.

  Tripp has her, and he’s more than happy to flaunt it before me.

  The single thing I possess that he doesn’t is the inability to lose.

  I press my hand to my lips and blow him a kiss, warning him with my eyes that this isn’t the end of us.

  “See you on the field, DuPont!” I shout, earning the attention of everyone within earshot.

  “Looking forward to it, Davenport.” He chuckles, tucking Delaney’s hair behind her ears as she twirls her head to me.

  Blue eyes, crystal clear as the prettiest skies, draw me in, taking pieces of me I didn’t know I have left to give. One single look and I’m done for. The sad part is I think she knows it.

  It’s too late, though.

  We’ve been through too much, seen horrific things in each other’s presence, and to try to continue life as normal would be nearly impossible. When we look at each other, we see the other’s soul, reflecting the night that changed us.

  Blood and fear have left a nasty stain.

  Chapter Two

  Delaney

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened that night?” Tripp tosses me a t-shirt.

  The question is from left field, yet somehow isn’t that big of a surprise. I’ve never been an open book to most people, but
when it comes to that night, I’m more closed off than I’ve ever been. That won’t stop Tripp from trying to dig it out of the parts of my soul I prefer to keep locked tight.

  We’ve been at his dorm for close to thirty minutes. The ride to Hollow Hill Academy campus was spent in silence. Whatever happened tonight, we are trying to pretend like it didn’t. It’s safer that way.

  Tripp and I are on unsteady ground. He has been thrust into my life by his parents’ association with my father. That alone is enough reason to keep my distance from him. Our worlds are intertwined in an impossible loop. In a moment of weakness and havoc, when I was vulnerable, he swooped in and figured out a way to help me out of the fog.

  Christmas at the Chambers’ estate is an event. We’ve always gone above and beyond with lavish parties and decorations. It started with my mother, but in her absence this year, the responsibility fell on my shoulders. I took on the task like a busy bee, buzzing around the house barking orders.

  Tripp found me in the middle of a fit after he returned from skiing. His hair was frosted with flakes of snow and his cheeks rosy from the wind. He waltzed into the kitchen, demanded a cup of coffee from one of our staff, and left the room. One thing I’ve learned from watching my mother is to treat the staff as if the roles could be reversed at any time.

  I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the cup of coffee and stormed out of the kitchen, cursing his name at his heels. He grinned.

  “I was wondering when I’d grab your attention,” Tripp says.

  “You were purposefully rude to the housekeeper to make me notice you? That’s pathetic, not to mention, a bit elitist of you. I don’t care who you are or how much money you have, we don’t talk to the staff like that.” I hold out the cup for him to take.

  “Oh, I don’t drink coffee.”

  “So, this was for nothing?”

  “No, you seemed like you needed it, but you were too busy to think about yourself, so now you have it.” He winks. He fucking winks at me. He thinks he’s real smooth.

  “I don’t like you.”

  “You will. Give it some time.”

  “How long will you be staying with us, again?” I cup the hot mug between my hands, loving the heat on my skin.

  “Campus is shut down for the holidays, so until after the New Year, and then I’ll be out of your hair, but something tells me you’ll miss me, Laney.” He nods his chin at the cup of steaming coffee. “Drink up and learn to chill out. You’ll kill yourself trying to make this perfect.” His finger dances around the foyer with three Christmas trees adorned with gold and silver ornaments.

  “Where’d you go?” Tripp bends down and tugs the dress from my body, replacing it with the t-shirt in my hand.

  “Away for a bit.” I smile to reassure him, something I find myself doing more often than not these days. “And I’m not ready to talk about that night.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?” He sits down beside me on the end of his bed.

  “If I talk about it, it makes it more real. There are things I’d be happy to erase from my memory forever. That night is on the top of the list.”

  “That night is part of your story. There’s no getting away from that. Those people at that school are engrained into you like a scar.”

  “Those people are my people,” I argue.

  “I’m not trying to diminish what they mean to you, but I’d be lying if I say the relationship you have with Marek and Breaker makes me uncomfortable.”

  “First of all, Marek is madly in love with my best friend, Palmer. He’s simply protective of me because of what we went through. I need people like that in my life.”

  “Yes, Palmer, the girl who got you into this whole mess.”

  “No, that’s not what happened in the slightest.”

  “And don’t get me started with Breaker Davenport. He’s as low as they come.” I hate how he’s so willing to dismiss my history to prove his own point.

  “I think I’m going to head to campus.” I slide off the bed to search for my dress, but he grabs my hand and jerks me down again, pinning me to the mattress.

  My vision tightens, narrowing into a black hole. It may be Tripp’s body on top of me, but what I see, the only thing I smell, is Declan Dumas. Oh no. It’s happening again.

  “Get off me!” I yell and thrash around, jerking my wrists to gain a little leverage to throw the weight off my chest. “Stop, don’t do this!”

  Once I’m finally free, I rush up and across the room, putting enough distance between me and what haunts me. My head hangs low while my breaths are heavy and panting.

  “You’re catatonic, Laney. What the hell?” Tripp snaps his fingers in my face to jerk me to the present. He moves towards me, and I must wince. “It’s me. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  When my head lifts, it’s not Declan anymore. I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around Tripp, seeking comfort. In his arms, a rush of safety engulfs me. The small circles on my back calm me enough that my breathing levels out.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper against his chest. “Sometimes . . .”

  “You don’t need to explain it to me.” His chin rubs the top of my head as he shakes it from side to side. “I’m not new to this with you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ease away, glancing up at him through my eyelashes.

  “The night you snuck into my room.”

  “You thought I was coming in to screw your brains out.”

  “I was wrong.” Tripp chuckles, tickling his fingers down my spine. “Can’t blame me for hoping and praying. Once I figured out what you needed, I was done for.”

  “I didn’t want to be alone,” I admit, hating how weak that makes me sound.

  “And I refused to allow you to be as long as I was under that roof.” Tripp has a tender side he doesn’t want anyone to see. He’s always so put together, to the point of resembling a statue. “That hasn’t changed, you know?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, then you have sweet moments with me like this one, and I’m brought back to the times we shared over Christmas, and I’m reminded why you managed to break down the walls around me.”

  “I’m still that guy,” Tripp pleads.

  “You’re also the guy who criticizes my friends. It makes it hard on me. You couldn’t care less about that little fact because it drives you crazy to think I could need someone besides you,” I explain, stepping around Tripp to grab my things.

  “Laney, don’t go. I’m sorry, okay? Those friends of yours drive me crazy. That’s all.”

  Tripp can believe what he wants. Since I haven’t given him any details other than what’s been on the media, he’s choosing his own narrative. He doesn’t know the hell I’ve been through. His knowledge is based on the fact that he showed up in the middle of my healing. He is a much-needed distraction, a bandage on the wound. The problem is, sometimes the bandage covers the proof of the pain. Sometimes the fucking wound needs air to breathe.

  I grip his face. “Tripp, I appreciate you so much, but I think I really need to go to my dorm.”

  “If you must, then at least let me call you a car.” He blindly grabs his phone, knocking around the contents on his table. Tripp is the guy who has a solution for every problem. Like right now, he knows I need to get to campus, and he’ll be the boy to call for the car, but not the boy to offer to drive me.

  “Car will be here in five minutes. Call me when you get to your dorm, okay?” He kisses my forehead and leaves the room.

  Needing the fresh air, I wait outside, my coat tight around my body, shielding myself from the one thing that doesn’t seem like it’s out to get me. The black car arrives, and the driver gets out to open the door for me.

  “Good evening, Ma’am,” the older gentleman says, tipping his hat as I dip low to slide into the back seat.

  My attention stays on the window, but every so often, I shift my eyes to the driver. He switches between watching the road and me.

  “You’re a new
driver, I take it,” I say. “I’ve been in Tripp’s fleet of cars, and I’ve never seen you before.”

  Most of the drivers are younger, well dressed, polished, and quite frankly, intimidating. This man is a little frumpy and looks like he could be anyone’s grandfather.

  “I’m actually not a driver for the DuPont family, Ma’am.” He smiles at me.

  “Then who are you?” My curiosity gets the best of me.

  “Tripp wanted to make sure you felt comfortable.” I smile at the information. “I don’t typically leave the DuPont estate for trips around town, but tonight, Tripp, Mr. DuPont, insisted, as he knew you’d be traveling alone, Ma’am.”

  I swipe my phone screen. Three seconds pass, and I’m opening our text thread, sending him a quick thank you for being so considerate.

  “Tripp DuPont is many things, but I’ve never seen him be so thoughtful as he was tonight. I assume you’re the reason for the change in behavior,” the driver says, keeping his eyes on the road.

  He stops at the curb and puts the town car in park. As he gets out and opens the door for me, I can’t stop the giddy grin plastered on my face.

  “Have a good evening, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you for the ride and for making me feel comfortable.” I hold out my hand for him to shake, which he does.

  “We each have demons, and sometimes you need people around you who try to better understand them and push them away for you.” He tips his hat one last time and slides behind the wheel.

  I watch the bright taillights until they disappear into the night. When the darkness takes over, I rush to punch my pin code in, and once the door clicks unlocked, I race inside.

  My therapist calls it PTSD. Little things trigger me. They aren’t always the same. Sometimes, they come out of nowhere, but I’m learning to deal with them every day. Being alone is one of the hardest things for me. Things happen to us that we don’t always have control over, but that’s life. My control has been stolen from me, but I’ll be damned if I cower in the corner.