He has a little smile on his face and I know instantly what he’s gonna say before he says it: he slept with her!
I don't know how I feel about it: I’m not angry.
A bit jealous maybe but not angry because when Ayla was comforting me about Polly, she would have let me make love to her.
So this knowledge reassures me that she didn't choose him and that she loves me just as much.
Ayla didn't say anything to me this morning but in all fairness, I’d missed her so much that I drove fast to a secluded spot and kissed her breathless until it was time to come to school.
And then we were both worked up and looking at each other with such a desire that I almost asked her to skip school with me and go to my house or a hotel or anywhere where we could be alone and naked.
So, we didn't really talk much and in a way, it felt refreshing considering that our last one on one conversation on the day of Polly’s anniversary was so intense and emotional.
“Guys, I ... I don't know how to say this the right way, so I'm just gonna say it: I made love to her last night.”
His tone is so dreamy and so unlike Alex that I know without even asking that he did right by her and that he isn't faking it when he says that he's in love with Ayla.
I look at Sam: I know that he had feelings for Polly and when she chose Alex, he struggled to accept it.
The only reason why that didn't end their friendship, was that really we aren't friends, we are brothers and nothing can ever come between us.
"How was she after? Did you take good care of her?"
"What do you think? Of course I did! You know I care about her, actually more than care about her, I love her, Sam. "
"As long as she's alright, I'm not mad at you, Alex. I just want her to be happy and after the way I treated her when I thought that she'd written that list, I didn't expect that she'd sleep with me first.”
Alex hugs Sam and then looks at me: he knows how hurt I was when I thought that Ayla didn't like me as much as she did him or Sam and that this is why I went along with that foolish bet anyway.
“Talk to me, bro. I know you care about her as much as Sam and I do.”
I nod and explain that I more than care about Ayla:
“I told her that I love her, Alex. And she loves me back. She doesn't know about all the horrible stuff that I’ve been doing because of Michelle's blackmail. I don't know what I’d do if she found out. She'd never be able to trust me again. I won't lie to you, we almost did it when we were talking about Polly and things got so emotional. But I knew that would've been her first time, so I couldn't make it a sad memory for her and also ... I felt so guilty about playing that video.”
“Dude, it's not like you had a choice. If you hadn't done what Michelle asked, she’d have gone and told on us all. And I know it’s all my fault for deciding to have that bet. Shit, I wasn't looking to fall in love, I guarantee you that. And I know that morally that bet was wrong anyway but I was hurt and—”
I’m the last one that can blame him.
“I know exactly how you felt. Not that it's a justification for our actions, Sam. I know. But now that we're all in love with her and that we know that she wants us and she's fine with being with all three of us ... we need to make sure that she never learns about that bet or—”
Alex reassures us that he’s got a plan to get rid of Michelle once and for all.
“The only problem is that until that plan comes to pass, we need to pretend that we're still very much into the bet and watch that EM won't betray us. So as for the bet, I’ll turn my old phone on and we’ll have a phoney conversation about me and Ayla going to third base. If Michelle's been listening on our phone calls like we suspect, she’ll think that nothing's changed. And that will give us time. We should also get EM a new phone in case we need to talk to him for real and make sure that Michelle can't listen in. Also, I’m going to need your help with Ayla's brother.”
Alex explains what happened last night with Ben and that he's already secured daily appointments at a very popular rehab centre in Beverly Hills.
“I know it's a lot to ask but ... could one of you keep an eye on Ben today and for a couple of days a week? I—”
He looks embarrassed.
“I wanna spend some ‘quality time’ with Ayla and—”
Sam shakes his head.
“Is ‘quality time’ code for fucking?”
Alex’s gaze hardens for a second but then he replies more calmly than I’d have given him credit for.
“It’s not fucking, Sam. I love her. And yes, I wanna be alone with her and make love to her any chance I’ve got. Can you blame me? I think you two would do exactly the same thing if you were in my shoes. And nothing’s really preventing you from making a move on her. Especially if she's indicated before that she cares enough for you to sleep with you. I know you’ll both sleep with her and I’ve made my peace with it. Just treat her right, it's all I ask. And by the way, first of all I swear that like I’m asking for a bit of space now, I’ll understand if you’ll want the same when you're in my shoes. Secondly, she'll have learned a few things by then, so you're welcome!”
He says the last line with a shit eating grin and a part of me wants to punch him straight in the teeth for being a douche, but I know Alex and he isn't trying to provoke us, it's just his sense of humour at work in conjunction with his god complex.
So I take his words at face value and comment:
“Sure, dude! After all her blow job is on point, so I guess we really have you to thank for that.”
We all laugh and Sam seems fine with everything but before we follow Alex into the hallway, I stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, are you all right? You know that Alex means no harm, right?”
Sam nods.
“Yeah, I do, dude. He just takes everything head on, whether it's a football game, a video game challenge or a girl. And I know he loves her. I’ve not seen him like this since Polly. So it's fine to give him a bit more space for a couple of days but I’ll take Ayla on a date soon. I haven't told her that I love her yet and after that, if she feels the same way about me, all bets are off. I want her as much as you two do.”
I agree with him.
“Yeah, I hear you, man. I think we're headed in that direction too, every time I’m with her, I find it harder to keep my hands off of her. And I wouldn't try to fuck her in a car in broad day light. Her Mom’s a cop. Imagine if we got caught ... and I also love to just kiss her and hold her in my arms, knowing that we can't go any further. It kind of—”
“Builds anticipation?”
I bark out a laugh.
“Yeah, anticipation and blue balls! But while I don't wanna rush her, now that I know that it's not her first time.”
“Yup! Game’s on!”
Ms. Webber
THE A-CLASS IS THE class I enjoy teaching the most and the least at the same time.
I love how most of the A students have a profound understanding of Latin and being an AP class, it's more similar to the level I’ve been teaching in college for over two decades.
But at the same time, those kids are the hardest to handle: they know that they're bright and since they come from really wealthy families, they often don't want to play by the rules and they expect everything to be served to them on a silver platter.
And not all of them understand that my methods are what they are because of more than two decades of experience teaching at the highest level and in the top Ivy League schools of the country.
And that the reason why I’m exceptionally strict, is not because I enjoy being their worst nightmare but because I like to think that with them being seniors, I’m preparing them for the real world.
I’m teaching them to fend for themselves and be aware that life rarely awards second chances.
Most of the A-Class kids are great.
Well, ok: they're all great aside from Michelle Marks.
Her grades have been steadily
improving but her attitude is one of the worst ever.
I certainly won't be sorry to see her graduate and have her be somebody else's problem next year.
If my experience is to be trusted, girls like Michelle don't change much and if they do, it's usually for the worse.
“Good morning, class! Have you all had a good Thanksgiving?”
I hear a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘awesome’ and ‘super’ and instead of taking my seat, I walk to the front of my desk and face the class head on.
“As you know, we had our monthly test earlier this month to allow for the Thanksgiving weekend. So this week, we’ll have our normal class but there's something else I’d like to talk to you about.
Your guidance councillor has informed the principal that most of you have indicated Yale, Harvard or Stanford as their first choice college for their undergraduate degree. As you know, BHPA has a preferential relationship with most of the Ivy League colleges in this country, so this year we're trialling a new programme.”
The class is giving me their full attention, so I continue:
“There will be a school guided tour of the Atheneum of your choice for the three most popular schools. Those who haven't indicated one of those three schools, sorry you're on your own. Next Saturday I’ll go to Yale, my alma mater, with those of you who want to take a tour of the school and have a private interview with the Dean of admissions. We’ll stay the night at a local hotel and fly back on Sunday. The Harvard tour will be guided by Mr. Brooks and the Stanford tour by Mrs. Hawkins. You're all eighteen in this class, so you'll be asked to sign a form where you relieve the school of any responsibility for the off campus time. Basically, while on campus, you'll be in your BHPA uniform and be aware at all times that you’re there representing this institution. Off campus? I’ll retreat to my hotel room and please, don't get arrested and don't die. Because my plans don't involve bailing you out of jail or identifying your bodies but rather a jacuzzi bath and a glass of wine with room service.”
Excited chatter spreads around the classroom but I need their attention for one last detail:
“We’re aware that we're asking for your time during the weekend, so the attendees will get Monday as an extra day off where they'll be excused from classes and a later start on the Tuesday. Now, come to my desk to put your names down if you want to take part.”
I smile at the enthusiasm my students are showing: most of them come from extremely privileged backgrounds and have money and a lot of freedom at their disposal but I love that they still get excited about a good old school trip.
If touring one of the most prestigious universities in the world and then staying at a five star hotel can be considered your average school trip, of course.
After the class is over and I’m collecting my things to go and teach a junior class, Alex Richmond approaches my desk and waits until I’m done and address him before speaking to me.
I’ve been observing this handsome boy: he's obviously at the top of the social and academic rankings here at BHPA but while when he interacts with his peers he’s most of the time arrogant and ruthless, he knows the appropriate way to behave when in front of a teacher or the principal.
“Can I help you Mr. Richmond?”
“Ms. Webber, I’m sorry to disturb you but I need to talk to you in private as soon as possible. Actually a couple of us want to be present.”
“Right, I don't mind staying behind today after the last period, if whatever you want to talk about can't wait until my student reception hour on Thursday.”
“It's an urgent matter, Ms. Webber.”
“Very well, I’ll see you in the teachers lounge after last period, then.”
“Thank you, Ms. Webber.”
I don't think about what Alex and his friends might want until later in the day, when I sit at one of the tables in the teachers lounge and I see him file into the room followed by Ayla Jennings, Alexander Samson, Alexander Atkinson and that other smart guy ... I can never remember his name as everyone calls him EM.
And I certainly didn't expect any of the things that this group amongst the brightest students at BHPA had to say.
“So, let me make sure that I have a correct understanding of the situation: Miss Marks’ improved grades aren't down to your excellent tutoring skills, Mr. Richmond. She snuck into this room and stole the tests from my locker? Making a copy of the key?”
The other students in the room confirm what Alex just said and I admit that I’m floored: it was obvious that Michelle Marks isn't by any means nice or pleasant but stealing tests?
“How did you come into this knowledge, if I may ask? This is a very serious allegation.”
EM shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other and doesn't make eye contact when he admits that he was coerced into helping Michelle out.
But the surprising detail is that Alexander Atkinson comes forward too:
“She offered me the tests. I’ve nothing to do with stealing them but I’ve used that knowledge to improve my grades, Ms. Webber. I’m not looking for excuses and I understand how serious what I’ve done is... First she told me that she’d destroy my reputation talking about my dyslexia to everyone at school. So I accepted the tests and then she threatened to expose me for cheating to get me to do stuff that I’m really not proud of. She had some dirt on me that she was gonna expose if I didn't do her bidding.”
I sigh, trying to reflect on my options here.
“Guys, I want to make sure that you understand not only the seriousness of your allegations but also the potential consequences of your confession: expulsion. Certainly for Miss Marks but also for you Mr. Atkinson and ... EM? Sorry, young man, I can't remember—”
“Hughes, Alexander Hughes.”
I nod.
“You all face expulsion for cheating and helping someone to cheat.”
Of course the two boys look extremely contrite and I sigh once my decision is made.
“I don't want you to think that reporting Miss Marks wrongdoings alone is the reason why I’m showing you some leniency here. Trust me when I tell you that this will be your only second chance not only at this school but in your academic career. If something like this had happened at Yale, you’d have been expelled faster than you can say cheating. Of course, your testimony will be essential to get Miss Marks expelled but after speaking to her parents and their lawyer after giving her that D, I reckon that catching her red handed would be best to make sure that she receives the punishment she deserves. And I’m willing to overlook your role in the whole ‘stealing’, Mr. Hughes. Your case is slightly different, Mr. Atkinson because you actively cheated. But I’ll consider the fact that you didn't have to necessarily come forward but you did.”
“What do you mean, Ms. Webber? Am I not expelled?”
“No, Alexander. I’m giving you until the week before Christmas to take a very difficult make up test. I told you that there wouldn't be any second chances but exceptionally and ‘una tantum’ (Translation: only one time), I’ll let you prove to me that you can pass my class. Get at least a C on your own merit and I’ll forget about your slip up. But don't be mistaken that this is only to encourage the fact that you seem to have a strong moral compass young man. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Ms. Webber. Thank you, ma’am.”
I look at my students and a plan forms in my mind:
“Obviously, you won't mention the conversation we’ve had today to anyone. I’ll let you all know when I’ll need your testimony. Now, let's all go home.”
Ayla
I’M ABOUT TO FOLLOW Tuna outside: I wanna know what Michelle was blackmailing him with to begin with but Alex grabs my hand.
“Baby, Tuna and Sam are gonna pick Ben up and take him to his rehab session. You and I ...”
He's got that impossibly sexy smile and once we get outside, he stops in front of a black, scary looking motorcycle.
He passes me one of the helmets that were secured to the back of the bike and when I don't do anything wi
th it, he puts it on my head with a low chuckle and then he brushes my lips with his.
“You can say no, obviously but I was thinking about a nice bike ride by the coast and then ... I booked a nice, romantic hotel room, Ayla. For everyday this week. I’m gonna take you there to make love, baby. To hold you in my arms, to learn how to drive you crazy with pleasure and to teach you how to do the same to me. What do you say?”
It takes me a second to answer because my knees feel weak under his dark blue gaze but I also feel a tingling warmth in my lower belly.
“Let’s go.”
It's my first time riding on a motorcycle and I love the feeling of power underneath me but mostly the solid warmth of Alex's back and the hardness of his stomach muscles under my hands.
He rides the bike as confidently as he does everything else in his life: he's in complete control and that's one of the things that make Alex irresistible in my eyes, aside from his perfect good looks and his bright mind.
The hotel consists of a quaint building by a golden sand beach: all white walls and exposed dark wood beams.
All the decor is in blues and greens reminding me of the sea and there's bougainvillea climbing on every wall outside.
Our room is spacious and has a wide balcony with a stunning sea view.
I can only imagine what the hotel staff must think: Alex and I are still in our school uniforms and we haven't got any luggage with us.
Alex closes the door behind us and stands behind me on the balcony, surrounding my waist with his arms.
There's a light breeze and I still can't make sense of how warm winters are in Southern California: in Chicago we could've had snow on the ground already, here we barely need a light jacket.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I shrug lightly while he drags his soft lips down my neck making me feel that familiar weakness at my knees again.
“I was thinking that the receptionist totally knew what we're here for.”
He grins: I can't see it but I can hear the smile in his tone.
The Initiation: A High School Light Bully Romance (Beverly Hills Prep Academy Book 1) Page 24
