FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
SADIE SMILES and wraps her arms around Paxton’s middle. The students that surround them still applaud and cheer him on, which only makes me happier for him. Everyone in this town might know who he is, but that doesn’t do anything to help with his shyness.
Asking the girl he’s had a secret crush on since seventh grade to the dance wasn’t easy for him, especially with a crowd of students watching him. But still, my best friend stood there with the dorky sign we made and a bouquet of daisies with pride.
I cheered just as loud as everyone else while I took pictures for Mollie. She’d secretly pulled me to the side last night and asked that I snag a couple for her since she obviously couldn’t be here.
Paxton catches my eye across the courtyard and gives me a small wave. A gesture that I return instantly. We’ll catch up and talk about it later, but for now, I want him to have his moment with the pretty blonde at his side.
“Well shit. Now you definitely can’t go to the dance,” Rafferty’s voice comes from behind me. “You went and told the one person who was willing to go with you to go with someone else. Not exactly a smart move on your part.”
To others, it probably seems out of character that Raff would show up to watch something like this. The indifferent and “above it all” attitude he’s perfected over the years has an air of superiority clinging to him, and he finds joy in making them choke on it. For the most part, he truly doesn’t give a shit about most things or other people, but Pax is an exception to the rule.
He has and always will look after his baby brother. His protectiveness for his family is the most endearing thing about him.
My eyes roll at his remark, knowing he’s trying to get a reaction out of me. “Like I said the other day, I don’t have any plans to go to the dance. These people hardly want anything to do with me during the school day, what’s going to be different at a dance?” I glance at him over my shoulder but don’t bother turning my body toward him.
Rafferty leans against one of the building’s stone columns with his arms crossed. “Not a damn thing, Butterfly.” He’s completely unapologetic about what he’s done to my possible social life.
Even the teachers are acting weird toward me. A sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have this much power over people. His name carries a lot of weight like he told Bryce, but that alone isn’t what has people falling over themselves to stay on his good side.
The Wilde Corporation is the only USA-based defense contractor that rivals Lockheed Martin. They get billions of dollars in contracts just from the government every year, and that money only makes up about seventy percent of their revenue. Meanwhile, Adrian Blackwell is a world-renowned engineer who is known for revolutionizing the computer chips that go in the Department of Defense’s equipment. He sold off his patented ideas decades ago for a pretty penny, and has been working alongside Raff’s grandfather at The Wilde Corp.
While Rafferty has never particularly gotten along with his father and he takes more after his mother in appearance, Raff inherited his intellect from his father. Which is good because one day when Adrian and Grandpa Wilde retire, the family’s company will fall onto Rafferty’s shoulders.
It’s not just his last name that influences people, it’s his own reputation. Rafferty has found a way to make a name for himself. He’s been doing it since grade school with small tidbits of innocent information and gossip shared on the playground. He simply takes what he’s learned and finds a way to make it benefit him. The older he gets, the grander his ploys get. The fact that he does this isn’t a secret to me. I’ve just been lucky enough to not be a rival player in his games.
With one last smirk at me, Raff disappears into the crowd of students heading back inside.
“You must have done something really bad or really good to have Rafferty Blackwell talking to you like that.” A voice I don’t recognize comes from my side.
Turning, I look at a face that is somewhat familiar. We share a couple of classes I think, but I haven’t yet heard what his name is. His short hair is dark blond, and his green eyes are kind, which is a rare occurrence here at Hemlock Hill. He also lacks the ever-present cocky grin that everyone in this goddamn place wears. It might as well be part of the preppy uniform.
He’s different. Approachable.
That’s why I find myself responding. “I haven’t done anything.” At least, I don’t think I have. I can’t think of anything specific off the top of my head. “I’ve just had the astounding pleasure of knowing him for a very long time.”
Shoving his hands in his blue and white letterman jacket, he asks, “Is that why he calls you Butterfly?”
Jesus, how long had he been standing there listening to our conversation?
There’s a second where I almost consider telling him the origin of Rafferty’s nickname, but something about doing so feels as if I’d be betraying him. It’s a name that’s been shared between us since I was no older than six, and he only uses the moniker because he knows the story about my mom. In general, I try not to talk about my mom, but Rafferty has always been privy to all the dark stories in my life, just as I have his. When he calls me Butterfly, it lessens the hurt my mom left in my heart all those years ago. The name may have started with the woman who abandoned me, but it now belongs to Raff. And that’s why telling this random guy about it feels like I’m revealing a sacred secret that is shared between us.
I keep my answer as vague as possible. “It’s just a spin on something a family member used to call me. Rafferty just made it his own and has been calling me that since we were young.” The nickname stuck and I’d be lying if I said I hated when he used it.
The guy could ask more questions or make a snarky comment like everyone else here would probably do, but he just smiles at me. “Man, I wish I had a cool story behind my name. My parents named me Chance after one of their grandpas.”
Chance. I repeat his name in my head to not forget it. “I like those kinds of family traditions, though. My family is very small so there aren’t many people to pass names down to.” With no contact with my mother’s side of the family, all that is left is my dad’s. His parents were both only children, and when they passed, the only Davenports who remained were Dad and Aunt Jo.
“Again, I’m jealous of you. My family is gigantic. Both of my parents have five siblings, and let’s not even talk about how many cousins there are.” Chance’s handsome face contorts into a pretend grimace. “They’re all coming in for the holidays, and I’m trying to get myself prepared. Half of them are Italian and the other half are Irish, so you know they’re loud as fuck.”
I can’t stop myself from looking around to see if anyone is watching him talk to me. Did someone put him up to this? Is this a test from Rafferty to see if I’ll follow his silly orders? If it’s neither of those things, why is Chance talking to me while everyone else is still scared of Rafferty’s wrath?
It’s a question I find myself asking him point blank. “I’m sorry, but why are you talking to me?”
Confused and probably a little bit offended I’d ask him something like that, Chance’s face falls. “Umm… do you not want me to talk to you?”
“No, no! That’s not it. I just mean the people here either avoid making eye contact with me or they turn their noses up at me.” There’s a redhead I share a class with who looks at me like she’s imagining what I’d look like if I were on fire. I’m not sure what I did to piss her off.
Rubbing the back of his neck like he’s suddenly anxious, Chance shifts on his feet. “I’ll admit I was initially curious because of Rafferty’s behavior toward you. I mean everyone’s been talking about what he said.” Is he talking about the Bryce incident or did something else happen that I missed? “But then I started to talk to you and finally got a good look at you, and fuck, if I were Rafferty, I’d be a territorial piece of shit too if you were mine.”
You could give me an hour to describe the emotions I’m feeling hearing this, but I still wouldn’t be able to describe them aloud. They’re a chaotic mixture of annoyance and exhilaration. I’m annoyed he’s made people believe he owns me even though there are times he goes out of his way to prove the opposite to me. Then there’s the excited fluttering in my stomach and a dull longing in my heart at the prospect of being his. Both of those mean nothing but trouble for me, and I need to bury them as I always have. Rafferty’s never done anything to prove he’s capable of feeling those emotions which, by default, puts me in a position to be hurt.
Trying to shake off whatever I’m feeling right now, I clear my throat. “Is that what people really think? That I’m Rafferty’s?”
Chance’s dark-blond brows rise. “Are you not?”
“No, I’m not.” Why does saying that kind of hurt?
Like I’ve just told him the best thing he’s heard all year, a big smile breaks across his face. “So does that mean you don’t have a date for the dance?”
Eyes the color of moss stare at me with unadulterated interest. It’s the attention I want, but it’s not being given by the person I crave it from most. I wish when Chance looked at me like this that my skin would grow warm and my stomach would get that funny feeling like it does when Rafferty is near. If he could make me feel that way, it would give me hope that one day I’ll be able to stop pining for something Rafferty has no intention of giving me.
“I haven’t really decided yet, but I don’t think I’m going.” Just because the gym has been converted into a winter wonderland doesn’t mean the other students are suddenly going to welcome me with open arms.
“That’s too bad. I’ve been told I make an excellent dance partner.” The bell sounds through the school’s speaker system. Turning his head, he watches the crowd of students make their way toward the doors. With one last easy smile, Chance starts to back away from me. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will,” I promise, not entirely sure if I mean it or not.
“I’ll see you in class later.” With a quick wave of his hand and a flirty wink, he turns away.
