I FEEL DIFFERENT, I think as I walk around campus, clutching my books to my chest since I forgot my bookbag in my room earlier this morning. I’m more forgetful. Completely preoccupied. My father called me last night and I was so disinterested in our conversation he even said something.
“Are you okay? You seem distant.”
“Lots of homework,” I told him like the little liar that I am.
I can’t admit to my father that I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I had West Fontaine’s dick in my mouth. That’s the last thing he wants to hear, but it’s the truth.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
The look on his face while he watched me. The way he tangled his fingers in my hair, tugging on it until my scalp stung, his hips forceful as he essentially fucked my mouth. I let it happen, the tears streaming down my face, the head of his cock touching the back of my throat and nearly making me gag. It was painful and it was delicious and when I felt that first spurt of cum hit my tongue, I automatically swallowed it down, shocked when it kept coming.
The entire moment was filthy and kind of degrading and I enjoyed every single second of it.
It was a little awkward after the fact and I basically asked him to leave the dance studio once it was over. He slipped his clothes back on, covering up that glorious cock of his, leaving his shirt unbuttoned as he slung his jacket over his shoulder and wandered out of my dance studio, whistling an unfamiliar tune.
The entire moment was surreal.
I want to do it again.
Anticipation throbs in my veins and between my legs as I enter American Government, my gaze searching, looking for West, but he’s not in the room yet.
Mercedes is though. Sitting in her usual spot with her minions surrounding her, her gaze ghosting over me as if I don’t actually exist.
Fine, I don’t want her acknowledgement. Would much rather sink into the shadows and pretend I’m not here.
Brent walks in, his gaze finding mine before he quickly looks away, not acknowledging me at all. I frown, ready to call out to him, but then West wanders in, a knowing smile on his face as he settles into the desk directly behind me.
“What are you doing?” I hiss at him, glancing around. I don’t want anyone noticing that he’s sitting right next to me, especially Mercedes.
“I told Brent to back off. He won’t be bothering you anymore.” That’s all West says, confidence bleeding into his every word.
With that, he rises to his feet and makes his way to the center of the classroom, sitting in the desk directly in front of Brent.
Directly across from Mercedes.
I’m fuming. Why would he choose to sit next to her? It doesn’t matter that it’s his usual spot. That it’s where he always sits. I’m feeling irrational. Territorial.
After everything that happened yesterday, he actually still chooses to sit by her.
I hate him.
Our teacher announces the quiz he warned us about on Friday and I feel stupid for forgetting, staring blankly at the test questions once he’s passed them out, my mind scrambling to come up with the proper answers. Thankfully, it’s only multiple choice and true/false questions, so I answer them the best I can, keeping my focus on the test, trying not to be tempted by what’s happening in the classroom behind me.
I feel someone watching me and I quickly look up to find Mercedes staring at me, blatant hatred blazing from her gaze. I don’t know what I did to her, or why she’s so angry with me, but I immediately look back down at my test. I’m not in the mood for a confrontation with her today, or any day.
It already feels like she won. He’s sitting next to her still. Guess it doesn’t matter what happens between us. West is still going to choose his other life. His public life.
While I’m more like his sick, little secret.
I take most of the class period to agonize over the quiz, and once the bell rings, I gather my things, awkward with the stack of books I got out of my locker earlier. I leave the classroom and hurry to said locker, so I can dump off the ones I don’t need any longer. I’m not paying attention when someone sticks their foot out and I trip, falling to the floor with a grunt, the books scattering everywhere, my knees taking the brunt of my fall.
The entire hallway fills with laughter and there’s a breeze brushing over my backside. I close my eyes, reaching behind me to check that yep, my skirt flipped up, exposing my pale pink panties to everyone.
“So clumsy,” I hear Mercedes say, just before she cackles with laughter like the witch she is. I hear other girls laugh—her minions I’m sure—and I quickly sit up, brushing my hair out of my face before I lean over to gather my textbooks.
A boy crouches beside me, grabbing my books for me, and I scowl when I realize it’s West. I track his movements as he rises to his feet, offering his hand to me.
“Let me help you up.” His deep voice reaches inside my chest and squeezes my heart, and I stare at his outstretched hand, wishing I could refuse him.
But like the secretly obsessed girl I am, I rest my hand in his, tingles sweeping over my skin when he curls his fingers around mine and hauls me to my feet. There’s a scowl on his face as he hands over my books, his gaze searching the faces of those who surround us, and I realize he’s mad.
“Who the fuck tripped her?” he demands.
No one answers. I wouldn’t either if I saw the look on West’s face.
“Mercedes?” His tone is extra sharp.
She rests her hand against her chest, the picture of innocence. “I would never.”
She so would, and we all know it.
“Keep the fuck away from Carolina,” he tells her, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “All of you.”
They all shuffle away, a few nervous giggles and chuckles filling the air as they walk past us, and I shove at West the moment they’re gone.
“What was that for?” he asks incredulously.
“I can defend myself.”
I start walking, and as always, he follows behind me. “You weren’t doing such a good job of that a few minutes ago.”
His words infuriate me and I toss my head, my hair flying. “I can handle things on my own, West. I don’t need you running to my defense.”
“They hurt you.” I come to a stop when I hear the fury in his voice. And I swear it’s mixed with pain too, which is … mind-boggling. “They need to leave you alone.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.” His lips thin into a straight line as he murmurs, “Mercedes.”
“I don’t know if she’s the one who tripped me.”
“If it wasn’t her, it was someone she told to trip you.” He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair and messing it up in the most adorable way. “Just—watch out.”
“I will.”
“Tell them to back the fuck off.” His searing gaze meets mine. “Don’t forget who you are.”
I frown at him.
“A Lancaster, Carolina. You’re a Lancaster.”
I BYPASS the dining hall at lunch, seeking out Sadie in the library, and I find her in our usual hangout spot, nibbling on a sandwich while she draws something on a sketchpad. The moment she spots me, she’s flipping the sketchpad closed, her cheeks tinged pink, and I settle into the chair across from her, my tone purposely nonchalant.
“What are you drawing?”
“Nothing.” Her cheeks are now bright red. “A boy.”
Hmm. “Who?”
“I don’t know his name. He’s a senior.”
“I might know him.” I’m getting to know them, but not all of them.
“Oh, and he’s gorgeous. Friends with the popular crowd.” Sadie rolls her eyes. “He doesn’t know I exist.”
She knows who West is so I’m guessing she’s not talking about him. “Let me see if I recognize him.”
“The drawing isn’t that great. You probably wouldn’t be able to recognize him.”
I reach for the sketchpad and she slaps her hand over it, preventing me from snagging it. “Come on, Sadie. Let me see.”
Her hold loosens, and I slip the sketchpad from beneath her palm, setting it in front of me before I start flipping through the pages. There are a few landscape sketches. A couple of profile sketches. One of a horse that I pause over, the details so intricate I can’t help but admire it.
“That’s my old horse. I’ve worked on that drawing for years.”
“You’re really good, Sadie.” I lift my gaze to hers, offering her a faint smile. “I love it.”
She covers her face with her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”
I find the last sketch, the one of the boy she was working on when I first came to the table. I recognize him instantly, taking in the fine details that she captured, marveling at how well she drew his handsome face.
“I know him.”
“Of course, you do.”
I lift my gaze to hers. “His name is Brent.”
Sadie’s cheeks are red again. “I know.”
I frown. “You said you didn’t know his name.”
“I do. I lied. I didn’t anticipate showing you the sketch.” She tugs the pad out of my hands and flips it over so she can study her drawing. “If he ever saw this, he’d laugh at me.”
“If he ever saw it, he’d most likely be impressed with your skills. You’re an artist.”
She shrugs. “I suppose. I’ve always dabbled in art. Drawing. Painting, though I prefer pencil sketches.”
“Are you taking an art class here?”
“I’m in Art Four.” Sadie rolls her eyes. “Brent is in that class too.”
“Brent is into art?” I’m shocked. He doesn’t seem the type, though I guess that’s limited thinking on my part.
“He’s into sculpture. He’s really good.” She leans back in her chair with a sigh, shaking her head. “And he doesn’t give a crap about me.”
“Have you tried talking to him?”
“No.”
“He’s really nice.” I think of how kind he was to me yesterday at lunch, though I only used him which makes me the rude one. West told him to back off for no reason other than he was jealous, and now Brent will probably never talk to me again. “You should try to talk to him in class.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re a Lancaster. Everyone will talk to you automatically, thanks to your last name. I don’t know why you bother hiding out in the library with me. I’m sure they all want you to be their friend.”
I tell her about Mercedes and how friendly she was toward me at first—until she completely turned on me. And how she’s determined to make my life a living nightmare every chance she gets.
“That’s really stupid of her,” Sadie says when I finish my story. “Why would she come after a Lancaster? Doesn’t she understand your influence? I’ve only just started at this school, but even I understand that.”
“I think she’s so secure in her position, she doesn’t give a damn what my last name is.” Mercedes is sitting on a house of cards. I have a feeling I could make them topple with a few choice comments in front of her group of so-called friends.
“She’s a bitch,” Sadie says with complete disgust. “I’m sorry she’s so awful to you.”
“Don’t worry. I have a feeling she’ll get hers soon enough.” I pin Sadie with a look. “I have a suggestion, and I want you to be open to it.”
“Oh God,” Sadie groans, but I forge on.
“Have lunch with me tomorrow. In the dining hall. I think I can get Brent to sit with us.”
The panicked look on Sadie’s face is almost comical, but I know the feeling is real, so I’m definitely not laughing. “He won’t want to sit with us.”
“Yes, he will.” I pause. “I ate lunch with him yesterday. Just the two of us.”
“What, is he interested in you? I don’t want to interfere—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “He’s not interested in me.” Even if he was, he wouldn’t be now, thanks to West’s warning. “He’s just a friend. He’s a nice guy, Sadie.”
At least I think he is. According to West, he uses women, but I get the sense West was just saying that to keep me away from him.
I don’t know how to feel, but I’d like to at least try to pair the two of them together and see what happens. It can’t hurt to try.
“He seems nice enough. I don’t know. I don’t trust these guys here. They all seem very … calculated. Like every move they make is deliberate.”
I think of West. Is everything he’s doing with me deliberate? Planned out? Is he setting me up to do something … terrible to me?
My stomach cramps and I rest my hand over it, hating how breathless I feel.
How worried I suddenly am.
