“Did you see them? I heard Principal Vager almost peed his pants when he called them into his office.”
I roll my eyes at the girls behind me. It’s all I’ve heard all morning, and it’s only second period.
Did you see them?
Did you check out their tattoos?
What do you think they’re doing here?
I heard they’re in a gang.
Unsurprisingly, the Jagger brothers are the hot gossip on everyone’s lips. Girls are already hatching master plans of seduction, and Bexley and his football friends are no doubt plotting their revenge. And here I am, trying my best to stay under the radar.
The door to AP English flies open, and Mr Triskin lets out a startled cry. “This English?” Ace steps into the room, and I swear you could hear a pin drop.
“Crap,” I mumble under my breath. I was praying we wouldn’t share any classes, but I’m hardly surprised.
It’s like the universe just loves torturing me.
“You’re late.” The teacher stands, letting his glass-rimmed gaze look over Ace.
Someone snickers, and I find myself smiling along with them. It is quite amusing. Ace stands at least a foot taller than Mr Triskin. He’s shed the school-issue blazer and rolled up the sleeves on his crisp white shirt. Dark, menacing tattoos snake up his neck and run down his arms like twisted vines.
“Holy. Crap. He’s fine,” Lylah Donovan groans from behind me, and her girlfriends all snicker.
I tune them out. I know all about how strong Ace is, how scary and intimidating he is.
“Something came up,” Ace replies around an easy smile. I frown. He seems different. Still as scary as hell but more chilled.
Then it hits me.
He’s high.
Jesus, he really does give zero fucks.
“Find a seat, Mr Jagger.” Triskin looks ready to blow.
I glance around, relieved to find no empty desks next to me. The last thing I need is to spend the next fifty minutes with Ace within breathing distance. My relief is short-lived though, when he stalks right up to me. I lower my eyes, refusing to play whatever game he has up his sleeve today.
Lylah and her friends can barely contain their excitement. “You can sit next to me,” she says in a dulcet tone that makes my skin crawl.
To my satisfaction, Ace doesn’t acknowledge her.
“Mr Jagger, we don’t have all day.” Mr Triskin lets out a frustrated breath.
“You,” Ace barks at the kid at the next desk over. “Move.”
“I… uh, yeah, sure.” He slinks out of the chair to the nearest empty desk. Ace drops down beside me, stretching his leg out to the side so that his boot kisses my desk.
I ignore him, forcing myself to stare ahead. Triskin is talking about this semester’s focus, but listening is an impossible task. Ace’s eyes burn into the side of my face, intense and suffocating.
“Stop,” I breathe, glaring at him.
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. His eyes are half-lidded and cloudy.
Yeah, he’s definitely high.
But even in his inebriated state, it’s like he sees me better than anyone else in the room.
“Make me.” He leans toward me.
I can hear Lylah and her friends whispering, drawing their own conclusions about Ace’s interest in me.
Great, just what I don’t need.
“Hey, Ace,” Lylah whispers seductively.
I watch out the corner of my eye as he glances over his shoulder. “Yeah?” he says.
“You should come hang out with us tonight at Surf’s.”
“Am I supposed to know what the fuck that is?”
“It’s the beachside diner we go to sometimes.”
“Will Remi be there?”
I swallow the urge to groan. He isn’t making this easy. It’s only the first day of school, and already he’s painting a target on my back.
“Remi?” Lylah says with mild disgust. “Why the hell would she be there?”
“I am sitting right here,” I hiss.
Of course, Mr Triskin chooses that exact moment to stop talking. “Miss Tanner.” He glares at me. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”
Lylah snickers.
“No, sir,’ I say with saccharine enthusiasm, ‘but I think Lylah had a question for you about the work.’
“Bitch,” she whisper-coughs.
“Miss Donavan, I’m waiting. Or perhaps you’d like to join me after class?”
“N-no, sir. Everything is fine.”
“As I suspected. Now, if it’s not too much trouble, how about you try paying attention to the rest of class. Who knows, you might learn something.”
Lylah gasps, which is ironic since everyone at Sterling Prep is intelligent enough to breeze into an Ivy League school of their choosing. And if they’re not, you can bet that mommy and daddy are paying enough tutors or writing enough checks to make it happen.
The rich and entitled… oh, how it must suck to be them.
Another few minutes pass. Lylah is drilling holes into the back of my head, but it’s nothing I haven’t already experienced a hundred times before, unlike Ace, who is so still and quiet I wonder if he’s asleep with his eyes open. He hasn’t written a single thing in his notebook.
I’m doodling Jane Eyre’s name when I sense Ace shift closer. “How about we make a deal, Princess?” His voice is a low whisper in my ear. “You take this class for me, and I’ll repay you.”
My eyes slide to his. He isn’t just watching me, he’s trying to ensnare me in his trap. I don’t want to succumb, but I feel myself falling.
“Repay me?” I hiss. “Trust me when I say, you have nothing I could ever want.”
He raises a brow, a lazy smirk breaking over his face. “Is that so?” Ace leans closer, his big body shadowing mine. “Because I could’ve sworn I felt your tight little body hot and needy beneath me the other night after I taught your boyfriend a lesson not to touch what’s mine.”
People are watching. I feel their licks of curiosity brushing up against me.
“Ace.” It’s a growl on my lips. “Whatever game you’re hoping to pull me into, just stop.” Please. The word teeters on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it.
“Mr Jagger, please give Miss Tanner some room.”
“But she smells so fucking good,” he drawls, causing the room to break out in uneasy laughter.
Anger zips up my spine. The kids of Sterling Prep don’t need any more excuses to make my life difficult, and yet, whether he realizes it or not, Ace is handing them all the ammunition they need.
“Mr Jagger.” Triskin sounds pissed now, his face burning with indignation. “This is your last warning before I remove you from my class.” Silence falls over the room and Ace does nothing more than stand up and saunter toward the door.
“Change of plan,” he says to a wide-eyed Triskin. “I’m hungry,”—his eyes lock on mine, setting off a wildfire in my veins— “and this shit is boring.”
And just like that, he walks out.
Taking my final shred of dignity with him.
“Remi, wait up.” I turn to find Hadley walking toward me. She’s in her blue and white cheer outfit, her honey-blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and her face made up to perfection.
I don’t know whether I envy her or despise her.
Her expression falls flat, and I know I’ve done a crap job of hiding my disdain. “Sorry, I know…”
“It’s fine,’ I say. ‘I get it.” She had no choice to be on the cheer team, the same way I had no choice about being here.
Hadley’s smile returns. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay? I heard Ace cornered you in English.”
“News sure travels fast.” It was only lunch.
“They’re the talk of the school. Conner is in my math class. He seems funny. Although he did do this thing with a pencil that Mr Faiman did not appreciate.”
The hallway grows restless, everyone pointing and staring at something. I crane my neck around Hadley and let out a groan. Bexley and the football team are making their grand entrance. Kids start calling out, cheering on their beloved Seahawks.
“Get ‘em good, Bex,” someone yells, inciting another round of raucous cheers.
Bexley’s face is a mess. There’s tape across his nose and dark purple bruising around both eyes. But in his blue and white jersey, it only makes him look the part.
“Holy shit, he looks ready to kill.”
Bexley Danforth is your all-American guy, a trust fund baby born into a world of privilege and power. He doesn’t have to work for a single thing; it all lands right at his feet, gift-wrapped with a bow. As if that isn’t enough, the football gods themselves have blessed him with a record-breaking throwing arm. He’s one of the best quarterbacks in the state.
And he’s looking at me like I kicked his favorite puppy.
“Hads, Remi,” he greets us as his teammates spill around him.
“Hey, Bex,” Hadley says. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
I shoot her a look that says, ‘please don’t’, but she’s already gone, disappearing into the sea of kids all headed to lunch.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him.
“Not as much as it’ll hurt Jagger when we get him back,” he grinds out.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Going after Ace, I mean.”
Bexley releases a frustrated breath, placing a hand at the locker beside my head. I know what he’s doing; he’s giving me no chance of escape.
Asshole.
“Don’t tell me you like the guy? He’s a piece of shit Heighter that doesn’t belong here.”
“Wow, you really are a judgmental prick.”
“Remi, come on. The guy broke my nose and for what? To make his mark? Please.” He scoffs. “He’s a fucking liability. I can’t believe they let him transfer here.’
I press my lips together in defiance. It’s not that I want to defend Ace, but I don’t want to side with Bexley, either. That ship has long sailed.
As far as I’m concerned, they can both go to hell.
“All I’m saying is, do you really want to start a war with someone like Ace Jagger?”
Bexley’s expression darkens. “He came to my party and broke my fucking nose. This is Seahawk territory, and he’ll get what’s coming to him.”
And that is precisely why I no longer have a membership for the Bexley Danforth fan club. He’s everything that’s wrong with this world, and it makes me sick.
He makes me sick.
“Did you forget I no longer hold the required qualifications to be in your little club? Or are we just going to pretend that isn’t an issue?” I bite back, so over his pretentious bullshit.
“Come on, Remi, you know it’s not even like that.” He runs a hand down his face.
“Yeah? Try telling that to Michaela and her band of bitches.”
“You know I love it when you get feisty.” He inches closer, his expression softening. “Go out with me. Just say yes. Come on,” his voice is low and husky, “you must have thought about it. It’d drive Michaela crazy.”
My heart sinks. Bexley has been after me for a while now, but not because he wants me. No, that would be too simple. He wants me because I don’t want him.
I never have.
I just want my friend back. I want the Bexley who used to try and teach me to surf for hours in the summer. The Bexley who held me when my dad left, who let me sleep in his bed because I hated my mom’s boyfriend and couldn’t stand to be under the same roof as him.
I miss that Bexley.
But that boy is gone, replaced with a young man who looks at me and no longer sees his friend but a challenge.
A prize to be won.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Hope glitters in his baby blue eyes.
“Actually,” I say coolly, “I’m thinking about what happened to the boy I used to know. See you around, Bex.” I shoulder past him, and don’t look back.
The rest of the day passes without any drama. I heard Ace took off after leaving Triskin’s class—someone saw his bike speeding out of the parking lot. He’ll never last at Sterling Prep, but then, maybe he never planned on it.
I still can’t figure out why James is so set on them coming here. They’ve spent their entire life in the Heights. Asking them to forget their roots and play nice with a school full of rich kids seems unfair… or completely stupid.
Whatever.
I have bigger things to think about, like the text I got earlier from my sorry excuse for a sperm donor.
Throwing some books in my locker, I slam it shut and make my way outside. I walked to school today. It takes me about thirty minutes along the coastal path, but I enjoy the fresh air, and it means I don’t have to listen to Mom try and coach me on how to fit in. The path takes me parallel with the football field, where the team is busy practicing. I spot Bexley and a few of the other seniors. It looks like they’re giving shit to some of the new recruits.
Oh crap.
My eyes widen at the sight of Cole Jagger going toe-to-toe with Hayden, Bexley’s best friend and the star running back for the team. Even from where I’m standing, I can feel the hatred sizzling between them. Cole is an outsider, and despite the blue and white jersey and standard issue shoulder pads he’s wearing, there’s no disguising that he’s different.
“Jagger,” the coach yells, and the tension evaporates.
I let out the breath caught in my throat.
First Ace going up against Bexley, and now Cole going up against Hayden. This isn’t good. But it’s not my problem.
My cell phone dings, and I dig it out of my pocket.
Dad: Please, Remi. It’s just dinner.
Me: But it’s not just dinner. It’s dinner with them. With her.
Dad: It’s your first day of senior year. I’d like to hear how it went.
Me: It was fine.
Dad: Please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be. Dinner at Surf’s at six-thirty or I’ll call your mom.
Bastard. He knows she’s my weak spot.
Me: I hate you.
Dad: I know. See you at six-thirty. Don’t be late.
His words coil around my heart and squeeze, turning my blood to molten lava. The last thing I want to do is have dinner with him, but every few months, he does this: demands I spend time with him. Only spending time together is never just him and me.
It’s me and them.
His family.
The one he chose instead of me and mom.
Della, his wife. Farrow, his step-son. Pacey, their son, and Michaela Fulton, his step-daughter.
My step-sister.
And my ex-best friend.
