Chaos at Westbrook High (The Kingston Brothers #3)

Chapter 1

Two months ago

“Fuckin’tequila,” I croak out, scrunching my face at the sun blinding the shit out of me. “Whose idea was it to sleep out here?”

“Yours,” my twin brother grumbles beside me, covering his eyes with his forearm.

I scan the mess we made last night, cringing when I spot the several empty bottles scattered across the deck. I don’t remember much, but I’m pretty sure that was my idea too.

The four of us are spread out across two huge daybeds on the roof of the hotel we live in—Wren and I on one, and our older brother, Damon, and our stepsister, who also happens to be Damon’s girl, Callie, on the other.

Leaning up on my elbows, I grab my phone and check the time. It’s nine a.m., meaning we only slept for about three hours.

“Why are you awake, Kai?”

“Why is your voice so loud, Wren?”

“It’s not loud.”

“It’s hurting my head.”

“You’re hurting your own head, dumbass,” he mutters, grunting when I shove my fist into his shoulder. “Ow.”

“Will you shut up?”

“You shut up.”

“Bitch—”

“Boys, I swear to God,” Damon growls, roughly tossing a pillow at our faces. He drops his head back down on Callie’s stomach and wraps his arms around her waist, hugging her and using her like a pillow. “Both of you shut the fuck up.”

“Wren,” I whisper, elbowing his side as I widen my eyes at Damon and Callie. “Look what she’s done to him. He’s gone soft.”

Another pillow gets launched at my face, the impact knocking my head back into Wren’s.

Okay then. Guess he’s only soft for her.

Callie laughs quietly, and I turn to look at her, grinning when she shakes her head at me in amusement. She’s wearing nothing but a tiny black thong and a matching bra, leaning back against the headboard with Damon’s body between her legs, running her nails through his dark hair while she smokes a joint with the other hand.

Jesus. She’s gone soft for him too.

“Good night, little sister?” I tease, rolling onto my side with my cheek propped on my fist.

“I’m still older than you, fuck boy.”

“Yeah, but you’re little.”

“And you’re what?” she asks, leaning over to pass me the joint. “Big?”

I smirk and pass it to Wren without taking my eyes off her. She smirks back, and Damon slaps her outer thigh.

“Motherfuc—”

“Don’t piss me off, punk,” he warns, running his palm over the spot to ease the sting.

Her breathing shallows. She narrows her eyes at him as he crawls up over her body and lifts the sheet over their heads. He whispers something I can’t hear, and I sigh, adjusting myself over my boxers while I think about the hot as fuck foursome we had last night.

“Would it be weird if I got myself off right here?”

“Yes.” Wren grunts.

“You know our dicks were this close to each other last night,” I pinch my thumb and forefinger together to show him. “This close, brother.”

He curses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I shrug and snatch the joint from him, taking a hit before I pass it back. “You’re the one who called us incest.”

“Jesus. I was kidding.”

I laugh. He drops down on his back, his shoulder touching mine while he gazes up at the bright, clear sky. The two of us lie in silence while he gets high—the same thing he’s done every morning since the day he broke up with his ex-girlfriend for cheating on him with our cousin. He’s never said it to me out loud, but I know it damn near killed him to watch someone else fucking the girl he thought he’d love forever.

Just as the thought crosses my mind, he shoots up to a sitting position and drags a hand over his jaw, side-eyeing the lovesick fools beside us with a pained expression that looks a lot like regret. “Shit. Shit, Kai?—”

“Don’t,” I cut in, keeping my voice low to ensure they don’t hear us. “You’re not Derek, and Callie’s not Freya. You didn’t fuck Damon’s girlfriend behind his back. You didn’t do anything wrong, all right?”

“We still fucked her, Kai.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I repeat. “Let it go, brother.”

It takes him a minute, but he finally nods, his brows pulled down low over his eyes while he burns the end of his joint. “You think Damon’s gonna kill us today?” he asks, but I can tell he’s joking this time. Anything to get the attention off him and onto someone else.

“No, but I think your boy might have something to say about it when he finds out.”

He glares at that, still pretending he’s not hung up on the guy who sucked his dick a few months ago. “I don’t give a fuck what he has to say.”

“Right.”

“And he’s not mine.”

“I know.”

“I don’t even think about him anymore.”

“Yeah.”

His nostrils flare. “Fuck you.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and he shoves my ass.

After Callie climbs out from under the sheet, she stands and grabs her clothes from the coffee table next to the pool. She looks out at the ocean while she pulls a black tank over her head, her long, dark hair a tangled mess that covers almost the entire length of her back. She likes the view from up here, probably because you don’t get to see much when you’re raised in a shitty apartment building in Vegas surrounded by other shitty apartment buildings. She might pretend to hate living here with us, but I think she secretly likes it. Just a little bit.

“Where’re you goin’?” I ask.

She bends over to shove her foot into her ripped jeans. “To grab a mocha latte from that cute little coffee shop down the street,” she answers, making me frown.

What cute little coffee shop down the street?

When she continues getting dressed like nothing is wrong, I share a look with my brothers, then cock my head at her. “You’re going to get a coffee?”

“That’s what I said.”

“All by yourself?”

“Yes, Kai,” she says slowly, peeking up at us when she catches three sets of eyes drilled into the top of her head. “What?”

I shake my head at how oblivious she is and hop up to my feet, quickly shoving my clothes on while my brothers do the same on either side of me.

“Where you go, we go.” I spell it out for her, moving in to kiss the top of her head. “Get used to it, little sister. And do my ego a favor and don’t make me invite myself next time.”

“Your ego doesn’t need any favors.” She shoves my shoulder to get me to move, but I don’t miss the smile she’s failing to hide while she leads all three of us to the door.

“Kai.”

“What, Damon?”

“Don’t kiss my girl.”

I smirk at that, purposely sliding my eyes down to her ass to piss him off. She’s hot, and she’s got Damon’s written all over her, but I still look because I’m a brave fucker. Damon thumps the back of my head, and I curse, feigning a wince while I rub the spot. “Dude, that hurt,” I complain.

He ignores me and carries on walking.

He’s only eleven months older than us, but sometimes he acts like he’s fucking forty, the moody asshole.

“Yo, Wren,” I whisper, motioning for him to come closer. “I bet you fifty bucks he makes her a Kingston within the year.”

He snorts like I’m ridiculous and lifts his fist to bump mine. “You’re on.”

“Why don’tyou just order room service like we do? They’ll bring you whatever you want.”

“Because I like it here.” Callie shrugs, pushing the door open to the cute little coffee shop we’re only just finding out about.

Valerie’s, the big white sign on the shop window reads. I don’t see what’s so special about it. There’s a long black counter with a dark wooden top, a few tables, and an uncomfortable looking corner couch on the back wall. The shop is surprisingly busy, and the line’s pretty long, but it’s not overly crowded, the tables spread out enough that the patrons aren’t sitting on top of each other. There are a few signs and floating shelves on the long wall to my left, and when I see the neatly placed books, I start to get why Callie likes it here so much. She loves to read. This is the perfect little reading spot.

“Because room service won’t let her pay for it,” Wren corrects Callie, chuckling to himself when she pretends not to hear him.

Damon takes her hand. She side-eyes him but doesn’t say anything as we move further along the line.

Still not impressed by the fact that Callie’s been coming here almost every day without me—without us—I glance around again. The girl behind the counter has her head lowered, her black ball cap hiding the top half of her face while she grabs a cake from the cabinet between us. Her pink lips are pretty and full, her wavy blonde hair tied into a low ponytail at the back of her neck. Working the counter all by herself, she bags the cake and places it down on the side, caps the lid on a steaming hot cup of coffee, and then turns to the customer in front of her.

“Alice?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the coffee girl replies with a smile, and I do a double take, quickly going from half interested to fully invested.

Damn. She’s beautiful.

Still smiling, she moves on to the customer before us. She must know this one because she talks and laughs with her while she rings her order up. I don’t take my eyes off her while she turns around to pump some syrup into a to-go cup. I catch a little glimpse of her ass as she moves, her apron tied at the back above a pair of black, skintight jean shorts, and damn it, I want her. Like, today. Right the fuck now if I can make it happen.

“Callie, do you know her?”

“Who?” she asks.

When I tip my head at the coffee girl, her eyes latch onto mine for the first time, her words dying mid-sentence, and my stepsister is forgotten. My vision tunnels, and she’s all I can see. For several moments, she stares at me like she’s seen a ghost, and I stare right back.

Fuck.She’s…

When the noise level drops, I feel the few people around us glancing at me and my family. This isn’t new. We’re the children of Elijah Kingston—the man who practically owns this town and everyone in it. I’m used to the attention, to having people look at me in awe and fear, but I’m not used to the way she’s looking at me. That easy smile from before has fallen right off her face, and I swear to God she’s glaring at me.

She’s fucking glaring at me.

I still don’t look away, and neither does she.

She seems familiar. For a moment, I think I might have fucked her already and bailed in the middle of the night or some shit. It would explain the glare. But no, that’s not it. Her face isn’t one I’d forget. There’s no way I’ve been with her before.

I cock my head at her, and she snaps herself out of it. Her cheeks heat, but I don’t think she’s embarrassed because she was staring at me. I think she’s fucking furious. Hot and feisty, she whips out a hand towel and busies herself cleaning the already clean counter.

“Hey,” Callie says to her when it’s our turn—an attempt to break the awkward tension—but all that seems to do is make it worse.

The coffee girl glares at Callie this time as if she’s mad at her for something. “Mocha latte and a chocolate croissant?” she asks tightly, forcing a smile that’s not fooling anyone.

Callie’s brows dip, and she looks between me and her, a small, amused smirk on her lips as she nods. Damon orders water, Wren orders a black coffee and grabs a shit load of sugar packets, and when it’s my turn to order, I say absolutely nothing. It takes her a full seven seconds—I know because I’m counting in my head—and I almost think she won’t cave, but then she finally lifts her head and looks at me again, just as I wanted her to.

“What do you want?” she asks, and I barely notice the hostility in her tone because fuck, her voice is sweet. Even when she’s trying to be mean, it seems she can’t pull it off.

“What’s your name?”

“Not for you.”

Unsure whether I’m impressed or not, I step closer, rest my forearms on the counter right in front of her, and meet her gaze. I’m a lot taller than she is, but I can see the color of her eyes from down here, even beneath that ball cap she’s using like a shield. They’re pale blue, just a couple shades lighter than mine and Wren’s. Dressed in all black, she’s wearing a tight T-shirt beneath the apron, the Valerie’s logo printed on the front. No name tag though.

Unbothered by the fact that I’m holding up the growing line behind me, I slowly run my eyes down from the top of her head to the clean, manicured tips of her fingernails, oddly fascinated by the small tattoo on her hand beneath her thumb. It’s a daisy. I stare at it, resisting the urge to reach out and run my finger over the petals.

I want to see more of her. All of her. I want to see if she’s got any more ink on her body.

As if she can hear what I’m thinking, she clenches her hands around the towel she’s still holding, but she doesn’t move. Because she knows if she steps back, I’ll be able to see her bare legs. Denying me, she pushes her hips into the counter, bringing her even closer. I already saw what she’s so desperate to hide, and usually, I’d tell her just that, tease her a little and see if I can make her blush, but for some reason, I don’t.

“My name’s Kai,” I tell her instead, lowering my voice to ensure only she can hear me. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Her jaw ticks, and I know I’m right. She can’t possibly be able to tell me and Wren apart—we’re completely identical, right down to the tattoos our bodies are covered in—but she knows I’m a Kingston brother.

I don’t know her though. As familiar as she looks, I can’t place her. She looks about our age, but she doesn’t go to Westbrook High. I guess she could be a college student. Just as I open my mouth to ask, she snatches her hand away and clutches it to her chest, her small fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist. She hits me with a look that could kill, and it’s only now I realize I was touching her, running my finger over the daisy on her hand.

I clear my throat. “Sorry.”

She glares at me again.

Fuck. I’m not sorry and she knows it.

“What do you want?” she repeats, her hand still fisted like she’ll punch me if I try that again.

Damon inches closer to me, and Wren does the same on my other side—a subconscious instinct to protect me from vicious little coffee girls. She notices the shift in them, but she doesn’t back up like I thought she would. She doesn’t even bat an eye at them. It amuses me more than it should. This one’s brave.

I tip my chin up at the menu on the wall above her head. “What’s your favorite?”

Unimpressed, she lifts a brow. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. What do you like?”

“Why?”

“I want a little taste of you.”

She lets out a small laugh, but it’s not a sweet one like it was for the people before us. She’s laughing at me, not with me. “I’m not playing this game with you, Kai. Just tell me what you want.”

“You, moaning my name just like that.”

She pulls her head back, her eyebrows scrunched down into a cute little vee just above her nose. Her cheeks heat again, but again, it’s not out of embarrassment. Honestly, she looks like she wants to hit me.

“You’re vile,” she says quietly, probably to ensure her customers don’t hear her talking to me like that.

“That’s not a no,” I taunt, setting fifty dollars down in front of her.

“I still don’t know what you want.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she grits out, losing patience.

“Baby girl, I can stand here and do this with you all day.” I grin and link my fingers together, content to do just that.

She looks down at the ink on my hands, mainly the black and white skull covering the right one, and I wonder if she’s thinking about touching it like I touched hers.

Probably not.

Side-eyeing the long line of people behind me, she snatches a couple to-go cups from the stack. We were planning on getting a table, but it seems she wants us gone, and she’s not being very subtle about it.

Too fucking bad.

She writes Callie’s name on the first cup—if she remembers her order, it’s no surprise she remembers her name—and then she looks up at Wren, hesitating with her black marker hovering over the cup.

“Don’t act like you don’t know it,” I tease.

Her nostrils flare as she writes his name on the sleeve.

“You’re pretty when you’re angry,” I say, but she doesn’t even blink, the stubborn little thing.

After writing my name on a plastic cup, she taps a few buttons on her little screen and shoves my cash into the register. Refusing to touch me, she sets my change down on the counter and starts making our drinks. I leave the change where it is but pick up the receipt, hoping her name is printed on it somewhere. It’s not.

Still leaning on the surface separating us, I watch while she does her thing at the coffee machine, mesmerized by her every move. If she’s nervous, she doesn’t show it. She’s confident as hell, and she seems to have ditched her efforts to not let me see her body. Maybe she doesn’t give a shit if I look or not, or maybe she just wants me out of here as quickly as possible. I can’t get a good read on her, but she’s got me hooked all the same. Because other than Callie, I can’t remember the last time a girl didn’t fall over backwards to earn even a fraction of the attention I’m giving her.

Once she’s done, she grabs Damon’s water and passes everything over, setting my drink down on the counter in front of me, once again not letting my hand get within a foot of hers.

“What is it?” I ask, studying the light brown sauce dripping over the insides of the cup and the heap of whipped cream on top.

“An iced caramel latte with whipped cream and caramel sauce,” she mutters as she cleans the spot I was just leaning on.

I resist the urge to laugh at her audacity.

“You have a sweet tooth?” I ask, desperate to know something about her.

“You wanted what I like. Take it or leave it.”

Hiding a smile, I wrap my lips around the straw and take a sip. It’s the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.

She gestures to the change on the counter with an impatient flick of her hand, and I shake my head. “Keep it.”

She frowns and looks at me like I’m stupid. “That’s almost a fifty percent tip.”

“I know.”

“Wait, I don’t?—”

“I said keep it.” Holding her gaze, I scoop up some of the cream with my finger and suck it off. “Later, coffee girl.”

She frowns again, and I back away before I do what I’m imagining doing in my head, which is walking around the counter, grabbing her by the waist, and giving in to the urge to find out if she tastes as good as she looks. I can’t do that. She looks like she’d kick me in the dick the second I put hands on her.

It’d probably be worth it though…

I shake that off and fall in line beside my family, ignoring the curious looks they’re giving me while I drop my ass down on the black couch in the corner. I was wrong. It’s not uncomfortable at all.

Wren takes the seat beside me, Callie takes the seat on my other side, and Damon takes the end seat next to her, scowling in the direction of the counter. He doesn’t like the coffee girl, but I’m not surprised. The guy doesn’t like anyone.

I sip my delicious drink while Callie pulls out the book she grabbed from the penthouse before we left. She flips it open to the bookmarked page and leans back into the crook of Damon’s arm, her coffee in her free hand, her legs thrown over his thighs. Damon feeds her a bite of her croissant. I twist my lips from side to side. Anxiously bouncing my leg, I manage to stay quiet for all of thirty seconds.

“What’s her name?”

“I don’t know,” Callie answers, laughing lightly when I narrow my eyes suspiciously. “I really don’t know, fuck boy. I never asked.”

Fucking fuck boy.

Maybe that’s why it seemed like she’d rather die than waste her time talking to me. She’s probably heard all about my antics, and she’s decided I’m not worth the time of day.

Fuck, I’m not used to this.

I huff out a breath and fall back in my seat, sulking while I stare at the busy girl on the other side of the room. I’m sure she can feel my eyes on her, but she doesn’t look at me while she bags a cookie for the guy in front of her, a small smile on her face as she listens to whatever he’s saying to her. I have the strangest urge to punch him.

I see it now. This cute little coffee shop down the street with its homey, bookish vibe and its delicious coffee… She’s what’s so special about it.

She’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.

And she’s mine.