Chapter 5
FIVE
HARPER
It was Thursday, and I usually hitched a lift with Hudson and Molly.
Both Mols and I had commitments after school that day; she had cheer practice, and I had my weekly yoga class.
I then hit the pool and swam a few lengths.
Coach Rutherford ran sessions for the team every day, and I had joined in a couple of times, but I wasn’t swim team material.
I didn’t have the upper body strength due to my bum shoulder.
It had been a tiring day, and thankfully, my last Physics test had gone better than expected. That was mainly due to the help I’d gotten from Micah. Ma must have told him I was worried about my first exams, and he’d Facetimed me. Micah had majored in Physics and gave me some great pointers.
My other foster brother had fallen on his feet and had gone the academic route through college.
He no longer dreamed of playing pro football.
I wondered if it had anything to do with the stab injury he had sustained (something about possible lasting damage), but he said that wasn’t the case.
Most boys dreamed of a career in the NFL, but Micah seemed to change his mind overnight.
It was great to see his face and catch up on his Shenanigans in New York. He’d invited us all over for Thanksgiving, but Ma still hadn’t made up her mind. This year, Thanksgiving fell a day before my seventeenth birthday, not that I was expecting a song and dance about that.
I was standing outside the girls’ locker rooms, waiting for Molly, and about to succumb to boredom.
I was still upset after my fight with Phoenix.
The one where he had confessed to cock blocking most of the boys at our school.
I knew his and Hudson’s reach wasn’t that far, now that they were no longer seniors there, but I imagined they would have infiltrated the football team.
The Sawyer Brothers were legends on the field and were regularly talked about in the locker rooms. And let’s face it.
The boys on the team were the best-looking and the most confident guys in school.
I didn’t consider myself shallow by any means, but those who were not part of the team were more interested in clubs and schoolwork than in girls.
Most people at school saw me as a freak anyway; I wasn’t given the same respect the Sawyer boys were.
Recently, I’d felt like such a fun sponge, a walking, talking hormone. Phoenix had a right to call me a smartass and a bitch.
I used to be a nice girl and had a great sense of humor, but lately I seem to have forgotten how to use it.
And yes, I knew I had issues with my urges to steal shit, but maybe if I made more effort with other people, I could try to kick the habit and make some friends.
The buzz I felt from stealing wasn’t always worth the disgust that followed it.
I lived with regret daily, the intensity of that growing each time I took something.
So why did I do it? Because I didn’t know how to stop.
The last time I had felt like a normal teenager had been when I’d been seeing Nicholas Creed.
Although ‘seeing’ is probably too strong a word.
We were never together officially. He was so good-looking with his black hair and exotic green eyes.
I had felt a genuine connection, and our mutual liking of each other was straightforward.
Or so I had thought. Until his brother, Xander, and drug baron father had crapped all over that.
I knew I needed to forget about Nick. I couldn’t have any connection to that family after what his father had done to Molly the previous year.
Hudson was also responsible for putting Nick’s dad and brother away, and so I couldn’t imagine he would accept any-sized Sawyer-related olive branch.
Plus, contacting Nick would be going behind Hudson’s back, and I wouldn’t do that.
Hudson was family. I now respected him and saw him as my brother. It was the same with Reed and Micah.
Where Phoenix was concerned, the feelings I had for him were so complex and confusing, but I had never seen him as a brother, not even when we were kids. Which was a good thing, considering I had started thinking about him naked half the time.
The door of the girls’ locker room squeaked open, and there she was, finally, Molly Miller. Her face lit up as she saw me. I was surprised her smile didn’t come with a chorus of angels singing.
She was so lovely, and not just in her appearance; the girl was sweet to the bone.
I still couldn’t comprehend how Hudson had treated her when she’d first arrived at school.
He’d been a senior at the time, in his last year of high school, and Molly had joined as a junior.
I had been a sophomore and so had only heard rumors of the shit he’d spread about her.
His intention to make the principal’s daughter’s life hell at school about-faced when he realized how amazing she was.
Funny, no one said anything bad about Molly now; she was a queen bee without even trying.
“So, Hudson is off doing something with Phoenix after college, and so he messaged to say he can’t pick us up tonight,” Molly explained as she walked towards me, clutching her backpack.
She was still dressed in her cheer uniform, which was gray and gold, and she looked amazing.
Her hair was still perfect, and there wasn’t a trace of sweat on her skin.
I didn’t understand how she managed to maintain that unflustered look.
I would smell rank and be red-faced with my hair stuck to my neck if I had been practicing cheer routines for a solid hour.
But nope, sweet Molly Miller didn’t have a hair out of place and smelled like the strawberry shampoo she wore.
She had left a bottle in our bathroom, and I had tried it.
It didn’t smell the same on my hair, so I stuck with my usual coconut mix.
“What are they doing?”
She pulled a face. “Posting a letter or something, I’m not sure.” And that shit took two people?
I fell into step beside her, wearing sweatpants and an old sweatshirt. My hair reeked of chlorine and was still wet, causing a damp patch on my top. I so needed a makeover.
“That’s OK,” I replied, knowing that meant we would have to walk home. It wasn’t far and we both lived close to each other. “I could do with some air.”
I did not welcome her next sentence.
“Storm is picking us up.”
What!? I would rather crawl home.
As we drifted down the hallway, I could see Storm’s fancy Range Rover Sport through the glass panels of the exit we always took. It was already parked there waiting for us, like a beacon of wealth. It was white with black alloys and slightly tinted windows.
My heart sank. I didn’t want to get a lift from Storm, and Molly would know that. I had been set up.
At the doors, I turned to face my devious friend. She instantly went on the defensive.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but she offered.”
“Yes, to pick you up, not me. She won’t want me in her car, infecting her space.”
“That’s bollocks,” Molly muttered, using one of her British curses.
“She hates me, Molly.”
As we exited the building, the school fire doors swung shut. I welcomed the breeze of the late afternoon air, but it didn’t cool my annoyance.
As Molly was about to correct my comment, Storm pipped her horn and wound her window down, waving excitedly at us both.
“Hey bitches,” she yelled with a grin. A grin?
OMG, that must have been the first time I had seen her smile anywhere near my radius.
It made me want to glance behind my back.
But of course, it was probably all aimed at Mols.
Molly snagged my attention back from my nemesis’s annoyingly pleased face. Storm always managed to make me feel like a charity case.
“You’re wrong, you know, about her hating you. She knows she’s been a shit to you in the past and wants to make up for it,” Molly explained, beaming across at Storm and returning her finger-tipped wave. Traitor.
I thought back to my earlier decision to make more effort with people. But did that include those who had wronged me in the past? That grudge-bearing part of me was screaming nope!
I took a deep breath and peered over at the car. Music was blaring out of the window, and Storm was now fluffing her hair in the mirror. Oh, fuck it.
“Fine.”
“Yay,” Molly squealed and drew me in for a hug. I knew she was giving Storm the thumbs up over my shoulder.
I would give the bitch one last chance.
As we approached the car, warning bells were going off in my head.
There was no denying that Storm was gorgeous, almost like a young Megan Fox.
Even without make-up, she was pretty. Although that was a version you hardly ever saw, the girl usually had more powder on her nose than a coke addict.
It was also pierced. I used to think it was a good job she wore a ring there, as no one with any sanity would ever put one on her finger.
Storm Summers was high-maintenance personified, but would be a great contender for a trophy wife.
She had a perfect curvy body and the prettiest face, although it was usually set to scowl, and her hair was black and fell in dark waves down to her waist. Storm’s eyes were slate-gray and usually looked through you, like the girl had X-ray vision.
But right then, she was looking at me—and smiling. It was as unnerving as fuck.
I wasn’t an argumentative person as a rule, but if Phoenix was the man who pushed my buttons, Storm was the female equivalent. She used to call me runt when she went to our school. Rude much?
“Hi girls, get in,” she called from the car. “Hey Harper. You look… good?” Why did that sound more like a question than a compliment?
“Thanks, I guess,” I replied as Molly opened the back door for me. If she had put plastic on the seats, I would have stormed off; no pun intended.