Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CADENCE
On Monday lunchtime, Gretchen bubbles with excitement when I join her in the cafeteria.
Hudson is skipping a few classes to watch his youngest brother compete in a primary school sports day. An arrangement that means I’m allowed back at the main table.
“I’m having the party,” she exclaims, grabbing my hand to pull me into the seat next to her. “Saturday after next.”
Rox twirls a strand of hair around her forefinger. “I’m in charge of catering if you want to help.”
“Ignore her,” Felicity says with a sharklike grin. “She’s just trying to offload her responsibilities onto a minion because she loves ordering people about.” Then she bumps my shoulder. “But if you’d like to help organise a DJ…”
“Cadence already has a job,” Gretchen says with a flap of her hand.
“I do?”
“You’re in charge of inviting you-know-who to the party and ensuring he actually attends, come hell or high water.”
“Mm-hm,” is my noncommittal answer. If I ask him, it’ll probably ensure he stays away, but hopefully I can find a way that works. “I’ll do my best.”
Gretchen’s jaw tenses at the answer. “Since it’s your only job on the planning committee, that’s the least I expect.”
Planning committee? I bite down on a laugh.
At our last school, a party comprised a teen announcing their parents would be away, and everyone turning up en masse at whatever time they felt like, bringing along booze or chemicals if they wanted to get trashed.
It’s so far from what I’m used to, I check, “Is there a dress code?”
“Sexy as fuck,” Rox says with a giggle. “That’s always the order of the day.”
“Not every party has to be about hookups,” Felicity complains. “Some of us just like to relax.”
“You will absolutely not relax at my party.” Gretchen gives an indignant snort. “Along with any other roles, all of you are ambassadors to make sure people have the best time.” Her fingers rake through her short hair. “Since I’m the one sticking my neck out, I need it to be phenomenal.”
She places her phone, screen up, on the table between us.
“Now tell me the truth. Does this dress look as stunning as I think?”
It's long but constructed from gossamer silver panels, designed to flow apart as she moves, revealing the darker sapphire skirt underneath. Even in the website quality photo on her tiny screen, it sparkles.
“That’s a gorgeous dress,” I say, partly because she looks stressed. Mostly because it’s true. “Though I don’t know how you’ll wear a bra in this.”
Gretchen takes her phone back, a soft smile on her lips as she stares at her selection. “It doesn’t require a bra.” She tilts her nose in the air. “It doesn’t require any underwear.”
An idea that sounds both horrifying and incredibly sexy. I shift on my seat, trying to imagine how it would feel to go bare when there’s…
“How many people are coming?”
“Two hundred.”
I gulp, sharing a sympathetic glance with Rox. “How on earth do you cater for that many?” At a guess, chips, dips, and salted peanuts aren’t the expected standard.
But while I’m impressed, Felicity snickers. “She makes a call to the catering company, gives them the quote per head, and recites Gretchen’s dad’s credit card number. Big whoop.”
“And how much is it per head?”
“Fifty plus alcohol,” Gretchen supplies, then her forehead creases. “Unless you think it should be more.”
Ten grand before booze? My mouth falls open.
“Uh-oh.” Rox gives another delighted giggle. “We’ve broken the new girl.”
Not broken so much as stunned.
All that to get Drake to a party where even if he attends, he’ll ignore her? The lowkey pinch of anxiety twists deeper. I hope he won’t do anything to embarrass her.
A quick glance in his direction is met with a fiery glare and I rip my eyes away.
Of course he’ll embarrass her. If he even bothers to show.
“Promise me, you’ll work your magic,” Gretchen says as we take our trays to the recycling bin. The confidence she usually exudes is missing, an anxious expression in its place. “I really like him.”
An instant quip springs to my lips— you don’t know him, then —but I bite it back, hiding my doubts behind a reassuring smile.
“Anybody who doesn’t like you is crazy. And believe me, hanging around crazy people is well overrated.” As I stack my tray, Hudson sends a text. His arm is around his little brother who holds a cup almost half his size. I smile as I weave among tables, typing back a congratulations message.
Then my ankles are swept out from under me.
My hands widen to brace my fall, but I still land hard, my knees and palms stinging from the impact. The phone goes skidding across the cafeteria tiles, only stopping when Drake stamps his large foot on the device.
I quickly scramble to my feet, blushing furiously as students stare. When I turn to see what tripped me, a boy I’ve never seen before grins, sitting well back on his chair, arms folded in a challenge.
“Careful,” I growl, desperate to cover my embarrassment.
“You’re the one not looking where she’s going,” he says, pulling a face. “Next time, you be careful.”
Meanwhile, Drake has my phone in his hand, turning it over, pressing buttons and I storm over to claim my property.
“What’s the magic word,” he teases as I hold out my hand, standing and lifting the phone until it’s well out of range.
“Can I please have my phone back?” My words are muffled, emerging through gritted teeth.
“Since you asked so nicely.” He places it in my hand, then snatches it away again as I try to take it. “But you’ve just added another level to your forfeit. Are you sure you want it back?”
As I stare at his self-satisfied smirk, the words from last week fill my head.
Is that what you want? To be helpless, incapacitated…?
I shove the memory away. The pulse of heat in my face matches to the warmth blossoming between my legs.
“I need my phone.”
His hand briefly brushes my sensitive cheek as he reaches to tug my ponytail. “You need a lot of things, little virgin girl,” he whispers before straightening to tower above me again. “But if you want your phone, I’ll need compensation.”
He cocks his eyebrow, staring at me with a smirk that makes my blood boil. Then he pulls out his waistband, dropping the phone straight down into his briefs.
“Ooh,” he says, shivering. “It’s still warm from your hand. Like having you touch my dick via proxy.”
He sits back down, leaving me standing there, stunned, with no idea what to do. Only knowing the one thing I won’t do is stick my hand in his underwear, rummaging around for my device.
I turn on my heel, absolutely fuming, to see the rest of my table staring with envy. Gretchen looks like she would happily kill to take my place.
God give me strength.
With an inward sigh, I head back to my chair before Drake can do anything more outrageous.
Mum is lounging on the daybed in the back garden when I get home.
There’s a glaze in her eyes that makes me cautious, but her smile is bright as she hauls me down next to her. One arm goes around my shoulder, the other patting my forearm as she launches into a tale about the joys of gardening and sunbathing, apparently, her latest hobbies.
“Hopefully, Arnold gets me the credit card he’s been promising. The moment he does, I’m going to buy half the local nursery.” Then she holds out her hands, examining her nails. “And get a manicure that doesn’t faint at the sight of dirt.”
The activities get her outdoors for a fresh dose of vitamin D each day, and the climb up and down the cliff path is excellent exercise.
Both things that play such an important piece in keeping her mental health stable but were hard to do in our old neighbourhood where gang members would approach whenever we left the room.
My heart overflows at our changed circumstance and I don’t tell her anything about the prank in the cafeteria today. Just like I didn’t tell her about the shove last week.
There’s no use in worrying her when it’s only teasing.
Especially when I can sort it myself.
Arnold arrives home and while he’s changing, I follow Drake into the kitchen under the pretext of setting the table for dinner.
“Where’s my phone?” I ask the moment the door closes. “I need it.”
“You need it? Help yourself,” he says, waving his hand at his crotch and my jaw clenches at the infuriating offer.
As I lay out the cutlery, my eyes fix on the silvery gleam of the butter knives, then stare at Drake’s back as he pulls a jug of water from the fridge. My fingers close around the stainless steel handle, reassuringly weighty in my hand.
“Did you have a good day at school?” Arnold asks as walks through the door, saving me from murderous thoughts. “No more accidents in the cafeteria, I hope.”
He takes a seat, grabbing my mother’s hand the moment she sits beside him, like he can’t stand not to touch her.
Drake sees the same gesture and his lip curls. A rush of bitterness hits me.
“It went fine,” I say, feigning enthusiasm. “The other students have been friendly so far, and I’m learning my way around. We also got invited to a party,” I add, lips twitching with mischief. “A few weeks away. Drake promised to take me and introduce everyone I don’t already know.”
“Good on you, son,” Arnold says, clapping him on the back before he can protest. “I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you two get along so well.”
I give Drake my sweetest smile as we sit to eat, taking a sharp thrill of pleasure from his stony glare.
It’s good to have the chance to repay Gretchen for her kindness by getting him to do what she needs him to. The fact he doesn’t want to attend is sweet, sweet icing on the cake.
Take that as a forfeit, you prick.