Chapter 9
NINE
RYE
“Stay away from Hannah.”
Mac approaches the fountain as the smoke from my cigarette rises towards the sun.
“That won’t be a problem.”
He plops beside me before he pulls the cigarette from my fingers. “I saw you two yesterday, and it looks like a problem.”
The day swirls back in my mind. Skate to her throat. My chest against her back. My fingers inside her. Heat rises to the surface of my skin, a twitch in my pants.
“I was handling business.” Leaning back, my eyes scan the quad. Students hang out on the manicured grass or the pristine stoned paths. Everywhere but the fountain. This is ours.
“Stay away, Rye,” Mac repeats. Fucker doesn’t believe me. “She’s batshit. You know this. The only thing she’ll bring to The Crowns is more drama, and we have enough. Don’t think with your dick.”
Ember approaches us, reminding me that Mac is a hypocrite. “You did last year. Worked for you.”
He laughs. “You think you and Hannah will work?”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head.” Krystal’s with Ember, the two of them walking towards us with a look of worry on Ember’s face. “I have bigger things on my mind than fucking your ex.” But even saying those last three words brings a shiver up my spine.
Disdain.
Yesterday wasn’t supposed to happen. I never thought Hannah and I would end up in the Coach’s office entangled with each other. It wasn’t planned. It was improvised. I just hope she learned her lesson.
“Gentlemen!” Gray’s voice comes from my other side, the Crown trio reunited on our campus throne. His hockey stick hangs off his shoulder, reminding me once again what Hannah took from me. “Students want to know when the next party is.”
“Or will your new girlfriend try to burn that down too?” Mac asks.
“You sure you’re not jealous?” I land the next question, plucking my cigarette out of Mac's hand. Ember and Krystal stop in front of us, their conversation coming to a halt. My eyes move between them, their bodies rigid, my sister’s shoulders high.
Something's up. “Will you two tell me what’s going on, or would you rather cower around us?”
“The police are here,” Ember says. Mac stands up, but Ember puts a hand out, tempering him. “Not for me this time.”
“It’s Dad,” Krystal speaks up, and that’s the last thing I want to hear. “It’s about the fire.”
My eyes narrow. “Why would he care?” He knows about the fire, but he's too busy travelling the world and fucking stewardesses to care. So, why is he involved now?
“Why does he care about anything?” Krystal taps on her phone. “Did he not call you?” To solidify their truth, a few cops enter the quad, their eyes scanning the students around them.
“Yeah, but I do the thing any level-headed person would and not pick up.” There’s judgment in my tone, and I hope she hears it. “Did you forget how things work in The Hill? Or did you forget who our parents are? You know, the ones who shipped you away at fourteen?”
Krystal shoves the phone in my face, a voice note already playing. I can hear our father’s voice loud and clear.
“I will ruin the asshole who threatens to burn our family history! When the cops show up, they’ll deal with you all. They burned our headlines! You will not get away with your careless—”
I hit ‘pause’ on the voice note. Family history? Headlines?
“Did he say what he’s missing?” I ask. “Or is this just the usual abuse?”
Krystal scrolls up on her phone while I rack my brain for my father’s big emergency. My mom’s office was filled with her work. Designs. Contracts.
Then it hits me as Krystal speaks again. “He’s looking for the news article from—”
“Eighty-eight,” I finish. The one where his business went international. Something tells me he’s not as concerned about that as he is with embarrassing me again.
He’s still making me pay for what she did.
“Here they come,” Krystal says, the officers making their way towards us.
We all straighten up. Especially Ember, as Mac stands in front of her. Knowing my father, he likely sent the cops to put on a show. Another tactic to put us in our place. If he wants a show, I’ll give it to him.
“Mister Rowen.” The officer looks me over, aviators on his porky nose. “We’re here in regards to the fire at the Rowen Estate on Paradise Row. Is it my understanding that this was your gathering?”
“Sad you weren’t invited?” I ask, pulling another cigarette out of my slacks.
“Didn’t seem like your kind of party,” Mac adds.
They ignore our comments, one of the officers reaching into the front pocket of his blue shirt. He pulls out a blurry photo, one taken from a security camera.
My breath stills in my chest.
It’s Hannah slipping into my mother’s home studio. I can tell by her slender body, long dark hair, and that dress hugging her frame.
“Do you recognize this person, Mister Rowen?” The air goes quiet as the officer squints. Every second feels like minutes as this unfamiliar knot forms in my throat. Numbers float through my mind, and before I can say anything, the officer speaks again. “Mister Rowen, is this Hannah Alfonso?”
“No.” The word flies from my mouth. Krystal’s head whips to me. At the risk of causing suspicion, I’ll have to own it. I take a long, hard puff on my cig. “It’s not.”
“Then who might this be?” The officer arches a brow, and now the time is really ticking.
I scan the space around me. It can’t be a campus nobody.
They wouldn’t have been at the party. Neither would someone from the Chess Club, or Theatre.
So when my eyes hit Marisol, chatting with the rest of the posse, I know she’s my best bet.
All her years of emulating Hannah are about to pay off. For me.
“That’s Marisol Hernandes.” The officer follows my gaze to Marisol, eating one of those yogurt bars with the other girls in the shade under a big tree.
The officer looks back at the photo, his brows knitting. “Are you certain, Mister Rowen?”
Looking over the quad again, my body stiffens, the air shifting when my eyes land on Hannah.
She moves from the steps of the art building down to the quad in a pink mini and a matching cropped velvet sweater. With a flip of her hair, she strides along the stone path as if yesterday didn’t bother her at all.
“Don’t believe me?” I take a risk. A big one. “Hannah’s right there if you’d like to question her. Alfonso!” I call her over before anybody has the chance to make a move.
She freezes, her shoulders rising as she turns to us.
Those honey eyes look brighter in the sun, even more when they widen as she notices the cops.
Crooking my finger, I beckon her. The officers turn to her, stopping them from seeing the smirk forming on my face.
She glances behind her, and it looks like she’s thinking about running, but instead, she straightens up, walking over. Perfect.
“Hello, officers. Are these boys bothering you?” Hannah’s never one to admit when she’s scared, but I hear the same tremble in her voice she had in Coach's office.
“Where were you on Wednesday night?” The officer is quick with his question.
Hannah glances at me before she fires an answer. “At home, with my parents, since all my so-called friends bailed on me.” For extra effect, she looks over at them, glaring.
“Can you prove that?”
She flutters her lashes. “Do you mean did my mom and dad stop their fuck fest long enough to know I exist? Likely not. But the maids can.”
Then they hit her with the photo. “Is this you, Hannah?”
She looks at the photo, her head falling to the side like she’s thinking about it. After a glance at me, she hardly misses a beat. “No, that's Marisol.” Beautiful.
The officers whisper to each other before they nod. “Thank you.”
We all watch in silence as the officers move towards the Posse.
The girls notice the officers one by one as they approach Marisol.
Her face turns white as they reach for cuffs, and like every other privileged fuck in this place, she starts calling for Daddy.
They escort her away as students pull out their phones, a murmur filling the air.
Chloe chases after Marisol, but not without glancing back at Hannah and me.
“Did you two just throw Marisol under the bus?” Ember whispers.
“She deserves it,” Hannah says, a proud smile on her face. It fades as she looks over the group, her gaze stopping on me. It lingers for a second, like she’s trying to figure out why I made that move. But without saying anything else, she walks away.
My eyes land on her ass, the material stretched over her cheeks. My gaze lingers on it, swaying back and forth as she struts through the world like a supermodel. She doesn’t deserve that confidence. She deserves my hands around her throat.
“Explain that, Rowen,” Mac says, moving closer to me. “You had a clear shot. What am I missing about her?”
“Forget Hannah,” Gray says, joining us on the other side of me. “You live to see another party. Which is when exactly?”
“Did you forget about the fire?” Ember asks. “Kinda hard to come back from that.”
“I’ll be back.” Ignoring their questions, I follow the scent of that sweet and spicy perfume.
“I told you to stay away, Rowen!” Mac calls, but my focus isn’t on him.
Groups of students part for me as I walk through the bright green grass, following that sleek dark hair, that round ass and those slender legs.
Like she knows, her steps pick up, but I’m not making a scene. Not this time. So for now, I chase her like the little kitten she is.
There’s a glimpse of a smile when she looks back, like she knows she just got away with murder, but it won’t be that easy.