Chapter 2
ROSS—TEN YEARS AGO
Isee her again. Violet Russo.
The Queen Bee of her little group that includes my sister.
They’re watching me. All gathered around Violet’s locker, and she’s whispering to them behind her hand as if I could read her lips from down the hall.
She’s talking shit about me, I bet. Telling them how much of a bastard I am.
I’d be pissed off if it weren’t true.
It’s become her daily ritual, telling everyone how much she hates me with that wildfire in her eyes.
It’s become my daily ritual, too, doing things I know will piss her off because it’s entertaining to see her explode.
I don’t even know how the habit got started, but neither of us has any desire to stop the constant warring.
But she’s plotting something. Make no doubt about it, some sort of revenge for my relentless teasing is on her mind. I can see it in her eyes, the smug tilt of her smile now that she’s dropped her hand, and the way she stands tall like she’s unreachable.
Unfortunately for Violet, I have something special for her today . . . courtesy of Bio Lab.
As I reach my locker, Violet furtively glances my way, but as soon as our eyes meet, she quickly averts her gaze. Even the small battles are a victory against her.
But she whispers something into the ear of my little sister, Abigail, who’s smiling as if she approves of whatever treachery Violet is planning.
Yep, she’s plotting something, all right.
Too bad I’m about to beat her to the punch.
I place my books into my locker and slam it with a loud bang and boldly make my way over.
Halfway there, I hesitate. I’m a cocky son of a bitch, but it’s a pack of them and only one of me. And if I know anything, high school girls are like zombies. Easy enough one on one, but in packs, you’re nothing but lunch.
But I quickly brush any apprehension aside. I’m the football team captain, for God’s sake. I’d be laughed out of the locker room for being scared of a bunch of girls, especially freshmen who look up to me like I’m a god among men.
All except for Violet. Maybe that’s why it’s fun to tease her. She never takes it easy on me because I’m a big shot at school. She mostly acts like she doesn’t give a fuck about any of that stuff and challenges me at every turn to be more creative and strategic with my teasing.
She’s gonna regret one-upping me because I’ve got a good one planned for her this time.
“Hey, ladies,” I say as I saunter over, plastering a huge grin on my face. “How’s everyone doing today?”
Several of the girls blush and giggle, shooting heart-eyes among each other, but an already tense Violet snaps, “Um, hi. What happened—you lose your asshole hat today? Why are you being so polite?”
I place a hand over my heart, faking a pained expression. “Ouch! Oh, Vi, it gets me right here that you have such a low opinion of me.”
I glance to the girl at my right, a blonde whose name I don’t even know, and whisper conspiratorially, “She really hates me, huh? I don’t understand it. I’m a nice guy.” I swear the blonde’s eyes widen with my every word, and she’s nodding vacantly. I get that reaction a lot, and I hate it.
Violet scowls, not buying my nice guy act for a second, and then growls, “Sure, if that rotted thing you call a heart were capable of feeling emotion.”
Abigail peers at me suspiciously, glancing down the hallway to where my teammates are gathering around my locker. “Doesn’t our school’s resident top jock have better things to do than to harass us?”
“Sure, I do . . . but it’s a beautiful day,” I say, giving my sister one of my mega-watt smiles before turning my eyes back on Violet.
“And I can’t think of a better way to spend it than with a sweet girl like Violet.
” For good measure, I wrap my arm around Violet’s shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze as I pull her to my side.
Every jaw drops in shock, jealousy, or some combination of the two. Except for Violet.
“I, uh . . .”
For once, Violet is speechless, caught off guard by my flirting out of nowhere, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she gawks at me like I’ve sprouted barbed horns on my forehead.
It takes a lot of effort not to laugh. I’m sure she was expecting me to call her chicken legs or one of the other variations we tag each other with, but I like being unpredictable. Keeps her on her toes.
Besides, ‘chicken legs’ doesn’t describe Violet anymore. So, if I’m gonna use it, I have to make it good.
Abigail peers at me suspiciously. “What’s got you in such a good mood? Did you get a D- on your biology exam, instead of an F?”
“I came bearing a gift, actually,” I say. “For beautiful Violet.”
“What the hell—” Violet begins to say as she tries to unsuccessfully pull away from me, totally wary and expecting a punchline any moment. Smart girl.
“How about some frog legs to go along with those chicken legs?” I yell, pulling the not-yet-dissected dead frog I borrowed from Biology from behind my back and stuffing it down the front of Violet’s shirt.
Caught off guard, Violet lets out an ear-piercing scream, grabbing at her shirt as she tries to get the frog off her. Between the two of us, her shirt gets more than a little stretched out, and her red lacy bra flashes for a split second.
I’m shocked for a moment, not having expected to expose her.
But then she takes off running for the girl’s bathroom, still screeching like a banshee, and like the immature asshole I am, I double over in laughter.
Nearby, all of my buddies and boys up and down the hall are laughing and pointing as Violet’s screams echo through the hallway.
“Dammit, Ross, why do you have to be such an asshole to her? She’s my best friend!” Abigail hisses angrily, punching me in the chest. “Why can’t you ever just leave Violet alone?”
“Calm down, Abs. It’s just a joke,” I say defensively, surprised at how angry Abi is.
We play pranks on each other all the time like this, and Abi is usually a good sport about the casual warfare Violet and I have against each other.
But not this time.
It did go a little further than I’d intended, but Violet’s cool. She’ll be pissed and then come back at me just as hard. I’ll have to be on the lookout for her retaliation.
Furious, Abi lets out a disgusted huff. “Stuffing a frog down her shirt is your idea of a joke? Grow up, Ross! You probably just ruined her favorite shirt, the one her grandpa gave her for Christmas! And half the football team just saw her bra.”
For the first time in a long time, I feel a pinch of shame. Maybe I took my juvenile antics just a little too far this time. I look back to my boys and see them high-fiving each other and realize that I might’ve put a target on Violet that I didn’t intend.
Some of the guys think the incoming freshmen are ‘fresh meat’, and I had to put a bounty on both Abigail’s and Violet’s heads to make sure no one would touch them. Just a big brother looking out, but I might have to refresh the guys’ memory about Vi being off limits after that little show.
Shit.
“Sorry, Abs. I didn’t mean—”
Abigail shakes her head, and I can feel the disappointment coming off her in waves, even as she glares daggers at me. “You never do, but sometimes, I wonder about you, Ross.”
I begin to argue. “I’m just having fun—”
“Yo, Ross, that was epic! Get your ass over here!” My best friend and buddy, Kaede, calls from my locker, laughing.
“Go and have your little laugh with your friends . . . at Violet’s expense.
” The accusation burns, but she’s not remotely done.
“But I expect you to give Violet a sincere apology after school . . . or else,” Abi threatens, letting me know she’s going to tell Mom, who can be absolutely ruthless in making me apologize whenever I get too out of line.
I might be an asshole to most, but not to my mother.
Once she’s sure I understood her threat, Abi walks off in the direction of the girl’s bathroom in search of Violet.
As I watch her go, I keep telling myself that Abigail’s full of shit.
I didn’t take it too far, did I? It was all in fun, and Violet’s fine.
Hell, she’s probably plotting her vengeance right now.
She’s good like that, exciting, challenging, likes to give as good as she takes.
But I’ll apologize to keeps Abs off my back.
Probably have to guard my balls so Violet doesn’t rip them off, though.
She can be a badass bitch when she wants to be.
For some girls, that’d be an insult. For Violet, it’s a compliment.
Present day
“Another gossip spread from In Style News magazine!” my father, Morgan Andrews, seethes, slapping a glossy tabloid rag down on the board room table and sliding it in front of me.
He stabs a hairy finger at words printed across the top while leveling a scowl that could cut through a mountain at me.
“When the hell are you going to grow up, Ross?”
“When hell freezes over,” my youngest sister, Courtney, who doubles as our father’s assistant and my antagonizer, cheerfully supplies.
Dressed in a tight black skirt, white dress shirt, and matching glossy heels, she’s perched on the edge of the obelisk-like board room table, her arms crossed over her chest and a huge smirk on her face.
I don’t have to guess at what’s got her so chipper. She never misses an opportunity to witness Dad laying into me. Even in a professional setting.
She calls it karmic revenge for all the hell I gave her as a kid.
I call it Annoying Little Sister Syndrome, even if I was a bit of a shit to her when we were younger. Nothing serious. I’m not a monster.