SIX
KIERAN
‘You're beautiful?’ What the actual fuck?
I was spiralling. My initial plan to keep Amelie at arm's length had been drastically failing. So, I had been doing what any guy in my situation would do: avoiding her. I stayed at school for late-night basketball drills and generally gave the house a wide berth. I knew my efforts would be short-lived when Vanessa and Cameron cornered Jessa and me in the kitchen one evening. The paperwork for Amelie to join us at Northridge was completed. And the fees? Paid. Non-refundable. Personally, I would have suggested they hold off on payment for at least a term. What if Amelie didn’t take to high school?
That would mean money down the drain, and I knew how much my father hated waste.
Everything they said to us that night just cemented the fact that Amelie Thorn was there to stay in our lives even more, a fact I was still struggling to compute.
She’d already started to mess with my head, and it was early days.
I needed to put her out of my mind. Especially, since my lewd thoughts had started to mutate into something more serious.
What the actual hell? I had known the girl for a few weeks, and I had started to feel something for her; Amelie’s success with Maisy didn’t help, as that just made me want her more.
Damn. My head was even more screwed up than before I’d met the girl. My days at school felt like a waste of time. I was supposed to be working towards my exams, but I couldn’t concentrate. At least I’d been able to spend most of the day without seeing her, but come Monday, that fucker would change.
When Jessa mentioned in passing that she was taking Amelie to Weston’s house party that Saturday night, I’d almost lost my shit. She’d come into my room to inform me of her intentions in person.
Ballsy. Stupid but ballsy.
“I’m going to Weston’s house party on Saturday,” she announced, dropping into my mother’s old winged-back chair. “And before you start, Amelie’s coming with me.”
“Absolutely not,” I’d rasped, drying my hair with so much aggression that I’d almost given my scalp towel burns.
The chair she favoured was part of a Chesterfield set that used to be in my mother’s office at our old house.
Mom had been an accountant and as smart as fuck before she got sick.
Everything but that chair had been gotten rid of, as the décor wasn’t to Vanessa’s taste.
Luckily, I’d saved that and a couple of other pieces for myself.
I had so many fond memories of my mother sitting in that very chair, reading stories to Jessa and me as we sat at her feet.
It was now the place where my siblings and I congregated when we needed to get shit off our chests.
“You can scowl all you want, Jessa. It’s not happening. And besides my opinion on the matter, I doubt Vanessa will let her go. She’s underage.”
At my comment, my annoying twin huffed and swung her feet to the floor, clearly unimpressed by my outburst as I stormed back into my bathroom to dress.
“Well, you’re wrong. Nessa thinks it will be good for her. Meet some people before school,” Jessa shouted through the crack in the door. “She’s been cooped up in her last house, and isn’t that comfortable socially. Amelie needs to be around people.”
“Fine. Just not my people.”
“Believe me, I’ll be keeping her well away from your friends. Especially wearing the outfit I’ve chosen for her.”
I didn’t like that. “Anyway, why do you care so much all of a sudden?” I barked back.
“I just get along with her more than I thought I would.” That confession did not come as a surprise to me. Jessa loved a fucking project and someone she could make over.
Enter Amelie.
“She’s not your doll to dress up.”
“Fuck you, Kier. I like her.”
“She’s not exactly bezzie-mates material,” I added moodily, striding into my room now dressed in jeans and a navy button-down tee.
I was supposed to be meeting Weston at the off-license.
His charm wasn’t powerful enough to encourage Mr and Mrs Morrison’s daughter, Lisle, to sell us the two kegs of beer we needed.
We were both eighteen for fuck’s sake, but the elderly couple still saw us as kids.
That’s what happened when you lived in a tight-knit village where everyone knew your shit.
Weston’s party last year had resulted in the police being called, and in turn, our local supplier of cheap alcohol was instructed to sell booze responsibly.
Luckily, our other friends Tanner and James had supplied the spirits.
As I started pulling on my socks, I tuned back into what Jessa was saying. “She’s really sweet, Kier. Socially awkward, but sweet. You should give her a chance.”
Yep, that was so not a good idea.
Lowering my foot, I twisted toward my twin. She had gone back to idling in Mum’s chair whilst I struggled with what to say. If I objected too much, Jessa would become suspicious.
“Look, take her by all means. But keep her away from me—and my friends,” I instructed, pushing up from the mattress and searching for my car keys.
“Agreed,” Jessa replied with a smile, jumping up from her seat and pulling out her phone. “I had no intention of introducing her to any of the players on campus. Are you crazy? The poor girl won’t know what’s hit her. She’s super sheltered, you know.”
I had to continue to make out that I gave zero fucks about little Amelie Thorn, or Jessa would be all over that like a rash.
“Whatever. I couldn’t really give a shit, but know this: you are the one to babysit her.
I intend to get shitfaced and laid. And not necessarily in that order.
” I applauded my attempt to appear nonchalant.
That was some Oscar-worthy shit right there.
“Gross Kier. Thanks for the mental image.”
My twin then left with a look of disgust on her face, muttering something about wanting to bleach her brain.
I watched her go with a smirk, tugging my mouth.
I only said shit like that to ruffle her feathers.
I didn’t like to think about it, but I knew Jessa had sampled her fair share of partners.
We were Rook’s and high up in the pecking order in our village; most people wanted a piece of us.
As I shoved my keys into my jeans, I grabbed my phone and wallet.
Flicking the leather open, I checked that I had enough condoms. Would two be enough?
I needed a drink and a girl I didn’t know the name of.
And believe me when I say that whichever lucky female got to fuck me that night, she’d feel the same way.
When it came to sex, I told no lies or false promises, and I always made sure my partner got off before I did. I wasn’t a selfish lover.
A part of me didn’t even want to go to Weston’s annual bash after what happened the previous year, but as I said, I needed to get my dick wet. My body's needy as fuck reaction to the blue-eyed blonde angel we had living with us was proof of that.
As I left my room and set off towards the stairs, I side-eyed Amelie’s closed door as my phone started to blow up with messages. Taking the stairs two at a time, I swiped the screen. The message was from Nancy.
NANCE: You feel like having a good time tonight?
You didn’t have to be a genius to decode that message. Nany’s idea of a good time had nothing to do with dancing.
I had a friends-with-benefits deal with Nancy Robinson.
Don’t let the old lady's name fool you. Nancy was one of the most popular girls in school and as fit as fuck. She also gave amazing head, swallowed without pulling a face and wasn’t the clingy type; just my fucking cup of tea.
The fact that she was tall, all legs with a big, bouncy ass and great tits, added to her charm.
Nancy was stunning, mixed-race with dark skin, black hair, and brown eyes; exotic-looking and the total opposite of Amelie in appearance and spirit.
There wasn’t an ounce of sweetness in her.
You pissed off the girl; she tore you a new one.
Just what my sanity needed. A living, breathing reminder of what my type was supposed to be.
At least it was until she turned up and started to screw with what I thought I wanted.
I fired off my reply, the guarantee of that hook-up making my dick perk up instantly.
ME: Always, sweetheart.
When I pulled up outside the gates to Weston’s house, they slowly started to open, giving me a peek at his father’s new beamer.
I drove a BMW X3, but it wasn’t anywhere near as nice as Rafe Cavendish’s X5.
Boot space was the main issue with the smaller model I owned, as I couldn’t get all my friends' golf clubs in mine.
And then West appeared in all his male glory.
He was a good-looking motherfucker and carried himself like a God.
But then we all did. My friends and I were the Kings of Northridge Academy, so confidence was a must-have.
And don’t get me wrong, we didn’t lord it over everyone, well, not all the time.
We treated our classmates with respect if they earned it and didn’t throw our weight around unnecessarily.
We hated bullies, and anyone terrorising innocent victims was dealt with harshly.
From his expression, no doubt he’d been clock-watching; one of West’s bug-bears was bad punctuality. I checked the time on the dashboard. I was only eleven minutes late.
West tried to open my passenger door, tapping on his watch like he’d been waiting all day.
I pressed the unlocking mechanism so he could get in. “Don’t start, I’m not in the mood,” I huffed, shooting him a scowl as he slammed the door with too much force and tugged on his seatbelt.