CHAPTER 28
LANDRY
“Oh my gosh, it’s beautiful,” Bexley sighed, reaching her free hand to lightly brush over the lilac tulle, a wine glass in the other. Our dresses for the winter ball had arrived a few days ago, having stayed in their garment bags in my closet since we had decided to skip the dance.
The event was tonight, and I had convinced Bexley to indulge in some late morning mimosas with me so we could hopefully get drunk enough to stop thinking about the fact that we would be missing our first ever big Ivybrook Ball, an event that only occurred once a year. A few drinks in, I hadn’t been able to stop myself from grabbing the gorgeous gowns and hanging them up, needing to admire the stunning pieces at least once since we wouldn’t be getting to wear them tonight.
I watched her eyes roam over the dress, one that I had decided to surprise her with. It was a corset top with little straps that tied over her shoulders with little bows, and a staircase of tulle layers that flowed down to the ground.
“You have to try it on!” I encouraged, “I flew them in from Paris, after all. Completely custom and made specifically for us. It would be unfair to the dresses to never even get tried on. A downright crime if you ask me.”
I took another sip of my own drink, running back to the kitchen for a refill and finding that the champagne had run out. Thank goodness we had a fully stocked wine fridge, deciding on a bottle of rosé and topping off my glass before running back to her bedroom where Bexley continued to admire her gown.
“Just try it on! What could it hurt?”
She thought about it for a moment longer, taking a sip of her own drink as she considered it.
“Okay fine, but you have to try yours on too!”
“Deal!”
I placed my glass on her dresser, pulling my baggy t-shirt over my head and ripping off my sweatpants until I stood fully nude in the center of her room. She grabbed her dress, heading to her en-suite bathroom to change as I reached for my own.
The one I had gotten made for myself was simpler than Bexley’s, the satin champagne fabric offering a deep V before cascading down the length of my body like a glove. I adjusted the spaghetti straps on my shoulders, admiring the gown in the floor-length mirror before spinning around to take in the open-back design.
Throwing on my black strappy stilettos, I ran my fingers through the slit that made its way from the ground all the way up to the side of my hip, allowing me to show off my tan leg. It was my favorite part of the dress and the main statement, complimenting the simplicity of the gown and adding a little razzle-dazzle.
“Oh my gosh, you look so stunning!” Bexley exclaimed as she stepped out of the bathroom, and I turned to face her. Her gown was meant for her in every possible way, the corset slimming her already thin waist and pushing her smaller breasts to give the smallest amount of cleavage. The different levels of the tulle make her look even taller, adding to her model-esque physique. I had chosen the pale lilac color to compliment her skin tone and red hair, the beautiful strawberry color made even brighter against the contrasting tones. She looked devastatingly beautiful, worthy of a centerpiece in any couture magazine.
“So do you!” I exclaim, “I’m literally at a lack for words. You look gorgeous, Bex.”
She blushed, looking down at herself as I did the same.
“Wanna get wine drunk on the couch and cry to cheesy rom coms in our dresses? I can rent ‘The Notebook’. Ooh, or ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’!” I offer excitedly.
“Okay, first of all, I’m already drunk” Bexley laughs, sticking her finger in the air as she lightly swayed on her feet. “And second of all, why don’t we… go to the ball, maybe?” she asks nervously.
“Bex—” I start, ready to explain why she knows that I can’t go, but she stops me before I can argue.
“Lan, you’ve been so excited about this dance the entire semester. You literally ordered our dresses the second week of school. I know you want to go, and it’s not fair that you don’t get to just because of some stupid guy. Cashton can get over himself, he doesn’t get to control you like this. ”
I had never heard Bexley so adamant about something, let alone being the one defending a social outing. I hated that she was stuck here with me in our dorm instead of out having fun. She was losing her friend group too, in a way, considering that she mostly only hung out with the group whenever I went. I didn’t want her to miss out on anything because of me.
“I doubt we’ll even run into Cashton. I’m not even sure if they’re going,” she continued. “And even if he is there, we can just avoid him at all costs.”
I thought about it for a moment, the wine offering me the bit of courage that I needed and swaying me towards accepting. Maybe Bexley was right. We might not even run into them. For all we knew, they weren’t even planning on going, meaning that we were avoiding the dance for no reason. I knew that Olivia and TJ were going, but that didn’t mean that the others would.
“Okay, okay, I’m in. But I’m getting hammered first, just in case we run into dickhead. You’re right—We’re going to go, and we’re going to have an amazing night.”
“Yay!” she jumped up and down, the wine spilling all over her carpet. “Oh my gosh, we should start getting ready like right now. You’re going to have to help me with my makeup or I’m going to accidentally poke my eye out or something.”
“I got you,” I chuckled, loving how outgoing drunk Bexley was. It was a complete one-eighty from her usual timid self. Drunk Bexley was a hoot.
We both got ready in her bathroom, the his and hers sinks and generous counter space allowing me to dump out all of my cosmetics as we attempted to get ready while jamming to some Taylor Swift, our wine glasses and makeup brushes used as make-shift microphones. I felt my spirits rise for the first time all week, the buzz rushing through me as laughter spilled throughout the room. I had desperately needed this.
I gave myself a blowout, which proved harder than you would think after the wine I had been consuming all morning. Bexley had me help her with a loose updo, long pieces of her strawberry hair framing her face as I pulled the rest into a messy low bun. We both opted for more natural makeup looks, not trusting ourselves to attempt complicated eye makeup with the state we were in. I did manage to get some fake eyelashes onto both of us, and we finished our looks with tinted lip gloss.
Moving our jamming session into the kitchen once we were dressed and ready, we hooked our arms together as we downed the last of the wine while waiting for our driver.
The Ball was held off-campus at the Chateau, a luxurious hotel downtown. The ballroom was larger than I had expected, the space opening up into a room the size of a football field with ceilings reaching up multiple stories. One side was made of massive French doors all opening up to steps leading down to a beautiful courtyard.
Music reverberated as we made our way through the room, smiles wide on our faces as we locked arms and headed towards the less busy outdoor bar and ordered some champagne—No ID required. Cops typically didn’t bother with things as minimal as underage drinking when our parents were all high-end lawyers, businessmen, and politicians, wanting to stay in their good graces and acknowledging that it would be a waste of their time.
“Let’s go dance!” I insisted, the buzz running through me as I took in the moving bodies inside. I grabbed her hand and pulled her behind me, leading the way through the other students until we reached the center of the dancefloor before spinning her around and throwing my hand on her shoulder, the other raising my champagne glass to the sky as we sang and moved our bodies.
This was the most fun I’d experienced in the last few weeks, not a care in the world as we belted out the lyrics and danced like nobody was watching. My smile reached my entire face, my cheeks burning from laughing. Bexley looked to be feeling the exact same, the alcohol bringing a blush to her cheeks as she rocked her hips to the beat and threw her head back laughing. I could have stayed in this moment forever, all worries forgotten and Cashton finally off of my mind.
That is, until I looked over Bexley’s shoulder and spotted him through the crowd, leaning back against the bar with his white shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hands in the pockets of his dark slacks, his eyes stuck on me.
Wonderful.
My breath caught in my throat at how handsome he looked, like a chiseled god. It should be against the law for any man to look that devastatingly gorgeous. A shiver raced down my spine, goosebumps raising across my arms as his stare continued to pierce me.
Bexley was too lost to the music to notice, Zayn’s eyes boring into her as he stood posted up by his friend with a cigarette and glass of whiskey in one hand. Kaptan walked up next, turning to look at what his friends were staring at, but my eyes remained locked on Cashton’s as I gulped.
I forced myself to look away, turning Bexley and I to avoid his fiery gaze. My breathing had already heightened involuntarily, the buzz flowing through me as it reached my ears. I downed my glass of champagne, turning to some random guy on my right and stealing his.
“Hey, what the fuck?” he asked as he turned around to face me, his demeanor quickly changing as he took me in.
“Well, hello there,” he started, as his gaze raked up and down my body. “You can steal my drink any time, baby doll.”
Baby doll? Barf.
“Want me to get you another?” he offered, and I flashed him a flirty smile and a nod.
“If you don’t mind!” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over the music and placing a hand on his upper arm. His smile widened.
“I’ll be right back, save me a dance!”
I turned back to Bexley, wrapping my arms around her as we continued to dance.
“Cashton’s here, and he’s staring at us,” I whispered-yelled in her ear, hoping she could play it cool.
“Where?” she exclaimed, spinning around to look for him. I quickly grabbed her shoulders and turned her back towards me before she could make things any more obvious.
“Don’t look! Just keep dancing with me, keep me distracted,” I begged.
“Roger that!”
She continued to move her body, loose hairs falling from her hairdo as she downed her champagne and threw it over her shoulder, the glass shattering somewhere in the distance. Oh gosh, she was definitely drunk. Was I drunk? I was definitely drunk too. I should call us a cab soon, right after this next drink. I didn’t want Cashton to think I was running from him .
This was good, this was fine. We would just ignore him and pretend he wasn’t here. It was easier said than done though when I could feel his all-consuming presence over every other person in here, his effect on me suffocating.
“Here you go, ladies,” the male extended a champagne glass to each of us, Bexley thanking him as I offered him a genuine smile. His hair was blonde and tightly cropped, his frame not as tall or muscular as Cashton’s, but still fit. Not necessarily my type, but I was in the mood to have fun, and would happily accept the distraction from the man across the room.
“I’m Jonah,” he offered. Making his way around me, he placed his hands on my hips, his body pressing into mine. It felt wrong, his hands nowhere near as confident and commanding as Cashton’s. I cringed as they roamed over my body.
His friend made his way over to Bexley, placing his hands on her waist. She barely seemed to notice, too lost in the moment, but I made a mental note to keep an eye out for any sign of her becoming uncomfortable. Neither of them would be coming home with us, that was for damn sure.
I lifted the champagne to my lips, the liquid courage allowing me to fall back into Jonah just slightly, the feel of him still repulsive but more tolerable with the alcohol flowing through my veins. The burning gaze piercing the side of my face let me know that Cashton was still watching, my body on fire at the thought. A part of me wanted him to see me with someone else—To see if he would get jealous, to see if he still felt anything towards me like I did him. I blamed the alcohol, but part of me wanted to poke the bear and see what would happen .
He was the one who had said he wanted nothing to do with me. I don’t hate you, Landry. I loathe you . He made it clear where he stood, and I shouldn’t feel apologetic for trying to have a little bit of fun. It was no longer his business—Not that it ever had been in the first place.
He couldn’t push me away and then get mad with how I chose to live my life. He had no right. I took a big sip of my new drink, the liquid courage making my head feel lighter as I placed my hand on top of Jonah’s, guiding it further down my body until it rested on my hip. It felt wrong, his hand burning on my skin as I tried not to rip it off of me.
The only hands I wanted on me were Cashton’s, something that would never happen again. The thought made my body ache, needing the feel of him against me instead.
I didn’t want to feel anything. But between Cashton’s presence, and Jonah’s hands, plus the added stimulation of the pounding music and buzz running through me from the alcohol, I felt like I might just combust. It was all too much, and I was going to break.
“I have to go to the bathroom!” I declared, shoving Jonah’s hand off of me as Bexley met my gaze.
“Bexley, want to come?”
“I’ll be fine, I’m probably going to step outside for some fresh air. Meet me out there when you’re done!”
I studied her for a moment, making sure she was coherent enough to know what she was doing. She offered me a reassuring smile, sobering up for a brief moment to let me know she was okay.
“Sounds good,” I nodded, turning to push through the crowd as I headed towards the back of the ballroom, finding the hallway marking the way to the restrooms. I just needed a minute alone to get my head in order.
My heels raced over the carpeted flooring, my hand reaching down to lift my dress so that I wouldn’t trip over it.
I was so caught up in my escape that I didn’t hear the steps coming up behind me, a hand gripping my arm and spinning me around before I was pinned against the wall of the hallway.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he raged, the mint of his breath and cedarwood of his cologne enveloping me as he pressed his body into mine, towering over me. My breath hitched, my body wanting to melt into him, but my mind still clear enough to keep me steady.
“What do you mean, Cashton?” I practically growled, baring my teeth and lifting my chin defiantly.
“What games are you playing? Trying to make me jealous, princess?”
The audacity of this man to think that I was trying to get back at him by flirting with another guy.
“I’m not trying to play any games, Cashton, ” I practically spit at him, enraged at his completely accurate accusation.
“Is that right? Tell me Landry, are you also going to let him fuck that pretty little cunt of yours?”
I slap him right across the face, the sound echoing in the dimly lit hallway.
“Fuck you!” I seethed, “It’s none of your business what I do or don’t do. You made it very clear where you stood, and I promised to stay out of your life. So stay the fuck out of mine! ”
His head slowly turned back to face me, a bright red mark blooming across his cheek. It felt like an eternity passed before he finally spoke.
“I want you to leave Ivybrook,” he growled, his voice lower and eyes darker than I had ever witnesses.
His words stabbed me like a knife, my gut coiling as I forced myself to harden my gaze while trying as hard as I could not to cry.
“No,” I responded. “I apologized. I told you that I was sorry, and I told you that I would stay away. But you do not get to try to scare me away. News flash, Cashton—You don’t run this school, asshole. So stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. You’ve done enough. Bexley told me everything, about how you essentially drugged me during my Communications presentation, and how you rigged the games to make sure that you could abduct and torment me. I know everything. I guess your best buddies have looser lips than you thought. You’ve done enough, now let me be.”
His jaw clenched, the vein in his neck pulsing as his fists clenched. He didn’t know that I had found out. I’m not sure exactly who Bexley had spoken with, but she had learned all about the lengths that Cashton had gone to make my time at Ivybrook miserable. And throwing it in his face that his friends weren’t as loyal as he thought was a satisfying win.
His hand wrapped around my throat—Not hard enough to cut off my air, but still firm. Panic rose through me at the look on his face, nothing but pure wrath as his eyes bore daggers at me.
“You know what, Landry?” he practically whispered, his voice turned dangerously low. I gulped under his hand, my hands trembling at my sides where I forced them to stay rather than fighting his hold.
“Stay. Spread your legs around Ivybrook, and see if I care. Wear that perfect mask of yours. Because do you know what you are under all of your facades? Nothing. You are nothing. And I think that deep down, you know that. So fuck whoever you want, do whatever you want, because you mean nothing to me, Landry.”
I forced myself to hold back tears and keep my face stoic, not willing to show this man just how much he had gotten under my skin.
Without another word, he released his hold on me, turning and walking back towards the direction of the ballroom. I watched him leave, waiting until I was completely alone before sinking down against the wall and letting the tears silently flow.