Chapter 3
In my bedroom, I button up my white shirt and slide my arms into the uniform jacket. Dabbing my red lipstick on, I check my appearance one more time in the mirror. The school’s crest, a golden eagle, is embroidered on my black jacket, the pleated black skirt is just above my knees, and white tights complement the look required of me. My mannerisms, my speech, and my appearance have to be perfect. That has been instilled in me since I can remember. Nothing can slip through my well-crafted facade.
Senior year at Eagleton School. I got this.
Closing my door, I pluck an apple from the basket on the kitchen counter.
“What about a regular breakfast?” Bailey asks.
I offer her a small smile. The first day of school always makes me jittery. It’s all the stares I get, the pressure of having to look perfect. I love my friend for her concern, but I can’t seem to stop. When I am nervous, it makes my stomach so queasy that I can’t put a thing in me. Or in general. I shove that thought right away. It’s not helpful.
The campus brims with students getting ready for the first day, infusing life into the gray, almost gothic-looking place.
Every step reminds me I am being watched and that I have to be careful not to gather any more attention.
Kaden leans against the hallway wall, hands tucked in his pants, while Blake tries to cheer him up. He wears his pain like a badge of honor behind a cold exterior.
I approach him and adjust Kaden’s tie.
“Thank you.”
What he doesn’t say rings louder. He doesn’t care about appearances, but I do.
Side by side, we stroll toward the school building in a four-person formation, presenting our unshakable unity while everyone steals glances at us.
I wrap my arm around Kaden’s elbow. “We got this.”
The Family crest is engraved on the black hardwood door at the school’s entrance: an eagle with spread wings, its claws holding a globe. This is ironic to me because all they have done is clip our wings.
An engine roars, pulling me out of my thoughts. I whip my head to where the sound came from. All four of us watch as a car speeds through the gates. Tires screech on the pavement before the car comes to an abrupt halt.
“Nice car,” Blake says, looking appreciatively at the green Mustang.
I roll my eyes. Surely, behind the wheel is someone who seeks attention, while I would do anything to relinquish it.
The door opens, and a collective gasp follows.
Like in slow motion, he gets out, revealing himself.
My curiosity piques at the new student. First, I see his white sneakers. My eyes involuntarily travel up to those powerful legs and trim waist beneath the school uniform. The top button on his shirt is undone, showing a patch of toned chest. His presence reeks of a rebel. Yet, I can’t stop perusing him. Then my eyes lock on his face, and I expel a stuttering breath.
His features are chiseled and sculpted to perfection. From his defined lips to his straight nose, every feature is gorgeous. There’s a certain air surrounding him. He oozes that “I don’t give a fuck” bad boy attitude. I’d like to be unimpressed, but I am slightly jealous of him. To be carefree and not give a damn about rules must be liberating.
He wears sunglasses, and he smirks, loving the attention. He sweeps his shaded eyes around, and I feel them land on me. Even from a distance, I can see a line digging between his brows.
For a moment, time suspends as something shifts and realigns inside of me, some invisible cord tethering me to him. What a surreal experience.
He yanks his sunglasses off and my heart dips and flips, behaving so out of the ordinary. His brown eyes suck me in. Their intensity sends ripples of shock through my body.
Suddenly, it’s too much, too fast. I avert my gaze, getting myself quickly under control.
He screams trouble. He’s late and flashy, and I dislike him tremendously. I sense with every fiber of my being that I should stay away from him. And I will.
“Abi,” Blake says my name in an amused tone.
“Yes? What?”
“Put your tongue back in.”
I glare at Blake, and it’s Bailey who says, “He’s a new student. His name is Dane Donovan, and he’s a prodigy race car driver.”
None of us is big on social interaction, except for Blake, but Bailey is the one who always finds out things about everything and everyone.
“Then why the special treatment?” Kaden asks.
“He’s trouble,” I state the obvious.
“It’s not our trouble if we don’t let it be,” he replies, sending me a pointed look. Kaden and I, we just know each other too well.
With that, we walk inside. The school hallway fills with students. It’s a wide and arched pathway, hardwood and cement, creating a perfect symmetry to add a touch of old refinement.
Everyone makes room for us. It has been like this since we were children. Kaden halts in front of his locker and looks at nothing and no one in particular.
“One day, Kaden.” I try to infuse hope into him.
“And yet, it’s another day without her.”
“She’s better off without this.”
“Keep reminding me I made the right decision, and one day, I might believe it.”
I wrap my arms around him. He stiffens, not liking to be touched, but I have to sell us as a couple. You never know who is watching. The Family has eyes and ears everywhere.
I pat him on his back, and he drags in a deep lungful of air. I feel gazes on us and I look straight ahead, hating the attention.
As I watch Kaden leave for his class, a thought paralyzes me. His weakness led to the initiation. As long as I have none, I am safe—a coward, most certainly, but self-preservation is better than walking around half alive.
A body bumps into me, violently ripping me from my thoughts. I stumble, completely startled. A hand catches my elbow, keeping me from falling on my face.
When I am steady, I turn on my heel, lips pursed. Bottomless brown eyes pin me. For the most ordinary eye color, his are a rich, deep color with black flecks flickering in them.
“Watch where you’re going.” My voice rises to a high pitch, taking me by surprise. I never lose my composure.
His hand digs into my skin. His touch lights a small fire, but I stomp right on it.
“Princess, then daydream somewhere other than the middle of the hallway.” His voice is deep, carrying a hoarse note.
There’s nothing unappealing about him.
Craning my neck, I dig a finger into his chest. “Or you could have just passed me by.”
His jaw tics, that carved jaw and those high cheekbones becoming even more prominent. He might be the most scrumptious guy I have ever seen.
“Where would the fun be in that?”
My mouth hangs open in shock, and he has the audacity to grip my chin, saying, “The gaping fish look doesn’t suit you.”
Every nerve ending in my being vibrates from annoyance. The nerve of this guy. Oh no, I will not let this stand.
“Get to your classes,” I say to the onlookers I catch in my peripheral vision, but my glare remains fixed on him. Students scurry away, and I grip his elbow. The touch flames me up again. So disconcerting. He trails his eyes from my hand on him to my lips, then fixes those deep browns on mine. The heat is too much, so I let go of his arm, dropping it like it’s a ball of fire.
A flutter starts in my belly, yet strangely, it’s not the nervous kind that has me not wanting to eat anything.
“Listen, because I won’t repeat myself. I don’t care who you are, but at this school, no one disrespects me. No one interacts with me without me initiating it. Are we clear?”
He leans into me. He even smells good: a woodsy scent with a hint of spice and bergamot, stealing the breath from my lungs.
My lips tingle, and goose bumps spread over my skin. I must have caught something. That’s the only rational explanation. I am allergic to him.
“I don’t give a fuck about social hierarchy.”
We are in a standoff when Mr. Thompson, the math teacher, finds us.
“Abigail, is there a problem?” he asks in a gentle voice.
Neither of us ends the staring battle.
Holding my gaze prisoner, he dares me to say something. It’s as if his eyes are made to entice me, provoke, and challenge me.
I put the most fake and innocent smile on and say, “I was just showing the new student around.”
“Yes, very kind of you.” He adds, “Classes are about to start. You can continue with the tour after class.”
This just backfired. I open my mouth to say I’d rather eat dirt than spend another moment in his vicinity when Dane says, “That would be truly helpful, Abigail.” He prolongs pronouncing my name, taunting me in that decadent silky tone, ending on a rasp. He’s a snake, but he won’t hypnotize me.
The teacher waits for me to confirm, and I nod, passing him by and mumbling, “Asshole.”
“Watch your manners, princess.”
The arrogant, entitled prick. No one made me this angry from just a small interaction.
I dart toward my first class. Students glance at me from the corner of their eyes. He’s right behind me.
“We passed two empty seats,” I snarl under my breath.
“Haven’t found the one I want.” His breath fans my ear and the skin around it prickles. His intoxicating scent permeates the air, making it headier with those musky notes.
I drop in my seat, slamming my notebook on the desk. If he dares to sit next to me, I’m going to make his life here a living hell.
Dane smirks and plops in the seat next to me. Of course, he does. Give me patience, God, or I am going to send him to the other side before his time.
Everyone’s attention shifts to us, waiting. They know not to occupy the seat next to me. Tension stretches to unbearable, and the air thickens between us, choking the breath from my lungs. I close my eyes for a second to get a grip on my demeanor. But it’s hard with him trying to annoy me on purpose.
With the biggest smile I can conjure, I bend toward him over the desk. “Enjoy it while you can.”
His eyebrows draw together. If he thinks he can outsmart me, he has another thing coming. You always find out everything about your opponent first, and then you make a strategy.
Resting my cheek on my palm, I zone out while the history teacher drones on about World War II. I am ahead in every class. I could probably write and defend a thesis at this point. But what good will it do me? It’s not like I can escape the clutches of the Family. I don’t even know why I still try to excel when it’s all about Kaden and me as a couple. I am not worthy on my own.
“What did that pencil do to you?” Dane asks low enough only for me to hear. Yet it startles me, my spine jerking up like steel.
This is why I don’t let anyone near me. Every now and then, the facade cracks. I stop chewing the pencil, placing it down with more force than necessary.
“Keep your eyes to the front. Something tells me you need it.”
He leans back and links his hands behind his neck. Some ink peeks from the cufflinks, and I inch closer.
“Wanna see it?” he asks cockily, and I snap out of my curiosity.
“Some dumb and spontaneous decision? It must be as unimaginative as the owner of said ink.”
A smirk curves up his lips. “I can’t wait for you to eat those words when you see it.”
“Have no intention to.”
“And I can’t wait to eat that damn red lipstick off your lips.”
My lips tingle, but that’s not the only disturbing thing—the blush heating my skin is just as unsettling. No one has ever talked to me like that.
He’s arrogant, entirely too conceited, and so full of himself that it’s a miracle he doesn’t combust.
“Keep dreaming.”
When the most intense, awkward, and titillating hour ends, I rush out of the classroom, needing to be away from him.
In the hallway, I inhale a lungful of air, shoving the strange interaction from my mind.
Dane winks at me, but I turn around before he can say anything more inappropriate. I’ll give him this round.
“Abi?” Blake calls my name.
“Hmm?”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yes, great.”
We walk side by side outside. Trimmed bushes and strategically placed trees breathe life into the landscape. Cobblestone paths connect the main building to the sports facility, science laboratory, and library.
I see Kaden on a bench, head bent over a piece of paper. Next to him is Bailey, her eyes are glued to her phone.
We reach them when I feel the air crackle with his presence.
“You have to show me around.”
Even Kaden, who usually shows as much interest in the goings-on around him as a sloth does in running, peels his eyes from his letter to Dane.
I turn to Dane and grab his shirt, yanking him to my eye level.
“You reek of rebellion, poor decisions, and not giving a fuck.”
Bailey chuckles. Blake laughs. My annoyance with this guy amuses my friends.
“Stay away from us. This can either be a good or bad year for you,” Kaden says.
I am compelled to look back at Dane. He doesn’t even grimace at Kaden’s words.
“You still owe me a tour.”
Our eyes lock, and suddenly, I feel all kinds of warm—like my body has the flu. Goose bumps cover my skin. This guy makes me sick, and my body repels him.
When Dane leaves, I can’t stop peeking at him. He catches me and winks. I roll my eyes at the smirk on his face.
“Stay away from him,” Kaden says.
“Whatever. He’s no one.”
He pins me with an intent look, his expression clearly saying, “I know you.” I am well aware that Dane is bad news.
“What?”
“This year might be bad for me, but it could be better for you.”
True. Since Kaden and I became an item in front of the Family, the pressure has vanished. It’s as if they’re saying, “Goal accomplished—now enjoy your life.”
The next two classes go by, and he’s not in either.
A pang of something undefined strikes me—must be anger at his nerve. Dane has that in spades, along with arrogance, and, ugh, it’s frustrating. Why am I still giving him so much space in my head?
When the bell rings announcing it’s lunch break, I walk inside the cafeteria.
It resembles a ballroom with a buffet spread along the right wall. Tables with six seats line the room strategically so that each student can have a view of the garden from the impressive windows.
After ordering a smoothie, I sit at our table in the middle of the room. While sipping my mixed fruit and vegetable smoothie, my attention is drawn to Dane. Jessica is openly vying for his attention, draped all over him.
More students surround him. He’s a people magnet.
Dane doesn’t seem to mind the attention, chatting and smiling with ease, even though he has the audacity to look at me.
“He’s an attention whore who screams troublemaker. What was in the witch’s head?” And this coming from Blake says it all.
Good connections. That’s what he has to have.
“Exactly, and that’s the point. It’s not about him necessarily, but about the school’s reputation,” Bailey replies to Blake, dunking a fry in ketchup. “Proving how well this school can reform even the worst troublemakers.”
“He can’t be that bad. He’s just a cliche of a bad and lost teenage boy, wanting to compensate for lack of attention. Or a typical case of a rich and bored boy who did something bad and now is doing his penance.”
It’s as if he hears me. Dane never averts his gaze, holding me captive and intrigued.
I peel my eyes away from him, which is harder than I’d like.
There’s just something about him calling to me.
For a few precious moments, I forget about the world around me.
I lean my head against Kaden’s shoulder as he continues writing her a letter.
Celine, you’re one lucky girl. I miss her. I miss having all of my friends, us as a unit, even though I wonder how we can come back from this.
Even if my relationship with Kaden is fake, will she ever be okay with that? The thought alone opens the gates of despondency inside me.
“He’s really good,” Bailey says, watching something on her phone.
“What?” I must have zoned out again.
“Dane. He’s the youngest Formula One Champion. His father was a legend,” Blake says.
“He got suspended after participating in a street race on the night he won the championship,” Bailey replies.
Reckless and an adrenaline junkie. Whatever. He got the chance to do what I never could—live my dream—and he ruined it. It’s unfair, but again, when is life fair?
I need air.
As I stand up, four pairs of eyes fixate on my barely touched smoothie.
“Abi, eat,” Kaden says.
“I’m fine.”
“It gets worse when you’re nervous. Are you nervous?” Bailey says.
“No one is making me nervous.”
I grit my teeth while my friends stare at me pointedly. It’s a chore getting out of the cafeteria. I walk out, each step flowing with precision and elegance. I have to be the embodiment of grace. All my childhood, I spent hundreds of hours with a book on my head. All those tedious hours weren’t for nothing.
When I am outside, I take a sharp right and wander toward the rose garden behind the building. Benches line the right side of the cobblestone path.
I sit down, welcoming the privacy the big, old oak offers. The sun’s rays peek through its branches, and some birds chirp. It is silent and peaceful—everything my mind isn’t. Closing my eyes, I breathe in and out in a soothing rhythm.
When I inhale again, smoke catches in my lungs. My eyes fly open as a fit of coughing scrapes at my throat.
Dane is in front of me. That smug expression is plastered on his stunning face. A cigarette dangles from his mouth, making him appear lethal in his beauty.
I yank it from his lips and toss it in the nearest trash can.
“You’re not allowed to smoke on school grounds.”
“And here I thought I’d get a sermon about how bad it is for my health.”
“Did that ever help anyone who is obviously already hooked on the vice?”
He just lights a new one.
“Not next to me. I hate the smell.”
I freeze at the moment of uncharacteristic honesty bursting from me.
He plops down on the seat next to me and plays with his silver lighter. On instinct, I turn to him. The hypnotic movement of the Zippo between his long fingers, flipping it easily, fascinates me.
“Stalking me?”
Shrugging, he says nonchalantly, “You still have to give me the tour.”
“You’re not serious.”
“Like lung cancer.”
“You’re—”
“Tell me something I might have never heard before.”
A challenge compelling me to say something instead of keeping my mouth shut and putting some much-needed distance between us.
“You care too much.” It’s a daring affirmation, but I am most certainly sure I am not wrong.
And this time, it’s his jaw that drops. He’s not that hard to read.
He looks straight ahead, deep in thought, while I leave without looking back.
When the day ends, I walk toward the coed dorm building, three minutes away from the main school building.
The left wing houses the guys, and on the right, the girls. The building has four floors and ten apartments accommodating up to four students. Chaperones live in the dorm to make sure we don’t mingle. But for the right amount, they keep their mouths and eyes shut at our indiscretions.
I take the stairs to the first floor and step inside the cozy space. It has three bedrooms, an open living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom. This has been like home since we started high school. I share it with just Bailey, as Celine is not here anymore.
Inside my white and pink bedroom, I collapse on the bed just in time for Grandmother to call. She’s not my actual grandmother but we have to call her that as per her request.
“How was your first day of senior year?”
You would think she cares. All my childhood, I had hoped she did, only to find out it was she who determined my future—long before I knew what that entailed.
“Smooth like always.”
“Perfect, don’t disappoint me.”
“That won’t happen.”
“See you on Friday.”
As if I could forget the weekly dinner with the matriarch of the Family.
“Thank you for calling.”
She hangs up. At least she calls. I don’t even think my parents remember my senior year has begun.
Moving into the bathroom, I slip off my uniform. Showering, I stare at my face and body in the mirror. I try to see what everyone else sees—that supposed beauty. All I see are hollow eyes, pale skin, and protruding bones.
I get out of my funk and change into a pair of silk shorts and a top.
On my bed, I pick up my sketchpad. My hand glides over the blank sheet, getting lost in the entrancing allure of my passion for drawing.
A knock seeps through the silence, and Bailey enters my room with her laptop open. The device has become an extension of her. I doubt she even knows what to do with a pencil and a sheet of paper anymore.
“Movie?”
I nod and follow her to where the guys are already seated on the couch in the living room, a popcorn bowl resting between them.
My friends and I can be ourselves when we’re together, and no eyes are on us. Here, there are no expectations, no pretense, just a unit trying to survive.
After the movie, I stop Kaden at the front door of my apartment.
Ever since I told him everything, it’s as if he takes it all on his shoulders. He’s in his head most of the time, concocting plans. I know it’s the desperation to get Celine back but also to get us out.
“We’re a team.” I remind him.
“I’ll tell you when I need you.”
He closes the door, and I return to my bedroom.
My eyes are glued to my open sketchpad, taking in what I’ve drawn: Dane with a cigarette. That’s not good at all.