Chapter 3
EVERLEIGH
? Eighteen years old. Senior year. ?
“Did Scott confess yet?” Mira questions again for the third time since this morning.
I give a quick shake of my head, “Not yet. He’s still clammed up about what happened last weekend.”
We both continue to remove last class’s books out of our backpacks and place them into our lockers as we get ready to leave York Prep for the day.
She slams her locker door shut before leaning around my locker door with her backpack already slung over her shoulder. “I’m telling you, he’s hiding something big. Kiara told me that Jess told her that he was caught doing some shady shit with a sophomore at that big party at his parents’ cabin.”
I shut my locker and turn towards her, slipping my arms through the straps of my backpack until it settles against my back. “I don’t see what’s so crazy about him making out with some girl two years younger than him.”
We walk side by side toward the double doors at the end of the hallway.
“It’s not about the age difference. “ She chimes in and then continues, “It’s about what actually happened between them.”
I push open the door on my side, exiting the building. “You’re going to have to clarify a bit, Mira.”
She slips out after me and falls back into step as we move slowly down the sidewalk.
“Okay, so from what Kiara said, Jess told her that he forced himself on-”
I stop mid-step and quickly turn toward her, lowering my voice as I speak. “You can’t just say things like that. Scott’s dad is on the school board. You could get us into some deep shit repeating that type of stuff.”
She presses her lips together, glancing around nervously as she does. “But what if it’s true, Everleigh?”
I look around, checking to make sure no one is listening to us.
“If it is, I’ll find out. Just do me a favor and keep it to yourself for now?”
I watch her fidget with her fingers before she slowly nods. “Okay, I won’t say anything to anyone else. Will you please let me know once you find out what’s going on?”
I nod, “You know I will.”
As I arrive at home, it starts to rain heavily.
A crash of thunder rolls across the sky when I kick the door shut behind me. I slip my Converse off of each foot and set them on top of the shoe rack beside the door. As much as I wanted to toss them, my father would have my head for that.
I planned on living a very long life so that was not in the cards for me.
The lightning flashes through the tall glass panes, lighting up the room temporarily as it does. I don’t quite make it to the light switch on the wall across from me before I’m tripping over something on the floor.
I gasp and fall flat on my abdomen, slamming down with a solid thud.
“What the-”
The light in the sitting room switches on, illuminating the surrounding space.
I look up from the marble floor, searching above me to pinpoint who turned the light on.
Dante leans on his shoulder against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. He stares down at me with a smug look on his face.
A groan slips from my mouth as I glance back at what I just tripped over.
The culprit is a black duffel bag and a pair of shoes that sit in the middle of the entryway.
I toss my head back in his direction, “Want to explain why your shit is all over the place?”
He continues to lean against the wall, still grinning from ear to ear as I push myself up from the floor.
He purses his lips and shrugs before replying, “As your overnight roommate, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t step all over my stuff. Please watch where you’re going next time”.
He pushes himself off of the wall and walks past me, leaning over to casually pick his bag up from the floor.
I didn’t invite him here. He’s not my guest. I have no reason to be nice to him.
As the thought comes and goes, I turn toward him, his back still facing me, and murmur, “Nice ass.”
Before he can react, my foot shoots out and lands squarely against his ass, sending him straight into the front door.
I sprint away before he can catch me, darting into my room, slamming the door shut behind me, and locking it just in time.
His fists pound into the door, but he isn’t doing it hard enough to actually damage anything. “Leigh, open this door right now. I’m gonna kick your ass.”
A chuckle slips through my lips, “Seems I already beat you to it, Mr. Rivera.”
He releases an animal-like noise. “You have to come out to eat eventually.”
I shake my head. “Wrong. My father bought me a mini fridge last summer so that I’d stop waking him during my late-night snack runs. I’m fully equipped to live in here forever.”
I expect him to shoot back a sarcastic comment, but it remains silent behind the door.
The sound of his footsteps departing eases my anxiety.
He gave up.
Good.
I could now take a shower in peace.
The entire time I was in the shower, my mind kept drifting back to Dante. To how much I like getting under his skin.
And if I’m being honest.. I think he likes it just as much.
For the past year, we’ve constantly pushed each other to see who’d crack first. Similar to Tom and Jerry. It became a game neither of us ever actually won, but enjoyed playing.
After drying off, I throw my favorite sherpa hoodie over my head and tug on a pair of grey sweatpants.
It was time to binge watch The Hunger Games for the fourth time this year.
As I walk over to the bed, I catch faint movement out of the corner of my eye before I’m tackled onto the mattress.
“How in the hell did you get in here?” I shout as he pins my wrists above my head.
He grunts as I thrash back and forth, trying to throw him off.
“Maybe you’re not as smart as I thought,” he mocks.
“Asshole,” I mutter, squirming even more while doing my best to out maneuver him.
“Your lock isn’t a deadbolt. I used my credit card to get in,” he answers, managing to lock my wrists together firmly. Both of his legs are on either side of mine, keeping me pinned in place.
I struggle some more, but it quickly becomes clear that there’s nothing I can do to escape this situation.
My father is teaching me manipulation tactics right now, so I have absolutely no current training in physical combat.
“Alright, you’ve proven that you’re stronger than me. Point taken. Now, get off,” I demand.
He doesn’t move an inch. I can feel his muscles through his shirt as he leans into me slightly.
His brown eyes lock with my green ones.
We both stay silent as he inches forward a fraction.
He’s so close that I can feel his breath tickle my lips.
But then he hesitates, leans back, and scrambles off the bed.
“What is it?” I ask as I sit up.
He shakes his head and continues to leave the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
What in the hell just happened?
I’m halfway buried in the cabinet, pushing aside boxes of things I don’t even want, just trying to find the granola bars I know are in here somewhere, when I hear the front door open.
I don’t have to pull my head out of the cabinet to know who just walked in.
The shift in the house says enough.
Footsteps echo across the marble, and the air seems to thicken as he moves through the foyer and towards the kitchen.
I glance over my shoulder.
He doesn’t even spare me a look, just tosses his head toward his office, beckoning me to follow.
My father, Gabriel.. he doesn’t ask for things.
He expects them.
And somehow, I always understand what he wants; like we’re wired the same way, moving on the same frequency without needing to speak it out loud.
I shut the cabinet slowly until it’s fully closed, granola bars forgotten.
I take a few steps out into the hallway and follow him into his office.
He’s seated behind his desk, flipping through papers. The lamplight catches the sharp lines of his face, carving him into what looks like a statue.
He glances up from his desk, and there’s nothing warm in his eyes.
There never is.
“You were at school today,” he says.
It’s not a question.
“Last I checked, that’s still a requirement,” I retort.
His eyes narrow slightly as he sets the papers aside, giving me his full attention now.
“Did you find anything else out about that boy?” he presses.
Scott.
York Prep.
School board father.
Untouchable reputation.
“I’ve tried to get him to talk about what happened, but he keeps deflecting.” I say carefully.
My father nods once.
“I’m sure. Well, his family has been.. somewhat useful, from time to time.”
He leans back slightly in his chair, exhaling a breath.
“But usefulness has an expiration date,” he says. “And I don’t like keeping people around who believe they’re above consequence.”
I tilt my head slightly, eyes on him. “Let me guess.. you need something from his family, and you want me to dig up whatever he’s hiding so you’ve got leverage later.”
He studies me for a moment before responding.
“That’s correct,” he answers. “Now.. can you tell me why I’d need his family?”
I purse my lips, letting it look like I’m thinking it through.
“Well.. I know you’re not hurting for money. And it’s definitely not manpower; we’ve got more than enough of that.”
I lift my eyes back to his. “You’re not after them,” I say slowly. “You’re using them to get to someone else.”
There’s a small shift in his expression.
My father smiles then, faint and knowing. “Yet again, you’re correct.”
If the rumor about Scott isn’t true.. this could spiral fast.
If his father catches on that I’ve been digging, I’m out of York Prep before anyone even has time to question it.
Not that it really matters. I can always attend another school.
That’s not the problem though.
The problem is if he decides to make it personal; if he shifts his attention to my family and goes after my father.
“What happens if Scott’s situation can’t be used as leverage and his father starts causing problems?” I press.
“Mr. Kline won’t be an issue, Everleigh. Don’t concern yourself with that.”
I hold his gaze.
“You’re sure about that?” I ask.
His eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t deal in uncertainty,” he replies.
Silence passes between us and in that moment, I can tell he’s done talking about my doubt.
But I’m not done with the conversation.
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I ask, shifting slightly in the chair. “Because digging into rumors and actually pulling something usable out of him are two very different things.”
He watches me for a moment, then leans forward, resting his forearms against the desk.
“Scott is sloppy,” he says. “Boys like him always are. They think their last name protects them, so they get careless.”
His gaze narrows slightly.
“I want you to get close to him,” he says, like it’s already decided. “Just for now. Long enough to watch him.”
His gaze doesn’t leave mine.
“See if he slips.. or says something he shouldn’t about whatever he’s already done.”
“You want me to get close to him? With his possible background of assault?”
He pauses, watching me for a moment, then finally responds.
“If that’s what it takes.”
I let that sit for a second before nodding once. “Alright.”
I push myself up from the chair, smoothing my hands over my sweatpants as I turn toward the door.
“Everleigh.”
I freeze, glancing back.
His eyes lock onto mine again, all business; as usual.
“Don’t get distracted,” he says. “This isn’t a game.”
A faint smile pulls at my lips before I can stop it.
It kind of is, though.
“I won’t,” I answer.
And this time, I don’t linger.
I step out of the office, closing the door quietly behind me, the weight of the conversation still sitting heavy on my shoulders.
I exhale slowly as I move down the hallway, already piecing together how I’m going to do this.
Because if he’s as careless as my father thinks he is.. It won’t take much.
And if he’s not?
Then I’ll just have to work him until he slips exactly how I need him to.