Chapter 17 #2
He snorts and looks at me incredulously. When I stare at him blankly, he shakes his head. “The Beaumonts are my cousins. Our moms were sisters… twins. Avery takes that shit very seriously, so I'm here with her and Ash because she couldn’t bear the thought of me going to a public school back home.”
Cousins! They look nothing alike. Harley is a golden god, hot enough to burn your retinas, while Ash is like a dark prince, with all that dark hair and brooding. I look at him closer and think that maybe around the nose there's a hint of similarity, but it’s not obvious.
When he bristles under my scrutiny, I throw my hands up like I’m surrendering. “Well, fuck. I don't know how to advise you with only half your story. So, either tell me the whole thing or go find someone else to help you.”
He looks at me again and then sighs, rubbing his hands over his face like he is trying to scrub years off it.
His biceps flex invitingly with the action, and I resist the urge to reach out and squeeze them.
“Fuck it. I have a large inheritance from my family, but to get it, I'd have to fulfill certain…
obligations that I refuse to do. I won't lose my soul for the money. My mom is incapacitated and unable to step in. Avery pays for all my shit. How do I get emancipated?”
I push my tray away, the meat now cold and unappealing.
Every time I’m interrupted by one of these guys, I end up missing out on good food.
The kitchen staff put out an amazing spread despite the fact they’re only cooking for two students, and now I’m not even going to finish my plate. So damn wasteful.
“You would have to have enough money to cover all of your expenses for the next four years in a bank account, along with a plan on how you would use it. Detailed—like an itemized list, down to how much soap you use in a year. Can Avery give you that?”
He doesn't answer, he just grits his teeth again and picks up his tray. I huff out a breath, feeling dismissed, and then he calls out to me as he leaves, “Thanks, Mounty.”
I grab my own tray and head back up to my room.
I don’t come back down for Thanksgiving dinner.
The day after Thanksgiving, I tell myself not to be a petty bitch and I head down to the dining hall for breakfast. Harley hands me a cup of juice as he passes by my chair. I stupidly think it’s a nice gesture after how much information I gave him at our last meeting. I should know better by now.
He put laxatives in it.
I can’t leave the girls’ dorms for the rest of the day.
I’m so angry about the juice that I throw caution so far into the wind, it ends up in fucking Kansas.
I’ve learned a thing or two about vanity since coming to Hannaford, and being as unbelievably gorgeous as he is, he must be very attached to his looks, especially to his immaculately coiffed silvery-blond hair.
You can't be that hot without also being vain.
So I do some digging, find out that Harley is in fact on the swim team, and make a plan.
I have no access to any beauty stores, but I'm an inventive girl.
The kitchen staff are very happy to help me out with my ‘science project’.
Armed with two bottles of food-grade dye, I find his shampoo and conditioner and pour an entire bottle in each.
I'm not sure Harley is the type to pull off the Smurf look, but good God am I ready to find out.
Being the only two students in the school gives me an extra dose of bravery, like I'm untouchable on break, when really I know that Harley will tell his friends and then I'll have to face whatever it is they decide to retaliate with. Avery has already proved herself to be an unconscionable bully, and that’s without me ever fighting back. It’s a little sobering to think about what she’ll do once she finds out, but for now, I'm going to enjoy beating this gorgeous guy at his own game. It’s nice to be able to mess with him in such a low-key way.
I get to dinner early and sit at the far end of the table in the exact chair that he usually sits.
I enjoy ten minutes of silence and steak before showtime.
When the door at the far end of the dining hall swings open, I don't look up, and it's a struggle not to smirk.
I can hear him filling his plate and then the sound of him walking toward me.
I roll my eyes that he would insist on sitting at his chair even in an empty hall and I prepare to stare him down, but then he pulls out the chair across from me and sits. I glance up and snort.
Between the bright blue hues of his hair and the tattoo, he looks like he belongs in a nineties punk-rock band. The shocking part is that his eyes are twinkling with laughter rather than the malice I’d expected.
“Good shower?” I prod at him.
“Great. Just what I needed. How are your bowels?”
“Lovely and cleared, thanks for asking.”
He snorts with laughter and digs into his plate. It's weird to sit with him, but I can't move away without seeming weak or bitchy. Plus, he's just as alluring as the first time I saw him, and so hot it hurts to look right at him.
“Which dictator did you pick for history? I'm going to wipe the floor with you.” His eyes are still twinkling, and it makes me feel lightheaded. Is he flirting? He can't be. I clear my throat.
“Avery Beaumont, but Ms. Aurelia said I can't choose someone still in power, so I went with Stalin instead. Who did you pick?”
He smirks and shows off his perfect teeth.
“Like I'd tell you.” He gives his juice a sniff before shrugging and drinking it. I regret not messing with it.
He sees me watching him and says, “I’m sure you've thought of something worse, but if you have spiked it, I needed some fiber anyway.”
I smile and hope that not knowing drives him a little crazy.
“I bet you've picked Hitler like every other student ever. Predictable. Boring,” I taunt him, but he just smiles. Even his smile is deadly. I can feel it slicing into my soul.
“Like Stalin is any better. By the way, have you finished it yet?” His voice is soft and sweet, and fuck if it doesn't make me nervous. And a little turned on, but mostly nervous.
“My breakfast, my assignment, or fucking with you?”
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
“I don't expect you to ever stop fucking with me. You came to this school swinging, thinking we wouldn't swing back. I meant your assignment.”
My eyes narrow. This is a trap. He is far too smug right now.
“It's a shame about the computers,” he says innocently. “Sounds like they'll be out for the whole week.”
Fucking bastard.
“Seriously? That's all you've got?” I say with confidence that I'm not feeling, and I stand up with my tray. I walk out of the hall to the sound of his raucous laughter.
It takes two seconds in the library to discover that he has in fact messed with all the IT systems in the school.
My completed assignment is stuck on the portable hard drive the school provided me with, but it’s no good to me there.
There’s a chance the computers will be fixed before classes resume, but the academic policy is clear that technical malfunctions won’t be accepted as a reason for an extension, and I’m not really one for taking chances when it comes to my grades.
It's such a rich kid thing to assume that he's won because I can’t access the computers, and yet the school has a bigger and better stocked library than my hometown does, so I pull a dozen books and spend the day rewriting my assignment before he decides to burn the library down as well.
After six hours of intensive work, Harley shows up with a smug look on his face that only falters for a second when he spots me in my fortress of books. I give him my own smug look and finish off my attempts at perfect penmanship, though I can never completely disguise my scratchings successfully.
“I didn't expect to see you here. I thought you were so out of touch with the library that you wouldn't know where to find it.” My breath catches as he grins wolfishly in response.
Goddamn it, why is he so hot?
“I know the library well.” He pulls a chair out across from me and straddles it. “I've fucked quite a few girls in the stacks.”
A shiver runs up my spine. I should feel disgusted, like I have at every other boy who's said that kind of thing to me, but all I can think is how much I want him to take me into the stacks. How sick is that?
Maybe foster care messed me up more than I thought.
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“Don't worry, Mounty. I don't want to fuck you. There are at least three guys in this school who don't want you.”
Harley, Ash, and Blaise. My stomach drops and I want to scream at myself.
Why the hell do I want them so much when they are the ones torturing me?
Some secret part of my brain whispers that the last few days haven't felt like torture. They’ve been the most fun I've had since I came to this pretentious school.
“What a relief. I suppose none of you need the money.”
His eyes tighten like he's taken a hit. I open my mouth to ask him why, but he cuts me off.
“Not enough to fuck trash, no.”
I would give anything to be able to stop myself from blushing, but I can't. I tell myself it’s a flush of anger, but its shame burning in my gut.
“You might want to bury your nerves a bit deeper, Mounty. Putting them on display like that just gives us all a target.”
He winks at me, fucking winks, and then leaves.
I tell myself I'm not gutted.
But I am.
The students all arrive back Sunday night.
By Monday morning, Harley's head is shaved and he looks at me like I'm nothing again.