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“Sorry.” I blink upward.
The instant my eyes hit his face my jaw goes slack. He’s… he’s… he’s… Gorgeous. That’s the only word I can come up with, but it doesn’t seem to do him justice.
Holy hell.
Dark messy hair, square jawline, full lips. I swear, by the time I make it to his eyes I can feel the sweat forming at the nape of my neck. Crisp blue eyes—the kind of blue that makes you feel like you’re standing on the beach with the ocean waves crashing around your feet. He blinks, his thick lashes touching the tops of his cheeks and I realize I’m openly gawking.
“You must be Oliver’s friend,” I stutter, feeling heat creep across my cheeks.
“Zayden.” He nods.
So this is Z?
“I’m….” I start to introduce myself but stop when his gaze darts behind me.
“Hey, man.” Oliver’s voice startles me seconds before he brushes past me in the doorway. “You could have texted that you were here.”
“Yeah, left my phone at home. You ready?” His eyes sweep to mine for one more brief moment before he turns, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask my name or say
that it was nice to meet me. Nothing. It’s like I wasn’t even standing here.
And even though his lack of interest bothers me, I can’t stop myself from watching the way his back and shoulders flex as he walks away, the material of his dark jacket stretching against his lean, but muscular frame. I can’t help it. He’s that good looking.
Oliver nods as he follows after his friend, stopping at the bottom of the front porch steps before turning to give me the fakest smile I think I’ve ever seen. “Have a great first day, sis,” he mocks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
I bite back the urge to give a retort. Not like it would do me any good. Talking to Oliver is like talking to a brick wall. I get zero reaction from him. It’s like he doesn’t find me worthy of conversing with if it doesn’t involve spouting off little insults whenever he has the chance.
It’s been eight months since my mom and his dad started dating, but I can count on one hand how many times Oliver and I have actually spent time together. Whenever Paul would come over to our house, Oliver never came with him, and he made it clear to me the very first night we all had dinner together that he was not okay with his dad dating my mom, which automatically made me public enemy number one. I wish I could have been a fly on the wall when he found out that his dad and my mom eloped while they were vacationing in Fiji the week before Christmas.
I wait until Oliver and Zayden disappear inside the black truck parked in front of the house before heading for my red Audi in the driveway. It was a sixteenth birthday present from my mom. She bought it used, but it still looks new. Unlike Paul does for Oliver, my mother does not just hand me the best of everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve definitely grown up with some of the finer things in life, but Mom has never spoiled me or bought me expensive things just because I wanted them. I bet Paul has never told Oliver no a day in his life. Then again, being one of the top attorneys in the great state of Washington, it’s not like he doesn’t have the money to spare.
Pulling open the driver’s side door, I toss my book bag into the passenger seat and slide on my jacket before climbing inside, my earlier nerves returning full force. I consider calling Savannah again, fearing I’m at risk of fleeing the scene, but decide against it. She’s no doubt headed for school herself, and even if she did answer, what can she really say that she hasn’t already?
So, I do the one thing I always do whenever I feel anxious or upset. I start the car, pull my phone out of my bag, scroll through my music playlist until I find what I’m looking for, and crank up the speakers—smiling to myself when “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift starts playing.
I don’t know what it is about this song that instantly brightens my mood, but it works every single time. Put on a little T. Swift and all is right with the world again.
ZAYDEN
“I HATE THAT BITCH,” Oliver growls before throwing a handful of Red Hots into his mouth, chomping down on them.
I glance at him out the side of my aviators. “What’s the deal with her, anyway?”
His eyes narrow into slits and pure hatred mars his face. Oliver doesn’t like many people, and you have to earn it to get on his good side, but this is different than his normal dislike of someone. His usual MO is to pretend they don’t exist. He not only hates this girl, but despises her.
He tosses the empty box on the dash and stretches out in his seat. “You know what’s up with her. Her and her money-grubbing mother are squatting in my house. Probably stealing the silver and draining as much as they can from our bank accounts while they do it. Fuck my dad for marrying her and letting them come live with us.”
“Come on, man.” I side-eye the rearview mirror and switch lanes. “It’s more than that. They have money of their own. They don’t need yours.”
“They may have money, but not like my old man does. People like them… they can never have enough.” I feel his eyes on me. “Why the hell are you defending them?”
I grit my teeth, my fingers cramping around the steering wheel. An image of thick, luscious brown hair and startled dark-brown eyes comes to mind. Along with it is the addicting scent of roses and the remembered warmth radiating off her body. Despite her having lived there for a couple of weeks already, this morning was my first glimpse of her. Oliver’s new sister is hot as fuck, and it pisses me off. Someone as cunning as her has no business encompassing such a sweet package.
“You know me better than that, Oliver,” I grunt, anger making the words come out harsh.
“Dad’s only been divorced for a year. The fucking ink isn’t even dry on the papers. The last thing he needs is some hussy moving into my mother’s house. And my new sister,”—he sneers— “will think she can get anything and everything she wants. Spoiled brat.”
“Like you always get everything?” The corner of my mouth tips up as I smirk.
