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Sutton Savage.Stoic angel with a major resting bitch face. Too beautiful for this fucked up world, yet too stubborn to realize it.
Each step she takes is calculated. She floats toward Haley, graceful as always because she has been trained to literally float through a room.
Ever since she was just a kid, I’ve watched her parents push her to the point of breaking her when it comes to dancing. Yet there is an ease in the way she moves that makes it clear she loves doing it. That it hasn’t yet been spoiled for her because of her parents’ need for perfection. I understand her. Sort of. But I also hate everything she stands for. She does what her parents tell her. If they yell jump, she asks,How high?If they say smile, she flashes her perfect white teeth. But it is clear that, deep down, she is a lost soul.
One I have no sympathy for because she has no fight in her. Not an ounce. A little bird shut in her cage, too scared to push open the door and fly outside. And because of that, no matter how beautiful she is, I’m not interested in her romantically. How can I be attracted to someone who stands for nothing? Even if it is so openly obvious in her eyes that she is dying inside.
Besides, I have a girlfriend. The same one I’ve had for six months now. Who I love and trust. And the best thing about her? She doesn’t come fromthisworld. She comes from a normal-sized home. She is allowed to go to college for whatever the hell she wants. She is perfect for me. And I don’t care that my parents hate her.
Let’s not forget to mention that my brother, Holden, had been in love with Sutton since he was seven years old. And since he’s dead now, that makes Sutton even less appealing. After all, what sort of brother would I be if I wanted the girl my dead brother did?
Sutton’s eyes find mine, and she stiffens. She tucks a loose strand of her nearly black hair behind her ear before turning her back to me, focusing on what my sister is rattling on about. My presence alone has always made Sutton uneasy, and I suppose that’s because since we were kids, I’ve been a dick to her. Our parents always hoped she’d marry my brother one day. And when he died, I guess I was the next best thing.
Fuck that.
I agreed to take medical classes at Brooks University to appease them, but the biggest reason why I go to a school with a decent medical program is strictly because that college just happens to have one of the best hockey programs in the country. And they also happened to offer me a full scholarship to play. It didn’t matter to me that my family rolled their eyes and scoffed at the wordhockeyand chuckled at the idea that I could actually go pro because I knew the truth. I’m not going to be a doctor. I’ll never come back to Tennessee and carry on my family’s legacy. I am going to play in the NHL.
And despite what they think, I’m sure as hell not going to give that girl a chance.
1
Sutton
Two Years Later
Istare out the bus window, asking myself what the hell I’ve gotten myself into and if it’s all a mistake. One that’s potentially going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
Leaving Juilliard after just one year and transferring to Brooks University in Georgia might have been the most impulsive decision thus far in my life. Okay, scratch that. It wasdefinitelymy most impulsive decision. And coming from someone who typically doesn’t leap without weighing the risks—unless it was while I was dancing—I shocked everyone. And that shock—and sheer disappointment—is what led to my parents’ decision in cutting me off. Literally. Financially. Emotionally. Any way they could slice my existence from their lives…they did.
Apparently, when your daughter has worked her entire life to get into a prestigious school like Juilliard, it isn’t exactly ideal for said daughter to transfer out so soon. But while, on one hand, this decision seemed impulsive, on the other, I was tired of the unrealistic expectations my family had put on me since the day I was born. I was exhausted. And that exhaustion was crippling. Couple that with the fact that my asthma was being a miserable bitch, making it hard for me to compete to my full ability, I was breaking. Slowly losing myself. It was walk away or end up completely losing my mind.
Now, I’m wondering if the latter would have been easier.
Brooks’s dance program, compared to Juilliard’s, is like comparing McDonald’s to Chick-fil-A. Everyone knows that even though both are fast food, there’s still no comparison. And in this case, Brooks is certainly McD’s. But I’m okay with that. Because truthfully, I didn’t have it in me to dance somewhere like Juilliard anymore. There I was, a small fish in a big pond. At Brooks, I’ll be a big fish in a puddle. I like those odds better.
The good news is, because Brooks was so excited to have me on board, they set me up in a house rather than a dorm. The downside of the house is…it houses three other dancers. And one thing I’ve learned over the years about dancers is, we’re every bit as bitchy as we are intense.
I don’t think it helped that the school I chose is also where our family rival’s son attends. The Thompson family might have been best friends with my family for most of my life, but nearly two years ago, it all changed. And now, I’ll be sharing a campus with a guy who literally hates me because of my last name. And that’s okay. Because the feeling is mutual.
The last time I recall seeing Hunter Thompson was at my family’s barbeque a few years prior. The one when it had rained all day, giving me hope that it would be canceled, only for the sun to come out just before everyone arrived. Which left me stuck to mingle and chat with people, most of whom I couldn’t stand. That night, before the Thompsons left, Hunter’s parents and mine got into some sort of disagreement. Words were exchanged. And from that moment forward, we were sworn enemies. Which worked out for Hunter and me because we hated each other anyway. But Haley…that was a different story. She was kind, sweet, and thoughtful. Everything I wasn’t, she was. And now…she hates me. And I’m supposed to hate her, too, but deep down, I can’t. Maybe if she was a little more like her dickhead brother, I could easily do it.
Taking my phone out, I check the time. I still have hours left on this smelly bus. My eyes grow heavy, and I allow myself to doze off to the sound of the humming engine, the rattling seats, and the endless chatter surrounding me.
I stare up at the yellow house. The white window trim is slightly chipped, as is the black door. But it has character. Flowers are planted in front of the porch, and I wonder who exactly put them there. The walkway to the house is slightly overgrown, in dire need of some TLC. But this place is homey. And I don’t hate it. The chicks on the inside? Now, that is still up for debate.
Pushing my shoulders back, I inhale and tilt my chin up. “It’s fine,” I mutter. “They’ll probably be super nice. It’s going to be great.”
“Hah, tell yourself that all you want,” a female voice says from right behind me, and I shriek, spinning around.
“You scared the hell out of me!” I gasp. “I thought—”
“No one could hear you out here, talking to yourself?” The girl with strawberry-blonde hair and Levi’s overalls raises an eyebrow as she jerks her chin toward the house. “Girl, when you live in a house with three other bitches, someone isalwaysaround.” She takes a bite from her green apple. Literally the only kind of apple I can’t stand. “On one hand, that’s not a bad thing because there’s always an endless supply of tampons. On the other, if we’re all PMSing at the same time, it’s one big ol’ bitchfest.” Smiling, she holds her hand out. “I’m Ryann. Ryann Denver. And, yes, I have a boy’s name. No, my parents didn’t hate me when they picked it out.”
Studying her for a moment with my guard up, I eventually smile before shaking her hand. “I’m Sutton.”
Releasing my hand, she heads toward the house, nodding for me to follow. “Trust me, homegirl, I know who you are. We all do. You’re Sutton Savage. Senator’s daughter. Elite dancer. Juilliard dropout. Like Frenchy fromGrease, but a much,muchbigger deal, and your hair looks more gothic than an Easter egg.”
I frown, rearing my head back as my feet follow her up the paint-chipped stairs. “Um…thanks?”
