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XANDER
Imay have been the undisputed king of Coldwater High, but surveying my kingdom wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. My house—myparents’house, really—was packed with teenage sardines, illicitly-acquired booze, and bad music playing too loudly from the state-of-the-art sound system my dad mainly used to watch live sports in high-def. Some people dreamed of this kind of high school glory. But after throwing youth-defining ragers for four years, I’d gotten pretty damn tired of it.
Even the girls, decked out and scantily clad, wereboringto me. There was Marissa James standing by my mom’s latest million-dollar art acquisition, dressed to kill in red velvet that hugged her womanly curves, but Bryce had slept with her months ago. Pass. Hallie Maynard was the dance team queen and was really showing off her skills in the crush of gyrating bodies, looking deliciously bendy with her deep brown skin bared to the world, but Dane had already broken her less-than-flexible heart, too. Then there were the girls who were too vapid or empty or otherwise imperfect to catch my discerning interest, and all in all, it painted a dull picture. Dozens of faces and names blended together into an unimpressive, loud cloud.
Weirdly enough, though, I almost felt like I was looking for someone. A shittyWhere’s Waldo,but instead of stripes and glasses, I couldn’t shake the image of bright red hair—a color thatsoobviously came from a box.
Maybe Jade Wells had some secret penchant for witchcraft. By all accounts, she was nothing special, but every day since she’d joined our school, I’d found it hard to fight my curiosity about her. Watching her hips sway in the hallway after homeroom, wondering what story had made her end up here, away from whatever school she’d attended from freshman to junior year. She was some kind of mystery, edged in a spicy sass that felt like a challenge. Most of the girls at Coldwater had given up on trying to challenge me ages ago.
Maybe it was just that she was fresh. The shiny new toy. And neither Bryce nor Dane had touched her yet, which helped.
I nodded along to the thumping beat of the Top 40 hit playing from the speakers as I made my way toward the kitchen. My red plastic cup was dangerously low on spiked punch, and I needed to be not sober to get through the rest of this godforsaken night. Some of Bryce’s football buddies shouted after me as I passed them, so I threw them an easy smile and wave, playing the gracious royal. A few girls brushed against me, warm and sweaty, easy marks if I was looking to get laid tonight. But before the thought could even cross my mind, a familiar face popped up in my line of vision, grinning at me.
“Xan! Dude! Killer party.” Owen Marcum, my oldest friend, slapped a hand against my shoulder blade in congratulation. His brown curls were frizzy, his cheeks red. I could smell the cheap vodka on his breath.How pedestrian,I couldn’t help but think.
“Thanks, man. How ya been?” My bored tone wouldn’t have registered with him even if he’d been sober.
“Oh, great, great. Living the dream.” He smiled with all his teeth, but there was something sharp in it. “You heard Hannah moved?”
It took me a second to remember who Hannah even was. “Oh, that girl you were with forever?” I’d never met Owen’s ex, but nothing I’d ever heard about her made me want to. Just another boring high school girl, led astray by the guy I’d met back in our upscale preschool days.
“Yeah, dude, my ex. She fully moved. Schools, everything. Becca thinks she’s in witness protection, but we know what the deal really is.” He laughed. I knew Becca was his newest feminine accessory, at least. He’d talked about her even before he’d broken things off with Hannah, bragging about his sneaky conquests like he wasn’t just being scummy but was pulling off some kind of mastermind plot. I was no saint, but that kind of treachery didn’t sit right with me. I erred on the side of harsh, brutal honesty rather than pretty lies. And my mom had cheated on my dad for years, which Owen knew had bothered me back when I still had the energy to care about things like having a normal, happy sitcom family. So it certainly didn’t bring Owen and me closer together. More and more, these days, I could feel us drifting apart.
Good riddance,I told the dull pang in my gut—nostalgia for a childhood friendship that didn’t exist anymore. We’d both changed.You won’t need his dead weight at Harvard next year, anyway.
“Probably has nothing to do with you. Honestly, a little weird that you’re still hung up on what she’s doing,” I told Owen, which struck his fragile ego. I watched his face sink, his expression turn to quicksilver fury, and I let out a strained, “Good to see you, bro,” before I took that opportunity to escape.
By the time I finally made it through the labyrinthine house to the huge chef’s kitchen that was only for show, I was fuckingtired of playing host. I’d moved past high-fiving my friends and trying to entertain Bryce’s football buddies and barreled straight toward shoving people out of my way. I didn’t care how many grumbled “asshole” comments followed me, just so long as I made it to the liquor.
I poured myself something, took a long swig, and sighed. But then I noticed some ruckus streaming out of my mom’s prized formal dining room—the setting of many business dinners and not a single happy Thanksgiving. I swore under my breath, bringing my drink with me to investigate.
And who did I find but Jade Wells, concentrating hard enough on a game of beer pong to rival a NASA scientist. Her brows, filled in a dark auburn color to go with her dye job, were scrunched together at the center of her forehead. I did not allow myself to think of it ascute.
“No, I’ve got it!” Jade snapped playfully at the guy at her left—Craig Washburn from the lacrosse team, who was clearly trying to “help” her aim in a blatant attempt to get close to her. She bent low, eyes scanning over the tops of the plastic cups. From the doorway, I let myself take in the seductive shadow between her breasts exposed by the low neckline of her swingy black dress. She had some smudgy dark makeup around her green eyes, too, which added to the effect. Damn, but she was hot. I told myself there was no harm in imagining those eyes staring up at me, Jade on her knees, her full lips around my cock. But I cut off the fantasy before my body could take it too far.
When she finally threw her ping pong ball and landed it directly in the middle cup, the elation that lit up Jade’s face sent a twinge of… something through me. I shook it off, stepping further into the room and starting a slow, condescending clap.
“Way to go, new girl. It’s Jane, right?”
Her eyes narrowed, and I smirked automatically.
“It’sJade,but somehow, I get a feeling that you already knew that.”
“Same difference,” I said, deliberately riling her up. It worked like a charm. She squared her shoulders and propped her fists on her hips, emphasizing their enticing curves and jutting out her impressive chest at the same time. I didn’t even try to hide the way I took notice of that, trailing my eyes over her body with slow appreciation. I could practically see steam coming out of her ears.
“God, do you get joy out of being an insufferable dick?”
“Absolutely,” I answered. Jade started to turn on her heel and stride out of the dining room, parting the crowd of mostly horned-up guys she’d cluelessly drawn to her. But I stopped her, raising my voice a little. “What’s the matter, Jade? Too chicken to finish your game with me here to watch?”
Her posture stiffened, and she whipped her hair as she spun and snapped her gaze back to me. “You don’t scare me, pretty boy.”
“So you admit I’m pretty,” I said, raising a challenging brow.
And wouldn’t you know it? Iwashaving fun now, especially when Jade’s lips pressed into a thin, angry line, her small hands fisting at her sides, always so tense when I was around. I wondered idly what it’d be like to loosen her up in bed, what kind of noises she made in pleasure, whether she’d melt like butter in my hands.
“Sure,” she conceded, her voice a little tight. But she loosened up in preparation for her next attack, letting loose her cutting remark like an arrow. “But you’re pretty like aBarbiedoll, or wall art from Target. Mass-produced, unoriginal, and frankly, uninspired.”
The hiss that broke out across the dining room was part laughter, part audible wince. The chucklers silenced when my eyes found them in the crowd, like plebeians remembering theirplace. When was the last time someone at Coldwater High had had the guts to say something like that to me? Hell, even people outside of school usually treated me like a prince, exalting my family’s wealth regardless of my attitude. And why was I more intrigued than angry about Jade’s audacity?
