Hate Me Like You Do, page 18
And the last poster. Reach for success. Success has never felt more out of my reach. I never thought my dreams were too outrageous. Until now.
One. Graduate high school with a B average.
Two. Get a scholarship.
Three. Get a college degree.
That was it. That is as far as I planned. It seems so ridiculous now. There isn’t the time to bring my average up, thus no scholarship, which means I can’t afford college tuition. As for me being the daughter of the richest man in Paduka; he’s using me. And when he’s done with me...well when he’s done, I don’t know what happens next.
So what am I going to do with my life now?
What are you going to do, Violet?
“What are you going to do, Violet?”
The question repeats itself. The voice that says it louder, much louder than my meek thoughts. I blink. A tall woman with broad shoulders, short sandy blonde hair, and two very sturdy looking legs raises her eyebrows at me.
Oh yeah, the counselor, Miss Perry.
She appears more like the stereotypical gym teacher, her deep voice filled with concern as she asks once more. “What are you going to do? After you graduate?”
I’m still trying to gather what I’m going to do later this afternoon so...yeah, my schedule is still pretty vague for the rest of the year...
“I, uh, I don’t know.” I really don’t. I may as well kiss my original plan goodbye because this new life that I am living apparently has other plans. I’m only along for the ride.
Miss Perry sets the notebook in her hands down on her small desk. It isn’t really a desk, more like an end table with a cheap rolling office chair next to it. I guess if rich kids have problems, their parents can afford a therapist outside of school. It didn’t appear as if she ever saw anyone other than myself.
Which annoyingly makes me her only problem to deal with. She really gives me her all.
Lucky me.
“I’m worried about you, Violet.”
Me too.
Me too, Miss Perry.
She must feel like she has the most unfulfilling job when there is only one student out of hundreds that needs her counseling.
I don’t mean to, but I let out a long drawn out sigh. My life feels like a game that I’m losing. I’ve lost the control. I want the control back but I still feel like the movements of my limbs are being regulated by another person. Like a marionette. Everything I do is because someone else tells me too.
I’m eighteen now. I’m an adult. Though nobody treats me like I am. Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m letting them treat me that way. Maybe I should stop letting them.
That thought feels amusing. A tricky suggestion that shouldn’t have been thought but it was. It presents itself like an opportunity, one that I’m quick to entertain. Even if it’s just that… entertaining.
“Have you spoken with your mother?” she asks as she jots down another note.
“Not really.”
Now it’s her turn to sigh. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
She pauses to give me a grim smile. It appears real but most of the time when people talk about how sorry they are for the trouble my mother causes me or the trouble she causes herself, what they’re really sorry about is that they ever had to deal with her themselves.
I hear a lot of I’m sorry’s where she’s concerned.
“You know, it’s a new semester and you can start all over with your grades. You haven’t applied for any scholarships.”
She’s only pointing out all the things I had in the old plan. All the stupid mundane things that absolutely do not matter anymore.
There are bigger fucking issues in my life now. And school, grades, college, that shit’s not even on the radar anymore.
She drones on but I’m not listening.
Her voice becomes a monotone ringing that’s distant from me while I scowl at the stupid brightly colored un-inspirational, motivational posters.
“I’m assigning a tutor to you.”
Those words strike a chord. A loud one that interrupts the flat vibrato of her speech. It wakes me up. Enough that my head snaps forward, our eyes finally meeting.
“I’ve already arranged it.” A careless wave of her hand. “I want you to really give it the effort I know you have.” Another sad attempt at a smile draws her lips into an uneven line. “And I think it’ll be good for you.”
Do you?
“A friend would really be good for you.”
A friend. Right.
There isn’t a soul in this school that wishes to be my friend. I guess she isn’t a very observant counselor.
“You know what, I asked him to come up to my office. He should be waiting outside. I’ll get him.” Eagerly she dances for the door, clearly proud of the decision she made for me, her little pet project.
Get a fucking cat if you’re this bored with your life, Miss Perry.
The door opens without a sound. She waves her hand dramatically as if she’s doing magic and this so called tutor is the big reveal.
Mentally I sort through all the “hims” it could be. First I think of Damon, though I doubt he’s smart enough to be a tutor. Next, the blonde haired boy who put period blood in my lunch my first day. Then other faces of boys who haven’t been very kind flutters through my thoughts too.
All of them will make my life miserable. Correction, more miserable.
It isn’t any of them that walk through that door. Black hair with strands dropping over his forehead that play over piercing amber eyes. Sleek black glasses that accentuate the perfect sculpture of his sharp cheekbones.
Landon Fucking Scott.
Ta-da. A round of applause. A sweeping bow and my total fucking dumbfoundment.
This isn't the end of a magic trick at all. This is the punchline to a heartless joke.
Right. This should be really good for me.
Twenty-Seven
Landon
There’s a comforting familiarity of the library. Each book worn from use, the pages soft, spines creased. The book we have open now has vibrant pictures centered over the white pages.
Dee’s perfect skin tone competes with its paleness, her hands resting next to it, fingers interlocked tightly. She’s rigid in the cushioned seat she’s propped in. Each time I’ve tried to talk, she looks past me. Her green eyes glazed over.
Empty.
Or busy? I can never really tell if she is thinking about nothing or everything all at once.
I hate this.
I feel responsible for everything that’s happened to her. I was a part of it after all. I just want to do better. Probably should have done better for her in the first place.
I’m such a fucking idiot.
The past few months make me feel like I’ve become this person I was never meant to be and now… now I’m scrounging to find myself again.
I can’t help but wonder, if our lives were different, if I’d met her at the start of the school year, separate from Knox and Reed, would things between us be different?
It’s a worthless thing to consider. Because if I’d just been different when she fucking needed me while the whole damn school was eating her alive, everything would have been fine.
We would have been fine.
It’s too late for that. But right now, I can be here for her right now.
“Have you read anything from this chapter yet?” I’m pushing, only because I know the answer is no. She hasn’t put any work into it. Between her mother’s trial and the three very confusing days without her, schoolwork hasn’t been a priority.
Honestly, it probably shouldn’t be either. Clearly there are more important things that should be addressed than this tutoring. Not that I didn’t jump at the opportunity to redeem myself when I suggested to Miss Perry that a tutor might help. Me. I had to spell it out for the woman that I meant me.
With everything, I place no blame on Dee for this. I keep thinking how, if I was in her position, would I be focusing on schoolwork? Mr. Reyes is her… father, apparently. Her father who isn’t helping her mother in jail... The whole gist of that is still a little confusing to me. Perhaps a mystery that I don’t ever want to solve or look too hard at.
Dee has said little to no words since her appearance at the dinner table the other night and Knox, well, he’s like a lockbox when his father is around. A lockbox full of secrets, none of which are very pleasant to think about.
My stomach always feels sick when Mr. Reyes is home.
It’s like a knowing sensation. A fucking terrible knowing sensation.
With Mr. Reyes back, me and Reed were originally supposed to go back to our homes. But neither of us could quite pack up and leave. We couldn’t leave Dee behind.
She needs us. We should be here.
Because we clearly weren’t when it mattered.
Students whisper in the distance, the lullaby of fingers typing away on keyboards, an orchestra that plays here daily. Tall bookshelves separate us from prying eyes. I don’t want the students to see Dee. Not anymore. I won’t let them play their games with her.
She sits still as stone. So damn vacant it kills me. My eyes slide to her chest, the even rising and falling telling me she’s still alive. I’d destroy this whole room, set all the books on fire, if it would mean getting some sort of reaction out of Dee. Good, bad, ugly. I don’t care what it is.
If she needs to break down. I’ll let her. If she needs to scream. She can scream at me.
I sigh.
My hand trailing with a feather light touch over her knuckles. Not even a twitch of a movement when I expect her to pull away.
It’s like she feels nothing.
Like she is nothing.
A chair slides against the carpeted floor, Reed’s blonde hair and steely eyes lit with the spark of determination as he plops into the seat. He flings a second book, that’s open by his seat, closed. Dee blinks at the noise.
“Dude, we’re trying to study here.” I wave my hand over the books. It’s all useless though, I’ll admit that.
I get that Reed may not remember what a book looks like but he can’t be that fucking stupid not to realize we’re working here.
“Yeah.” Reed pushes the book in front of Dee away from us. “This shit is more important than algebra.”
“The book doesn’t have a single number in it, Reed. It’s clearly not Algebra.”
“Whatever.” Reed only gives me a passing glance before he shifts his whole body toward Dee. “What’s your deal?”
Her eyelashes stutter. Blinking only in response to the harsh tone of his words.
Reed licks his lower lip. “You’re just walking around like you’re on autopilot. Did he fucking do something to you? Did Knox do something?” His voice growls as if he’ll really challenge Knox in any way, shape, or form. “Did his father…” He pauses. “Did that man touch you?”
Suddenly I’m hanging on the silence too.
Did he fucking touch her?
Wide eyes, and nearly pouting lips, Reed is a moment away from begging for answers. Fuck, I’ll beg too if need be.
“Just– I hate this shit.” His head lowers until his temple rests against her shoulder, his lips parting with a heavy sigh. Her blonde locks dance in his breath, feathering across her chest.
She opens her mouth, a shiver twitches down her spine, her hands unclasping as she swallows hard.
And then a thought, a revelation, clicks into place so fast my dick gets hard.
She’s turned on.
Holy shit, she’s turned on.
A thousand thoughts slam through my mind but I’m careful when I lean toward her. My fingers push back her long blonde hair and she watches me out of the corner of her eye as I lean closer. And closer. And closer.
Today she smells like honey. A scent I could breathe in all day, everyday. My lips brush along her neck and the breath in her lungs shudders out in one heavy swoop.
Holy fucking shit.
Hesitantly, my palm pushes across her stomach, sneaking beneath her top to feel the smooth skin of her abdomen. Reed watches me with his thick brows shadowing his eyes and it takes the jackass a minute for understanding to wash over his face.
He sees it too. The smallest shift in her, a new alertness that wasn’t there before.
And then he’s tilting her head and pressing his lips to her neck too.
A fleeting thought of jealousy crosses my mind. Reed looks hungry as he chases kisses up her neck and jawline. Dee’s eyes grow wide then flutter to half hooded, a small smile tweaks her lips. That look, that first look that shows she’s still there is what pushes the tiniest bit of jealousy right back out of me.
I want to taste her too. I want to kiss her in all the ways I should have all along.
Afraid I might break her or ruin the ounce of progress she has made, I’m careful with my movements. Slowly, ever so gently, I place my fingers under her chin and turn her face toward me.
She opens her eyes, examining me, watching my mouth.
“Landon.” My name on her lips sounds like a new realm of heaven. Not just a whisper but a want, a whimper. She says my name like it’s the word ‘please.’
Fuck.
Easing closer to her my nose brushes hers, her face tilting enough for our lips to meet. I can feel Reed lean away from her. Is he feeling that same envious notion?
If he does, it passes.
Fast.
A moment later and she turns her whole body toward me, her body pressing against mine so hard that it shoves too much wanting energy into my chest. With a steady hand, Reed sweeps her hair away from her neck so he can kiss there once more. His arms curl around her body, as he brings his seat so close to her, her back is pressing against him. The tips of his fingertips draw lazy lines underneath her chest. A daring question, a telling want.
Dee becomes a blooming flower under our touch. Opening up and coming to life with every eager kiss and every brief touch. I don’t want it to stop. Her lips pull away. The curve of her back presses into Reed harder, her head tilting toward him as her arms come up to reach behind her and threads her fingers into his hair. Their mouths brush slowly, he fucks her with his tongue so openly that I can almost taste her just from the sight of it.
My dick throbs painfully and I’m moving within less than a second.
Pushing my chair out from behind me, I kneel down in front of her. Her skin is smooth, soft, unblemished. My hands run up her bare calves, racing up to tease at the hem of her skirt. I grab her knees, spreading her legs just wide enough that my lips brush the inside of her thigh. The rasping moan that shakes through her just makes me want her more.
I need more. I need every fucking part of her.
“Oh, my god! This is not the place. Nor the time for this.” A shrill, shrieking, and not exactly what I want to hear in this moment, voice yells at us.
My head snaps up from beneath her skirt.
Reed and I lift our hands off of Dee, holding them up in surrender. The librarian glaring down at me, whose face is red and whose lips are puckered, points her finger at us in accusation.
“Get your stuff together and get out of my library. I’ll be passing along your little bout of… of… of…” She trails off, the hint of her ears that poke out from under her short grey hair turn pink. “Porn.” She hisses at us like porn is an obscene word that she’s never said before. “I’d like to see you try to kanoodle in detention.”
Honestly, I’d like that too.
But it’s best if I shut up right now I think.
Her index finger twists up to point at the ceiling. Certainly, a demand and a declaration on her part.
Detention.
Not exactly what I had in mind for Dee’s tutoring session.
Reed leans back from Dee but her body follows him. A clean cut, all-American, boy next door smile slices across his face as he beams at the librarian then it melts into a much more dirty and playful grin as his gaze meets mine.
His reaction isn’t the one that leaves me in awe. I’m not the least bit surprised by the impure and obscene thoughts that sparkle in his slate gray eyes.
Slumping against Reed’s chest Dee’s fingers crawl toward the very spot where mine had just been. My gaze follows every sweep of her fingers along her own skin. She stares down at her thigh, skimming the skin that peeks out just below her skirt, just as though she can still feel my touch. My kiss.
With rosy cheeks, her attention finally falls on me and her slightly parted plump lips turn into a smirk.
Twenty-Eight
Dee
Their lips are a singeing tingle that travels over every inch of my skin. A call that alerts every cell in my body to come to life. It feels like a gift. Like the curtain of smoke that clouds my mind is parting and if I can just reach it, I can tear it away for good.
Somehow my entire body was cold and clammy one minute into the droning indistinguishable nonsense of whatever subject Landon was going on about. Then the next... everything was sizzling hot. My mind a firework show of thoughts, each a beautiful glittering thought that showers back down over me.
In no world will Ronan be happy by the detention I so clearly earned. Yet, I just don’t give a damn. Not now. Not when I can still so clearly remember the vivid colors and sensations that flooded my senses.
My father, my mother, these boys, everything is a confusing mess. A new muddling of feelings and emotions mixing with touch and awakening sensation.
I love it. I need more.
They did me a favor. Landon and Reed lifted some of the haze from my mind. Giving me clear, concise chances at thoughts that aren’t riddled with anxiety. Anxiety so strong that I lose my breath. No, they made me lose my breath but in a very, very good way.
Maybe I will flunk out of high school and maybe I won’t ever go on to college. But I’m not going to let these fuckers ruin me the way Ronan so clearly ruined my mother. Is this how Ronan did it? Drove my mother mad with fleeting touches so good she became addicted and when he denied them from her, it drove her to a new addiction?
That will not be me. I can play this game too.
