Hate Me Like You Do, page 4
What a warm welcome this school has given me and in my first thirty minutes of being here. This... this is the warning I get? This is what the guys warned me about? A semi menacing lecture from someone who can’t form more than a three word threat?
I can handle this.
Jealous ex-play things are nothing and I’m sure Knox has a few more of them running around if I had to guess. Probably by the barrel full. If I roll my eyes any harder as Kylie walks away they'll likely get stuck in the back of my head.
With the supplies for my first class in hand I close my locker, give the boys –who are all three watching me with their pouty, bitter gazes– an innocent smile, a fuck you wave, and walk away. Purposefully, I put every ounce of confidence I have in my walk. A swing of my hips, my chin held high, and perfect posture just to show off how much they haven't affected me. They think they can get me down with that?
Nice try, boys.
The first bell rings to tell us to get to our classes and another set of shoulders meet mine roughly. Together these girls wear matching scowls, their kitten heels clacking loudly as they pass.
Okay, getting to class on time might be a little harder if everyone is going to insist on passive aggressively knocking into me.
Again… nothing I can’t handle.
I slip into the classroom with two minutes to spare. The big black and white clock on the back wall sets me at ease, at least I'm on time.
Students mill about the room, some have already taken their seats while others are still laughing with their friends. I spy an open desk not far away from Landon, who managed to beat me here. I doubt he had people bumping into him every few seconds.
Being completely flawlessly attractive probably gives you the right of way, so it’s no wonder he beat me here really.
“Hey,” I whisper with a weak smile I have to force as I slide into the wooden, polished desk next to his.
Landon doesn’t bother with a hello and the silent treatment carries on. It can’t last forever though. At some point one or all of them will cave and we will be back to being friends. This is just one little fight… or misunderstanding, if you will.
Friendships don’t crumble in the span of one day.
Do they?
A small piece of paper flies over my shoulder bouncing against my desk then rolling off. I can't resist the urge to look behind me at the person who tossed it. Oh God. Why? Damon. An awkward wiggle of his eyebrows has me turning back around, sliding further down into my desk. Damon is already laughing loudly with his friends.
I peer back at him again, his gaze never leaving me. He blows me a kiss.
He can't even blow a kiss properly but I guess no girl has ever broken the news to him.
“Damon, she doesn’t want to come back for more. Keep your tiny hands and microdick to yourself,” Landon growls loudly. Somehow he still can’t manage to meet my eyes.
But he stood up for me. A fleeting swirl of emotions burns through my chest as I look over at his vacant, straightforward attention.
Damon scowls at him. “She can talk for herself. I’m sure you’ve already dipped into that pot often enough she's tired of you. There's a reason she came on to me. Not doing it right, I guess.”
Landon’s nostrils flare, the desk screeching against the floor as he stands up abruptly with fisted hands. Students continue to shuffle into their seats, watching the exchange, clearly eager for a fight, a swing, petty words, a ‘my daddy is richer than yours’ pissing contest.
Anything.
With another ring of the bell the teacher enters and claps her hands together enthusiastically, putting an end to their little male pissing contest.
Damon bobs his brows like a childish dare but Landon thankfully lowers himself slowly into his seat.
And I can't take my eyes off of him.
No matter how much he ignores me.
The teacher’s grey hair hangs in a long tight braid that lays just over her shoulder. She waves her hands in front of her in a sweeping motion towards us all that sends the braid swinging behind her. The grand gesture makes the sunspots and deep wrinkles on her face more apparent with her smile.
“I hope you all had a great, great summer!”
The room remains quiet. I’m not sure a single soul wishes to be here. Honestly, I’d like to just take my diploma and finally get out of this city. No more bumming off of my mother’s friends.
Silence doesn’t stop the teacher, Mrs. Owens, according to the shaky cursive on the board. “Alrighty, let’s open our Algebra books to page ten.”
My book looks brand new, the binding still crisp, the front perfectly glossy. A small excitement ripples through me at the thought of that new book smell. It’s one thing I’ve always enjoyed even if it's textbooks instead of thriller novels.
Carefully, I open up the cover turning to the first page. It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing. Red. So much slashing red.
I flip a page, then another. I begin skimming the entirety of the book but the text is covered in scribbling red ink.
Venereal Violet.
Venereal Violet.
VENEREAL VIOLET!
It’s everywhere. That disgusting name strikes across every single page, bleeding through glossy paper. I feel like I’m having a nightmare, this shouldn’t be real life. Venereal Violet is written over and over and over again.
Every. Single. Page.
I slam the book shut and let it fall back down to my desk, letting loose a shuddering, painful breath.
How fucking dare they.
I bite my lip to keep myself from bolting up from this desk and slapping Landon senseless.
“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Owens looks genuinely concerned.
Yes. Yes there is. I’m being harassed by three stupid boys who had no intentions of ever being with me but became utterly unhinged by the thought of me losing my virginity to someone else. Now, they want to play games and be unfathomably mean to me.
God, I sound like a cry baby.
Landon catches my attention. His dark, depthless eyes watching from under his black hair and square frames. His gaze is zeroed in on me with nothing but a coldness in his stare. Is he daring me to say something? I fucking should.
But I won't.
Once again it feels insane to like him and hate him all at the same time.
It makes me hate myself in a way.
I swallow my pride and animosity, pushing it deep down, and slowly shake my head.
“No. Nothing is wrong.”
“You’ll never have to worry about anything here. You have us.” Landon cocked his head to the side watching me with a sweet grin. “We'll always have your back.”
That was one of the first things Landon said after I had confided in them about how nervous I was to be spending my last year at a different school. I thought having three strong boys in my corner would make me invincible.
Now those words just sit tauntingly in the forefront of my mind like a bitter memory.
Four
Knox
My father adopted me when I was five. I still remember the first thing he said to me when he took in the poorest kid the rich bastard has probably ever laid eyes on. In my ignorant little mind I thought he was a fucking savior for taking me in. A hero in a suit, like Superman.
I was wrong. And his words should have warned me of that.
He said, “Everything comes at a price.”
Dee’s learning that now. Just like I did. She isn’t weak. I know that better than anyone. She won’t break.
But she is suffering.
The thought churns something deep in my gut, some raw unrecognized twinge of guilt that quickly fades away into nothingness. Those emotions don’t register with me anymore. There isn’t room for guilt when you’re a Reyes. To survive with this name and to survive with a father like mine, you have to be numb to those types of feelings.
Guilt. Nope, don’t feel it. It checked out a long fucking time ago.
Shame. Never. I’m a fountain of confidence, and any Reyes’s decision is likely the right decision.
Fear. Ha, you think I’m scared of the dark? I am the darkness.
Frustration, however, that I’m feeling.
It doesn’t matter that our foyer is massive, plenty bigger than the average small home, and right now it feels puny. There isn’t enough room. I’m suffocating in here.
My white tennis shoes squeak against the marble as I pace back and forth, watching out the window. I want to bite my nails but I know if word gets back to my father that I’m not “appropriately groomed” I can kiss any independance I have good bye.
I’m waiting on Violet. Dee. I even like that stupid nickname Reed decided to give her to put some distance between them. Like a nickname keeps him from wanting to fuck her somehow.
Seeing Violet with Damon did something to me. Admittedly, I think it may have done something to all three of us. We won’t break the one rule we set for ourselves, the one rule that will ultimately save our friendship. Not just between Landon, Reed, and myself but between us and Violet.
Don’t have sex with Violet Demure. Don’t touch Violet Demure. Don’t even talk to each other about the vividly intense sex dreams you have about sweet little Violet Fucking Demure.
There are many layers to that one tiny rule. Clearly.
We can’t break the rule but neither should fucking Damon. That fuck boy isn’t good enough for someone like Vi.
I glance out the window again, a growl of irritation ripping out of me. She should be home by now.
She would be home by now but we left her behind like we had this morning.
What if something happened to her? What if someone...I push the crawling, vividly dark images from my mind with a shake of my head.
I’m so mad at myself for not following her like Landon wanted. Yet I’m more mad that Vi would let herself be… what? Carelessly fucked. Or that she would let anyone touch her in that way, in my house, in my bed.
We all have lessons to be learned. Just as my father taught me, we will teach Dee.
If she wanted an orgasm, I would have given it to her. As fucking platonically as possible while staying inside the lines of our one rule.
But she shouldn't be here anyway. My father made that abundantly clear the last time he called and showed a bit too much interest in our little house guest.
What is she to him? What did she do to get under that dangerous man’s radar?
She fucked up somewhere along the lines.
Just like I did.
Movement outside catches my attention. I pause listening to the quickening rasp of my breath. There she is. Coming toward the house, warm sun highlighting her long legs just beneath that short skirt.
I expect her to look more worn down or sad but she’s smiling, a huge ridiculous grin against her lips as she talks to herself like she always does when she thinks she’s alone.
She really is strong if that’s what she looks like after day one at Mournmount.
The door begins to open and I realize I’m just standing in the foyer doing nothing – nothing but waiting on her.
Fuck.
I launch myself across the space and onto a leather armchair. The book next to me becomes mine in an instant. I don’t care what book it is or whose it is but I’m using it as a prop.
Violet steps into the sunlit room only to find me reading. Not waiting. I make a point not to glance up at her as she strolls on by, intoxicating vanilla scent wafting behind her. She doesn’t bother to look at me either. Instead she hums some catchy tune and takes the stairs up to my bedroom.
“Mr. Reyes.”
The voice startles me, the book slamming shut as I jump.
Mr. Heethers, our butler, smiles gently. Violet’s still awkward around him. It’s cute. She hates being waited on but in the last couple of weeks she’s finally stopped constantly apologizing to the staff everytime she so much as leaves a crumb on the counter.
“I’m just reminding you that your father is looking forward to hearing from you this week,” Mr. Heethers says.
With a long drawn out sigh, I lean back, bouncing my head of the seat because even that’s better than speaking with him.
“I know, but it’s best to get it over with. Then you don’t need to update him again for another week and then he’ll be home for the holidays in November.”
Great.
Mr. Heethers is right, just get it over with. Bowing my head I ready myself for this absolutely shitty conversation that’s about to happen. I reach for my phone and point up the stairs with my other hand.
“Can you make sure Violet gets some dinner?”
Mr. Heethers nods. “She’s probably hungry after a grueling first day at a new school. I’ll let the cook know to whip up something nice.”
“Yeah. I heard she found period blood in her lunch and didn’t get a chance to eat.” I can't help the smile that slices my lips.
If she thinks this is a game, she's wrong.
We're out for blood. Literally.
“That... poor girl." Mr. Heethers looks as disgusted as she did but as always, he recovers quickly. "Any preference on what you would like for your own dinner?”
“Nothing. I’m not hungry.” It's exhausting when forgotten emotions rear their fucking head.
Is it guilt? I fucking doubt it. But it is hard hurting someone you spent so long protecting.
Mr. Heethers gives a small bow and exits the room. He leaves me alone, staring at my phone. I force myself to hold down the voice command button because I don’t know that I could physically make myself dial his number.
“Call Dad.”
And it rings. And rings again.
Sweat is already building in my palm against my phone. With a slow inhale I try to not focus on the pit of dread that has my insides knotting together.
Maybe he’s in trial. Or a meeting with a client. Or anywhere else but right next to his ringing phone.
“Knox,” he answers. The word is all formal greeting not an ounce of joy carries through as he says my name. Did I expect it to?
No. Not anymore.
“The girl has settled fine.” That’s what he wants to know, isn’t it? Has Violet Demure been a welcomed guest of the Reyes house? Well she was.
“Good, good. First day of school?”
“Same old stuff. Though I did actually get placed in an advanced science class this year and I think the teacher may actually know his shit.”
Silence. The quiet tension is drawn out for nearly two minutes before he clears his throat and speaks again.
“No, not your day. The girl's.”
How fucking stupid of me.
Again.
“She came home happy as a spoiled rich bitch.” I try to keep the disappointment out of my voice but it’s still there in the annoying way that lets him know he still has some sort of power over me. I hate myself for that.
He is never going to approve of you. Stop trying. It's embarrassing.
“Great.”
“Great,” I repeat.
“Knox?” My father drawls.
“Hmm?”
“Don’t let me catch you cursing again. I’m raising a gentleman with the keys to a very wealthy kingdom and a name that I won’t let you destroy by sounding like a low life.”
I’m anything but a gentleman. My father isn’t one either, but he would never let on that he is anything other than a successful lawyer. That’s laughable to me considering I know the violent truth.
“Yes, sir.” I manage to grind out.
“If her mother calls from jail, let me know,” he says oddly.
“Okay...” My eyes narrow as I wait for him to explain something when I know he definitely won't.
He gives me a stiff goodbye and hangs up.
Raising a gentleman. Yeah, okay. Gentleman don’t have to cover their scars with endless tattoos to hide what kind of monster dear old dad is from the world.
Keys to a very wealthy kingdom. I don’t want any part of his blood money. I just haven’t figured out how to get away yet without repercussions.
Ronan Reyes knows everyone. He’s represented the deadliest men. And those men are always happy to return a favor to him.
Always.
Shoving my phone deep into my pocket I take the stairs two at a time. A fresh feeling of resentment and a bit of stiff fear charges through me building into nerves and frustration.
It’s a shitty cycle that constantly lives inside of me.
At the top of the stairs I reach for my door and pause. Violet’s talking to someone on the other side. Landon and Reed aren’t here yet.
I swear if I open this door to find Damon or some other dick troll I’ll kill him. Growling under my breath, I press my ear up to the door, chilled wood meeting me with the muffled sound of Dee’s soft voice.
“Hey, yeah school was… different. I was kind of hoping you could talk for a minute about it.”
Her foot nervously taps against the floor in a metronome’s perfect rhythm while she speaks. My eyes squeeze shut and I can somehow picture her standing there fretting on the other side in that tight uniform.
Or nothing at all.
“I just really need someone to talk to right now, Mom…. Yeah I sent you the money. I know it was only twenty dollars.”
I nod to myself knowingly. Perhaps our parents aren’t too different after all. I’m not questioning what her mom is going to use money for in jail because I get the idea. We’ve transferred money to people who are locked away many times.
The keys to this wealthy kingdom reach into a lot of doors.
Some of them prison doors.
Vi continues, her voice low. “I haven’t got a job yet. I know– I know you need it. I just…”
Utter silence.
That must be the end of that. My hand hovers over the cold knob. I’ve never hated someone I’ve never met before. Violet’s mom, I fucking hate her.
My stalker vibes get cut short when the door swings open. Her bright emerald eyes are glassy and her cheeks are a muted crimson.
Violet gasps then quickly hugs the items in her hands closer together. I notice a pillow and blanket rolled up and held tightly to her torso.
