Deceit (Gallows Hill Book 1), page 4
“Me,” I smile.
“Yeah? You, Miss…”
He trails off, waiting for me to fill in my last name no doubt.
“Parris,” I fill in.
His teasing smirk drops in a moment and his eyes widening as he takes a quick step away from me, like my touch has burned him. It takes him a moment to seemingly compose himself, before he straightens his posture and slips on a mask of indifference.
“Your name is Skyla Parris?”
I frown at his lightning quick change of character as I nod.
“Yes, is something wrong with that?”
He shakes his head once.
“No, I just didn’t realize. You’re engaged to Asher Putnam.”
I roll my eyes at the reminder.
“Does everyone on this campus know that?”
“Yes,” he answers quickly, so quickly it makes me take a second look at him. Really? Why on earth would it be everyone’s business? I’ve only been here two days. Unless arranged marriages are extremely common around here, it wouldn’t surprise me if they were. Or maybe this arrangement has been set in stone for a lot longer than I’m thinking. That, I really wouldn’t be surprised about.
“Well, if I’m honest, I don’t have much interest in marrying him. He’s an ass and has nothing but disdain for me. I don’t know why my father thought we would ever work out.”
“Working out doesn’t matter, committing to your arrangement is all anyone will care about,” Ronan says.
“Well, what if I’m unhappy? What if it would make me unhappy to marry him? I humored my father out of respect, but I can’t marry a man that can hardly stand the sight of me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says briskly.
“It does to me,” I counter.
Ronan looks away for a moment before he speaks, keeping his eyes fixated on the wall as he does.
“Happiness is just a fairy tale dream. Even if you think you have it, think you can taste it, you’ll wake up soon enough and it will fade from your mind, until you can’t remember it at all.”
There is something so strong in his words, so truthful. Like he knows this pain firsthand. It breaks my heart. First, to hear someone be so cynical about something as simple as happiness. Second, to be so obviously crushed under the heel of life’s boot that you’ve accepted a future devoid of happiness.
“I hope not,” I say softly.
He swings his gaze back to me, a disbelieving look in his eye.
“You hope not?”
I nod. “In the lack of happiness or light, or anything relatively good, there is always hope. It’s always sitting there, idly by, ready for you to take it. You just have to be brave enough to.”
Ronan doesn’t say anything, and honestly, I don’t know what else there is to say. So with a small shrug, I walk past him, grabbing my things and head back to my dorm before the sun comes up.
Chapter Five
Asher
I’m sleeping, or at least trying to, but some annoying fuck keeps pounding on the door. Finally, having enough of it I drag myself out of bed, hopping over the passed out girl beside me before I open the door. I expect it to be Liam, he’s about the only obnoxious fucker out there that would have the balls to bang on my door so early in the morning.
To my surprise, it isn’t my best friend but instead, my uncle. He looks down at me, sneering as he looks away.
“Christ. Can you at least have the decency to get dressed before you open the door?”
“Why should I care? You’re entering my space.” I shrug as I leave the door open, strolling back inside unapologetically naked, before I jump over the girl beside me and land on the bed.
She rolls over sleepily, looking up at me like I’m her whole fucking world when she notices we have company. Glancing up at him, she pales as she scrambles to cover herself.
“C-coach Ronan! Sorry, I was just going,” she says, wrapping herself up in my blanket as she quickly grabs her discarded dress and stripper heels before scurrying out of the room.
Ronan shakes his head at me in what looks like disappointment. Then again, I think that’s just his face. He’s disappointed in most shit nowadays.
“Dude, you’re engaged now. You can’t be doing this shit,” Ronan chastises.
I choke out a laugh as I shake my head and throw my arms over my head.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want, and we both know that.”
He levels me with an unimpressed look.
“Within reason, Asher. Your dad is not going to like it if he hears you’re publicly making a fool out of your fiancée, out of your arrangement. You have to be more discreet.”
I roll my eyes, even if he has a point. Father doesn’t care what I do, just like I don’t give a fuck what he does. What he does care about is power and perception, if I threaten either of those for him… maybe Ronan has a very good point. I just wish I had it in me to care.
“Put some fucking underwear on at least,” Ronan grumbles as he looks down at me, shaking his head before rifling through my drawers.
He grabs a pair of boxers and throws them at me before looking out the window. I roll my eyes but slip them on.
“There, happy?” I ask, as I lean back against my bed.
“Hardly,” he says flatly, as he sits in one of the recliners across from me.
I snort at that. We have the same bleak and dark sense of humor about life and the future. He’s more like a brother than an uncle to me and it’s not just because we are only ten years apart. We both hold a deep resentment for our last name and what it means to be a Putnam, the responsibilities we are bound to from birth. Though we know there’s no way out of it but through it, it’s nice to bitch about it with someone who gets it.
“So, what’s your fiancée like?” Ronan asks after a minute or so.
I scrunch up my face before I shrug.
“She’s hot. Seems a bit too prudish, but I’m sure I can fuck it out of her one day. Definitely not who I would have chosen.”
Ronan makes a face, before looking towards the wall and shaking his head before looking back at me.
“Who would you have chosen?” he asks.
“Does it matter? We both know I don’t get jack shit say in all of this.”
He shrugs as I mull over his question. No one comes to mind, honestly. There are plenty who come to mind under the hell fucking no category. My phone chimes beside my pillow and I unlock it to see it’s the president of the hell fucking no club.
Bridgette Brenton is the most annoying fuck I’ve ever dealt with. I took her virginity about three years ago and she still chases after me like a bitch in heat. I swear to god, I could tell the woman to jump into a lake of fire and she would do it, gladly. Sometimes I feel something close to empathy for her. She truly believes that one day I’ll wake up and realize I’ve always loved her, when the truth is, I can hardly stand her. The only reason I keep her on the rotation is because she sucks dick like a goddamn porn star.
She does come in handy for things other girls wouldn’t be willing to do as well, like greet my fiancé butt ass naked while getting fucked on her bed. I smirk to myself when I think about the shocked look on the Princess’ face. I could have sworn I saw a touch of arousal in those crazy deep green eyes, but it was probably wishful thinking.
We don’t get lucky enough to marry women that will meet all of our needs. We get matched with the respectable kind, the ones who will produce as many heirs as we want and will stay silent all their lives. Looks like Henry Parris did a good job of providing that, considering the Princess seems about as subservient as they come. Probably what comes from being hidden away from our world for the last sixteen years.
Ronan is the only member of an Elder family that has made it unscathed thus far. He was engaged when he graduated from Gallows Hill like every man typically is, but he was able to slither his way out of it.
Lucky fucker.
Unfortunately for me, they decided I needed to be betrothed earlier than most. Usually arrangements aren’t even made until after graduation, and most of the time you get a little say in who, at least a few top choices. Not me though.
“I’ve heard she’s a nice girl,” Ronan says, assumingly talking about the Princess again.
“I’m sure she is. Gonna suck for her when she figures out I’m not a nice guy.”
“You sure she doesn’t already know that?” Ronan asks with a dubious look.
I grin at him. “If she doesn’t now, she will soon.”
It’s Saturday morning and I’m sitting on the cement steps of the courtyard with Liam and some especially clingy women when a fuming blonde tornado comes tearing up to me.
“What the hell is this!” she seethes as she throws a crumpled up piece of paper at my head.
I don’t flinch, allowing it to hit me and roll to the floor. I don’t need to look to know what it is.
“Looks like a note,” I draw out casually.
Smoke practically billows out of her ears, as her fists clench at her sides and her arms shake. I’ve got to say, I’m a little surprised. Maybe she isn’t as subservient as I assumed she was. I have to admit, this makes things a lot more fun.
Margret Bartlett comes up beside her, pulling her arm slightly like she’s trying to get her to back down. Margret may be a rebel by her mother’s standards for preferring the company of women, but she knows better than to cross me. Looks like she’s trying to convince her new bestie of the same ideals. My fiancé doesn’t appear to be in a wavering mood, though.
Liam reaches down, the little shit unable to help himself from stirring the pot, as he un-wrinkles it and begins reading it out loud.
“To my dearest fiancée, I hope your dreams are as wet as your pillow.”
He grins before looking at me, his eyes searching mine as he shakes his head.
“You didn’t.”
I shrug casually, doing my best to bite back a smile.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A cackle erupts from him as he jumps to his feet, his laughter escalating until he’s practically in tears. The princess sends him a fierce look that only quiets him down some, before one of the girls besides me asks, “What did he do?”
I turn to look at Skyla, curious if she has the guts to admit what she woke up to this morning. Of course she doesn’t though. Too proud with that iron clenched jaw, not allowing a single weakness to show.
Alright, I’ll do the honors for her.
“I left her a little….morning delight on her pillow this morning.”
It takes the slow women around me several seconds before realization hits them. They all begin hysterically laughing and Liam starts up once again. Swear to god, the guy is like a goddamn hyena.
My eyes don’t leave the princess as the laughter grows, her hardened exterior softening with each passing second. A tear even slips out of the corner of her eye, before she discreetly banishes it away. Damn, she’s not nearly as tough as I was anticipating. That’s a shame for her. She won’t last two months at Gallows Hill. Then again, maybe that could work in my favor.
With a withering glance– that I’ll be honest, would shrivel most men’s balls right up– her and Margret turn on their heels as they head back to the dorms. No doubt, they are hell bent on getting out of here before too many people join in. Guess she’ll probably be upset when she finds out that the picture of the note, the cum soaked pillow and her drooling face was mass sent to every student enrolled.
Oops.
Chapter Six
Skyla
“Do you want to go somewhere? We can go anywhere you want,” Maggie offers, as we make it away from the pack of assholes and closer to the dorms.
I shake my head as I continue walking past my dorm, heading for the end of campus.
“I just want to be alone. Thanks, Mags,” I say with a miserable smile.
She frowns at me, but nods as she stops walking with me. I can feel her eyes watching as I walk through the large black gates and past the parking lot. Honestly though, I don’t know where I’m going.
Technically, I don’t have my license. I learned how to drive in London, but I haven’t even been here long enough to attempt to get one. There is no way I’m calling my father. If he finds out about this it’ll be my head, I’m sure of it.
I guess I could call a rideshare or something, but walking is the best way to clear my mind. I don’t really know where I’m going, but my feet just keep carrying me further and further away from campus, which is really all I need right now.
Three or four miles in, my feet begin to ache and I end up stopping outside a bar and grill. Hopefully, I won’t run into anyone that knows me or my face here. Maggie showed me the picture, that’s actually what woke me up. Her hurried knocks at my door, followed by the humiliating photo of me asleep, drool coming out of my mouth beside my cum stained pillow and Asher’s lovely note.
To say it’s been a terrible start to the day would be an understatement.
When I step inside, I notice the restaurant is significantly darker than I expect it to be. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust when a familiar figure comes from what looks like the bathrooms, nearly knocking me over in the process. His hands quickly stabilize me, his bright blue eyes pinning me in place as he looks at me.
At first, surprise is written all over his face. Then, concern covers his features as his eyes flick over me.
“What’s wrong?” Ronan asks.
I do my best to smile, shaking my head as if everything was right as rain, but he isn’t buying it.
“Your mascara is all over your face, Skyla.”
Panicked, I reach my hand up touching my wet cheek and internally curse. Well, this is just wonderful. I’ve been parading myself all over Salem looking as broken as I feel right now.
Ronan’s hand slips to my lower back as he gestures to a corner booth in the back. Wordlessly, I follow him as he stops by the bar top, grabbing a glass of water and a few napkins. He dunks the napkins in water before handing them to me. I hesitate to take them for a moment.
“I don’t have any makeup with me to re-do it.”
He frowns. “So?”
“So, everyone will see my bare face. They’ll think I’m some hot-mess girl who doesn’t care about her appearance.”
“And black tear-streaks don’t say that?”
My lips smash against each other, his point more than taken as I grab the napkins from him. I pull out my phone, turn on the selfie camera and cringe when I see myself. God, this is humiliating.
Slowly, I scrub away every scrap of makeup left on my skin. When I’m done, I set the makeup coated napkins on the counter before I lower my face. Maybe, if no one sees me, it won’t be that bad. They won’t notice my dark circles or how my cheeks are always a little more red than the rest of my face, and hopefully they’ll miss the scar here and there from good old hormonal acne.
“Why are you so worried about not wearing any makeup? You weren’t in the pool?” Ronan asks.
“It’s different. I wasn’t supposed to see anyone in the pool, this is public. Anyone could see me and—”
“And?” he interrupts.
I shrug. “Judge. Talk.”
“So, if you would have known I was going to be in the pool, you would have put on makeup? Despite having your face submerged for a significant amount of time?”
I think about that for half a second before I have my answer. Would I have much rather preferred having my metaphorical war paint on when dealing with the grumpy tattooed swimmer and the unfairly hot swim coach? Absolutely.
I nod. “They make waterproof makeup for a reason.”
Ronan doesn’t seem impressed by my answer though, instead just shaking his head as he reaches for the beer sitting on the table, lifting it to his lips and taking a healthy sip before setting it down.
“You don’t need that shit anyways,” he grumbles, almost to himself more than anything.
“Makeup?” I laugh. “I definitely do.”
“No,” he says seriously, his eyes ensnaring me as he speaks. “You don’t.”
Something inside of me twists at his words, and I find it difficult to swallow for a moment before I nod.
“So, what’s wrong?”
“Hm?” I ask.
“You were crying, obviously. Why?”
The reminder of this morning hits me in full effect, and just like that, I’m furious all over again.
“My lovely fiancé just decided my Saturday needed to start off with a heavy dose of public humiliation.”
His brows knit together at that.
“What do you mean?”
I bite my lip and turn my head away, refusing to go into detail. It’s bad enough that without a doubt, the whole school is literally laughing in my face right now. I don’t need it from the staff as well. I feel a thumb press against the side of my chin, gently turning my face back to him, as he leans across the table a little more and watches me intently.
“What did he do?”
Something about the way he is looking at me, the way he is touching me, is forcing all of my walls to drop simultaneously. So, with a shaky hand, I pass my phone to him. It’s open to the personalized message I got from Asher this morning, along with the photo.
Ronan removes his hand from my chin, before looking down at the phone. His jaw ticks, as he stares at it for longer than I’d care before he looks back up at me.
“I’ll take care of this.”
I shake my head. “Please don’t, it will only egg him on. For whatever reason, he’s trying to make my life miserable, despite me wanting nothing more to do with this situation than him. Feeding into it only gives him the attention and control he’s clearly so desperate for.”
He stares at me, seemingly speechless for several seconds before he speaks.
“You’re a hell of a lot more intuitive than your meek demeanor portrays.”
I shrug. “You notice a lot when you stay quiet.”
Ronan nods and is about to say something when the waitress comes up beside him and smiles.
