That gives me pause. I didn’t tell a damn soul about—no, wait. Ella knows. So do Hartley and Reed. And Pash definitely suspects.
“Another teacher insinuated about it in the faculty lounge this morning.” Panic creeps into her eyes. “If this gets back to Headmaster Beringer, I’ll be fired!”
I can’t stop a sarcastic retort. “Don’t you think you shoulda thought of that before you fooled around with me in this classroom?” I wave my hand around the empty space.
Her pretty face collapses. She looks like I just slapped her, and even though a rush of guilt floods my stomach, I try to tamp it down. Why can’t people take responsibility for their actions? I knew what we were doing was wrong when we did it. I own that. She needs to own it, too. The woman made it clear from the first minute I stepped into her classroom that she wanted to take me for a ride.
We didn’t even do that much.
I try to reassure her. “Look, relax. Nobody saw us, and there’s absolutely no proof that anything happened. If Beringer questions us, we just deny it.”
Ms. Mann bites her lip. “We deny it…”
“Yes.” My tone is firm. “It never happened, okay?”
A weak smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “What never happened?”
I grin wryly. “Exactly.”
* * *
After the last bell, Felicity corners me at my locker before I can escape. With quick, determined strides, she marches up and plants a loud, sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“Awww,” someone sighs from behind us, but I can’t tell if it’s with appreciation or jealousy.
I turn briefly and notice the covetous stares of the girls standing at the end of the locker bank. They take one look at me and Felicity and start whispering to each other.
There’s a tug on my hand. I peer down in time to see her lace our fingers together. I try to snatch my hand back, but she holds on tight. Man, she’s got a lethal grip for such a tiny thing.
“What are you doing?” I growl.
“Holding my boyfriend’s hand,” she chirps.
I take a deep breath. Then, slowly and methodically, I bring my mouth close to her ear and hiss, “Swear to God, woman, I’m about to lose my shit. I told you a million times, I was drunk. I’m not fucking doing this.”
She stares up at me. “Yes, you are.”
“This is over, Felicity. Do you hear me?”
I don’t bother to lower my voice, and Felicity whirls around to make sure nobody heard what I said. When she’s satisfied her cover hasn’t been blown, she speaks in a tone you’d normally use on a bratty toddler.
“Easton. We had an arrangement, and it doesn’t end unless I want it to end.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“That’s exactly how it works.”
I can feel the anger surging in my veins. I hate Felicity’s kind. I’d pick girls like Ella and Val and Hartley over girls like Felicity and Lauren and Jordan any day. Their sense of entitlement makes my blood boil. Which is all sorts of ironic, because I’m as entitled as they are. I get whatever I want, whenever I want it. That’s what it means to be a Royal.
But for some reason, it’s really unattractive when I see that quality in other people.
Does Hartley view me with the same scorn and disgust I feel toward Felicity? I hope not.
“Look, can’t we just walk away like normal, non-psycho people?” I ask politely. “Having a girlfriend, even a fake one, cramps my style.”
She makes an annoyed noise. “I told you, as long as you’re discreet, you can hook up with whoever.”
“Discreet? Baby, I don’t know the meaning of that word. I screwed my brother’s ex-girlfriend in his bed. I hooked up with Niall O’Malley’s mom during an after-party at his house. I took on two of the Pastels a year ago in the Carringtons’ pool. If we keep this up, I’m just gonna embarrass you and make you look bad.”
Her nostrils flare.
“Not on purpose,” I add hastily. “But because that’s who I am. I don’t think about shit before I do it. Do you really want to be the girlfriend of the guy who broke it off with his girlfriend over a text message?” That’s what Claire likes to tell people, even though I conveyed the message in person. For once, that lie is going to work in my favor.
Felicity goes quiet. When her haughty expression eventually falters, I know I’ve gotten through to her.
Girls like her are all about image. And, yes, having a Royal on her arm is a massive image booster, but we both know she’d be better off if that Royal was Gideon, my upstanding older brother. Or Reed, who might be a broody bastard but doesn’t usually fuck up in public. Me, I’m the Royal mess and everyone knows it.
Her hands drop to her sides. I can see the wheels in her head turning and turning. “Last night at the pier…” she starts. “You said I could tell everyone I broke up with you.”
I eagerly grasp onto the lifesaver she throws me. “Yes,” I answer quickly. “You can say I did some terrible thing to you and that you dumped my ass.”
“No. Telling them is not enough.”
For fuck’s sake. “So what do you want, then?”
“A public breakup,” she says decisively. “I want to tell you off in front of everyone and make it clear that you are so far beneath me and I want nothing to do with you anymore.”
It takes some effort not to roll my eyes. “Sure. Whatever.”
“My beach bonfire is on Friday,” she reminds me. “After the game. You said you would come.”
Did I? I don’t remember agreeing to it, but I probably would’ve ended up there anyway. “Okay.”
“We’ll hang out for a bit before I break up with you. And you’ll just stand there and take whatever I give you.”
Hey, if the end result is being free of this wacko, I’ll run through the bonfire buck-naked and let her throw tomatoes at me. I nod at her. “Fine.”
Pleased, Felicity rises on her tiptoes and gives me another kiss on the cheek, probably for the benefit of a passing trio of pretty sophomores. My skin crawls, but I manage to fake a smile. Also for the benefit of the sophomores.
“So I’ll see you at the party tonight?” she says cheerfully.
Unfortunately. “Absolutely.”
Chapter 19
Bran’s first play of the game on Friday night is a fifty-yard pass directly into the hands of his receiver, who runs it in for the TD.
That badass play sets the tone for the rest of the game—we score on nearly every other drive, if not touchdowns then field goals, and we have a twenty-seven-point lead going into the half.
Hartley didn’t end up having to work, so she’s in the stands with Ella and Val again. So are Seb and Sawyer. Lauren, surprisingly, is nowhere to be seen.
I can’t miss Coach’s halftime speech, so I’m not able to stop and chat, but I grin and wave at my crew before disappearing into the tunnel. I’m pumped that Hartley came. I hope this means she’s going to chill with us after the game.
The second half is as high scoring as the first. Saint Lawrence Academy manages to get on the board with two TDs, but Astor Park’s lead is commanding and SLA can’t make up for the huge shit they took on the field before halftime.
We win. Obviously. And Bran gets the game ball. Coach Lewis tosses it into his new quarterback’s hand, smacks Mathis on the shoulder and says, “You played some damn good football tonight, son.”
The rest of our teammates, myself included, cheer in agreement. I jog over to Bran and slap his ass. “Dude. That was brilliant. You’ve been holding back on us in practice.” No joke—he threw for over four hundred yards tonight.
He shrugs modestly. “Hey, I can’t reveal all my secrets right out of the gate.”
I grin. “A man of mystery. I dig it.”
Bran chokes out another laugh.
Dom wanders over to us. “We’re hitting the Worthington place, right? Felicity’s been telling the whole school that’s where the after-party is.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s the plan. I need to stop off at home first, though.” I plan on raiding Dad’s liquor cabinet because I don’t trust Felicity to serve the hard stuff. Last time I partied there, it was mostly wine and mixed drinks.