Clearly, I’ve pissed someone off in a past life.
He's waiting at the assigned desk in the library, his books and supplies spread out around him. He's so classically good looking, like he’s a Grecian fantasy, and I have to remind myself that he is a dick before I sit down with him. The sneer he gives me helps to calm my hormones down. I can admire him from a distance, but the vitriol he spits at me on a daily basis proves just how badly I need to keep him at arm's length.
“Oh, goody. I get to spend three hours a week with trash,” he drawls, and I grit my teeth.
“If you want the help with your assignments, then yeah, you’re stuck with the trash.”
He grins at me, and it’s not a nice thing.
I pull out my own schoolwork and get the utter joy of his criticism on what seems like every aspect of my life. I do my best to ignore it, but I’m not the most patient person.
“Your handwriting is atrocious. Why do you bite your nails? They make you look like a boy? You shouldn’t slouch; you might actually have a decent rack, and no one will notice it if you’re all hunched over—“
“Can you shut the fuck up and tell me what you need help with?” I hiss at him. He smirks like he knows he’s got in a direct hit. Fuck, I wish I’d met him at Mounts Bay. I’d have destroyed him with calculated calm and a grin on my face. I would have Matteo at my back and be able to end him in creative and devious ways. We could have made a real game of it. But instead I’m at Hannaford, and I’ve already pissed one Avery’s boys off so far. I can’t push it until I know the lay of the land. I need to hold my cards close to my chest until I know the best way to play them.
He shows me his math homework, and then starts to work through the problems quietly. I watch him while he works, and I realize straightaway that something is off. I can't quite put my finger on it, but the way he looks at the paper, he's not really trying to work out the answers. It's infuriating.
“Can you at least do a better job of pretending to try? If you're not going to take this seriously, I'll use the time to study instead.”
He gives me a look. His eyes are penetrating, like he’s trying to get a good look at what's happening under my skin. I’m used to being looked at like this, but it’s disconcerting getting it from a rich kid at Hannaford. Why would he need to know anything about me? In four years I’ll cease to exist in his life, and he’ll take over his family’s billion-dollar empire. Yeah, I looked up the Beaumonts. Billionaires. It made me queasy to think about that sort of money.
“You only get the credit if you do it properly. I’ll let the office staff know how little you care about helping other students.”
“Why should I help you if you won't try?”
He leans back in his chair and folds his arms. He’s leaner than Harley but he’s still much bigger than me. I shiver. God, I’m broken.
“Because you’re Mounty trash and you need the credits. I could never work a day in my life and I’ll still out-earn you exponentially.”
I clench my teeth. I hate him. Even if he is gorgeous.
We continue to bicker and fight our way through all of his homework. He tells me he needs help with every subject, and as the hour dwindles down, I can taste my freedom. The library door swings open and Avery walks in, making a beeline for our table.
Great.
I brace myself, assuming she’s here for me, but she doesn’t even glance my way. Her eyes are glued on Ash.
“What’s this about you starting fights with Joey?”
She’s softer with Ash than anyone else, like he’s some precious thing that needs to be handled with care. He doesn’t look that way to me, especially as he looks at her with a glare. It’s clearly not aimed at her. He treats her with the same unflinching care.
“Fuck Joey. He knows Harley is off-limits, and yet he still keeps coming for him. I’ll fucking end him, Floss.”
Her eyes flick at me when he calls her that, but she doesn’t pull him up. She has her hands on her hips and she’s looking at him like he’s a naughty child she needs to discipline.
“Can you please contain yourself? It's a lot harder to minimize damage here than it was in the lower grades. I have a lot on my plate as it is.”
“He's the one being a dick. I couldn't exactly sit around with my thumb up my ass while they started in on Harley, could I? I don’t know why they seem to think that they’ll be able to beat us. We’ve been handing them their own asses since middle school.”
He goes back to his homework, but if he thinks she’s going to let it go, he is sorely disappointed.
“I wasn't saying you should! Next time, call me.” She tucks a perfect black curl behind her ear with long, slender fingers. She makes me feel so damn unrefined and clumsy. I stop looking at her altogether.
“So I should just make you fight all our battles, then? I should hide behind your skirt when our big, bad brother zeros in on us? That’s not how this works.” Some of his cool demeanor slips, and I see the rage burning in his eyes.
“No, let me deal with it so I have less to do. Once you let him get to you, it turns into a bigger problem, and then I spend weeks cleaning it up. Do you really want to put more on my plate, Ash?” she pleads.
“Fuck him. Don’t clean it up, I’ll burn him and everyone who decides they’re on his side.” He starts packing up, and I follow his lead. Family politics are not my thing, and I want to get out of here before Avery remembers I’m sitting here listening to them.
