Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen Read online

  So, I do the one thing I always do whenever I feel anxious or upset. I start the car, pull my phone out of my bag, scroll through my music playlist until I find what I’m looking for, and crank up the speakers—smiling to myself when “Shake it Off” by Taylor Swift starts playing.

  I don’t know what it is about this song that instantly brightens my mood, but it works every single time. Put on a little T. Swift and all is right with the world again.

  ZAYDEN

  “I HATE THAT BITCH,” Oliver growls before throwing a handful of Red Hots into his mouth, chomping down on them.

  I glance at him out the side of my aviators. “What’s the deal with her, anyway?”

  His eyes narrow into slits and pure hatred mars his face. Oliver doesn’t like many people, and you have to earn it to get on his good side, but this is different than his normal dislike of someone. His usual MO is to pretend they don’t exist. He not only hates this girl, but despises her.

  He tosses the empty box on the dash and stretches out in his seat. “You know what’s up with her. Her and her money-grubbing mother are squatting in my house. Probably stealing the silver and draining as much as they can from our bank accounts while they do it. Fuck my dad for marrying her and letting them come live with us.”

  “Come on, man.” I side-eye the rearview mirror and switch lanes. “It’s more than that. They have money of their own. They don’t need yours.”

  “They may have money, but not like my old man does. People like them… they can never have enough.” I feel his eyes on me. “Why the hell are you defending them?”

  I grit my teeth, my fingers cramping around the steering wheel. An image of thick, luscious brown hair and startled dark-brown eyes comes to mind. Along with it is the addicting scent of roses and the remembered warmth radiating off her body. Despite her having lived there for a couple of weeks already, this morning was my first glimpse of her. Oliver’s new sister is hot as fuck, and it pisses me off. Someone as cunning as her has no business encompassing such a sweet package.

  “You know me better than that, Oliver,” I grunt, anger making the words come out harsh.

  “Dad’s only been divorced for a year. The fucking ink isn’t even dry on the papers. The last thing he needs is some hussy moving into my mother’s house. And my new sister,”—he sneers— “will think she can get anything and everything she wants. Spoiled brat.”

  “Like you always get everything?” The corner of my mouth tips up as I smirk.

  “Fuck off,” he grumbles. His phone chimes, and he tilts to the side to pull it from his back pocket. “Terri says her party’s still on for this weekend. You in?”

  Goddamn parties. I hate them because their mostly filled with sluts from school, wannabes, jocks, and rich pricks. I only go because Oliver wants me there. He says it’s good to show face. Whatever the hell that means.

  “Yeah. I’ll be there.” I flip the blinker and pull into the school parking lot. “But I can’t stay long. Dad has a midnight shift, so I have to watch Danielle.”

  Dad is a janitor at the hospital. The pay is shit, but between his checks and what I make at Benny’s Auto Repair, we make do. We did better when mom was still around. But the bitch had to run off with the rich asshole she worked for, leaving Dad and me behind to take care of Danielle. Not that I’m complaining about watching out for my little sister. I’d do anything for her.

  “How is little Dani?”

  I don’t answer until I’ve parked and gotten out of my truck. “The doctors are worried the pneumonia will come back. They’ve got her on a strong round of antibiotics to try and stave it off.”

  Thinking about the struggle Danielle’s faced her whole life darkens my mood. I snatch my backpack from my truck and slam the door shut, grinding my molars when the loose window rattles and drops down a couple of inches.

  I meet Oliver at the tail gate.

  “That’s shit. Any word on if she got approved for the transplant list?”

  “Insurance company denied her again. Said her case isn’t serious enough.”

  Fucking insurance companies and pharmaceuticals. No doubt if it was their loved ones suffering from emphysema, no matter how mild or severe the case, they’d worm their way to the top of the transplant list faster than a whore drops her panties when she sees a twenty-dollar bill. All rich people are the same. Entitled, greedy, and with the mentality that the world owes them whatever the hell they want.

  Oliver falls into step beside me as we make our way up to the school. “My offer still stands to ask my dad—”

  “No.” I cut him off before he can finish. “You know I appreciate the offer, but we’ll figure it out on our own. We always do.”

  Oliver and his father are a select few who are loaded that I can stand to be around. Oliver and I have been friends since elementary school, before the spoils of riches made him jaded. He and his father have both offered several times to pay for Danielle’s treatments and medicine, but I refuse to take the help of others. Being in debt to the wealthy, even if it is the father of my best friend, is something I’ll never let happen.

  I plan to stop by Hart’s on the way home and talk to him about booking me for a few extra fights.

  “If anything happens, you know my dad will take care of it,” he adds.

  I sidestep a guy before he barrels into me, trying to catch a flying football. “Watch it, asshole,” I growl. He turns to face me, an angry scowl in place, but the look quickly dies when he sees me.

  “Shit, Zayden. I didn’t see you there. Sorry, man.”

  I ignore his apology and step through the school doors. Brandon’s one of the rich pricks I don’t like being around. Especially after he got pulled over for almost hitting an elderly woman while driving drunk, and having his father, who happens to be a judge, get him off on the charges. It’s people like him the world needs less of.

  “Tiffany’s supposed to be at the party this weekend,” Oliver comments when we come to a stop at my locker. “You gonna finally hit it? She’s been jonesing after you for a while.”

  Tiffany’s been after my dick since last year. Ever since I banged Sylvia, one of her friends, and she let loose the size of my cock and how well I can use it. Tiffany’s a pretty girl, but I’ve got no real interest in her. Of course, I don’t need to be interested in a girl to bang her; so long as she looks good and isn’t a clinger, I’m usually down. I’ve let her suck me off a couple of times and it was only mediocre at best. Her fucking teeth almost scraped my dick raw the first time, but I let her have another go, thinking it was from excitement that had her so enthusiastic. Time number two wasn’t any better. She won’t be getting a third chance. At least not with her mouth.

  “Maybe,” I answer noncommittedly. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve felt a warm pussy. Maybe I’ll give that part of her anatomy a chance.

  “Pattie’s coming, too. And she’s bringing her double D cousin. Remember last time—” He stops abruptly. “Motherfucker.”

  I turn at Oliver’s harsh mutter and spot his stepsister come through the doors. And what do you fucking know. My dick takes notice, too.

  She looks around the crowded hallway. Seconds later, her eyes widen and she jerks forward when the closing door pops her in the ass. She drops a couple of books and almost falls on her prettily made up face. She releases a yelp and every pair of eyes move to her. Laughter fills the hallway, including mine and Oliver’s.

  Matters get worse when the door opens again and she’s shoved to the side. “Get outta the way,” Kassandra shrieks.

  I reluctantly give her credit when she doesn’t bow down to the resident mean girl. She glares daggers at the girl’s back and looks like she might chase after her. Eventually, she rolls her eyes, bends, and scoops up the books she dropped.

  “Kassandra should have pushed the bitch harder,” Oliver states, pulling my attention back to him.

  “You don’t think that’s a bit much?” I shove my
backpack in my locker.

  “Fuck no. She needs to learn from the get-go that she’s a nobody here.” He pulls out a small box of Red Hots from his pocket and tips it to his lips. The guy is obsessed with the candy. “I gotta hit my locker. I’ll see you later.”

  “Later.”

  I turn back to my locker and snatch out my chemistry book. As I’m reaching for my calculus book, I feel her at my side.

  “Hi.”

  I glance over, already knowing who it is. Deep brown eyes stare back at me. Thick brown hair falls over her slender shoulders in soft waves. And that damn fresh scent of roses hits me square in the chest.

  I grunt. Not really a hello, but not altogether ignoring her either. I turn back and grab my calculus book, then slam my locker shut. It bangs loudly, and I don’t miss her flinch.

  “My name’s Rylee,” she states, her voice sounding way too soft and alluring. “In case you were wondering. We never got a chance to really introduce ourselves earlier.”

  Rylee.

  I already know her name because Oliver’s bitched about her enough that it’s seared into my brain.

  “This is my locker,” she continues like I’m standing here being the pillar of a listening ear.

  Apparently, the girl wants to talk, so I turn and face her, leaning against my locker. I lift a brow and regard her.

  “So?”

  A frown line appears between her eyes. “Just trying to make polite conversation. You know, since we’ll be locker neighbors.”

  “I don’t like conversation.”

  “What?” She frowns. “How can you not like conversation?”

  I lean in closer, ignoring her rose scent, and say in a low but rude tone, “Because I don’t like talking.”

  She scoffs and flips her hair over her shoulder. Whatever the hell shampoo she uses smells too fucking good for comfort. “That’s dumb. We’re having a conversation right now.”

  I stand from my perch against the lockers and look down at her. “Only because you won’t shut up.”

  Her eyes widen, showing off the little specks of gold hidden in their brown depths, but before she has a chance to open her mouth, I turn and walk away, ready to be out of her presence.

  “Wait!” she calls, and I release a sigh of annoyance. Why can’t the girl get a fucking clue?

  I keep walking, but a moment later, she’s back at my side. “I, uh….” She turns to the side to avoid getting rammed by a couple of seniors. “I was wondering if I could get your help. I have Mrs. Daily first period. Could you tell me which direction to go?”

  “No.”

  I feel her confusion, along with her heated stare. “No? No you won’t help me, or no you don’t know which way to go?”

  “Either. Both. Take your pick.” I stop and turn to face her. “I’m not your goddamn guide, okay? I’ve got no desire to be your friend. And by the end of the day, your locker will be somewhere away from mine. So, find someone else to be your lap dog, and steer clear of me.”

  I don’t wait for her response, as I continue on my way to chemistry, which also happens to be Mrs. Daily’s class.

  “Asshole!” she yells at my back.

  I flip her off over my shoulder.

  Fuck Rylee and her mesmerizing scent.

  RYLEE

  WELL, IF THE FIRST half of my day is any indication on how the rest of the school year is going to go, I’m in for some rough days ahead. After the complete blow off I got from Zayden this morning, things only got worse. I got lost trying to find my first class and ended up showing up nearly five minutes after the last bell. As if it weren’t hard enough being the new girl, having to walk through a room full of strangers with every eye trained on you put the icing on the cake. And to make matters worse, the jerk who refused to help me find my first period class was actually in my first period class.

  I didn’t have better luck with second period, but by third I was starting to get a feel for the building.

  Gripping my lunch tray with both hands, I look out over the crowded cafeteria, trying to find a place to sit. Finally spotting an empty round table in the far corner, I cross the room with my eyes trained directly ahead. I’m not a shy person by any means, and I typically make friends pretty easily, but this is a whole new situation for me. Truthfully, I’m just trying to feel my way through it and find some footing.

  Sliding down into one of the chairs, I sit my tray in front of me and twist the cap off my water. Laughter from a few feet away draws my attention, and I look to the right to see Zayden sitting on top of the lunch table like he’s some sort of king and the table is his throne. I guess that makes all the people in front of him his loyal subjects. Guessing by how he seems to be the center of everyone’s focus, I might have hit the nail on the head.

  He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees as he surveys the crowd. Oliver and a few others are grouped around him, laughing and talking.

  Even though I don’t want to look, I can’t seem to tear my eyes away. The way his messy hair hangs across his forehead. The broadness of his shoulders. The sliver of tanned skin peeking out where his shirt has ridden up in the back. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly parched.

  “Hey there.” I’m pulled out of my trance by a male voice.

  I blink as I look up to the stranger.

  “Hi,” I stutter, the smirk on his face enough to tell me I’ve been caught staring.

  “Are you by chance Rylee?” He plays the name on his lips like he’s trying to figure out if he remembers it correctly. He slides down into the seat across from me without asking if I mind—which I don’t.

  “I am.” I survey the guy in one quick sweep. Average height. Average build. Nice smile. Cute dimple. Blonde hair that’s slicked back from his face, giving him a Leonardo DiCaprio vibe. All in all, I’d say he’s pretty good looking. Not as good looking as some people, my eyes dart to Zayden before coming back to the boy sitting in front of me, but still quite handsome.

  “My friend Chloe said there was a new girl in her French class today. When I saw you sitting over here all by yourself, I assumed it must be you.” He adjusts in his seat. “I’m Charles, by the way. But most of my friends call me Pierce.”

  “Your last name?” I guess.

  “Pretty unoriginal, I know. But it started in grade school and sort of stuck.” He shrugs, pulling the top off of his yogurt.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Charles.” I offer him a friendly smile, turning my attention to my food, untouched on the tray in front of me.

  “Pierce,” he corrects.

  “Right. Pierce.” I nod, my smile spreading.

  I didn’t realize how much I needed this. The human interaction. Actually talking to someone who wasn’t either growling at me or glaring at me like they wanted to take my head off in one quick swipe.

  “So, I see you’ve noticed Zayden.” He looks to the side and my gaze immediately follows.

  God, why does he have to be so good looking?

  My stomach knots thinking about the way he treated me this morning. Guess it’s safe to say Oliver has gotten to him. Not that I expected anything different. Well, I didn’t expect him to be quite so hateful, but I certainly never betted on any of Oliver’s friends actually liking me.

  “Noticed him, was blown off by him, called him an asshole.” I blow out a breath and turn my gaze back to Pierce.

  “Wait, you called Zayden Michaels an asshole?” He snorts out a laugh. “And you’re still sitting here to tell me about it?”

  “Am I missing something?” I hit him with a confused look.

  “Let’s just say Zayden kind of rules the roost around here. Not many people can talk back to him and get away with it. If it’s not him doing the dirty work, it’s one of his minions. They’re all assholes.” He loosely gestures around the room. “But, you’re still in one piece, so I guess that’s something.”

  “I guess,” I halfheartedly agree, picking up a breadsti
ck from my plate before ripping a piece off and popping it into my mouth. I have zero appetite, but considering I haven’t eaten anything since dinner yesterday, I know I need to force a little something down.

  “Too bad he’s such a dick. It’s a shame really.” He glances back at Zayden almost longingly.

  “You’re gay.” It’s a statement, not a question.

  “Bi, actually. I appreciate both sexes equally.” He turns back to me and hits me with a flirty smile.

  “You’re charming, I’ll give you that.” I wave my breadstick at him.

  “So, what’s your story?” he asks as I pop another piece of bread into my mouth, finally starting to relax a little.

  I finish chewing before answering. “No story. At least not an interesting one.”

  “How did you end up at Parkview?” He picks up his plastic spoon and jabs it into his cup of yogurt.

  “My mom remarried.”

  “Where did you go to school before?”

  “Bristol.” I take a long pull of water.

  “No shit? I have a friend that goes to Bristol. Sarah Jennings. Do you know her?” The sound of the familiar name sends a warm sensation through my limbs, bringing back a small piece of home.

  “Sarah Jennings is one of my closest friends.” The smile on my face is completely unforced for the first time all day. “How do you know her?”

  “We dated over the summer a couple of years ago. It didn’t work out, but we’ve stayed in touch.”

  “Wait.” I hold up my hand, starting to piece together the puzzle. “You’re the Charles? The one she met at the fair the summer between freshman and sophomore year?” Sarah talked about this guy all summer—though she never called him Pierce that I can remember. She hyped him up to the point that Savannah, Jane, and I had started to believe she had made him up. No guy was that perfect. Our suspicions only grew when they conveniently broke up right before school started and not a single person ever met him.