Chapter 1
EVERLEE
This dress is as suffocating as it is busy, and I hate it. Reaching down to my feet, the purple sequined gown hugs every inch of me. My breasts push up and outwards like they’re being squeezed to death, but showing some cleavage is sexy, right? I yank on the restricting halter dress with a deep scoop in the back. An inch further and my entire ass would show.
Piling my hair high on top of my head, I twist and pin it up in a messy bun, leaving tendrils down each side of my face. I apply one final coat of plumping lip gloss to my lips, smack them, and shove it back into my clutch.
“Oh. My. God.”
I whip around and find my best friend Sasha standing there, gawking at me with her mouth agape. Her beautiful light red hair is piled high on top of her head as well, but hers looks like a rat’s nest that hasn’t been washed in a few days. Bags line below her eyes that no amount of foundation can cover up. I guess that’s what happens when your boyfriend of two years dumps you without any sign that he was going to, only to turn around and start dating a freshman. Boys are dumb and completely overrated.
“Everlee, you look amazing,” she tells me, stepping further into my room as she continues to openly gawk at me.
Tugging on the dress, I shake my head and scrunch my nose. “The dress is suffocating. I can’t breathe in this thing.”
“Pshh, don’t worry, you and I both know Jett will have that thing off of you in no time.” She plops a small handful of popcorn into her mouth, making herself at home on the end of my bed like always.
I scold her with my gaze, hoping not to tell her off again like last week. She might be my best friend, but she doesn’t always know when to keep her thoughts to herself.
She holds up her hands. “Sorry. Sorry. I know you’re waiting for the perfect night to give yourself to Jett for the first time.” Digging through the popcorn bowl, I watch her bottom lip tremble before she looks back up at me. “I don’t get it. I’ve been sleeping with Dan since the summer before our sophomore year and he dumps me like I’m nothing. The cheating scumbag! You’ve held onto your virginity the entire time being with Jett, yet he’s not dumping you like you’re nothing.”
I love Sasha a ton, but sometimes she can be very dramatic, totally playing the victim card. Sitting on the end of the bed beside her, I ignore how the dress pinches my mid-section, and lay my hand on hers.
“Sash, you and I both know Dan didn’t break up with you because you were or weren’t giving him sex. That’s ludicrous. He’s a dumb boy in high school who slept with the school’s slut. Who knows what’s going on in that head of his? Besides, we’re heading off to college next year and that’s where the real men are. Stop allowing Dan to make you feel like shit.”
Nudging me, she lets out a small laugh. “For someone who doesn’t really live, you always have a wealth of knowledge and know what to say.”
I shrug. “I watch a lot of Hallmark movies.”
The doorbell rings through our laughter and my heart plummets into my gut. It’s Jett. My palms turn sweaty as I whip my glare back to Sasha. I’ve been a ball of nerves since Jett asked me to be his date to tonight’s event. Anyone who’s anyone will be at this gala tonight, but I don’t feel like I fit in. It’s all the rich families from the area, using the gala as their personal pissing contest; who’s wearing the highest fashion, driving the fastest cars, and who’s going to donate the most money. This event is held every single year for the local sports teams. And because Jett is the quarterback at Cork High School, he must attend with his parents. There will be several families and students attending from all the local schools, but it’s those who attend Reaper Academy that scare me the most. They’re the richest; the most powerful; the cruelest. And they happen to be Cork’s rivalry.
I’m not so much nervous about attending the gala—watching everyone put on their fake faces for an evening—as much as I am watching Jett come face to face with his arch nemesis Holden Van. They’ve hated each other since before they could walk, but I suppose it has something to do with their fathers as well. Mr. Hastings—Jett’s father—has always had quite colorful words to say about Mr. Van, though nobody truly knows why. A family rivalry as old as time perhaps?
“Everlee!! Jett’s here!” Mom shouts from the bottom of the stairs.
Shivering, I plaster on a fake smile and look down at the sequins dancing in the overhead light as I breathe heavily. The last time I attended this gala with Jett, he left with a bloody nose that ruined my dress. A dress my mom worked two weeks of overtime in order to buy for me. It left me a little uneasy if you can’t tell.
“Babe,” Sasha says, grabbing both of my hands, “Everything’s going to be amazing tonight. You’re going to dance with your smoking hot boyfriend on the dance floor, he’s going to show you off to all the rivalries, and then he’s going to drive you home where he’s going to leave you breathless with his goodnight kiss.”
I let out a snort, glancing up at her like she’s dreaming. “Now you’re the one who’s been watching too many sappy love movies.” Though I want to believe what she’s saying is true, I know to expect the unexpected when it comes to Jett Hastings. I’ve been with him long enough to know that nothing ever goes normal when I’m out with him.
Shrugging, she guides me out of my bedroom. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’re going to have an awesome night. Think positive.”
We descend the stairs as I hear Jett and my mom talking and laughing. Mom has always adored Jett, but who wouldn’t? Just look at him! He’s the epitome of every star quarterback. Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. Dirty blonde hair that’s perfectly tousled. Abs for days. And his smile? The dimples in his cheeks alone make your knees shake. Jett Hastings is every girl’s dream boyfriend, the god of high school and his peers. I’ve even seen him make a few female teachers blush in his presence.
He stops talking to my mom and turns to me, giving me that half grin that makes my heart slam against my ribs. It’s the smile he only gives me, nobody else. His gaze takes in every inch of me as his grin widens.
“Wow,” he whispers, approaching me at the bottom of the stairs to take my hand in his. I love that when I enter the room, he only has eyes for me. “You look absolutely stunning, Everlee.”
See? Cheek's blushing, I dip my chin and try to fight the flattered grin on my face. I’m nervous as all get out, but Jett always has a way of pulling me out of that state of mind.
Placing his hand on the small of my back, I shiver at the warmth of his right hand; the one I know throws a perfect spiral every game. I smile over my shoulder at him, staring into his deep hazel eyes. His touch makes my heart thunder, and you’d think I’d be excited by his touch, but I’m silently begging him to stop.
“You ready to go?”
With another fake smile, I nod. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.” That came out before I could stop it, getting me a stink eye from my mom.
Jett ignores my statement, gently guiding me to the front door with his hand still on the small of my back.
“What time would you like me to have Everlee home?” Jett asks my mother, and I hope she tells him a ridiculously early time.
But she doesn’t, laughing like a young schoolgirl. “Oh, you know Everlee doesn’t have a curfew when she’s with you.”
Nice. Way to be subtle, Mom. Though I know she’d never be inappropriate, I know deep inside she’s envious of my relationship with Jett. According to her, I’m going to marry him and have his babies someday. Is it horrible that I hope that doesn’t happen? Because I know if I marry Jett, I’ll be his arm candy in this stupid town for the rest of my life. I’ll be the trophy wife I never asked to be. But I’m too much of a coward to end things with Jett. Like everything else in my life, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and follow the path laid before me, not breaking any rules along the way.
We leave the house and Jett helps me into his Jeep, but I can’t stop from staring over at him. I should be thrilled to be the girlfriend of Jett Hastings, blasting it all over social media that I’m the luckiest girl in the world, but I don’t feel that way. There’s something seriously missing from my life, and I don’t know what it is. All I know is that high school is overrated and the guy sitting next to me isn’t my soul mate. I mean, do those even exist anymore? Do people get married nowadays so they’re not alone? Maybe they marry for convenience or power. It breaks my romantic heart that nobody marries for love anymore. At least not that I see.
“You okay, babe?” Jett asks, reaching over to take my hand in his.
My eyes drop to our hands when my heart starts to race. I hate that when he touches me, I immediately want him to stop. There isn’t a spark between us that I see occurring in some of my favorite movies. Now, I know life isn’t like the fictional movies that I watch every day of my life, but a girl can only hope, right? Why can’t life be like that? Love still exists, and I believe there are soul mates for everyone, but maybe I won’t find it here. Maybe I need to spread my wings to find it.
“I’m fine,” I answer, pulling my hand from his. “We’re going to be late.”
He doesn’t say a word as he starts his overpriced truck that his daddy bought him last year on his birthday and pulls out of my driveway. I glance up at my house and wonder what Jett sees in me. I’m not like the other girls in school who live in a big, fancy mansion or drive a car worth more than most homes in the area. Instead, I stare up at the two-bedroom, under a thousand square feet house me and my mom call home. There’s no garage for the single car Mom and I share when she’s not doing a double at the hospital—a car that has definitely seen better days but gets us around fine. There isn’t a single glamorous thing about where I live, yet he still wants to be with me.
By the time I’m done overthinking about things, Jett has pulled up to the gala event. It’s held at the Dixon Center every single year—an enormous building made of granite blocks that give it a sparkling sheen and matching pillars lining the front. Stairs made of marble stretch from the street to the glamorous glass and crystal front doors. It’s places like this that make me want to throw up. There’s so much wealth in the world and most of it seems to be wasted on stupid things like this. Do these rich assholes not realize the number of starving and homeless people in the world? They could give away one of their paychecks and make a huge difference. Instead, they’re attending galas in suits and dresses that cost more than my mom makes in a year—worn only tonight. So wasteful.
The young man at the valet stand approaches Jett’s truck, opening my door for me. I step out, grabbing the skirt of my dress so I don’t trip on my face and make a scene. It’s already bad enough that everyone knows Jett’s dating a girl from the “other side of the tracks.” I don’t need to make it worse for me. Jett circles the front of the truck and places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me up the marble stairs. I feel like I’m being led to my slaughter—one agonizingly expensive step at a time.
“Mr. Hastings, it’s a pleasure to see you this evening, young man. Oh, and you’ve brought your beautiful girlfriend.”
I’ve seen this woman before, but I can’t place her. Resembling a privileged passenger of the Titanic, her dress almost blinds you from the number of sequins and shiny beads threaded into the material. A diamond studded tiara sits atop her silver hair, screaming out that she’s the most important woman in the room, which I don’t doubt for one second. She’s probably in her eighties and that’s what makes her the most dangerous—she’s been around and played the games of the rich and the famous far longer than any of us. Maybe I should take notes.
“Hello, Mrs. Goldman,” Jett greets her. “Another beautiful event you’ve thrown this evening. I look forward to the fundraiser event.”
She claps her hand, gushing over him like he’s a delightful dessert. It makes me want to gag but I keep the fake smile plastered on my face. I can’t help but wonder if she’s related to Goldman Sachs with her last name; it would make sense with her power and wealth.
“Oh, my boy, that event is just for you.” She pats his face. “How is your season going?”
“It’s just beginning, ma’am, so I’ll let you know when we’ve won our first game.”
She bursts into laughter, clapping her hands again. “I do love your witty banter, Mr. Hastings. Save me a dance later, will you? I need to go mingle.” Then she glances over at me. “A pleasure, dear.”
I huff out a breath as she moves away from us like she’s on some kind of escalator—floating through the room from one rich prick to the next. Would it be okay if I faked an illness and got the hell out of here? This is seriously the last place I want to be right now. I’d rather sit in the emergency room with my mom as she checks in one person after another, passing germs and smearing blood all over her counter.
A ruckus breaks out behind us, and Jett turns me by the small of my back until we’re facing the front entrance. Flashing cameras illuminate the figure from behind on the front steps, blocked out only when the doors close. All the rich jerks circle him like he’s the star of the evening, shaking his hand and kissing his ass. Makes sense that it would be the one and only Holden Van—the arch nemesis of my boyfriend.
Jett stiffens beside me, glaring a hole into the side of Holden’s head as he walks by. But it’s the smirk Holden throws my way that makes a line of goosebumps crawl up my spine. I turn, following his movement as he walks with his head held high through the crowd that parts for him. I hate that I don’t hate him. Not even a little bit. How can you hate someone that looks like that?! The guy is easily six and a half feet tall, towering over nearly everyone in the room. He holds himself so confidently that I can’t help but feel envious of him and his stupid energy. His sharp jaw and high cheekbones put Jett’s features to shame. How Holden Van isn’t a model is beside me. Or maybe he is. It wouldn’t surprise me.
When he glances over his shoulder right at me, I instantly feel my heart drop into my stomach. Why would Holden Van look back at me? Do I have something on my face? I touch my cheeks and then my lips, not feeling anything. He smirks at me—a knowing smirk that makes me want to slap him. Why does he have to be stupidly good looking? And why do I want to run my hands through that unruly ink black hair of his? Pushing it from his eyes before he leans down and kisses me with those pink, plump lips and—
“Come on, babe, let’s go find our table,” Jett whispers into my ear, pulling me from a wicked case of daydreaming.
