Page 24 of Knight

“If she’s starring in a rap video.” I arch an eyebrow her way, Willow’s cheeks reddening.

Bella claps. “Then it’s perfect!”

Willow kicks off the sky-high heels on her feet. Black and shiny like her bra. “We were just …”

Crossing my arms, I wait for her answer. I’m not trying to be judgemental, I swear. But I am curious. She drops her shoulders, sighing, “Okay don’t get mad but …” She squeezes her eyes shut. “King’s having a party.”

“Damien?” I’m not sure why I’m asking for confirmation. I already know.

Damien’s having a party like it’s a regular weekend night. Like his dad didn’t just die. Like he didn’t just humiliate me in front of everyone for the gazillionth time.

Willow must see my jaw clench, my hands turning into fists because she sighs.

“Told you she’d be mad,” Bella chimes.

“I’m not!” I am.

Willow doesn’t believe me, straightened hair falling over her shoulder when her head drops to the side. “Really? You’re not upset that I’m going to King’s party?”

Would I be narcissistic to think that he did this to spite me? Or would that be classic Damien? Freshmen don’t usually get invited to these parties and I know he’s calculating enough to get Willow to rub it in my face. “When did he invite you?”

“He didn’t, I did,” Bella pipes up again, fixing her hair in Willow’s mirror behind her door. “We’d invite you but,” she shrugs, eyeing my outfit again. “You know.”

Willow shoots Bella a look before she picks up the heels from the floor. She looks older than I do, all dolled up and girly. Her big brown eyes look even brighter, lined with eyeliner, sparkles on her eyes. “I won’t go if you’re going to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad!” The aggression in my voice doesn’t help my case, Willow raising an eyebrow. I deflect, “How are you getting there? Don’t say Bella, I know she doesn’t drive.”

She hesitates before she says, “We’re getting a ride.”

“From who?” I drop my head to the side in the same fashion. “Freshmen don’t drive.”

“We’re getting a drive from a sophomore.” Willow rolls her eyes, glancing at Bella. “Don’t worry, it’s a girl!”

For some reason that makes my muscles relax. At least they’ll be in the hands of an older female student. “Fine. Keep your phone handy, okay?”

“Really?” Willow beams, her bright brown eyes glowing in delight. She runs up to me and hugs me and it feels good. So good. Her hair smells like coconuts mixed with whatever flowery perfume she has on but I sink into it. If anyone has my back it’s her. “Thanks, Jo. We’ll be back early.”

“No, we won’t!” Bella chimes from behind her and Willow rolls her eyes again.

“Text me,” I say, squeezing her.

When I’m back in my room I try to forget that Damien’s having a party at all. One he didn’t invite me to. One I’m not welcome at. I don’t need to be at Damien’s mansion anyway, right? The key I buried in my drawer calls me but I try to ignore it. Here, in my room is where I need to be. Nose in my books. Eyes on the prize. That scholarship.

I’m settling into another chapter when I hear giggles and the sound of footsteps going down the stairs. Out of curiosity, I head into the hallway, watching through the window by the stairs. I’m wondering who this sophomore is that’s picking up my sister. With the curtain pushed to the side, I can make out Willow and Bella heading to a Maserati. It’s as sleek and shiny as a silver bullet.

Tying my hair to the top of my head in a sloppy bun, I squint. My jaw clenches when a tall guy gets out of the passenger’s seat, followed by a stocky guy getting out of the driver’s, welcoming the girls. My eyes narrow.

For fucks sake, it’s a couple of ERA jocks. Not a sophomore girl at all.

Luca Ferraro and his attempt at being a criminal settle into my brain. It makes me clench my fists, makes my blood go cold. Fuck. I know what these jocks are capable of. I don’t want my sister at a party without me.

I’m halfway down the stairs before I realize I’m chasing after her. I’m livid. I can’t believe she lied to me. Not that I haven’t kept my fair share of secrets but still … she lied to me.

Opening the door, I call her name but I’m too late. The car speeds away.

“Miss Rowland, it isn’t summertime in the Hamptons,” Vincent, the Archibalds’ housekeeper, calls from behind me. “Close the door!” Rolling my eyes I turn around, slamming it shut.

Ignoring him, I make my way back up the stairs. I want to forget what I saw. Want to ignore the fact that my sister is on the way to King’s party with two jocks I don’t know. The door slams when I get to my room and I pace back and forth, my boots thudding against the floor.

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