Page 24 of Picture Perfect

"We're not fucking done discussing our next steps. Preston is overdue."

Chapter twelve

Addy ?

The din of the study area is like a static hum in the back of my mind—white noise so thick I can almost find solace. Even if I am out in the open, surrounded by people. I flip to a clean page in my notebook, ignoring the crescendo of Preston and Cecily's makeout session a few feet away.

Tell me you’re putting on a show without telling me you’re putting on a show. Honestly, no one is that noisy for Preston. He kisses like a fish. I grimace at the thought of his lips on mine.

My pen hovers over the paper. He wants a reaction from me. But, the only reaction I have is relief. I can't escape the nightmares at home. I can't escape the chaos of high school drama. I need an escape.

"Mind if we join you?" The words slip into my bubble of concentration with an ease that makes me tense.

My gaze flicks upward, meeting Saint's dark eyes as he, Dre, and Chess descend on the couch I've claimed as my temporary sanctuary. In a fluid motion that belies his imposing frame, Saint drapes himself over the armrest closest to me. His presence is like gravity; felt more than seen.

"Looks like you've got enough room for us," Dre says with a smirk, his ice-blue eyes glinting mischievously. He plops down next to me, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of mint on his breath. Tendrils of his shoulder-length hair brush against my arm as he leans back, tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves like forbidden secrets.

Chess follows suit, his playful grin contradicting the tension I see lining his every inch. "What are you working on?" He nods towards my notebook, his hazel eyes curious behind the strands of dark hair that frame his face in an artful disarray.

"French," I mutter, trying to pull the notebook closer to my chest without seeming too defensive. My heart races—a tiny bird trapped in a cage of ribs. "Just trying to get some peace and quiet."

Dre chuckles, a low sound that reverberates through the space between us. "Good luck with that around here."

Saint remains silent, his attention seemingly elsewhere, but his body language speaks volumes. There's a tension in him, a coiled readiness that has nothing to do with our current conversation.

I glance around at their nonchalant postures, the way they sprawl with an air of entitlement that contrasts sharply with the unease knotting my stomach. These boys are a force unto themselves—unpredictable and magnetic. Part of me wants to edge away, to preserve what's left of my fragile little life, while another part is drawn to their reckless abandon.

They could offer me an escape.

"Seriously, Ice Princess," Dre's voice pulls me back, "you look like you could use a break. What harm's there in a little chat?"

I know what they call me. I’m not ignorant to the reputation I’ve developed. But, that’s not who I am. It’s the armor I donn. Not that they would know anything about that.

Some day, when I’m free of this and I can lay down my sword and shield, I’ll be able to dig down deep and revive my frozen heart. I’ll be able to find out who I really am in this world. But, that won’t happen here, with these people. No, I needed to get far, far away from her first.

And, right now, I needed to get far, far away from these boys.

"Plenty," I think, but don't say. Instead, I offer a tight smile, one that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Maybe some other time," I reply, hoping my voice sounded firmer than I feel.

"Ah, come on," Chess cajoles, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. "We don't bite. Not hard, anyway." His laugh is infectious, and despite myself, I feel the edges of my resolve softening.

"Unless that's what you're into," Dre adds with a wink, and I can't help the blush that creeps up my neck. Fucking save me from boys who don't understand boundaries.

"Guys, really, I—" But my protest drowns in their easy banter, the familiar dance of their friendship pulling me into its rhythm against my better judgment. They're like a storm, and I'm standing perilously close to the eye.

From my peripheral vision, I catch the flicker of motion that is Wesley's sardonic smirk. The way his eyes narrow, not missing a beat of the spectacle before him. Across the hall, Cecily, too, is watching, her gaze sharp and calculating as she leans further into the boy she thinks she's stealing away from me. My heart hammers against my ribs.

"Guys, I can't," I whisper urgently, my voice barely carrying over the hum of the study area.

"Can't what?" Saint asks, his tone light, but his eyes hold a glint of something more serious. "Talk? We're just talking."

"Easy for you to say," I shoot back, my gaze flitting between them and the watchful eyes of my peers. Wesley's presence is like a shadow cast over us, a reminder of the unspoken rules I live by. Rules that don't concern the likes of Saint, Dre, and Chess.

Rules that will get me in a hell of a lot of trouble because of them.

"Relax, Ice Princess. Cece's just jealous. She's had a hard on for Saint for years. And you're not playing her game the way she wants," Dre says, flashing a confident grin that doesn't reach his eyes. If they knew the stakes would they still be here?

"Jealousy's the least of my worries," I mutter under my breath, the weight of potential consequences pressing down on me. My mind spins with dire scenarios, each ending with the cold disapproval of my adoptive family...and much, much worse.

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