Page 4 of His Pretty Little Lies
“Is this the teen girl years we heard about?” I ask my brother, grabbing my bag out of my car.
Since it’s the first day of school, we don’t have practice this morning. I still got up early and worked out with Damon. You need to burn off that energy.
"I hope this will forever be her normal."
"Fair point." If she's prickly with us and we spoil her for the most part, then no boy will ever stand a chance. She'd murder them.
My eyes slide across the parking lot again, scanning the area. I did it when I first pulled in, too. It’s a habit both myparents taught me at a young age. You pay attention to your surroundings at all times.
The Marino family might have spent almost two decades cleaning up our dealings, as my dad would call them, but old habits die hard. It’s not as though I haven’t borne witness to many events that would land most people in prison for the rest of their lives.
I give a few people a chin nod but ignore most everyone. There is only one person in this school that isn't my blood that I give a shit about, and I don't see her yet. Is that cold? Sure, but I don’t care. This is high school. After graduation, I’ll likely never see many of these people ever again.
Kinsley is an interesting girl to try to understand. There are parts of her life that are chaotic and others that areveryorganized. One thing I know for sure is when I do eventually spot her, she’ll have one of those notebooks gripped tightly in one hand and a pen in the breast pocket of the collared white polo shirt we all have to wear.
“She’ll be here.”
“I know, now fuck off,” I tell my brother. I’d be a shitty stalker if I didn’t know where she was already, but that still doesn’t stop the need to have my eyes on her in the flesh. That is always a balm to the darkness inside of me wanting to get out and do things to Kinsley. I have no right thinking. Not that it stops me.
Then I see her. Kinsley is tall with legs for fucking days. She has always towered over the other girls. I didn’t know how attractive legs could be until I met her.
Her dark chestnut hair is in two braids trailing down her back. When the day is over, she’ll go home and untie them, leaving her hair silky and with waves that make my fingers itch to touch. There have been so many nights I’ve fantasized about just doing that. It’s a miracle I have lasted this long. I should get a fucking medal.
“We have first class together.” Damon elbows my side. “You know she got here safe, and you know she too is in first class, so let’s not show your stalkerness. It’s the first day.” Of course, I know her schedule. What kind of Marino would I be if I didn’t? Always know your prey Uncle Ronan taught me.
“Don’t give a shit.” I’m not moving from this spot until she passes by me.
“Jesus, you sound like Dad. Get a grip.” Oh, I have plans to get my grip on my girl. “Bro.” He nudges me again. “Don’t be easy. Kinsley enjoys the chase.”
“She doesn’t chase after the opposite sex.” Kinsley would jump off the side of a cliff before she did that.
“I know that. But she enjoys chasing the story. So I’m guessing she’ll enjoy the chase on most everything else.” I don’t agree, but it does have an idea forming in my mind. “Not that face, man. Come on. It’s the first day!” Damon groans, sounding like our sister.
Damon and I are what some call Irish twins. Mom barely popped me out and she was knocked up again. Out of the four siblings, he and I have always been close. The two of us land right in the middle. We can read each other well. It can be irritating but also rather helpful.
My stomach muscles tighten when Kinsley cuts between two parked cars coming into full view. I haven’t seen her in the Golden Prep uniform since last year, and I swear to fuck she might have gotten taller because the skirt on her is shorter this year. Her legs are even more gorgeous than I remembered. And on full fucking display for everyone else to see. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to go over there and try to cover her up.
I know damn well that every other motherfucker in this place is looking at her and thinking the same things that I currently am. Well, not all of them, because most of them only think withtheir dicks. What I want from Kinsley goes way past physical. No, I want her whole world tangled up in mine in ways it will never break free from.
Damon mutters a curse. "How do you keep getting worse? Take the murder face off."
“Does it really look like a murder face?” I try to school my features. I hadn’t realized I was making any face. I do, however, want to murder all the shit bricks staring at her legs. I’m sure they are; I know I can’t pull my eyes away from them.
Right then, Kinsley's brown eyes flick toward me, locking with mine. They widen slightly, but she quickly masks it by averting her gaze. That tightness in my chest returns.
Damon might have been right about love being a disease that messes with your brain, but what he failed to realize—and I'm sure he will one day because all of us Marino men have a knack for crashing out hard when we lock in on our one—is that it affects every part of you.
"It doesn't matter. Can we head in now?" Damon asks when Kinsley passes by.
"Of course we're going now." Stupid question. I'm already in motion, falling in behind Kinsley. Damon shakes his head but keeps in stride beside me.
"How many of those notebooks does she have at this point?" Damon's remark isn't a question, but she's got a fuck ton of them.
"We're getting into the notebook today."
"Now we're talking."
"We're not stealing it."
