“Do you really need that much, Ivy?” Jennifer appears behind us. “You eat like that no one’s going to give you a second glance.”
I meet Babs’s eyes, and we share a silentwhat the fuckmoment. I look over at Ivy expecting her to show some form of emotion, anger or hurt or something, but she just looks resigned. Defeated. Like this is something she’s always dealt with.
“She was up at five this morning swimming laps again. That’s probably not even enough food to fuel her,” I say sharply.
“Barbara, we’ll need to discuss what Ivy is and is not allowed to eat later today,” Jennifer ignores me. She turns her attention to Ives and pats her shoulder condescendingly. “You’ll thank me in ten years when your metabolism goes to shit.”
Sounds like we’ll be stuck with the twat this week. “Jennifer, are you staying here this week or going to the city with Dad?”
“I’m staying this week.”
Fuck. That sucks.
I swear I see Ivy’s shoulders droop. She’s clearly as bummed about that answer as I am. Jennifer takes her hot lemon water and leaves the kitchen without saying another word. No “have a good first day at your brand-new school”or “I love you.” How is Ivy such a good, sweet girl when she comes from someone so nasty?
“You riding with me today?” I ask.
“Yeah, do you mind driving me the first couple of weeks until my car comes? I don’t feel comfortable driving your dad’s cars.”
“No problem, but I do have practice every day after school. You can hang out on the bleachers and watch like you used at camp.”
She rolls her eyes and shoulder checks me. She finishes up her breakfast and slides off the stool. I haven’t gotten a good look at her this morning, and, damn, she’s smoking in our uniform. She’s wearing the high heels, and her legs are bare and toned. She went with royal blue tartan skirt—my personal favorite for the girls—not that she knows that. She has the black blazer and blue tie over the standard white oxford shirt. Her hair is pin straight again, and she has a light layer of makeup on. Not that she needs it. She smells the same, that light, fruity smell that makes my dick perk up.
“The uniform looks good on you,” I say while I give her an obvious once over.
“I could say the same for you,” she returns the look, “but you’d probably look good in a hazmat suit, so I guess that isn’t saying too much.”
I can’t help the grin I give her. She clearly feels the same way about me that I do about her. I grab my backpack and gym bag and gesture toward the side of the house the garage is on. “Let’s do this.”
I look over at her when we’re on way, and she’s fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.
“Are you nervous about starting a new school?”
She looks over at me like she’s trying to decide how honest to be. “Yeah, a little. I haven’t gone to a mixed gender school in five years.”
“Awww, you scared of some boys, Ives?” I tease.
“No, asshole,” she punches my shoulder with surprising force. “I’m just not sure what to expect.”
“Stick close to me, and you’ll be fine.” Almost everyone respects me, due to my family name, who my friends are, and that stupid nickname Margaux gave us last year. The Titans. I hope everyone forgets about that this year. Like I want the reminder of the weight of my life expectations hanging over me.
“Oh, it’s really pretty,” Ivy says leaning forward to get a better look at the campus as I drive up.
I park between Con’s Bentley and Griff’s Range Rover right at the front of the parking lot. They’re both leaning against Con’s car, neither smiling as usual. I get out and wait for Ivy, who takes a deep breath, straightens her spine, and lifts her chin. She nods hello to both Con and Griff, which they both return.
“I’m taking her to pick up her schedule in the headmaster’s office.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer when she tries to shake me off. I’ll be touching her as much as possible today, showing all the assholes in this school she’s off limits. I don’t care if they think it’s because she’s my stepsister or more, the end goal is the same. No one touches my Ives.
“We’ll come too,” Con says falling in step beside me. Griff starts a conversation with Ivy, and she tries shaking me off me again.
“Levi,” she makes an irritated growly sound, “get your hands off me.” She elbows me in the side, packing a respectable amount of strength into the hit.
Our interaction is gaining a lot of attention as we walk through the atrium of the administrative building. A couple guys from the lacrosse team watch closely, which is good because they’re all a bunch dicks that I don’t want even glancing at Ivy. I wouldn’t want those assholes sniffing around any girl, especially one I care about. I glare at each of them as we pass by, and I know Con’s doing the same thing.
Con pulls the office door open and cuts to the front of the line. Mrs. Adams starts to tell him to wait until she looks up and sees who’s standing at her desk. She gulps and prints off Ivy’s schedule.
“I could have waited,” Ivy mumbles beside me. “Is he always like that?”
“Yes, asshole is his default setting.”