Page 13 of Queen Rose

Aria

Monday morning, I find my dad sipping coffee at the kitchen island with no one else around. Perfect timing to ask him about spring break. Before I get too far into planning, I need to make sure he’s actually on board with us using the lake house.

I wander quietly over to the freshly brewed pot to get a cup of coffee for myself while trying to get a read on his mood. I pull out the half-and-half, set it on the counter, and turn to pull my favorite mug out of the cabinet, all while slyly paying attention to the relaxed set of his jaw and the casual way he’s scrolling through whatever he’s reading on his iPad. I chew on my lip, watching a couple moments longer from under my lashes. It’s likely either the news or maybe his work email. Either way, the road ahead for my request appears smooth. I pour my coffee and doctor it up before joining him.

“Dad? Could I ask you for a favor?”

He looks up from whatever he’d been reading, his brow lifting cautiously. I don’t ask him for much. But he also already gives me everything I could possibly need. Things I don’t even want, sometimes. And I do wonder if it’s his way of showing he loves me, even if outwardly it seems like he couldn’t care less.

“What’s on your mind?” His words are clipped and right to the point.

I take a small sip of my coffee, letting it burn all the way down my throat. “Spring break is coming—”

“Just put the tickets to wherever you’re going on the card I gave you, Aria.”

I blink. Yeah. He totally doesn’t care if I’m about to suggest a getaway trip to some uber-expensive destination. Because we’re the Warringtons. And we do shit like that. “Um. Actually, I was hoping you’d be okay with me and some friends staying at the lake house.”

“Oh.” He shrugs. “Is that all? Yeah. I’ll have them stock it the day before you get there. I’m assuming I can trust you to fucking stay put if you’re drinking?”

“Yeah. Thank—”

He pushes back from the island, rising from the stool. “Was that it? I’ve got to get to work.” He levels a stare at me that shouts, Are we done here? “Make a note of your arrival date on a Post-it and leave it on my desk.”

“Um. Yeah, okay.” My brows pinch tightly together. Before I can even say goodbye or wish him a nice day, he’s off to whatever demands his attention most. Which obviously isn’t me—not in his eyes, anyway.

Making a mental note to ask Franny if she’d be willing to help with Nate’s family, I pick up my bag and sling it over my shoulder. Time to get to school so I can let everyone know that we’re officially a go for spring break at the lake house.

I’m so focused on figuring out the logistics of how to get Nate’s mom the help she needs, that it totally slipped my mind that Farrah had been a royal bitch over the weekend. That is, until I get out of my car in the Rosehaven Academy parking lot and recognize that everyone must still be hyper-focused on the photo of me and Nate that she posted. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

Judging from the looks I get as I stroll up to the academy, I realize I should have kept tabs on the rumblings of the student body. I’d purposely stayed off social media because I simply can’t handle another thing right now. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, though, and the fact that the photo of me and Nate going at each other all hot and heavy at the River Rock party has been out there for days… well, I should have known better than to think it would just blow over without some sort of repercussion.

I manage to dodge most of the groups of students all clumped together near the entrance and hurry inside. There’s no way to miss some of the things I hear as I move down the hallway toward my first period class, though. When I approach a group of junior girls huddled in front of an open locker, I can tell by the way they’re giggling and whispering that it’s totally about me. From several feet away, their voices carry.

“What will Xander think?” The petite blonde, who is clutching her books to her chest, has wide eyes as she peeks over them at me.

The tall brunette shrugs with an impatient scowl. “I thought the guy was hot. Why do we care again?”

The obvious ringleader of the group swings her ash-blonde ponytail and gives a little snort of derision. “Because she’s Aria. She can’t be with some poor asshole from River Rock.”

“But what if he’s a hot asshole? Because that guy—what’s his name again?” The brunette slicks her tongue over her lips, to which I do an internal eye roll.

“Nate. And yeah, he’s totally hot.” Ponytail girl wriggles her brows and shoots them a lascivious grin. “She’s probably having a damn good time riding his cock, but he’s not good for much else. Trust me on that. He's not long-term dick.”

They crowd closer together as I pass. I make sure to glare right at them. Then I stop, and I swear, their fear is palpable. I chuckle to myself. At least I’ve still got something going for me. “I’d tell you what happens to skanks with diarrhea of the mouth, but I’ll leave you to wait and wonder. Have a catty day, bitches.” I narrow my eyes on them, then take off down the hall, swinging my hips, head held high, like I haven’t a goddamn care in the world.

If only that were truly the case. Instead, there’s so much racing around inside my head that my stress levels are going through the roof. Why can’t they just leave me alone? As if I don’t have enough problems without people discussing the particulars of my sex life just because they saw one hot photo.

I know it’s not so much the photo itself, but everything it stands for. The proof that Queen Aria is very much interested in someone that most of Rosehaven sees as completely unacceptable. Unworthy.

Well, dammit, they don’t know him like I do.

And the funny thing is, if they really knew me, they’d know I’m unworthy, too. I’m unsure why I bother anymore. If it weren’t for the image that my mother wants the heir of the Warrington fortune to portray, I’d say fuck it. Fuck. It. All.

But then again, it’s always been about image. Cheer captain. The best clothes. The right car. Xander being my fake boyfriend. By outward appearance, I seem to have it all. But the thing is, my parents made it known long ago that I’m imperfect and unwanted. My place in my family has always been tenuous at best. And I’ve lived the lie of being their golden child for so long anyone would believe it. I should get an award for my tremendous acting abilities. Because that’s all my life is: one big fucking fake act.

Unless I start making changes. Unless I rock the boat. Every time I think about it, my heart trips and fumbles. Could I do it?

I try to ignore the massive quantity of eyes on me and all the hateful judginess. Fuck. All of this is pure crap. When I get down to Harden’s room, my people will be there. They’ll help me deal with the bullshit tornado I’m trapped in, getting whipped up one side and down another with all the vicious rumors and rude comments. My heart crashes around in my chest, and I can’t breathe. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

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