Page 5 of Kings of Westbrook High

“Hey, buzz cut.” I call, following after him to take it off his hands. “I can carry my own shit. Go find someone else to wait on.”

“Buzz cut?” He raises a brow, eyeing me and my form. “Can't say I haven't been called worse.”

I frown at that, because it's way too early for my already spinning head to work through double negatives. “Wait, what?”

He laughs lightly, leaning in to take it back from me. “Listen, girl, I'm just doin' my job, alright? I promise it'll get there before you do.”

“Promises don't mean shit unless you can back em' up, and I like to get there first.” I tease, shamelessly eyeing his hot body while I take it back again. “Multiple times if you can make it happen.”

He grins, eyeing Katherine when she glares at him from beside me.

“Back to work.” She snaps - literally snaps her fingers in his face, the nasty bitch.

Good for him, though, he doesn't falter at her harsh tone. It's clear he doesn't fear or respect her - something that pleases me more than it should. Still grinning, he winks at me and turns around to go do as he’s told.

“Don't flirt with the staff, Callie.” She scolds me, gesturing for me to follow her. “It's tacky.”

“What's tacky is you snapping your fingers and throwing orders at the staff like you own the place.” I fire back, smirking when she glares.

We walk through the revolving doors and pass the front desk, a few curious sets of eyes on us as we do. She ignores them as if they don't exist and clicks her red bottoms across the marble floors, headed towards the elevators on the back wall. She goes straight for the middle one - the one with the big ass K symbol embroidered on the doors - and slides a black and gold keycard into the little black box to open it. I remain silent as we ride up, so does she, but I can feel her eyes on me through the mirrored glass, casually checking me for my reaction because it doesn't take a genius to figure out what's happening here.

I give her nothing.

As predicted, the elevator stops at the penthouse and the doors slide open to reveal what I can only describe as money. The black and gold theme continues up here, black marble floors with gold flecks lightly dusted throughout. The huge open plan space is modern and immaculately clean, high ceilings with gold chandeliers and fancy ass art hanging on the walls. There's a living room straight ahead filled with chunky leather furniture and a lit fireplace sitting in the middle of the space, a kitchen slash dining area to the left with a wide hallway that leads I don't know where, another hallway to the right and a staircase in the far corner, meaning there must be a whole other level up there.

“You can go ahead and grab a quick shower if you need.” Katherine tells me, dropping her designer purse on the kitchen island. “I'll order us some room service so you can get some food in you before school. Your bedroom's upstairs, last door on the right. You've got your own bathroom and everything you need should be up there already. If not, there's a phone on your nightstand you can use to call the girls downstairs and they'll bring you whatever.”

I shake my head at her nonchalance because I'm almost positive this woman is out of her goddamn mind. Without a word, I head for the curved staircase and walk up, passing a set of wide double doors on my left and a few singles on my right before I find the one she called mine.

Well, fuck me.

Forget the bedroom - it's all the same ridiculous, over the top shit you'd expect in a place like this, but I won't deny the killer view through the floor to ceiling windows across the back wall is pretty fuckin' awesome. Stepping out onto the balcony through the sliding glass doors, a big ass grin pulls at my lips when I lean over and look down at the lit up city of Westbrook below me.

I like heights - the danger, the adrenaline, the fear - it gets my blood pumping.

I roll myself a joint and drop my ass down on the cushioned couch outside, folding my ankles on the glass coffee table and lifting my Beats over my head. Home by Machine Guy Kelly plays in my ears while I watch the sunrise and allow myself a moment to run through my life from start to finish, wondering how the hell I ended up here and what I did to deserve the shit show that is my existence.

Poor little Callie O'Conner.

No one loves you and you're all alone.

Get a fucking grip.

I lock my jaw and push away the pathetic thoughts that have no business filling my head, then I force my ass up and toss my roach in the dirt.Fifteen minutes later, I'm freshly showered, dressed in a pair of tight ripped jeans and an unzipped hoodie with my headphones sitting around my neck. I drag my feet downstairs to find a waiting Katherine sitting at the kitchen island with her phone pressed to her ear.

“Yes, fine, I have to go, I'll call you later.” She smiles at me, fake as shit, then she hangs up on whoever she was talking to and tosses the phone in her bag. “I didn't know what you liked so I ordered a little of everything.” She tells me, gesturing for me to take the seat opposite hers.

I stay where I stand and she stares, waiting for me to say or do something, so I roll my eyes and grab the coffee pot on the side, pouring myself a to go cup. “I don't eat breakfast.”

“You should.” She argues, tossing a grape in her mouth. “It’s the important meal of the day. That’s the kinda thing mothers teach their daughters, right?”

I roll my eyes at her lame ass attempt at a joke and swallow a much needed hit of caffeine, eyeing her a moment. “Your husband know I'm here?”

“He does.” She nods, licking her lips. “He's taken his sons downstairs for breakfast to break the news to them.”

My coffee stills half way to my mouth.

His sons?

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