Page 9 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“You’re stressed. I can see it in your eyes. Let me help you feel better.” She goes to reach for me again and I grimace, backing until my hip hits the table along the wall.

“Thank you for the offer, but not tonight. Raincheck, no?” She purses her lips, pressing her knuckles to her hips as she pushes her tits out, giving one last attempt at persuading me. I huff out a laugh and turn away from her, continuing to pick up the trash left behind by the drunk assholes who are having a better night than me.

Layla’s stilettos click behind me, stopping when I stop and moving when I move. I drop a bottle into the trash bag and turn around. “Layla,” I start low with a warning, “you need to go. Find someone else who wants their dick sucked because it is not happening with me tonight.” If she keeps on, she’s going to end up embarrassed, fragile or not. I won’t put up with her pushiness. People who don’t understand “no” or “stop” piss me off.

Her jaw snaps shut and her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. For a second I think about caving, but I have to stick to my guns. If I give in, she’ll do this every time, thinking she knows how to get to me. Closing the gap between us, I sit the bag on the floor and place a hand on each of her bare shoulders.

“Don’t you want me?” she whimpers. “I’ve been waiting all day to see you, Riggs, for us to be together. I love you.”

“Layla,” I exhale, anger coating my nerves. As always, it was too good to be true. Not that I’m some lovable, irresistible guy that chicks fall for all the time, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle no strings. She talked often about wanting a relationship, and I always clarified that a relationship was not what she would get. She would have to find someone else for that. I also told her that if she couldn’t handle my terms, then we wouldn’t continue on with what we were doing.

She didn’t get it.

“We’re done,” I grind out, my grasp on her shoulder going a little too tight for my liking. Her eyes flash with excitement. She enjoys pushing the boundaries and likes it when I get rough, even if I hate myself for it.

I won’t be that person tonight. I’m not giving in. After releasing her, I move back to gain some space between us.

“What? We’re not done.” Her chin quivers, dimples forming as she fights her cry face from appearing. I push back the urge to console her, knowing she’s putting on a show because she isn’t getting her way.

“You’re right, we’re not done, because there was never anything there to begin with. I won’t be fucking you anymore, then. Do you understand that? Don’t call me, don’t text me. This arrangement is over with.” My voice is louder than I want it and draws attention from the crowd.Damn it.I don’t want to hurt her like this, not anymore than I have to. I don’t want to embarrass her in front of the entire school because just about everyone is here, and Layla has a standard she holds herself to in their society. Scholarship students never deny the rich kids…never.

Closing the gap between us, she snags my hand before I can pull it away. She scans the crowd, her eyes locking on each individual person as she passes them. Eventually, they land on mine. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. You love me.”

I’m grinding my teeth so hard my jaw aches. She’s playing with fire, and she knows it.

As if he can sense I’m about to explode, Jensen drapes his arm over Layla’s shoulder.

“Let’s go for a swim, beautiful, huh? How’s that sound?” He’s so drunk he won’t remember this. Sober Jensen would never give Layla attention. His father wouldn’t allow it. Hell, his dad wouldn’t even want her in the house. James Tucker doesn’t like competition, and Layla’s father is his biggest.

“This isn’t over,” Layla warns with a promising smile as J drags her away.

“This isn’t anything,” I gesture between the two of us. “It never was.”

They disappear into the crowd, and I notice most of the eyes in the room fix on me. “I’m not sure what the fuck you’re all looking at,” I bark, my muscles bunching beneath my skin as my anger simmers to dangerous levels. The party twitches back to life around me. I scrub my hand over my face and abandon my trash bag. I need to get to sleep.

CHAPTER6

The weekend is goingby too fast, as usual, and I don’t want to wish my life away or anything, but I wouldn’t mind blinking through freshman year. It’s almost dusk on Sunday afternoon. Foxy and I have been baking by the side of the pool for hours while trying to study for the physics quiz first thing tomorrow.I’m so looking forward to it. Riggs will be there to tell me just how terrible I’m doing, no doubt.

Fucking Riggs Sutton.I don’t remember him being such an asshole, but then again, Jonas had me stuck up his ass most of high school. I wouldn’t remember anyone other than how he saw them. He hates all the scholarship students, and if I remember correctly, they’re allscum.

God, what did I ever see in that asshole?

Genetics and dollar signs. He’s so hot it should be illegal. I can’t blame anyone for wanting to sleep with him, and it’s not their fault if he tells them he’s single.

All of my firsts went to him, and it makes me sick because he didn’t deserve them. I wish I had waited for someone special so I can glance back to those years and like the person I was without regrets.

It’s not all his fault. It’s not fair to put all the blame on him for the shit I did. I knew damn well what I was doing.

I’m well past old enough to decipher right from wrong and since Riggs had to bring up Rusty Crotch, all I’ve been able to think about is how fucking horrible I was last year. Disbelief and guilt have been haunting me all weekend. I’m such a different person from senior year now that I’ve dumped Jonas and Foxy and I are spending more time together again. No wonder we drifted apart. She may be as rich as rich can be, but she doesn’t act like it.

I wouldn’t have called myself a friend either.

I can hear Foxy carrying on in the background, but my thoughts keep running through Rusty Crotch repeatedly. Hell, I don’t even know the girl’s full name, only her last name, so Rusty Crotch it is. I got her number from one of her friends, but she would never talk to me—understandably so. Call me a coward because I’ve avoided it since. I could’ve tried harder to find out who she is, but is it worth it? Not like it will change anything.

“Okay, what is going on?” Foxy dips in front of me on her way to get a drink. At least I think she’s getting a drink. I’m not sure because I wasn’t listening.

“Huh?” I blink, trying to bring her into focus. She tied her red hair up on the tippy top of her head, loose strands falling all around. Flush cheeks make her pale skin pop. We’ve been laying out too long, but I want to do well in physics, and she’s a great study buddy. Tits that I envy spill out of her bright pink bikini that she is wearing because my parents aren’t home. If they were, they’d have us covered head to toe, only allowed to tan our ankles.

---