Bury Me (Willow Heights Prep Academy: The Elite Book 3) Page 4

  He stops and looks me over, his eyes so inscrutable it makes me want to scream. “You’re still here.”

  “So are you,” I reply, forcing my fingers to close around my book. I wish I had something to defend myself, a weapon. But I know he’d just rip it out of my hand. There’s no stopping this boy—or any of the Darling boys. They take what they want, and no one can stop them. Even the coach didn’t stop him. I know there’s no help for me, that I’m at his mercy if he wants to shove me in a closet and slit my throat with his knife. But I won’t whimper and beg. I’ll go down with the steel spine and the grace that makes me a Dolce. That’s what matters. Not my face.

  “You look different,” he says.

  “You know, it’s a miracle what makeup can hide these days,” I say. “Scrapes, bruises, ugliness.”

  He just stands there staring at me, his expression infuriatingly unreadable.

  “Go on,” I say. “I made it easy for you. Take your shot.”

  “Now, come on, Manhattan,” he says, a tiny smile at the corner of his lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Just helping you out,” I say smoothly. “You already made me into the school slut. Might as well take the last thing a girl has to hold onto—the illusion of beauty.”

  “You think you’re ugly?” he asks, his head cocked to one side.

  Damn him. Why can’t he just cut me down? Why does he have to play with me? He looks like he wants to figure me out so he can get inside my head and destroy me from within like a parasite.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” I say. “You already ruined me the easy way—by making the world admit that a girl could possibly be a sexual being, too. I know what happened in that locker room. We both know. And yet, the whole school thinks the entire football team ran a train on me. But that’s just a reputation, Preston. You know as well as I do that it’s not true. You know what I’m made of now. And I know what you’re made of.”

  He leans against the locker like he’s settling in for a long conversation. I should walk away. I know I should. And yet… In truth, this psychotic monster fascinates me. I can’t stop myself from wanting to study him the same way he studies me. But now he’s behind my locker door, where I can only see his legs.

  “I could say you’re ugly,” he drawls. “But I’m not the liar in the family.”

  I’m relieved he can’t see my face. Because he’d see that some stupid, stupid, stupid part of me thrills at that littlest of compliments, really just the crumb of one. Because yes, I may be standing here like it doesn’t make my heart race and my head dizzy to be this close to my attacker, like I can spar with him like an equal, but I’m still a girl.

  And not just a girl who wants to be told she’s pretty, but the insecure little girl who wore the same lipstick for two years because someone said she liked it. The girl who sits at home wondering why Daddy’s not showing up for their father-daughter date. The girl who hides under the bubbles in the bath when her mother asks how much ice cream she’s been eating, the one who gets up two hours early to make sure she looks worthy of carrying the burden of her own name. I’m not bulletproof. My heart is still a fragile thing, like a butterfly just learning to spread its crinkled wings.

  “Well, thanks,” I say lightly. And then, because I know the faces we show the world can’t hide the ugliness we feel about ourselves, I add, “You’re not so bad yourself, Preston Darling.”

  I’m glad I’m behind my locker door, that he can’t see my face. But I wish I could see his. I want to know if that little compliment might mean as much to him as it means to me.

  At the same time, I expect him tell me he knows exactly how hot he is, to grab his dick and ask if I want to ride it like all the other girls.

  “Why didn’t you tell the police?” he asks after a beat of silence. His voice is only mildly curious, as if an assault charge is just another day in the life of a Darling boy. Maybe it is. I have no idea how many girls they’ve done that to—some of whom Devlin didn’t rescue. “I did a number on you in that locker room,” he goes on when I don’t respond. “And you were with my brother all evening after that. Y’all saw the cops. You went to the hospital. You could have told them I did that to your face.”

  I take a steadying breath and then swing my locker door almost closed, so I can see him.

  “I’m not the rat in my family.” We stare at each other for a minute. “There are no rats in my family,” I add. “See, that’s the difference between a Darling and a Dolce, Preston. My family is good. We don’t pick one person to be the liar, one to be the psycho, and one to be the bully, so we can all feel good about ourselves. Isn’t that how it works? Because hey, maybe you beat the shit out of some girl and tied her up to be gang-raped, but at least you didn’t lie about it.”

  He stares at me a long minute, those blue eyes making me rage inside, because I can’t see a damn thing in them. Finally, he says, “You’re not blameless, Crystal. Don’t be a hypocrite.”

  “Oh, what, because I fought back? Because I hit you when you attacked me? That makes me just as bad?”

  “Because you’re human,” he says.

  I grab the notebook I need from my locker and close the door quietly before turning to him. “Yeah, I’m human,” I say. “I make mistakes. What you did? That wasn’t a mistake.”

  “You hurt people, too.”

  We stare at each other a long minute. A soft chime sounds over the intercom, and students start to pour into the hall. “You’d better go, Preston,” I say. “Unless you want that other arm broken.”

  He lets out a little scoff, the corner of his mouth twisting up. “See? You think you’re so fucking perfect, but why am I standing here with a broken arm and no football career ahead of me? This isn’t some stupid prank. That is my life, Crystal. Football was my ticket out of here.”

  By the time he’s finished speaking, his eyes are finally showing more than indifference. He looks savage with fury, like a trapped, desperate animal. And I want to feel something for him—maybe I even do feel something—but I can’t forgive him.

  “That’s not my fault,” I say, my own anger rising to meet his. “And listen, you can stand here and talk to me if you want, but you know the consequences. Think of it this way. You warned me to leave this school after they broke your arm, and if you want to pretend that I was asking for it because I didn’t listen, fine. But now I’m warning you. If you don’t listen, you know what my brothers will do. That’s on you.”

  I turn and walk away. Maybe he deserves what my brothers will do to him or maybe he doesn’t. But I’m done. I’m done with all of it. I don’t want to be around for it. I’m just not a vengeful kind of person. I tried it with Devlin, and it doesn’t feel good. Revenge isn’t a dish best served cold. It’s a dish best not served at all.

  five

  Crystal

  I make it through an entire class period before I run into my brothers. But on my way to my next class, as I’m ignoring a handful of guys taunting me and humping each other as I walk by, I run smack into Royal and King. They come to a full stop when they see me.

  “What the hell, Crystal,” King says, sounding halfway pissed and halfway shocked.

  “So, I guess it’s pretty noticeable when I don’t wear makeup after all,” I say. “No one seemed to care in my last class.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Royal asks, grabbing my arm and marching me toward the nearest restroom.

  “That’s what this is about?” King asks, falling into step on my other side as they bodily escort me to fix my face. “Attention?”

  “No,” I say, trying to twist away from Royal. “It’s about the fact that it’s bullshit that I have to wear a whole face full of makeup every day to hide what I look like. You don’t do that. Why should I?”

  “Because you look like shit like that,” Royal says, shoving me into the bathroom. A handful of girls squeal and giggle when they see my brothers.

  “Since when do you think I’m ugly?�
� I demand of my twin.

  “Since you stopped looking like a Dolce girl.”

  “Yeah, well, who made you the judge of what I get to wear? Not everyone thinks I have to hide behind a pound of makeup to look good.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Royal asks, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring with fury. His fingers crush my wrist in their grip, but I refuse to flinch.

  “You know who,” I say quietly, staring right back at him.

  “Say his name to me right now,” he growls. “I fucking dare you.”

  “Where’s your bag?” King asks, looking around.

  “I left it in science.”

  He turns to the girls huddled in front of the mirror watching the drama. “Can one of you ladies go get my sister her handbag?” he asks, flashing them a quick smile.

  “Sure,” Carmen says with a giggle that’s nothing like the bitchy attitude she shows me. She’s all too happy to scamper away with her friends and help me out if it’ll get her points with my brothers.

  “Would the rest of you mind watching the door?” he says. “This is a family matter, and we need a little privacy.”

  They fall all over themselves to obey, batting their eyes and sending inviting smiles our way as they sashay out. I roll my eyes at them, but they’re too busy eye-fucking my brothers to notice.

  The minute the door closes behind them, Royal jerks at my wrist again. “What do you have to say for yourself, Crystal?”

  “Nothing,” I snap, twisting to free myself from his bruising grasp. “Now let go. You’re hurting me.”

  “Did you say that to Devlin Darling when he was trying to fuck you?” Royal asks.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I demand. “Who even are you?”

  “Royal,” King warns. “Let her go.”

  “Me?” Royal asks, ignoring our brother. “Who are you? I left my twin sister and came back a week later to some football team-servicing slut.”

  “Don’t call me that,” I say through clenched teeth. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he says, shoving me away. “Because you didn’t tell me.”

  “You’re one to talk,” I burst out, rubbing my wrist. “You’ve barely said two words to me since you got home.”

  “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t really want to hear about it, but if it makes you happy, tell me. Tell me all about how you stuck your ass in the air like a slot machine and let every single guy on the football team stick his dick in you while the rest of them cheered each other on. Tell me how you sent them off to the game in high spirits, because what else could get them so pumped up but running a tag-team on my sister?”

  “You’re disgusting,” I whisper.

  “The feeling is mutual, little sister.”

  “Crystal,” King says slowly. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? Because the rest of us have been hearing about it for the past two weeks, and we all know how rumors twist the truth, but it’s not something a man wants to hear about his little sister.”

  I look up at my oldest brother. He is a man now, eighteen, all tall and broad and destined to bring some girl to her knees before she even knows what hit her. And even though it’s none of his business, and it’s my body and not his, I suddenly want to tell him. I want to tell him because his dark eyes are filled with such an ache that it twists my heart around and makes me want to cry. I know that no matter what my brothers do, King’s number one priority will always be the rest of us. He’s a born protector, even if he was born into a world where protecting everyone you love is impossible.

  But how do I tell him what happened without getting people killed? Because he will want revenge for this one. No matter what I say, it will come out worse than it was. He’ll kill Devlin, and the Darlings will kill him, and it won’t stop until every member of both families is dead.

  “I can’t,” I say, dropping my gaze and turning away. “It’s too hard to explain, and you won’t understand it.”

  “Try me,” King says, his voice gentle but commanding.

  “Okay,” I say, bracing my hands on the sink and taking a trembling breath. I remember leaning on this sink in a very different situation, with Devlin between my thighs.

  And I remember some girls saying I let the Darlings fuck me in the bathroom. If they heard that somewhere, I guarantee they didn’t keep it a secret. Which means my brothers probably heard those rumblings as well. I’ve been struggling so hard here, just trying to keep my head above water, that I haven’t thought about how the swirling rumors were getting back to my brothers.

  “I’ve only ever been with Devlin,” I say. “I’ve never done anything else with anyone else. I’ve never even touched another guy. I swear.”

  “Bullshit,” Royal growls.

  I look up. “What?”

  “You kissed Colt at Homecoming,” he says. “I saw you. Or did you forget I was there while you were busy fucking his cousin? Why should we believe anything that comes out of your mouth? You were lying about all of it, weren’t you?”

  Damn it. Why did I lie about liking Colt? Royal could always read me like a book. He probably knew I was lying the whole time. And he paid for that lie, more than I ever will, more than I can even imagine.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “You’re right. Colt kissed me, and I guess I kissed him back. But we went to that dance as friends, like I told you. We were friends.”

  “And you were fucking Devlin.”

  “No,” I say firmly. “That happened after. You can ask the twins.”

  “We already know that part,” King says. “What happened in the locker room the day the coach asked us to stay late and the rest of the team went in?”

  Shit. The coach. The coach who walked away when he saw me with Preston, the one who refused to help. That asshole intentionally kept my brothers from coming in, knowing they’d help me.

  I shake the thought away. I don’t know that it was him. Maybe they’d already planned to hold my brothers. Maybe Preston told another one of the coaches when he left me there alone and went out to watch the practice from the sidelines, fuming about his broken arm. Did I really end his football dreams? And why is he so desperate to get out of this town where he’s royalty, a town that will all but belong to him one day?

  “Why should we believe her, anyway?” Royal asks.

  “Fine,” I say with a shrug. “I don’t have to tell you guys anything. What I do with my body is none of your fucking business. I don’t interrogate you every time you pump and dump some poor girl. And I bet it’s a lot more than a football team’s worth. So if I want to let every guy on the team line up to drop his coin in my slot-machine ass, as you so succinctly put it, that’s my choice.”

  “I’ll believe you, Crys,” King says. “Tell me the truth, and I won’t question whatever you say. I just want to hear it from you once.”

  “Why?” I ask, crossing my arms and glaring at him. “Why does it matter?”

  “Because I want to know you’re safe here. That you’re okay. You looked pretty bad when you came to the hospital that night. And yeah, I know we were all busy worrying about Royal, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t notice.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, squeezing myself tighter, my throat aching at his kindness. I can handle Royal’s anger better than the sympathy and concern I see in King’s eyes. If I tell him, he’ll hurt Preston more. And Preston will hurt me more—or worse, he’ll hurt them. And it will go on and on and on, until someone dies. And even then, it might not stop. Like Preston said, this has gone beyond pranks and petty parking lot quarrels. Lives are being altered irreparably. One look at Royal is proof of that.

  “Did Devlin hit you?” King asks.

  “No,” I say. “He never hurt me.”

  “Did he rape you?” Royal asks.

  “No,” I say, shaking my head vehemently. I’m not sure how to tell them without it coming off as worse than it was. Even Devlin thought it was something other t
han what it was. It was never like that for me. I never said no to him. I said no to Preston, to Colt, to the idea of the team even touching me. Devlin asked if that was what I wanted, if I wanted him to fuck me there, and I told him I did. Didn’t I? I remember wanting to tell him yes. Sure, part of it was fear that if it wasn’t him, it would be them, but when he wrapped his arms around me, blocking me from their view, I felt him protecting me. He hadn’t hurt me. He’d claimed me, told the whole world that I was his. And I had wanted that.

  I had wanted it because that was the moment when I knew that he actually cared about me. That I had won, as fucked up as that sounds. I’d been trying to get him to fall in love so that I could hurt him. And that was the moment when I knew I could. When he’d protected me, marked me as off-limits to everyone in the school, even his cousins.

  I think it was the moment he realized he cared, too. He took me home, cleaned me up, took care of me. He even made sure I got off, since I didn’t in the locker room. He drove me around, risked himself, went against his family to help me find Royal. And I still broke his heart.

  A knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts. King doesn’t move. He’s watching me, waiting. After a moment, Royal goes to the door. Carmen hands in my purse. “Everything okay?” she asks, batting her eyes at him.

  “Fine,” he says, pushing the door closed in her face.

  He hands me the bag. “Get yourself together.”

  “Why do I have to look the way you guys want me to?” I ask.

  “Because you’re a Dolce,” Royal says. “Get used to it. Mom doesn’t sit around the house in a bathrobe with unwashed hair. You know why? Because she was raised with more class than that. We may not have much else, but we have that. Now, put on your makeup, or I’ll put it on for you.”

  “Fine, since I don’t want to look like Picasso painted me, I’ll put on the damn makeup,” I snap. “I still don’t get why you guys care so much.”

  “Because I need a job when I graduate,” King says quietly. “And they’ve already got a lawyer and somebody to do the books. And they look at everybody and everybody’s family. We can’t look like slobs. This is a big opportunity for me. Don’t fuck it, okay? Please?”