One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

“Oh, God!” she shrieks, reaching for the doorknob. “I’m so sorry.”

A round of laughs follows her as she slams the door closed. I have an idea of what she just walked in on, and I can feel my cheeks raise in a drunken smile. Undeterred, she walks deeper down the hall, knocking once again on the next door. This room is Kyle’s, and I know it’s going to be empty because he keeps it locked during his parties. He doesn’t care if people fuck in his brother’s room, his parents’ room, or the two guest bedrooms up here, but his room has always been off-limits.

Except, the knob turns when she grips it. Cautiously, she pushes open the door. This time she doesn’t yell or apologize. She’s frozen in the doorway as her face runs the gamut of emotions. At first, she’s surprised, but then her brows furl before her chin starts to quiver.

“Wh-what’s going on?” Mary asks, her voice quavering.

“Isn’t it obvious?” a guy says.

Kyle is going to shit a brick if he comes up here and finds people fucking in his room.

“Did you actually think I’d want you, Bloody Mary?” That has to be Vaughn speaking.

Not wanting to miss the show, I step closer so I can see what’s going on in the room. I anticipate seeing Vaughn wrapped up with some girl. At least that’s sort of what Kyle hinted at. Nothing says I don’t really like you and never did than getting a girl to a party so she can catch you with someone else.

Vaughn is definitely in the room, and he’s with someone else, but instead of some no-name freshman, it’s Bronwyn on her hands and knees with his dick in her mouth. I blink twice, certain that I’m not seeing what my brain is trying to convince me is right before my eyes.

But when I reach over Mary’s shoulder and shove the door open further, things go from bad to worse. Not only is my girlfriend sucking off a dick that isn’t mine, my best friend is plowing into her from behind.

“What the fuck is going on?” I snap.

All three participants, slow from hours of drinking, turn their heads in my direction at a snail’s pace.

Vaughn and Bronwyn’s eyes fall on Mary, and my girlfriend has the damn gall to smile around Vaughn’s less than spectacular cock at the sight of her standing there in shock. Kyle doesn’t even bother to stop thrusting as his eyes find mine.

His eyes are glazed, cheeks red from both the alcohol he’s been pouring down his throat all night and the exertion he’s putting forth to fuck my girl.

My ex-girl, I should say. There’s no going back from this.

I’m livid, beyond pissed. I’m not angry because I love her or anything. Bronwyn is actually a vile human being and always has been. I’m enraged because what she’s doing reflects on me. What kind of man am I if I can’t keep my girlfriend from fucking around on me, at a party I’m also in attendance at no less? I’m nobody’s fucking chump, yet here I stand watching my best friend drive his cock into her over and over. I’ll be the butt of every damn joke from here on out.

How do I reign at Westover Prep when I can’t keep one damn girl in line?

Mary chokes out a sob before she turns and hightails it away from the door. Only now does Bronwyn refocus and see me standing in the doorway.

“Dalton?” she squeaks, too slow in her thinking to both acknowledge me and shove the guys away at the same time.

The shove comes seconds later when her brain finally catches up to the situation.

“It’s not—” she begins before licking at her swollen, spit-covered lips. “They forced me!”

Fucking typical Bronwyn, blaming anyone and everyone she can to take the culpability off herself.

Like she’s done a million times before, Bronwyn turns on the waterworks, but the emotions on her face don’t even begin to match her words.

“He was going to find out sooner or later,” Kyle grunts, increasing his hold on her hips as he continues to slam inside of her. “Hold still. I’m close.”

Vaughn hasn’t said a fucking word, and when I look in his direction, I find out why. Limp dick hanging to the side, he’s laid back on the mattress passed the fuck out.

“I’m not even surprised,” I murmur.

I don’t bother to close the door when I turn to leave.

Somehow, I manage to make it down the stairs without toppling ass over end, and as if they can feel the shift in the atmosphere around me, people get out of my way before I get the chance to shove through them. It’s disappointing, really. I was looking forward to taking some of my anger out on them.

My keys are out of my pocket before my feet hit the grass on the front lawn. I’m spitting nails, contemplating going back inside and beating the shit out of my best friend by the time I make it to my car.