Dynasty (Boys of Winter 1)

Irene gives in and leaves me to get ready, and I don’t hesitate to do just that. Besides, the quicker I’m out of this house, the better.

I peel myself out of bed and instantly pull the blanket back. I have a feeling that Irene isn’t going to give a shit if I make my bed or not. However, after staying with people who were anal about it, I learned very quickly that it’s always best to do the little things.

I grab an unfolded towel off my shelf and have to do a sniff test just to make sure that it has been cleaned before being shoved in here. Satisfied that it’s not about to give me some sort of disease, I venture across the hallway and dump it on the vanity before locking the door and double checking it. The last thing I need is to have Kurt barging in here and getting more than he bargained for.

I rush through the quickest shower of my life, and although my hair needs to be washed, I don’t bother. I won’t risk being naked in this house for a second longer than I need to. Perhaps I can wait until I have PE at school and can take a proper shower afterward. Hell, I don’t even care if the girls at school are mean and try to embarrass me by stealing my clothes. I’ll take that a million times over it happening here.

As I step out of the shower and wrap my towel around me, I scan the sink and countertops frantically. My stomach drops as I realize that I left all of my clothes in my room. How can I be so fucking stupid?

I cringe and stand before the door, working up the courage to dart across the hall in nothing but a towel. But still, I can’t deny that if Kurt tried anything, I won’t have an issue breaking his nose just like I broke that dickhead’s last night.

The reminder of my epic ass-kicking makes me feel a million times better about my situation, and I take a deep breath. I unlock the latch and pull the door open before flying faster than I’ve ever flown before. I barge into my room, ignoring the low, sleazy whistle that comes from Kurt at the other end of the hall.

I slam my bedroom door and quickly flick the lock in place. The old canvas bag that Karleigh had given me at thirteen still holds all of my clothes, so I practically dive across the room to get dressed.

I scan through the bag, wishing it was easier to find the things I wanted, but I refuse to hang my clothes in the closet. There’s no point; I won’t be here long.

I eventually find what I’m looking for and get dressed as quickly as possible, not trusting that these guys don’t have a key to my room.

I pull on my black high-waisted ripped jeans and my boots before finding a cropped lace cami and finish off my look with my favorite leather jacket. I start working on everything else, and within moments, I’m pulling my long, brunette hair up into my signature high pony.

Checking over my reflection in the cracked mirror, I raise my chin and remind myself that if I’ve already made it this far, I can always keep going.

I step into the mirror while grabbing my black choker and fastening it around my neck. Moving quickly, I find my favorite plum lipstick and drag it across my lips, adding a bit of black liner and a thick layer of mascara. This is the best it’s going to get. I’m just lucky that Ravenwood Heights Academy is one of the few private schools in the country that doesn’t force students to wear ugly uniforms. I can’t even begin to describe how many awful uniforms I’ve been forced to wear over the years.

I’m not stupid. I know guys like the way I look, and without sounding like a complete asshole, I like it too. I have a sexy, dark barbie vibe that I absolutely love. I like feeling desired; I like the looks of appreciation I get from the opposite sex, and sometimes even the girls. I love that it makes my confidence soar, and I won’t ever apologize for it.

I’m not going to lie, along with my looks, always comes the negative. Girls can be bitches when they see me as a threat. As if I have any desire to steal their pre-pubescent boyfriends; no thanks, I’ll pass. It’s the guys who concern me. I can handle the bitches, but dudes … their comments can be lethal. Nine out of ten times, the words just bounce off me, but that one time, something will be said that cuts me deeper than a knife.

Checking the door is still closed and firmly locked, I peel back the bedside table from the wall and grab the stack of cash that Knox and I made off with last night. I couldn’t believe my luck. Knox really had no skill when it came to stealing from people he knew. They’d catch him before he had a chance to do anything and strike up some bullshit conversation that he was itching to get away from. Me though, I had no issues at all. Though, I was smart enough to keep away from the guy I assumed was Carver. Fuck, I wasn’t going to risk that again.