One-Eighty (Westover Prep 1)

Without another thought, I turn the hose from the wheels of my car and direct the flow straight at Mary. Her once lush curls drown and flatten in the water flow. Shock fills every feature of her face as the dark makeup around her eyes begins to melt down her face. Disappointment washes over me when a dark tank top is made visible under her now soaked t-shirt, rather than a bra or her bare tits.

Her eyes slow-blink as she stares at me in surprise, as if there’s no way I’ve just done this. Her hands are open at her sides as if they too can’t believe what just happened.

“You seemed a little dressed up for youth reading at the library,” I say with as much seriousness as I can manage. “I guess your plans for the night have changed.”

Shrugging, I turn the hose back toward my car. I don’t know how long she stands there staring at my back, but I can’t let her go to the party as the sexiest girl in our senior class. If I notice how hot she is, that means others will too, and I need Mary to stay in the gutter right where I put her years ago. Teenage boys are controlled by their dicks, and no matter how much the guys don’t like her on my account, that would change very quickly if they’d seen what I just did.Chapter 2Piper“What a waste,” I mumble as I aim the blow-dryer at my ruined hair. “Two hundred dollars down the drain.”

Fresh tears burn the back of my eyes, and although I’m trying my best not to cry, I know I’m going to fail. I always fail. Even after years of Dalton Payne meeting the expectation of being the biggest jerk ever born, he still has the ability to make me cry. I’ve gotten better at hiding it from him and his blockheaded friends, but all bets are off when I get home.

I made it into the house and upstairs unnoticed, a feat I don’t always manage, after he, unprovoked, sprayed me with the water hose. I’d let my guard down. After getting a very expensive balayage, nutrient wash, and had my hair curled to perfection, I had my makeup professionally done at the mall in Colorado Springs. It took less than ten seconds for him to destroy it. Stupid me imagined that he’d see how the smoky eye makeup made my blue eyes pop, and he’d finally see me. I would no longer be Bloody Mary, but a pretty girl who deserved to be treated better than he’s ever managed in his entire life.

As predicted, I lose my battle against my tears, but I watch in the mirror as they roll down my red cheeks. I don’t want to ever forget how he’s treated me. One more year of torture is all I have to suffer before I can leave this godforsaken town and be rid of all of this. My fingers itch to grab the only thing that has brought me comfort over the last two years, but my bedroom door opens before I can find my reprieve.

“Let me get dressed,” I tell my friend Frankie before closing the bathroom door.

I tell her almost everything about myself, but some things I can never speak out loud. I trust her more than anyone else walking this earth, but trust is a funny thing, and I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone completely.

My inner thighs tingle with need as I cover my dark secrets with a pair of blue jeans before pulling on a loose shirt. I don’t bother to look in the direction of the dress I had picked out for this evening. My now frizzy hair and makeup-less face wouldn’t work with the formfitting satin I’d previously planned on wearing.

Frustrated, I swing open my en-suite door and look at my best friend. She’s staring out the window, and I already know exactly what she’s seeing.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to the party tonight.”

“You have to go. We’ve been planning to attend for weeks,” Frankie argues as she turns her head slightly in my direction but not enough to lose sight of what’s below.

“What are you doing?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer.

“I’m watching a half-naked Dalton fucking Payne wash his car.”

“We hate Dalton, remember?”

“But we don’t hate Dalton’s body,” she says with awe in her voice.

“I haven’t noticed,” I mumble, reaching for a hair tie.

Frankie’s knowing chuckle rubs me the wrong way. Of course, my tormentor would be the best-looking guy at Westover Prep, the captain of the baseball team with more muscles than any teenager should ever be allowed to possess, and the brightest green eyes I’ve ever seen outside of a Hollywood movie. Even with all of that, he chooses to torture me daily, just because he can.