King of Hawthorne Prep
As my gaze returns to Jasper, I realize Delilah is at his side. Her blond hair falls down her back in a long shiny curtain. Like me, she’s wearing a formal dress.
When Austin’s footsteps stall and he lags on the staircase, I turn my attention to him with concern. “Aus?” When he fails to respond, I flick my gaze toward the front door where both couples are being greeted and offered refreshments. “Is this going to be a problem?”
“Nope.”
As Delilah glances around, her blue gaze flickers over us until it becomes ensnared by my brother. Another quick look in my twin’s direction has me wondering if it was Jasper who snagged his attention in the first place.
Maybe it was the pretty blonde.
Color fills the other girl’s cheeks as Jasper slips an arm around his date’s waist before steering her into the living room where most of the guests have gathered. A predatory gleam enters Austin’s eyes as he watches the younger couple get swallowed up by the crowd.
Uh-oh.
A groan falls from my lips. I don’t need twin intuition to tell me where this is headed. Whatever devious plans he’s concocting will only lead to more problems.
“I hope you realize that going after her is a bad decision.”
His gaze becomes shuttered as a sly smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “You worry too much, sis.”
“I don’t think so,” I snort. Delilah is exactly the kind of girl Austin usually goes for. Now throw in that she’s Jasper’s girlfriend, and it’s a recipe for disaster. I wouldn’t put it past Austin to use that poor girl to fuck with the first-string quarterback. Although I hope I’m wrong about that.
As we arrive at the bottom of the staircase, I search the crowd of strangers filling almost every corner of space. It takes a few moments to spot our parents talking with a tall, dark-haired man. I study the older guy and realize there is something vaguely familiar about him even though I know we’ve never met.
Dismissing him, my gaze shifts to my parents. Neither look very happy. Upon closer inspection, both have tight lines bracketing their eyes and mouth. Nervous energy wafts from Mom. The muscles in my belly contract as an odd sensation creeps over my skin, leaving a wave of goose flesh in its path. It’s the same feeling of foreboding I experienced earlier this afternoon.
I’m about to point out our parents to Austin when he mutters, “I’ll be back in a few.”
Before I have the chance to respond, he walks away, leaving me alone. Everyone is socializing and appears to be having a wonderful time as they sip their flutes. Like school, even though I’m part of the crowd, I’m still removed from it all. I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a stranger in my home.
It’s a weird, lonely feeling.
From across the room, I watch as Dad lifts a crystal tumbler filled with amber-colored liquor to his mouth before taking a deep swallow. Sheesh. Him tossing back alcohol is a rare occurrence. Once in a while, at the end of a long day, he’ll sit down and crack open a beer, but never hard liquor.
Mom nervously fingers the gold chain adorning her neck as her gaze roves over the sea of people until it lands on me.
Damn.
Unconsciously, I take a step backward as she frantically waves me over. Knowing there’s no escape, I suck in a deep, fortifying breath before pushing it out. We’ve now entered the portion of the evening where I have to pretend to be charming and personable. If for no other reason than to support my parents.
Once I reach the trio, I paste a pleasant smile on my face as Mom slips an arm around my waist to anchor me in place as if she’s afraid I’ll attempt an escape.
All I can say is that the woman knows me well.
“You look beautiful, honey,” she whispers. A slight tremble works its way through her hushed voice, and it strengthens my resolve to do everything I can to help make this party a success.
We’re Hawthornes.
And Hawthornes stick together.
“Thanks,” I say with forced cheerfulness.
Dad straightens to his full height and runs an agitated hand through his hair before adjusting the lapels of his black jacket. “Perfect timing, Summer. We were just talking about you.”
Well, that’s not weird at all.
Unsure how to respond, I flick my gaze at the man standing with them before thrusting out my hand for him to shake. No one can say that my parents didn’t raise me with manners. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Griffin and Eloise’s daughter, Summer.”
There’s no answering smile in sight as he reaches out and grasps my hand. His fingers close around mine, swallowing them in a firm grip. “Keaton Rothchild.”
Rothchild?
“Kingsley’s father?” No wonder he looks so familiar. Now that I realize who he is, I’m able to see the strong family resemblance between them. Both are tall, with wide shoulders, mahogany-colored hair and eyes. He’s handsome for an older man. It’s easy to imagine Kingsley maturing to look like this one day. Although, unlike his son, there’s a coldness to him that seeps into my fingers before I’m able to pull them away.