He’s just a player.
And not only on the football team, but generally. If someone had a shot every time he shagged a random girl, they would need their liver replaced by now.
He’s become popular, but not in a “stuck-up, you’re gross to even think you can talk to me” kind of way. But more like “I’m a bus and everyone is welcome for a ride” way.
Rumor has it, Daniel is the one person people need at their party if they want it to be a success. He’s laid-back, welcoming, charming.
To everyone but me.
I tried to keep myself as disinterested as possible from that part of him, but I know he probably had sex with Royal Elite’s entire female population and is branching out to other schools for up-and-coming vaginas.
I know because he’s not shy to tell Astrid about his sexcapades, to which she calls him a pig.
I know because I heard a girl describe sex with him as “an experience of a lifetime.”
I know because I had wet dreams that night and woke up touching myself and moaning into my pillow.
I know because I cried right afterward and it wasn’t from pleasure.
Usually, I retreat whenever he’s with Astrid. I give them space and pretend I don’t care.
Not today, though.
Today, I have a plan.
“Maybe I should go teach her some manners,” I say to the girls, plastering a smirk as fake as their daddies’ wigs.
Chloe snorts. “Not sure if it will work on a hopeless case like her, but go for it.”
“I’m in the mood for charity.” I flip my hair, blinding them with a splash of natural blonde. “How do I look?”
“Ten out of ten,” Hannah says, starry-eyed.
“A bad bitch.” Chloe grins. “Show us what you got.”
I flip my hair again, then walk to them while gently swaying my hips.
Before I reach them, I stop at the beverages table and grab two shots. I pretend to be adjusting my dress, then reach into my bra and retrieve the small bag of pills I bought the last time Chloe took me to a club.
When a random bloke asked me if I wanted to have fun and flashed me the pills, I told him, “Eww, gross.” But then the wires in my brain connected together.
I know what ecstasy does, or at least, I read about its effects and how it makes someone mindless with pleasure.
I wanted that.
Needed that.
But not only for me.
So I bought the pills, behind Chloe’s and the others’ backs because I couldn’t have them figure out my plan.
I couldn’t have everyone figure out what good girls plotted behind closed doors.
There are three pills. Just in case I need the extra one.
Still pretending to fix my neckline, I pull out two of them and put each in a glass. Then I grab my pendant, the one I’ve never removed ever since I got it for my thirteenth birthday. The one that matches my eye color and calms me beyond anything else I’ve ever tried.
“What do we have here?”
I freeze, my heart catching in my throat. Christopher, another football player and the captain’s friend, slides to my side.
His curly hair kisses his forehead and his eyes twinkle with mischief. Jeez. Please tell me he didn’t see me put the pills in the drinks? I chose a corner on purpose.
“You look hot as fuck in that dress, Nikki. I bet you’d look even better out of it.”
Phew. So he’s just being his usual flirty self.
He reaches a hand for my arse, but I swat it away. “Gross. Not in this lifetime.”
Then I grab the shots and head to where I last saw Astrid and Daniel. But my stepsister is nowhere to be found.
Daniel is all alone, standing near the balcony, but that’s not all. Both of his hands are shoved in his jean pockets and he’s narrowing his eyes on me.
Not anyone else, me.
Seeing Daniel alone is as weird as witnessing a flying unicorn toward England’s nonexistent sun. But the fact that he’s also looking at me is even stranger.
My nerves start to snap and attack the rest of my body. I can feel my feet getting cold and the tips of my fingers becoming numb. But I continue channeling the inner diva in me who’s a glorified version of eight-year-old me.
Only, she has more issues now.
And they all start with him.
Daniel.
I don’t have to keep walking to him, because he closes the distance between us in a few long, determined strides.
My feet come to an abrupt halt when he nearly crashes his chest against mine and brings us both tumbling to the ground.
“What?” I ask because he’s looking at me weirdly.
More accurately, he’s glaring.
Almost like he wants to split my face open and peer inside it. Or maybe punch whatever he finds there like he’s always bruised my heart.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“And that’s any of your business because…?” Yeah, so I usually sound like this. Snobbish, mean, and completely detached.
It’s a defense mechanism.
That sadistic gleam returns to his eyes. My chest hardens for the hit, for the attack that always leaves me emotionally crippled. “Thought I would check in case you decide to steal some peaches and ruin the party.”
“Whether I eat peaches, live or die, or end up paralyzed is none of your business.”
“It is if I’m forced to attend your funeral instead of going to summer camp.”
“And who says you’re invited to my funeral? Maybe I’ll have a ban list and you’ll be at the top of it.”
That makes him pause, a muscle working in his square jaw. And did I just imagine that or did his arms become tauter?
A smirk breaks out on his lips, and although his dimples make a guest appearance, I don’t like them under this light. They’re sinister, projecting the sadism in his eyes. “Or maybe you won’t have a say in it and I’ll be sitting in the front row singing ‘Hallelujah’ in my head.”
“Then at your funeral, I’ll wear a pink dress, hold a matching umbrella, and stand on your grave, crying loudly. When people gather around, I’ll say, ‘Everyone says men with minuscule penises have short lives, but I never believed that until now.’”
His smirk widens, and I’d swear it’s about to become a smile, but he clamps it down at the last second. “All the girls who had the pleasure of seeing my cock will testify otherwise. That’s what it’s called, by the way, Peaches. A cock or a dick, not a penis. What are you, a toddler?”
Heat rises to my cheeks, and it’s not only because of what he called his thing. It’s due to hearing him say that other word.
Peaches.
He has no business speaking it so naturally that it feels intimate.
“I’m not crude like you, Daniel.”
“Oh, right. You’re prim and proper and aren’t allowed to say cock or dick. How about go down and fuck and a blowjob?”
“It’s not that I’m not allowed to. I don’t want to. They’re beneath me.”
“Then don’t talk about my cock when you haven’t seen it. Unless…you want to change that?”
“Eww, gross.” I pretend to be disgusted when I’m in fact burning up from the inside.
Maybe I should just take the drug now to bring my guard down and say what I’m feeling for once.