Fucking creeper. I’m so angry. I need to vent, but right now, I need to get to school.
I make a point of pulling my door closed firmly behind me before racing down the stairs. I make my way through the big house, stopping by the kitchen to find a small container filled with fruit salad and a side of yogurt with muesli sprinkled on top.
My stomach growls and I scoop it up while glancing around. I’m assuming this is for me, and I suspect that there was some kind of personal chef here early this morning to make it happen. My mom hasn’t made breakfast a day in her life and Orlando … no. It definitely wasn’t him.
Hurrying out the door, I fix my backpack over my shoulder and scurry toward my Honda, ignoring the house directly to my right. I’m just unlocking my car when I hear the front door of my new monstrosity open and glance up to find Mom in a white pantsuit, her hair curled and sprayed, and her makeup flawless.
“Where the hell are you going?” I grunt, my hand pausing on my car door as I stare at her in confusion. She works a million dead-end jobs, each one as shit as the next, but she’s never once missed work and she’s never once come strutting out the door looking like that … except when she’s got a date.
Mom’s head snaps up and she takes me in with wide eyes. “Bri,” she gasps. “What on earth are you still doing here? You should have left ages ago. You’re going to be late for your first day.”
“Yeah, I’m well aware,” I grumble, deciding now probably isn’t the time to bring up the creepy message from my new roommate. “Why are you dressed like that? Don’t you have work?”
Mom glances away, shame flaring in her eyes. “I, ahhh … no. Orlando and I decided now that we’re living here, there wasn’t a point in me working so many jobs. I was overworked and exhausted. I needed a break, so he offered me the legal secretary position in his firm. Better pay and less hours. I’ll have more time to be here with you.”
I give her a blank stare. “But you don’t know anything about being a legal secretary. You don’t even know the correct terminology.”
“I’ll be just fine,” she says, her tone short and sharp, clearly irritated with being questioned on her abilities. “Now hurry along and don’t get yourself in any trouble. The kids at this school … they’re not like the ones you are used to back home. These people solve their issues with money, not words, so keep your head down. Everything we do reflects on the Channing name, so keep that in mind. Now, hurry along. You cannot be late on your first day.”
My gaze narrows as I slip inside my car and kick over the engine, unable to look away from her. Less than twenty-four hours living under Orlando Channing’s roof and she’s already a complete stranger.
I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.
Chapter 6
BRIELLE
Holy fuck, Toto. We’re not in Kansas anymore.
My Honda inches through the gates of Bradford Private and into the student parking lot as I gape at the world around me. I feel like I’ve just entered an alternate universe as rich teens with Lamborghinis, McLarens, and Ferraris loiter around the parking lot.
The girls wear their short uniform skirts with their nails in perfect talons while their bleach-blonde hair falls in long curls down their backs. The jocks walk around in their stupid letterman jackets despite the sun already scorching, looking as though they spent the summer shooting up on roids.
I’ve never felt so out of place.
This school is filled with the kind of girls and guys that I make a point of keeping away from—trouble.
Letting out a shaky breath, I scan through the parking lot and find an empty space. Gently hitting the gas, I ease toward it, not wanting to be responsible for running over this year’s prom queen on my very first day. I can practically feel the sneers and disgust coming from the students around me, taking in my Honda as though it’s so far below them that they either assume I’m lost, or I’m the new janitor.
Turning my steering wheel, I start guiding my car into the parking space when a loud, roaring engine echoes through the lot. A shiver sails down my spine and my whole body tenses, knowing exactly who it is. I don’t even have to look. The guy has been causing havoc over my every thought since he decided to drop his pants and play with his junk without closing his blinds.
I wish I knew his name just so I know what to yell when I’m cursing him out …. or maybe I just want to know what it feels like to have his name whispered on my lips when I test out that new showerhead.
Shit no. Don’t go there, Brielle Ashford. Playing with fire is going to get you burned.
Focusing on the task at hand, I keep moving into my parking space when the black motorbike cuts in front of me and comes to a skidding halt in my spot. I slam on the brakes, desperately trying to avoid hitting his stupid bike as I gape at the asshole, all thoughts of his long, thick cock gone from my mind.
Fury boils through me. Can this morning seriously get any worse?
Lord of the douches climbs off his bike, his jet-black helmet barely gone before he’s completely surrounded by his loyal fans. He hangs his helmet off the handlebar and strides toward the front gates of the elitist private school, completely swallowed by the crowd. He doesn’t even glance back or acknowledge that he just stole my parking space, and the way he pretends to not see me only pisses me off more.
Reversing back and repositioning my car, I avoid every eye of the judgmental students around me before putting my Honda back in drive and searching for a new space. I’m all too aware of the minutes quickly counting down, warning me that if I don’t hurry up, I’ll be more than just a little bit late for my first day.
I find a space in the back of the lot, and honestly, while it’s frustrating as hell to have to walk so far, it’s a relief to know that I can’t accidentally ding the door of a car that’s worth more than my home back in Hope Falls.
After locking my car and slinging my bag over one shoulder, I hurry up to the front gates and frantically search for the student office. They would have been expecting me at least thirty minutes ago and probably wanted to spare a minute to introduce me to the student guidance counselor and senior advisor, but that’ll have to wait.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and assuming Colby just arrived at school and realized I’m not there, I promptly ignore it and ask the first person who doesn’t snub me where the hell I need to go.
It takes way too long to find the student office, but after meeting Principal Dormer and trying not to roll my eyes at the huffy office assistant, I’m free to find my locker and get sorted out for the morning.
Students linger in the hallway and the smell of coffee assaults my senses. My stomach growls. I haven’t had a chance to eat my fruit salad or yogurt, and I could really use a coffee, but I have no idea where all these students are getting it from. There seems to be one in every set of hands.
Bodies pack the hallway, and it’s almost impossible to figure out where the hell I’m going. Groups of guys laugh and whistle at the girls that pass by in their short uniform skirts, and their giggles only fuel the shameless flirting. Conversations and gossip drift down the hall, all about summer flings and who had the most extravagant vacation.