Now I have to work to hide the fact that I care about very few people in this world. If I don’t care about them, then no one can stop caring for me, either.
Our table at the center of the room is packed with people—all plastic and fake. Bailey sits close. I can tell she’s working up the courage to stake her claim on me by the slight twitches of her mouth. Maybe she’s talking herself into it, reasoning that even though I flirt with every girl in school, somehow it was special when I was charming to her.
It wasn’t special. Simply a well-crafted mask to keep people in their place.
My attention focuses on Blair once more. Her dark hair hangs down, forming a curtain around her bent head. Her shoulders are in a straight line, prideful even when she’s got the scorn of everyone in school, including me. She couldn’t put up more of a leave me alone vibe if she hung a banner in bold letters overhead.
Bishop’s holding court on my other side, his deep voice the only one that reaches me above the din of background chatter. Everyone’s eating out of the palm of his hand, their shrieks of laughter grating.
“So, Dev’s got this frat boy’s girl in his lap, right.” Bishop snickers into his fist. “The guy is jacked as fuck, but Dev’s like ‘No, you’re right. If your name’s on her ass, we should check. Fair’s fair.’ and the poor girl thinks he’s messing around. Legit, he stands up, and the frat boy is shitting bricks when he gets a load of how tall our boy is.”
“You’re so fucked up, bro,” Sean laughs, pushing my head from behind.
It catches me off guard. My shoulders go rigid. I was too busy watching Blair instead of keeping an eye on my surroundings.
“Hah, yeah, well.” My voice is brittle and chilly. Sean’s hand disappears. “I wasn’t going to pull her skirt up in front of everyone without her consent.” I shrug. “She was into it. She wanted a Daddy, if you know what I mean.”
I wink at Bailey.
In truth, that girl wanted something dangerous to excite her. I was mysterious and available when she found me smoking outside, and she liked the thrill when my hand slipped beneath her skirt under the flashing neon lights in the frat house. I didn’t touch her, but she acted like I was finger fucking her for anyone to see.
Bailey makes a small sound beside me. She’s blushing and wide-eyed. I can see the internal struggle in her expression, debating whether to move away from me or stay close, because being near me comes with a higher status on the chain of social hierarchy.
My lip nearly curls at her pathetic willpower when she moves closer instead of running away, even after hearing the story. It makes me want to stand up on the table and scream at all of them that I’m not good or nice or some tall, dark, and handsome knight.
If anything, I’m the fucking villain, the thing that lurks in the shadows of nightmares.
I take a second to focus on my breathing before anyone else notices the way I’m dragging air into my lungs. My fingers twitch. It’s a miracle I keep my knee from bouncing at this point.
I’m nothing without the vigorous control over my devious trickster mask. Everyone focuses on what I want to show them. While they see my distraction, I hide my real face inside, distorted and ugly and an unlovable terror.
Thorns encase my heart in a mess of brambles. My own parents don’t love me, so there must be something wrong with me. I belong in darkness.
Across the room, Blair pushes her empty lunch tray to the side and has her nose in a book. It rankles the burning itch making my skin too tight. She doesn’t get to relax and enjoy herself while I’m ready to crawl out of my body from everything locked up inside me.
Fuck that.
If I suffer, she’s going to feel my wrath tenfold.
“Hey.”
With one word, the table snaps to attention. All eyes are on me. Bishop and I might rule this school together as top dogs, but when I speak, they all fucking listen. I smirk at my unsuspecting target.
Bad move, my little toy. Rule number one: always be prepared. If you’re not, I’m going to wreak more havoc.
“Who wants to see a neat trick I’ve perfected?” I tip my head back to survey them, forcing my body to relax into a sprawl against the table.
The devil king is in session on his throne.
Bailey lights up first, as if I’ve personally offered to kneel between her legs. “Oh, yes, yes! What sort of trick? Magic?”
My mouth quirks up. “Sort of like magic. You’ll see.”
I slide my phone from my pocket and find my message thread with Little Thief.
Devlin: Come here.
Blair’s head pops up across the room. She frowns. I crook my finger and she stands with an eye roll.
The tasks have been far too easy.
It’s time for that to end and the real game to begin.
As Blair nears the table, someone behind me scoffs. “What do you want?”
Blair stops in front of me, arms crossed. There’s attitude in every inch of her posture as she cants her hip to the side. I let her hold on to that bit of headstrong independence, prepared to rip it from her with this command.
“It’s part of the trick,” I murmur. Angling my head to peer at everyone, I allow a sinister smile to break free. “Watch this. I’ve got Raggedy Anne trained good. She’ll do anything I tell her to, like my little doll.”
Blair makes a choked sound and I give her a gloating look. I reach for a big canteen of water Sean carries around and hand it to Blair. It’s full to the brim. Her fingers are cold when they brush mine, accepting the bottle. Discreetly, I mouth how much she’ll earn—three hundred bucks.
“Dump it on yourself.”
My order is cold, hard, void of emotion. Bailey gasps beside me. Some of the packed tables around us are looking over, watching the scene unfold.
Blair remains still, jaw locked as she stares me down with fire burning in her eyes.
My hostile grin stretches wider. “Do it.”
Everyone around waits with bated breath, collectively leaning in. The tension and anticipation presses in from all sides. No one eggs Blair on, possibly aware of the same thing I am. The struggle is clear as day in the rigid line of her body and death grip on the bottle. I can guess what’s going through her head—pride versus how much money she needs.
To earn it, she’ll submit to my whims. She’s fucking crazy to do it, to willingly humiliate herself. But when she releases a small breath and inverts the water bottle over her head, the thrill that zips through me is undeniably satisfying.
In seconds Blair is soaked, her bra visible through the white shirt sticking to her skin. Her chest heaves and she tilts her head to let her hair hang in a dark clump covering her eyes.
A rough chuckle huffs out of me. “What a good girl you are, sticky fingers.”
Cheers and laughter erupt around the room. Jeers fly.
Blair stands there, dripping wet, shoulders trembling.
“You trained the bitch!” Trent crows.
“Good girl, good girl!” People taunt and shout amidst their raucous amusement. “Wet dog alert!”
“Something stinks!”
Several people at the next table over make kissing sounds to call to Blair like they would call a dog.
Blair endures it all in silence. She gave up on comebacks and reactions freshman year once she figured out people would go after her no matter what.