She deflated. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” he said. “You know the rules. No one posts something from one of our parties without getting the okay from me first.”
Looking thoroughly chastised, she started twisting her hair nervously. “I just thought, since you guys hated her so much, that—”
“That the rules didn’t apply to you?” Bonham interrupted. “You thought wrong.”
He turned around and walked away without another word, nodding and talking to people like he was King Shit as he passed. All of Stephanie’s friends started whispering behind her back, while the blush spread all the way down from her cheeks to her chest. I felt my new phone vibrate in my back pocket.
When I pulled it out, I saw a new text from Bonham:
Rogue said get ur shit after school & go 2 dance class on Travis St. @4. Don’t be late.
“What the hell?”
I looked back up and saw Stephanie scrolling through her phone in frenzied movement. “That asshole didn’t just delete my post and the photo. He deleted everything and locked me out of all my social media accounts!”
I blinked in surprise. Was that Bonham just being a controlling socialite, making sure he kept his rule over the rumor mill, or was it their covert way of helping me out?
Either way, I’d take it.
At lunch, I sat in the library. Maybe I was that cliche reject you’d read about in all the pathetic books, but it was easier to eat alone than it was to test the boundaries of the Heir’s patience. Just because they were willing to stand up for me to Stephanie didn’t mean they were going to start being kind to me all of a sudden. That just wasn’t their style.
I was in the back of the library when my phone rang. No one really paid me any mind back here, so I answered the FaceTime call with a smile. “Scarlett Livingston, you never called,” Clayton said with a scowl. I could see in the background that he was at another art gallery, probably pissing off someone by talking loudly on the phone.
“Sorry, I got busy,” I replied absentmindedly. He was wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, looking like he just got off the set of Grease.
“Busy fucking that guy that broke my door down?” he asked with a sly grin.
“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell,” I replied, feeling like it was easier to tease him than it was to explain that Rogue showed up to my house and broke my heart. Again.
“Yeah, whatever. You’ve still got that virgin look about you. You know I could help you with that.”
“I bet you could. What are you doing tonight? I’ve got dance class near your apartment. Maybe I could stop by afterwards? I can watch you play video games while we pretend to spend quality time together.”
Clay had his attention on something outside the frame of the video feed. I watched him lick his lips in appreciation, and I said a prayer for whatever girl he had his sights on. “Aren’t you supposed to be in Switzerland?” he asked distractedly. “Wait. Dance classes? You don’t dance.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Mama decided she wanted me to stay home after I got an invite to join the Junior Debutante League,” I replied with a cringe. The shudder traveled through me, and I couldn’t hold it back.
“Speaking of which, I’m gonna need you to be my date for one of the events,” I added. I had decided last night that there was no way in hell I was going with Rogue Motherfucking Kelly.
“Lots of girls in pretty dresses looking to fuck a rich boy? I’m in,” Clay joked, just as I saw a shadow move from behind one of the library shelves.
“Hey, I’ll see you later okay?” I replied distractedly, trying to see who was spying on me.
“Yeah, okay. Get all sweaty at your dance class tonight. You know it gets me all hot and bothered,” he said with a grin.
I rolled my eyes before hanging up, not bothering to say goodbye.
I stood and adjusted my uniform skirt, which barely hit mid thigh, thanks to my mama’s oversexualized design, then headed towards where I knew a tall figure was watching me. When I turned the corner, my mouth gaped open when I saw it was Luis.
“Can I help you?” I asked, crossing my arms.
“Just checking to see where you were. You didn’t show up to the cafeteria today.”
I blinked. This felt oddly like caring, and the guys didn’t do that anymore. “Nope. Just prefer the library. You can run back to Rogue like a little bitch and tell him that I’m not airing out all the Heir secrets for the world to know,” I said with a smirk before checking my watch. Luis and I had English in seven minutes. “Actually, I’ll let you walk me to class since you’re already here.”
With Luis watching me, I unscrewed the cap of the juice blend that my mama’s nutritionist made for me and downed it whole, wincing past the nasty vegetable taste.
“That’s your lunch?”
“Yep. Thanks to your dumbass Junior Debutante scheme, Mama wants me to lose six pounds by December.”
Luis didn’t respond, but I saw a flash of guilt in his eyes. But instead of being the compassionate boy I once knew, he ignored my words. He bent over and grabbed my messenger bag on the floor and began leading me out of the library.
“So are you guys claiming me now?” I asked, noticing how the other Smith Academy students blatantly stared at us.
“Nope.”
I huffed out a breath. “Then why are you carrying my bag? Y’all are a bunch of confusing motherfuckers, you know that?”
At that, Luis smiled before pushing me against the lockers with his hands on my shoulders. He blocked me from view of the rest of the school with his body, caging me in with his arms. “You’re getting pretty cocky, Scar. I’d hate to have to remind you what happens when you go against the Heirs. You’re just going to get hurt.”
I saw the challenge in his stare, then let my gaze fall to his lips. Lips that I knew had been the talk of the school ever since he kissed Allison Newport at the playground in fifth grade. “Maybe I like going against you all, Luis. Maybe I like a little pain.”
His eyes darkened, and I leaned up to close the distance. Time seemed to slow. My heart was as destructive as the tornado that touched down outside of town last summer.
“I’m not afraid anymore,” I whispered, before leaning in and trailing my tongue along his bottom lip. Luis shuddered at the contact, and when I knew I had him where I wanted him, I shoved at his chest, just as the bell rang for class.
I smirked up at him. “Come on, Salvador. Don’t want to be late.”
Chapter Seventeen
I don’t know how he’d done it, but Rogue Kelly got me a private class with the best dance teacher in Savannah, right at the peak of debutante season. The junior cotillion ball was a big deal, and finding a dance instructor this late in the game was near impossible. Most had a waiting list a mile long, but I guess an Heir’s influence had no boundaries.
The only problem? The instructor was a total dick.
All I’d heard for an hour was barked orders and putdowns like: “Again!” and, “Keep that neck straight!” and my personal favorite, “Be a swan, not a shit-faced sloth!” He danced circles around me, and even though I had the muscle control of a well-trained gymnast, with dance experience of my own, it made no difference. According to him, nothing I did was right for the ballroom.