“Told ya, baby, you’ll be mine.” Standing there so bold and confident in himself, rubbing his hands together. He has big hands. He has started having his fingers and hands tattooed, I’m not sure if it is a rebellious thing or not. Or just a way of coping.
Shortly after Conor started Buck Hall, his mum was found dead after overdosing on heroine, then shortly after that happened his dad skipped town. He hasn’t heard a word from him since.
He turned up the evening his mum died with my mum, he was black and blue after falling to the hands of his father. It wasn’t the first time, I knew that his father laid a hand on him before, but after the night he was brought home by my mum, that was the last time his father touched him. I am aware that he tried, waiting outside the gates of school, but he never got near Conor. Chase wouldn’t allow it, and neither would my parents.
Part of me felt sorry for him, but most of me doesn’t. I know that sounds harsh, but you write your own paths in life, I am a firm believer of that. He didn’t have to be a heartless prick to me because of his upbringing.
Karma comes back when you least expect it.
That’s why I am working so hard on my ballet and to be a good person. I was hoping to find out next week if I have made it into The London Ballet college. I had back-to-back lessons next week with my uptight, stuffy ballet mistress but it would all be worth it. I knew I was good enough. I have been doing this since I was five, this was my life. I could do this in my sleep.
I was so deep in thought, I hadn’t realised he was still standing there, his eyes burning into me. I pulled my eyes from him, losing the connection between us as he stepped back and away from me.
“Ready, darling?” my mum called out as she sashayed her hips down the hallway. She always looked so pristine. She was wearing tight, skinny high-waisted jeans and a loose crew neck tee. Her long golden hair was in waves.
“Yup,” I said quietly, gripping my phone and bending to pick my Doc Martens up from the shoe closet. I sat on the chair that was situated in the entrance hall as I pulled them on, my mum tutting at me.
“What?” I quipped at her.
“Why are you wearing those?” she questioned me, her eyes firmly peeled to my battered boots.
“Erm, cos I want to.” I challenged her, all the while Conor was smirking at me. My eyes flew to him, a furious look plastered over my face. “What are you smirking at?” I snapped at him.
“Darcey!” my mum shouted.
“What?” I sniped.
“What is wrong with you?” She shook her head in disgust.
“Him. That’s what is wrong with me,” I hissed at her as I finished doing my laces up. I looked down at my black leggings and Chicago Bulls basketball jersey. Maybe I should’ve made a bit of an effort?
I rolled my eyes. “Fuck it,” I groaned as I stormed out the door.
I heard my mum apologise to Conor for my behaviour as she followed me. He was such a dick.
I slammed the car door on my mum’s range rover, pushing my sunglasses onto my face, the spring air warm on my tanned skin.
As I went to put my ear phones in, I heard her voice. “I don’t think so, young lady,” she said, pulling them from my ears. “What has gotten into you?”
“Nothing, just Conor.” I shook my head.
“The boy lost his parents, we are the only family he has.”
“Yay.” I rolled my eyes at her. “He isn’t as innocent as you think he is.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she quizzed me as she pushed the button to start the engine.
“Just forget it, Mum. Can we go? Robyn is waiting,” I said, my tone clipped.
“Fine.” She shook her head at me before pulling away from the house.
I was relieved when we pulled up outside Robyn’s house, I messaged her just as we pulled outside her gates, so we wouldn’t have to drive in and then wait to drive back out again.
“Hey, boo, hey Zara,” Robyn called out as she hopped in the back of the car. “Whoa, I can feel some tension in here,” she said blasé. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” I snapped.
“Darcey is being mean to Conor,” my mum piped up, looking at Robyn in the rear view mirror and raising her perfectly shaped brows.
“Mmhmm, but he does deserve it though.” She shrugged, a smirk on her face.
“Not you as well? The poor boy has been through enough. What is wrong with you two? Do you both have a crush on him?”
“No!” we both shouted in unison.
“Christ no,” I said after, shaking my head.
“Then what’s the issue?”
“He is a dick, Mum, alright? That’s all you need to know. He might be golden-boy to you and Chase, but he is a prick to me.”
“Language.” She scowled, tutting and shaking her head at me.
“Well, stop asking me then.” I rolled my eyes and looked out the window. The conversation was over.
We pulled up at the salon and I have never been so relieved. My mum kept going on about how wonderful Conor was, and how me and Robyn should stop being so cruel to him. Halfway through her conversation I put my earphones in and drowned the noise out. I felt bad on Robyn, but she would understand, she knew how he was.
I sat down in the chair with my usual stylist Kera as she pulled my hair out of its messy ponytail then ran her fingers through it.
“What we doing today?” she asked, smiling at me in the mirror.
“I don’t know, maybe an up-do of some sort? Or something off the neck?” I let out a little laugh.
“I’ll work my magic, leave it with me.” She winked at me. “Drink?”
“Please, I’ll have a champagne seeing as I’m eighteen,” I said a little louder, so my mum heard.
Her eyes wandered over. “One glass,” she warned as she closed her eyes, enjoying her hair wash and scalp massage.
Within minutes she was back with a bubbly glass of champagne, Robyn accepting hers as well. I closed my eyes and let Kera’s expert hands style my hair. I already wanted tonight over. I’ve got ballet all weekend, so I won’t be having a heavy night, whereas Chase and Conor will no doubt get so drunk they won’t even know their names.
As long as he stays away from me, it’ll be fine.
After a couple of hours in the salon we arrived home. We all walked up the six steps leading to the oak front doors. I pushed through them, anxiety sweeping over me instantly when I saw the caterers and party planners making my eighteenth look like something you see on ‘My Sweet Sixteen.’
As much as I was grateful for my parents throwing a party, this wasn’t what I wanted. I would rather have had a quiet night in with my family and Robyn, sitting with a nice takeaway, a few wines and a girly film.
This was not my idea of fun.
Yet, Chase had talked my mum and dad into it for his “social status.” He was a cool kid; the cool kids needed the biggest parties. I wasn’t a cool kid. I was the unpopular nerd who got bullied by her brothers’ best friend. How sad was that? All of a sudden, I was having a pity party for one. I kicked my boots off and left them in the middle of the hallway as I started walking upstairs, Robyn walking up behind me.
I let out a sigh of relief when I got to my bedroom without having to see the devil himself. I opened my door, letting Robyn through first, watching as she dropped her bags and flopped down on my bed.