Sighing, I leaned against the wall, cradling my water and sandwich. “Josie James. And you might be the only person who does.”
She snickered. “Not true. Brock Taylor liked you enough to sleep with you. No judgment,” she added quickly. “I don’t care who you sleep with; just pointing out that it’s a big deal to catch the eye of one of them.” Her gaze went to the Elite’s table.
I followed her gaze, noticing how a few girls hung around the table. I snorted in disgust. “Does everyone in this school treat them like gods?” Why did they deserve such attention? I was beginning to wonder if Brock was setting out to ruin me. Or if bragging about every girl he managed to bang was his thing. He didn’t strike me as someone who needed to brag.
“When you look like them, yes.”
I shook my head. “I don’t get it. I didn’t even know who he was when we slept together,” I said, unsure why I was admitting that to a virtual stranger I only just met, but something about Maddy seemed… safe.
“You must have lived under a rock. Let me introduce you to the Academy’s Elite.” Her voice was mocking, as if she found the whole idea ludicrous. “You know Brock.” A smile pulled at her lips. “He is what I would deem the leader of the group. The other three pretty much do whatever he says. That includes what girls they can fuck.”
“Wow, that is messed up.”
“Tell me about it. He comes from old money and will inherit his family’s hotel monopoly. The pretty boy on Brock’s left is Grayson Edwards. He is the son of a very wealthy film producer and a bit damaged inside. His older brother, Sawyer, died in a car accident a few years ago. It was a street race. Big news. Made all the headlines.”
I felt a pull on my heartstrings. Was that sympathy for the asshole who had shot me daggers of hate?
What was wrong with me?
“On the other side of Brock is Fynn Dupree. Now, if I was into douchebags, he would be my type.” She took a second to appreciate the over-six-foot gorgeous football player. His coloring made me believe he came from a mixed heritage. “Fynn’s mom is some big shot corporate lawyer. And his dad is in real estate. And lastly, the playboy, Micah Bradford. He’s slept with more girls than Hugh Hefner has put in magazines. Including me.”
My gaze swung to Mads. “Really?” I was shocked.
She turned away from the Elite to look at me. “A momentarily lapse in judgment that I promised myself I would never repeat.” She shuddered. “Don’t let those baby blues and cocky smirk fool you. Micah isn’t boyfriend material. He will never give up his player life, not as long as the girls keep throwing themselves at him.”
My cheeks warmed as I remembered the comment he made when I had fallen into his lap.
Mads grinned as if she knew precisely where my thoughts had gone. “Both his parents work in finance, like stockbrokers or some shit. Or banking. I can’t remember the particulars. But they all are swimming in dough. That’s all that matters, and it gets them anything and everything they want.”
“Thanks for the rundown. I plan on staying far away from them. I don’t need the drama.”
She scrunched her nose, her attention focused straight ahead. “I’m not sure you’ll have a choice in the matter.”
I followed her gaze and stared right back at Brock, who was watching me from across the room. His jaw was rigid, but it didn’t take away from his flawless beauty.
Mads leaned over my shoulder. “What I want to know is how you ended up in bed with Brock?”
Breaking the gaze, I rolled my eyes. “It was a couch.”
She arched a brow, intrigue lighting up her eyes. Looping an arm through my mine, she pulled me toward the school doors. “Let’s swap sex stories and bond over poor decisions.”
I laughed and strolled with her down the pathway to a courtyard situated at the center of the grounds behind the building. “Your stepbrother is a real asshole, you know. It isn’t Brock going around telling everyone about what happened with you and him at the wedding. It’s Carter.”
My shocked expression only lasted a split second before it morphed into rage. “That little fucker. God, I hate him. I swear he lives to make my life miserable.”
She took a seat on one of the empty wrought iron benches, and I sat beside her. “And before you ask, no, I haven’t slept with your stepbrother.”
I laughed. “I guess there is hope for you yet.”
She rummaged around inside her bag. “I take it everything isn’t peaceful blended bliss at the Patterson household?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, rolling my water bottle in my hands. “Hardly. The one thing Carter and I agree on is that we didn’t want our parents to marry. Not that it mattered, because we’re stuck with each other. At least for a year.”
“What happens then?” she asked, unscrewing the top on her Pepsi bottle.
“I get the hell out of here, go to college.”
“Solid plan. Do you mind?” she asked, slipping out a slim cigarette from her bag.