My gaze darted back up as one of the girls threw her arms around Brock’s neck, whispering something in his ear. The desire to rake my nails down her pretty face tore through me. He slid an arm around her waist, yanking her closer to him. As they walked through the door, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss, giving her ass a squeeze.
That clarified it. I was just another notch under the Elite’s belt.
Chapter Two
Before my hookup with Brock at my mother’s wedding, I had no reason to be interested in the Elite. Our paths never crossed. Academy kids rarely mixed with those from the Public, and I never went to any Academy parties.
Perhaps if I had paid more attention to the gossip swirling around school, I wouldn’t have made the colossal mistake of sleeping with one of them.
The damage was done, and all I could do was face the music next Monday morning. That night meant nothing… so I kept telling myself. It sure as shit didn’t mean anything to someone like Brock.
But I couldn’t help recall that night of the most shattering orgasm of my life. It was also my only orgasm, which might have been why it was so mind-blowing. Brock Taylor was no stranger to the pleasures of the female body, unlike Harvey, my ex-boyfriend, who had been my first and only sex partner up until that night. Poor Harvey had been fumbling and unsure the few times we hooked up.
I had heard so many cruel stories about the Elite the last two years, yet that night, Brock had been… nice, dare I say. Another reason why I wouldn’t have pegged him as one of the asshole Elite. It never crossed my mind. I assumed he was from out of town, the son of one of Steven’s acquaintances. The wedding had been large, and hardly any of the attendees were friends or family of my mother. They had mostly been Steven’s guests, exactly how my mom wanted. Her old life was the past, and she planned to keep it there, buried forever.
Brock had made me forget for a short time where I was and the future that waited for me. I had been grateful in the moment, but now… I wasn’t sure who the hell Brock was or what his agenda was with me. Why would he hook up with a nobody? Or was that just his game?
Having sex on my mother’s wedding day was one of the worst things I could think of doing to her. Although part of my decision to be so reckless had been about me and my feelings, a larger part had been a big F-you to Angie. Her newfound image didn’t include a slut for a daughter. I was expected to act the part of someone with class, dignity, and self-respect.
The idea made my eyes roll. As if my mother ever had any of those qualities. It was all an act, the best performance of her life.
Well, I sucked at acting, so she was just going to get me, whether she liked it or not. I refused to be someone I wasn’t, to lose myself, my values at the sight of dollar signs. She constantly preached that she didn’t want me to end up like her, pregnant and forced into marriage. It was so nice to know that I was wanted.
I snorted.
The look on her face when she saw me with Brock that night had been priceless. My hair a wild mess, my dress wrinkled and slightly out of place, and the purple-red hickey on my neck had been the clincher. Thinking about it brought a smile to my lips.
Now I wanted to forget that night ever happened.
“There you are!” I knew from the sound of my mother’s voice that she had been drinking.
Joy.
She had the wholeeverything’s splendidtone going on. Her bright, wide smile was as fake as her tits. I stepped out onto the screened-in back patio where she and Steven were having a cocktail by the pool. Arms outstretched, she lifted her glass in the air.
I rolled my eyes.I wonder how many of those she’s already had?
Mom loved a good drink. And far too frequently. It was something Ainsley and I had in common: parents who didn’t know their limit. When Angie drank, she had two personalities. I never knew which one was going to come out. The overly loving mother, with her high-pitched voice that almost sounded as if she had a British accent. Phony, in other words.
Or the queen bitch.
Tonight it was clingy mom who just wanted to smother me with love.
“Hey.” I nodded to Steven. He smiled warmly at me before I faced my mother. “I wanted to let you know I’m home from shopping.”
“And how is Ainsley,sweetheart?” she asked, crossing her long tan legs. She was wearing a two-piece bathing suit with a white sarong tied around her waist. Mom didn’t actually swim. She just liked to dress the part.
Her voice grated on my nerves, and I made a face. Jesus Christ, would she don a tiara and start calling medarlingnext, like she was royalty? “She’s okay. Same Ains. You know.”
Angie’s lips turned into a pout, pieces of her dark hair falling out of her low ponytail to frame her oval face. “I haven’t seen much of her since we moved. You should invite her over for a swim. We could grill, couldn’t we, honey?” she said, turning to Steven with a bat of her false lashes.
I swallowed back a mouthful of bile at the sickening endearments.
Eighteen couldn’t come soon enough. I was dying to get the hell out of here.
“Sure,” Steven agreed. “Whatever you want.” He couldn’t have cared less who I had over at the house. Couldn’t care less what I did. Steven was an average-looking dad. Beefier than most because he hit the home gym daily to keep up his fit physique, but it wasn’t his looks my mother was interested in. He had the same sandy hair as Carter, but his nose was just slightly crooked, unlike his son’s perfectly symmetrical facial structure.
“I’m surprised she hasn’t been over sooner. You guys are normally inseparable. Is there something going on between you? She isn’t jealous, is she?” Just like my mom to somehow make my relationship with my best friend about money. It was all that was ever on her mind. I found it exhausting.