“You in school yet?” she asks. I can hear noise in the background. Hell, I can almost see Tracy and Uma sauntering over to her, lattes in one hand, bear claws in the other. Our morning routine.
I let a deep sigh roll out of my chest. “I’m about to go in. This new school has got some Cruel Intention vibes, I tell ya’!”
“You mean, hot guys and three-way innuendos every fifteen minutes?” Brenda giggles. She’s being nice. Trying to make light of what I know she fully understands is a shitty fucking situation.
I roll my eyes and let out a deep sigh. “No, more like sassy beauty queens throwing daggers with their eyes,” I say. “And they’re looking straight at me. It’s creepy. It’s like they’re planning to murder me the moment I’m alone.”
Brenda gasps. It’s one of her fake, overly dramatic gasps, meant to make me laugh. “Oh, my god, stay away from the bathroom, you hear me?! Stay. Away. From the bathroom!”
I chuckle softly, a little sorry I can’t give her a heartier laugh. But there are three gorgeous senior chicks eyeing me like I’ve just stolen their quinoa salads. I’m not the aggressive type but I don’t back down, either. My physique might not be in any way intimidating, yet I can still throw a punch and hit something. The apparent leader of the pack throws me a glossy smirk as she goes through the main door, joined by her sidekicks. Their cheerleading uniforms give anyone at the bottom of the stairs a good view of their round, perfectly toned rumps.
“Just wanted to check on you,” Brenda says. I almost forget I’m on the phone with her, my eyes wandering across the front of the building, all the way into the attached parking lot. “How are you feeling?”
“As good as I can,” I reply. “Just one year, and then I’m off to college.”
“Ugh, your mom’s gonna cry…”
“Like I give a crap. I mean, she didn’t notice my tears when she moved me all the way here, in Douchebag-Central.”
I can almost see Brenda nodding slowly. “Yeah, she could’ve kept you here for another year at least. But it’s done now, Elly… You know, you can’t change it. You can only keep going. Forward, ever forward.”
“Stop quoting Coach Lee and get your ass in school!” I laugh.
“I’ll talk to you later, babe. Remember, if Trinity’s too crummy or sleazy for you, carry a billiard ball in a sock with you, at all times,” Brenda says, then hangs up.
I can’t help but smile. Two minutes with her on the phone, and I’m already feeling better. She’s right, though. I can’t change what happened. My parents’ marriage didn’t work out. They didn’t think about me when they reached their decision, so… here I am, starting over in a new town, where I don’t know anyone. It sucks, but I’ve got a feeling life is going to be a lot like this. Lots of curve balls headed toward me. I just can’t see them yet.
My attention is drawn away from my problems by roaring laughter. I find its source, legs hanging out the back of a Range Rover in the parking lot. That voice sounds familiar. It causes a painful pang in my chest, like a rubber band suddenly snapping.
“Pass me the bottle, Rhett!” he says, as authoritarian as ever.
Oh, dear…
It’s them. The Hotshots. I call them The Hotshots because there really isn’t a better word for them. I used to joke about them being joined at the hip, back in summer camp. Kellan and Rhett Flanagan, the troublemaking brothers - fraternal twins whose only similarity is how damn irresistibly hot they both are. And Gage O’Donnell, their best friend. We went to the same place this summer—a sprawling complex about fifty miles from both Trinity and my hometown, up north. Several high schools organize these trips every year. I met The Hotshots there, back in late June. They didn’t tell me they were enrolled at Trinity High.
Then again, we didn’t talk about school much.
My heart starts pumping a little faster. I catch a glimpse of Rhett as he twists himself from the passenger seat to hand a bottle to Kellan. They’re drinking. Gage is behind the wheel, the engine turned off. A cigarette hangs loosely from between his lips. I thought he’d quit. This feels off, somehow.
Girls are buzzing around the Range Rover, laughing and touching Rhett through the open window. They want him. It’s not hard to see why. He’s the heartbreaker out of The Hotshots. Tall, dark and handsome. His hair is black and messy, with the occasional curls streaking across his forehead. His eyes are emerald knives that cut through everything they see. His lips… well, they’re the epitome of wet, delicious softness. The girls like him because he towers over most of the guys his age. Those broad shoulders get me tingly.
“You’ve had enough,” Rhett says to Kellan, his hand out, asking for the bottle back. I recognize the amber liquid dancing inside as it reaches Rhett again. Whiskey. Probably a single malt. Their good tastes extend beyond summer camp, apparently.
Gage grins and snatches the bottle, taking a swig before Rhett grabs it, cursing under his breath.
“I’m not technically driving right now!” Gage replies.
Looking at them now, I realize how different they are from one another, yet how much alike. Kellan is the bulky brother, with a solid muscle mass. He’s not a thick-neck type, but he looks like he could lift that Range Rover from the back on a dare. But what really draws me to him is his personality. He’s all sweet and mushy on the inside. The memory of us in the woods springs to mind, and I know I’m going to get all wet in a second. He was my first. To this date, my only, as well, and I’ve not heard from him in two whole weeks.
It should offend me. But then I see Gage again,
