Pretty When She Cries: Black Mountain Academy Read online

  Her eyes flick over me in that dismissive way she’s mastered, but her face never wavers. “I’m not sure. But if I had to guess, he’s probably balls deep in some annoying fan girl right about now. God, it’s like they have no self-respect, lining up to take their turns with him. Pathetic, much?”

  A nerf dart sails between us, and someone crashes into her from behind, thrusting her forward. I’m grateful for the momentary interruption, so she can’t bear witness to the anguish on my face.

  I don’t care what’s he’s doing.

  “God, you fucking halfwit.” Audrey shoves the drunken girl away from her, knocking the interloper back onto her ass. She primps her hair and turns her attention back to me. “I swear some people just can’t hang.”

  “Right.” I clear my throat and try not to look at the girl who’s crawling away on the floor.

  I want to leave. I should leave.

  “You should stay a while,” Audrey says. “I never see you at any of these bashes.”

  “I just came to say hi to Landon.” I sound like one of those pathetic girls she was just talking about.

  Her eyes flash with interest. “Let me help you find him then.”

  When my gaze darts around the room, I agree that’s probably a good idea. It’s crazy in here, and even though I’m familiar with the house, it feels brand new in the current state. Audrey grabs my hand and drags me toward the staircase, but we don’t make it far before someone else interrupts us. I recognize the other two guys who were trailing Audrey yesterday. They stood out because they happen to attend Black Mountain’s biggest rival, Maple Grove. Normally, bringing anyone from MGA across enemy lines might be considered a criminal offense, but since Gavin and Wyatt aren’t on the football team, I guess nobody really cares.

  “Can I interest anyone in a screwdriver?” Wyatt holds up a tray with individual boxes of orange juice, red Solo cups, and mini vodka bottles. He’s wearing a tee shirt with a tuxedo printed on it and a goofy smile to match.

  “Morons.” Audrey snickers and then pouts. “Can you make mine?”

  Wyatt mixes up her drink, and I stand there awkwardly for a second before deciding to do the same. I’m not much of a drinker. On occasion, my mom lets me have a glass of wine at the dinner table. But I’ve never been drunk. This is what people do at parties, I guess, so whatever. I dump the orange juice and vodka into a red cup and swirl it around.

  Gavin nudges me with his elbow after I take my first sip. “They call it a screwdriver for a reason. I think they named it after Landon. He likes to screw anything that moves.”

  Audrey smirks at my wincing face. It shouldn’t surprise me that she can see right through me. Girls like her have a way of sniffing out the weaknesses in others, and if she were a breed, she’d be a bloodhound. Right now, I have two choices. Walk out of here like an idiot and prove I don’t belong here or show her that I’m not as easily ruffled as she wants to believe. Audrey loves to push everyone else around, and if I walk away now, she wins by default.

  I tip the cup to my lips again, forcing it between my teeth as I suck down enough of the liquid to give me what I hope is courage.

  “Good girl.” Wyatt pats me on the head condescendingly.

  “Let’s check the bedrooms upstairs,” Audrey suggests.

  With that sage advice, the four of us wade through the mass of people gathered around the stairs. Getting to the second level is no easy feat with the throng of bodies to navigate, and my head is already swimming from the alcohol. I’m pretty sure chugging that drink like I just did wasn’t the brightest thing I’ve ever done.

  On the second landing, things are even wilder, if that’s humanly possible. A game of Twister in the middle of the hallway has stirred up a heated debate over the rules between two girls in their tiny scraps of swimwear. And beyond that, there’s an actual slip and slide with water and suds. The floor is soaked, and all I can think about is how Landon’s mom will probably murder him when she sees this place.

  My vision narrows to a pinpoint as I weave through more bodies, nearly slipping on the wet floor more than once. I’m already nauseous, wishing I’d eaten something before I came here when I hear the crowd chanting a name that only became familiar to me about ten minutes ago. It’s the hot teen vampire Landon played on Blood River Legacy.

  Killian. Killian. Killian.

  Audrey pushes her way through the human wall into a second sitting area, forcing the crowd to part just for us. And there he is. Six feet of pure, beautiful male. He’s draped onto the sofa, his chocolatey brown hair artfully messy as though he’s been running his fingers through it. He does that a lot when he’s frustrated, I’ve noticed. I wanted to run my fingers through it too. I wanted to crawl into his soul and stare into those steely gray eyes and touch the hard lines on his face until they softened.

  My heart is beating fast and loud, the way it always does when I’m near him. It doesn’t matter how many times I see him; he still takes my breath away. And I really do get it now. I understand why everyone’s so obsessed with him. Nobody else in this world is this interesting to look at.

  He quietly observes the people around him with a dark and intense expression. Everyone’s fighting over his attention so that’s probably why he hasn’t noticed me. Not that it matters. Because why would he?

  Two girls on either side of him hold tubes of lipstick in their hands. They’ve drawn arrows on their face toward their mouths, and more on their chests leading to their shirts. They look like drunken gremlins who got into their mother’s makeup, but it’s a game I’ve heard about many times over the last year. Truth or Grope.

  I don’t want to see how this plays out, but I can’t look away. Is Landon going to participate? Is this what he does at these parties?

  My throat squeezes when one of the girls, a brunette, strips off her cropped top, and the crowd goes wild. A footballer named Ken steps forward, nearly sloshing his drink over the edge of his cup in his excitement.

  “Kiss them both,” he pants with creepy eyes.

  “You can’t back down from a dare, bruh!” Easton Lang yells. “Just do it!”

  My stomach cramps, and I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or my emotions eating me alive. The girl on Landon’s right side wraps her arm around his bicep and whispers something in his ear. He stares straight ahead, his face a mask of emptiness. He’s here, but he’s not. Maybe that should make me feel better, but I’ve never seen his eyes so vacant before. I want him to push her away. He doesn’t. He doesn’t react at all when she emboldens herself by rubbing her palm across his thigh.

  I’m in the middle of giving myself a list of reasons I need to leave when his eyes find mine in the crowd. His dark brows pinch together, and for a split second, I could almost swear disappointment flashes across his face. I don’t understand. If he didn’t want me here, then why did he invite me? Acid burns my throat, so I force it back by taking a huge mouthful of my drink. I nearly choke on it when Audrey grabs my arm and tugs me forward.

  “Out of the way, losers,” she barks at the girls next to Landon. “It’s our turn.”

  The girls scatter like cockroaches, the way I imagine most people do when Audrey gives a declaration. In my disoriented state, I vaguely wonder what it’s like to have everyone fear you. She points at the newly vacated space beside Landon and shoves me down into it before making herself at home on his other side. Wyatt and Gavin stand like sentinels in front of the coffee table, watching in amusement as they pour fresh drinks for the other players.

  “Is there room for me?” Carson swipes a pitcher of beer from the tray and squeezes between Landon and Audrey, much to her annoyance. He’s on the football team too. Tall and built with piercing green eyes, he’s hot by most girl’s standards. I used to think so too, but that was before I met Landon.

  Audrey glances at the three of us. I’m trying not to look directly at Landon, but I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. I’m trying to figure out how to extricate myself from this situation a
s the crowd grows restless and urges the game on.

  “So, I guess the secret’s out, huh?” Landon’s words fan against my ear, and I shiver.

  Slowly, I turn to look at him, aware that my emotions are written all over my face. I’m pathetic. A sad little puppy whose eyes move over his features, cataloging every detail of this complicated, tortured boy. His body holds an undercurrent of tension, and a flush of red creeps up his neck. He’s vibrating with irritation, and I can’t tell if it’s directed at me.

  “You should have told me,” I whisper.

  “Why?” He studies me as though he’s trying to read my thoughts.

  He wants to see how this has changed things between us. I wonder if he can tell that I’m surprised he’s even acknowledging me at all in front of all these people. Little old nobody that I am.

  “Enough pillow talk.” Audrey’s shrill voice severs our connection. Landon and I both jerk our gazes away from each other and release a breath. “Carson, you go first.”

  Carson passes the pitcher of beer to Landon, and he takes a long pull, his throat muscles working. My thighs squeeze together, and I take a drink from my cup to give my hands something to do. Carson’s eyes bounce around the room without much interest in the actual game, until eventually, they land back on Audrey.

  “Truth or grope, Audrey.”

  Her lips curl playfully as she leans back to meet his gaze. “Grope.”

  “Kiss me.” Carson’s tone is bored, and I can’t imagine why. Audrey is easily one of the most beautiful girls here, and half the guys around us are already panting as they imagine themselves in his place.

  Audrey grabs him by the collar and drags him in toward her. She kisses him. With tongue. The crowd cheers, and I watch with wide eyes as she smears her lipstick all over Carson’s face. It’s morbidly fascinating, like a vulture eating its prey. Landon’s expression never changes, but I catch him staring at me a few times again.

  Everything feels different. It’s no longer just the two of us. Safe topics like math and books aren’t even options right now. The hormones in the room are surging wildly around us as the game continues, and I’m having trouble following along. So far, every person challenged has picked grope, and when one girl did try to pick truth, the crowd booed her until she left. It’s about that time Audrey’s eyes fall on me.

  “Kailani, I dare you to kiss Landon.”

  I suck in a breath. Our eyes collide. His are dark and hot and… curious. Challenging, even. Is it my imagination, or does he want me to say yes? I know what I want. If my erratic heartbeat has anything to say about it, I want to touch his lips more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But not like this. Not in front of everyone.

  “Um, I pick truth,” I answer quickly.

  “You can’t pick truth.” Audrey laughs. “Drop the nun act. We all know there’s a bad girl inside you.”

  The temperature in the room skyrockets. Landon is a statue next to me. I can’t look directly at him because I can’t read his face right now, and it only confuses me more. Seconds pass with excruciating slowness until, finally, Audrey sighs.

  “Okay fine, we get it. You’re shy.” Her voice softens like she really doesn’t want to embarrass me. “I’m amending my dare. I want you to go into a bedroom with Landon for five minutes. Just the two of you. Whatever happens, happens.”

  I sneak a glance at Landon, but he may as well be carved from stone. He gives nothing away when he rises to his feet and shrugs like he couldn’t care less one way or the other.

  “Are you coming?”

  He doesn’t wait for me to answer. My legs are boneless when I get up and follow him. The crowd jests us as we walk away, and my body sways slightly. I feel like I’m in a fishbowl with nowhere to hide. Landon is unfazed by the taunting laughter behind us. He opens the door to a guest bedroom and gestures me inside. When it clicks shut behind us, I drag in a mouthful of air.

  “This is so dumb,” I blurt, my nerves making me talk too fast. “You don’t have to kiss me. I know things aren’t like that. It’s just a stupid game, right?”

  His arctic eyes move over my face. In the span of a few seconds, I consider at least five different scenarios in which the impending rejection will play out. When he takes a step closer, his shoe bumps against mine, and I nearly lose my balance. He smells so clean, like fresh laundry and sweet spices. I want to rub myself all over his shirt, the way I rubbed his cologne onto my wrist when I used the bathroom here. I have no shame.

  His eyes are glazed, and I wonder how much he’s had to drink tonight. Will he remember this tomorrow? Can he feel the herd of Clydesdales in my chest?

  “Landon…”

  His fingers brush over my jaw, and I nearly melt into the floor. Gently, he lifts my gaze to his. Up, and up, and up. He’s so tall I’d have to climb him if I wanted to reach his mouth. I need a ladder or a step stool. I’m seeking one out when his fingertips still me, pressing into my bones with a warmth I feel between my thighs.

  He examines me, and I’ve never felt someone’s eyes on my skin the way I feel his right now. One of us moves, or maybe we both do. I grab his biceps to steady myself, and they are so firm. I want to study them to see if they’re even real. My stomach presses against his hips, and I feel something warm there too. It takes me a second to realize it isn’t just his body that’s hard.

  The world tilts. Explosions detonate in my veins. Butterflies grow wings and take flight in my belly. I suck in a breath, and then it happens. Landon Blackwood dips his lips to mine. I release an involuntary gasp, and he swallows it. He swallows all my breaths. My fingers curl into his tee shirt, bracing myself against him as he steals my first everything. I’ve never been kissed before, so I have nothing to compare it to. But I already know there is nothing else on earth like this kiss. My lips part, and I inhale him. His tongue grazes mine, sweet like peppermint, and I think I die a little right then. It’s intense, so intense my knees almost give out, and when I stumble a bit, he catches me.

  “You good?” His words are breathless as his forehead comes to rest against mine.

  I nod, but at the same time, my stomach clenches, and I feel like I’m going to puke. I curse the universe for choosing right now to make me feel sick. I want this to last forever. I want to feel his lips on mine until the earth turns to dust. But my gut doesn’t care one way or the other as the alcohol sloshes inside violently, threatening to erupt at any moment.

  “Is that a bathroom?” I choke out, eyeing the door across the room.

  He nods and releases me.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.” I stumble my way to the door while Landon collapses onto the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

  To my horror, I realize when I shut the door behind me that he’s going to hear me puke. I manage to turn on the water and flip up the lid on the toilet before it happens. My stomach heaves for a solid five minutes, and instinctively, I know something isn’t right.

  My skin feels hot and sticky, and there’s a dull throbbing in my head that wasn’t there before. Everything seems blurry now. Misshapen. I’ve never had vodka before, but surely, it can’t be this bad. Tears streak down my cheeks as my stomach cramps again, and I barely have the strength to drag myself up to the toilet to vomit one more time.

  It’s too much.

  I had too much.

  That’s the last conscious thought I have.

  My head splits open, brains spilling out of my skull. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. Everything is dark behind the curtain of my eyelids, but the distorted sounds around me bubble through my eardrums like I’m underwater. Hushed laughter. Whispering voices. The shutter of a phone camera.

  I’m trying to connect the dots. I’m trying to make it make sense. Every second feels like a year. My senses come back at a snail’s pace, waking me to a reality I’m not prepared to face. I’m hot and sweaty with hair stuck to my face and neck. The pungent scent of alcohol seeps from my pores, swirling with the distinct solvent of a marker
. There’s another familiar smell. Balloons, maybe? Or latex…

  My eyelids are glued together from sleep and dried tears. When I open them, the blinding light on the ceiling stings, and moisture teeters on the edges as I blink, trying to dispel the blurriness. Where the hell am I?

  Another phone shutter. More laughter.

  “Shh, she’s waking up, dude.”

  Groaning, I try to sit up. My limbs ache. Everything aches. It feels like I’ve been battered by a tropical storm and left to drown in the ocean. Movement doesn’t come easily. I’m weighed down with what I think are cinder blocks. My thoughts are so disjointed it takes me a moment to realize they are someone else’s hands. They are hot and sticky too, one clinging to my thigh, and the other to my naked breast.

  My confusion comes out as panicked gibberish. The slurred words are followed by more laughter as I force my chin up, trying to make sense of what’s happening. When I notice my skirt bunched around my hips, my chest caves in. This can’t be real. This body doesn’t even feel like my own. But the more I examine my bruised thighs and arms, the harder reality hits me. My shirt is gone, nipples heaving upward as tainted oxygen explodes into my lungs. My body is covered in smeared Sharpie, dark slashes of words and arrows inked into my skin.

  Was this from Truth or Grope?

  Piece by piece, everything else comes into focus. The hands on top of me are connected to two bodies on either side of me. My eyes blaze a trail up the muscular frames to the unmistakable faces of Landon and Carson. They are passed out, bodies curled into mine, wearing nothing but their briefs. Colorful foil wrappers dot the landscape of the bed around us, and I nearly choke on my saliva when I realize what they are.

  “Oh my god,” I whisper.

  A group of partiers lingers in the doorway, snickering as they hold up their phones to snap photos and add commentary.

  “Stop.” Panic rises like bile in my throat. “Stop taking pictures!”

  Landon groans beside me, flopping onto his back as he blinks up at the ceiling.

  “The fuck?” His voice is raspy and disjointed.