BAD WICKED TWISTED: A Briarcrest Academy Box Set (101 page)

V and I just sat there.

Next to each other.

Neither of us looking at the other.

Both of us on a razor’s edge.

I looked at Geoff. He wore jeans but still managed to look like a Wall Street man with his short hair and a thick sweater across his shoulders. Didn’t he know it was June in LA? Then I saw the smudge of lipstick on his lips, a trace of pink, and my gut clenched. They’d been kissing.

My phone buzzed and I checked it, hoping it was Harry with good news.

It wasn’t.

Violet:
About last night, I’m sorry I lied. Truth is, I was surprised to see you. I didn’t know what to say.

I tapped out my reply:
Meet me in the bathroom. I’ll tell you what I really think and then you can make it up to me.

I looked up as I sent it.

She read my text, her fingers over her phone, the pulse in her neck kicking up.

I sent another:
Did you like it when we made out at Masquerade? You know, I can do a whole lot better with more space, more time, and less of your pansy boyfriend.

She tapped out
:
Go fuck yourself.

She was angry too, and part of me got turned on. Here’s the weird part—I’d been an easy going guy most of my life, but with her, I didn’t even recognize who I’d become. Combustible and wired to the teeth, our connection was like a bomb about to explode. She was a grenade, and I wanted to pull her pin so bad I could taste it.

Fucking would be better with you
,
I sent back.

I waited for a reply but nothing came, so I glanced up to see Geoff playing with V’s hair, his fingers idly twisting the strands. My eyes flared, my chest heaved, and I cracked. It became crystal clear—he’d come here to get her back.

And I didn’t want to let her go.

I tore my eyes off of them and wrote to her:
Did you fuck him?
My heart pounded as I hit send. Please say no.

She replied:
I saw Blair leaving your house this morning. Nice little walk of shame there. Or maybe, I should call it her “I Got Laid Parade.”

Dammit!

I tapped out:
Truth: she came over. Truth: nothing happened. It was YOU I wanted.

She wrote:
If it was ME you wanted, then why did you leave Masquerade with her?

I replied:
What else do you want? Blood? Pictures of us are already splattered all over the internet.

She immediately set down her phone, a worried frown on her face.

Geoff had been talking to Mila, but stopped. “You okay, Violet?”

She looked at me. “How bad is it?”

“What’s going on?” Geoff asked us, eyes darting from me to her.

Every ounce of my anger vanished. It had never been about her specifically anyway. “It’s just some photos. I’ve got it covered. Please, don’t worry, V. I’ll make sure they don’t bother you.”

She gripped the menu. “Okay.”

“Did you want to order something to eat, Violet?” Geoff asked, putting his hand on her arm.

I sucked in a breath. “Why don’t you call her V like everyone else?” I ground out.

“Her name is Violet.” He tapped his spoon on his coffee cup.

I crossed my arms. “I call her V or Violin Girl, but then that was when I was just watching her through my binoculars.”

Even Spider, whom nothing fazed, tensed as he adjusted his muffin in different angles and sent me hard looks. I got his message.
Chill out.

But I couldn’t. I wanted to pound on Geoff.

“Her name is Violet St. Lyons, and her family name goes back to the Mayflower, if you care,” he told me, studying his fingernails like I was beneath him. “I don’t think the police will take kindly to you spying on her, either.”

All eyes swiveled to me.

“She could have called the cops. She
likes
me looking at her.”

He snorted. “Please. I doubt that. She’s classier than that.”

“Me watching her
is
our thing, but I’ll spare you the details.” I glared at the lipstick on his mouth.

One corner of his lip quirked. “You remind me of a kid who lost his sucker and cries about it, Mr. Tate. I’m sorry you showed up last night and got your eyes opened.”

V let out a gasp. “Geoff, stop. There’s nothing going on—”

“She’s mine,” I growled at him. Mila was right. I
was
a Neanderthal. And I fucking embraced it.

“She’s been in my bed. Has she been in yours?” He smiled.

I reared back, almost as if he’d slapped me and I’d taken a stumble.

“Geoff! This is ridiculous. You’re both acting like children,” V hissed.

But all I could focus on was Geoff.

I forced my tense shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and smiled tightly, my hands clenched under the table. “She may not have been in my bed, but she’s an incredible musician, Geoff. But the best thing is when she plays nude just for me. Her music is superb, but put it with her hot body and the way she moves—” I groaned and bit my lower lip “—it takes me to heaven, man.”

Dead silence and then, “
She plays naked
?” Spider hissed and elbowed me.

V jerked up out of her chair and gave me a disbelieving headshake. Her face had flushed a deep scarlet.

I flinched at the betrayal in her eyes. “Wait.” I stood as well, not caring that we had the attention of half the coffee place. “V—shit—that was low. I wanted him to know how things are between us …” I came to an abrupt halt when she turned her face away. I’d sounded needy and insecure anyway.
What was she doing to me?

“You’re an asshole,” Geoff murmured, shaking his head at me as he put his arms around V.

Surprising me, Spider jumped up, his chair making a horrible scooting noise on the tile. He pointed at Geoff. “Bugger me,
you’re
the dodgy one. I’ve been sitting here trying to keep it in, but you’ll not be a dick to my mate. Now, get the fuck out of my coffee shop before I bust your face.”

A hush settled around us as camera phones popped out.

“Fine by me,” Geoff said. He took Violet’s hand and led her away.

“That went well,” I muttered as I sat back down and scrubbed my face. Dazed.

Spider smoothed down his blue shirt and took his seat, looking surprisingly unruffled. He nibbled on a scone. “I don’t know about her, but you’re in trouble for holding out on me.
Really?
How could you not let me look when she stripped?”

Mila slapped his hand. “Be quiet. Can’t you see he’s upset?”

He pouted. “But it was naughty bits. I love naughty bits.”

She sighed. “Good grief, I’ll show you my tits later.”

It barely registered that Mila had said
tits
.

Because I wasn’t paying attention, too busy getting a read on Geoff as he followed behind V. I didn’t miss the triumphant smirk he shot me as they’d walked away

Geoff: 2. Sebastian: 0.

“He played me like a symphony.”

—from the journal of
Violet St. Lyons

THE CONFRONTATION AT the coffee shop ruined the rest of Geoff’s visit.

I was angry that Geoff had acted like he owned me, even insinuating that we’d slept together recently. He fumed that I’d let Sebastian hear me play, when that had been one of the first things he asked for when he’d arrived at my house. And the whole naked thing drove him insane.

The one thing we did agree on was to allow him to speak with the chancellor at the Manhattan School of Music. Maybe it would spur me on to do
something
with my career.

The next day, I drove him to the airport and walked him to the security checkpoint. Most of the time I avoided anything that might trigger memories of the crash, so this was the first time I’d been inside an airport since that day. I took it in and didn’t get the cold sweats or want to puke. I felt okay—not great—but I could function.

“You good?” he asked, as we walked past several pilots and flight attendants.

I nodded. “I know it seems small, but standing here is big.”

“I’m glad.” He set his bags down and tugged my hand until our chests were touching. He looked sad, and part of me—the old me—wanted to make him happy again. I reached up and kissed him hungrily. Desperately. Trying to find a spark. He groaned and gathered me close.

But it felt wrong.

He sighed heavily as we pulled apart. “You’re thinking about
him
, aren’t you?”

No. Yes.

I nodded.

He grimaced. “Why him? He’s not anything like what I pictured you with.”

I shook my head. “Sometimes there isn’t an answer—just a feeling.” I pushed a strand of auburn hair off his face and cupped his cheek. “Not that it matters because I can see you’re still jealous, but I’m
not
with him.”

“I think your heart is,” he said tersely as regret flickered over his face. “I know I’ve dated girls after you, but you were always the goal, and somehow, you’ve already forgotten all about me.” He sighed. “I came here for a reason and my offer still stands. If you come back to New York, I’ll be the best damn man for you. I
will
make you forget about him.”

I smiled. “You make me breathless with statements like that.”

He smirked. “But is it enough for you to let this place go?”

“I don’t know.” There
were
things I missed about New York: the zoo, the pizza, the winter weather. But here I’d played my violin at the base of the Santa Monica Mountains. Here I was growing. Changing.

He fumbled around in his pockets and pulled out my promise ring. It glittered under the lights in the airport. “Whatever happens in the next few weeks, just remember that I still love you, and if you still want this ring, it’s burning a hole in my pocket.” He paused. “I’ve carried it with me for a year and a half, Violet. Waiting.”

His poignant words tugged at me. Was there a chance for us? Could he love the new me?

My throat clogged and I couldn’t speak. I nodded and hugged him.

“I’ll call you,” he said, and sent me one last lingering look and joined the security line.

I stood and watched until he disappeared into the crowd.

THAT NIGHT I crawled into bed with some old photo albums. I flipped through the pictures, looking at the moments captured there. I stroked the lines of my mother’s face. I traced my father’s smile. I wept. Yes, grief was its own fucking species, and I was tired of breathing it. Living it.

Meeting Sebastian and seeing Geoff again … it made me realize that I wanted my world back. And for the first time since the crash, something in me shifted—a desire to just be still and listen to my heart. To my parents.

My father had saved me. Was I going to let it all be for nothing? Is this the life my mother would have wanted for me? To wallow in guilt and sorrow? To give up my dreams?

Adrenaline rushed over me, and my head roared. I clung to it, jumped up and grabbed my violin and ran out to my balcony, too fired up to make it to the patio. I put my bow to the strings and ripped into the opening bars of Fall Out Boys’ “The Phoenix”
.
I surrendered myself to the heavy beat, letting the music take me out of myself and back into the girl I used to be. Feeling wild and light-headed, I stripped the song down, turning the low notes into maddening and powerful high notes. I twisted it around and made it mine.