PRESTON LOMAX: I want to spend the day with you.
My heart races at the words on the screen.
Preston Lomax is bad news. I know that.
But…
He’s so incredibly hot.
He would also make a good distraction.
I sigh, typing a message back to him.
ME: Okay.
With that one word, I am agreeing to hang out with him today. I’m not sure if this is a good or bad decision, but I can’t take it back now. Besides, I kind of don’t want to.
I push myself out of bed and get ready for the day. My hair is still curly from the dance last night, so I pull it into a high ponytail.
In my closet, I put on my favorite white sundress and some comfortable shoes. When I look at myself in the mirror, I cringe.
Maybe my mom is right. Maybe I am ugly.
But if that were the case, why would Preston Lomax, the best looking boy in our school, want to hang out with me? He’s been clear on his interest in me.
Pushing my mom’s words out of my head, I look at myself in the mirror, taking the time to study myself.
With my hair pulled out of my face, my eyes somehow look bigger and brighter. Though, maybe they’re brighter because I’m actually happy now. West Raven Academy has been good for me. Even my face is somehow softer.
Liam and I spent a lot of time outside this summer. Karen and William wanted him to go to their house in The Hamptons. He refused to go unless I could come with them. They eventually agreed. Liam and I spent all of our time at the pool or the beach, practically from sunup to sundown. Because of that time outdoors, my normally pale skin is tanned. The white dress makes my skin look even darker. I almost look… pretty.
But then I notice a small scar above my lip. It’s a scar I got from Karen. She slapped me across the face and got me with her diamond wedding ring. I had to get stitches because it wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Sighing, I step away from the mirror.
No matter how hard I try to fight it, I will never escape my mother. It’s not just the scar on my lip—it’s the scars on my heart. She has seared her negativity into my brain, and I know it’s something I will have to fight against the rest of my life.
Still, I won’t let her win. Not today, not any day.
My phone goes off again, so I walk out of my closet, ready for the day. It’s a text from Preston, telling me where to meet him at.
There is also another text on my phone.
Hunter Duran?
How in the world did Hunter Duran get my number? And better yet, how did his phone number get into my phone?
HUNTER DURAN: What are you up to today?
I roll my eyes.
Is he serious? Can this boy not take a hint?
ME: Hanging out with Preston.
Maybe I should’ve ignored him, but I couldn’t resist. Especially since he told me last night that I should stay away from Preston.
His response is immediate.
HUNTER DURAN: Where will you be hanging out? I’m serious about him, Cove. He’s bad news.
His words make me pause.
Should I trust him?
No, I barely know him.
I stuff my phone in the pocket of my dress and head out the door to meet up with Preston.
Hunter will just have to wait.
Don’t judge a boy by the size of his trust fund.
Should I be walking to meet Preston Lomax right now? No, probably not. Do I care? No.
I don’t know why I let my mom get in my head like I do. Why can’t I just shake off what she says? I know that she only says the mean things that she does because she’s jealous. I’m young—not that she’s old. She’s just not a teenager anymore.
My mom was fifteen when she got pregnant with me. I’m fairly sure my dad didn’t know her age because he was older. Or maybe he did know her age and he was just a pervert, I suppose that is possible too. But when my mom found out she was pregnant, I ruined her life. And her body, so she reminds me nearly every single day. But the point is, I stole her youth away. She never got to be a teenager because she was busy taking care of me.
I cringe, thinking if I had followed in my mother’s footsteps, I’d be a high school senior with an almost two-year-old. No thank you. That sounds like my literal worst nightmare.
I do wonder sometimes if my mother wanted to get pregnant. It probably seemed like a good idea to her—get pregnant by a rockstar and trap him. My mother is motivated by one thing and one thing only—money. That’s why she and William Bradbury are so perfect for one another.
Preston is waiting for me by the fountain in the quad. He’s sitting by the bulldog statue that is squirting water into the small pool.
The school mascot is a bulldog—clearly the school took the theme a bit too far.
I pause for a moment, knowing he hasn’t seen me yet. I can always turn around and walk back to my room. I can text him some lame excuse about being tired. That would be smart. Harper did warn me against him.
But then I think about Hunter Duran and his stupid beautiful green eyes that seem to gaze into my soul. And I think about his stupid smirk. He thinks he can tell me what to do.
I stand up straighter, now walking toward Preston at a quicker pace.
Nobody tells me what to do, especially not a pretty boy with a bossy attitude.
Preston’s entire face lights up as I approach him. I’m not sure if he’s actually happy to see me or if it’s just the smile he uses with all members of the opposite sex.
He’s a player, I know that. I’m not naive. I’m just… stupid. Preston Lomax is a heartbreak waiting to happen and here I am handing my beating heart over on a silver platter.
“Wow. Your beauty is breathtaking.” Preston stands up from the fountain.
My face grows warm. “And I’m sure you say that to all the girls.”
He chuckles. “No, only you. Somehow, I always forget just how gorgeous you are. The sight of you truly takes my breath away. It’s not a line.”
I don’t believe him, not even a little.
Preston is a player. There is a reason he’s got half the girls in this school wrapped around his finger. He knows exactly what to say and do to make girls fall at his feet.
I keep Harper’s words in my mind, reminding myself not to fall for him. I can be strong.
“I like you because you’re so… fresh and genuine. Most of the kids in this school only like me because of my money.” He shrugs. “It’s whatever. I get it. My family is rich.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t judge a boy by the size of his trust fund.”
He laughs. “Well, maybe you could judge me a little off my trust fund. It’s large.”
I nod. “Right.”
“What about you?” He sits down on the bench in the quad, patting the spot beside him. “How big is your trust fund?”
Is this something that people just ask one another?
“I’ve got to be honest, I have no idea.” I shrug, taking a seat beside him. “My dad left it for me before he died. My grandparents would know. But until I turn eighteen, I’m broke.”