The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,45
Mother,” I answered gracefully.
Because that was my future, saying yes and being gracious all the time to any demand. My parents believed that a proper upbringing for a daughter meant being a well-worn doormat.
My mother finished fluffing the bouncy curls adorning my hair and stood back to admire her handiwork. I gritted my teeth as I stared at my reflection. I looked like Annie after she’d gone to live with Daddy Warbucks.
“May I be excused?” I asked when she was done inspecting me for imperfections. For the most part, my parents accepted that I was a kid just like any other. The only exception was when there was someone to impress. I wasn’t allowed even a hair out of place then. To be fair, it was normal to want your kid to look nice for special occasions, but I couldn’t help but wonder if my parents cared a little too much.
A few months ago, we’d dined with a business associate of my father who also had a son my age. Parker had been bragging the entire night about his brand-new treehouse until I couldn’t resist seeing it for myself. I remembered my father’s rage after I’d torn my tights climbing the large tree in the Jeffersons’ backyard, and I could still feel the bite of his belt striking across my back after we’d returned home. I shuddered.
“Be home in time to wash for dinner.”
It was all I could do not to sprint from the house as fast as I could with the wind whipping through the hair she’d just spent an hour styling. Not to mention the risk of scuffing the black patent leather Mary Janes. I inwardly groaned and tried not to pick at the itchy white tights covering my legs. The frilly pink dress my mother picked out for me was bad enough.
I knew I’d be getting shit from the guys the moment they laid eyes on me. I’d be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the day.
Hopping on my bike, I pedaled to a field a couple of miles from Brynwood, the prestigious academy we’d all be attending in a couple of years. The fair was being held there, and we’d all agreed to meet up by the ticket booths. There must have been hundreds of cars covering the neighboring field designated for parking. After locking up my bike on one of the racks, I crossed the gridlocked road. After waiting five minutes of waiting in line, I paid the ten bucks, accepted the stamp on my hand, and let one of the stone-faced guards scan me with a wand for weapons. I hadn’t bothered bringing a bag, so I got through security quickly.
I immediately began scanning the crowd for my crew and saw them standing near the lost and found. Ever was clutching an orange Gatorade, listening to whatever Vaughn and Jason were discussing so animatedly while Jamie sat atop the hood of a white pickup that didn’t belong to him. He looked far too alluring in his black muscle shirt. It was so big on his lanky frame that I could see his dusky nipples peeking at me through the sides of his shirt. I tried to tear my gaze away but found it impossible. I wasn’t even sure where the urge was coming from. I had never despised anything or anyone more than Jameson John Buchanan. Not even my father.
As if sensing my thoughts, his gaze drifted to me. Neither of the others had noticed me yet. Only him. I waited for his signature smirk or for him to instantly dismiss me as usual, but he didn’t. He watched me watch him, and I wasn’t sure how much time passed with us just staring at each other before we were forced to break the connection.
“Holy shit, Bee!” Vaughn’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he looked me up and down. “You look like a girl!”
For a second, I thought I saw a spark of interest in his eyes before I dismissed the thought. No way. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen me like this, so why now?
“She looks so pink,” Jason chimed in with a snicker. “I mean pretty,” he said when he caught my look.
My gaze traveled to Ever, who only shrugged with a crooked smile. Feeling like the worst hadn’t been so bad after all, I started to relax when Jamie began whistling. It only took me a few seconds to recognize Tomorrow.