walked off. But because I was a masochistic idiot, I let him hug me. I still craved his contact, still craved the tiny bit of affection he offered.
In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had held me like this. Hell, I couldn’t remember the last time someone cared enough to comfort me. My own parents didn’t even offer me physical affection. No hugs to let me know that they loved me, or even a pat on the back. And now that I had no friends, my body was so starved for affection that I gave in to him easily. I missed the old Godfrey enough that I was willing to allow him to touch me, even after he’d just told me that he’d let that bitch blow him. I was so fucked up, that I enjoyed the feel of his arms around me, even if it was fake comfort—even if he only did it to screw with me.
The question I’d asked myself a million times was at the tip of my tongue. Why? Why did they hate me? What happened that changed everything?
I bit my lip to hold back my questions. I was scared that if I asked them again, Godfrey would stop talking to me. He was the last one to not completely shut me out. He was my only way in. I was like an addict, who used whatever methods I could to find out what was going on in their elite world. Sure, he gave me whiplash with his constant push and pull, but at least I got some pull with him.
As soon as he felt me relax against him, he dropped his arms and pushed me away. The smirk on his face told me all I needed to know. The hug was nothing more than another game. It was always a fucking game with him.
“Rogue has a thing tonight,” he said.
Rogue. Just his name had the power to fill me with sadness. “You guys always have a thing,” I replied, forcing my voice even, but failing miserable.
The Heirs were named for their birthright. They were the four most powerful successors in Savannah. Their parents owned the town, which meant that they did, too. Hell, with how many investments they had, I wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up owning the world.
“You always did pay close attention to Rogue,” Godfrey said, his tone somewhat hard.
I often wondered if Godfrey was in love with me. At least, the way someone like Godfrey could love. He had a serious god complex and thought that everyone was beneath him. At first, when our mamas pushed us together, he laughed it off. But the way he acted whenever I brought up Rogue made me wonder if he was actually jealous. Jealousy was just another one of their traits that I’d become used to. I latched onto it like a fool. The boys I once loved conditioned me to crave cruelty, I guess.
“Bye, Godfrey,” I said, before adjusting the strap of my brown leather messenger bag up higher on my shoulder.
Godfrey smiled, pulling his dark aviators off so that I could look into his cool blue eyes. “Stop coming here, Scar,” he said, making my insides churn. “This place isn’t for you anymore.”
Hurt, I turned on my heels and started walking quickly away. “See you tomorrow night for dinner,” he called at my back with a dark chuckle. I raced down the train tracks without another word. Maybe this place had lost its magic, after all.
Chapter Five
“No.” My voice carried through the cavernous room and even seemed to echo down the hallway.
My mama, Porschia Livingston, was still wearing her fashionable business suit that screamed, “prep school Principal.” Her hair was bleached blonde, but her eyebrows betrayed that her hair was actually the same brunette color as mine. She stood above me in our informal living room with her manicured hands on her hips.
“This was not a yes or no question,” she told me sternly. “I’m telling you, you’re done. The fights. Skipping class. Moping around like you ain’t got a lick of sense. I’m over it, Scarlett Anne.”
“I didn’t do anything! Stephanie came at me in the locker room,” I told her, gesturing to my face. I thought I’d done a good job of covering up my faded bruises with makeup, but word still got to her. Nothing escaped Principle Livingston. “Do you think I’d look like this if I’d fought back?”