A Gorgeous Villain Page 6

  I’m all ready to beat my stupid thoughts into submission but I don’t have to. They vanish on their own because as soon as Con enters and moves away from the doorway, I see the rest of my brothers.

  They were hovering behind him and one by one, they enter too.

  First Stellan, who almost has to hunch but not quite. Then Shepard, who enters with a slight grimace on his face because he thinks my room is too pink for his manliness, and finally, the brother who’s closest to me in age and hence has always been my best buddy, Ledger.

  It takes them a few seconds to situate themselves around my room and from experience I already know where they’re all going to end up before they do.

  Ledger leans against my desk, which is located by the white door. Shepard, the noisiest one, drags my desk chair out, spins it around and sits on it backwards with his arms on the backrest.

  Stellan goes to stand by my window on the far side of the room. And the reason he does that is because Con is going to sit on the armchair right beside it, which he does a second later, and Stellan is Con’s right hand.

  Maybe because Stellan is the second oldest – three minutes older than his twin Shepard – and so Con has always trusted him the most. Even though Stellan and Shepard are eight years younger than Con.

  When they’re all situated and are still not talking, I open my mouth to apologize but I notice Shep elbowing Ledger and as if waking up, Ledger mutters, “Right.”

  He brings something out from behind him and offers it to me.

  It’s a giant baby pink box with satin pink ribbon wrapped around it and despite everything, my arms shoot up to grab it.

  On the top in a darker shade of pink, is written Buttery Blossoms.

  It’s my favorite, favorite bakery in town and they have the best cupcakes ever.

  In fact, I even have a picture of it, my most favorite cupcake from there – Peanut Butter Blossom –-taped up on my wall.

  I have pictures of all my favorite things taped up on my wall actually. My ballet recitals, my pointe shoes, Bardstown High.

  Excitedly, I look at Ledger and then all my brothers. “You guys bought me cupcakes?”

  Ledger shrugs. “Yeah.”

  Shep shrugs too. “They’re your favorite.”

  “And you don’t get to have them enough, so,” Ledger adds.

  That’s true, I don’t.

  Mostly because I’m a ballerina and I have to watch my weight. Healthy living and healthy eating and all that but oh my God, I have a giant addiction to these.

  It’s toxic but I don’t care.

  I hug the box, my heart feeling full. “Is that where you guys went this morning? Because I was looking for all of you.”

  Shep is first to reply with his hands in the air. “I will not set foot in that pink shop. Under any circumstances, so no. I went to see a friend.”

  Before I can reply, Ledger rolls his eyes. “By that, he means Amy.”

  My eyes pop wide. “You guys are back together again?”

  Amy is Shep’s on-again off-again girlfriend from high school and I really, really like her. She loves dancing and knitting just like me and I would love to see them end up together.

  But Shep is an idiot and he broke up with her when he left for college three years ago.

  I always feel bad when I see her around town; she’s still so in love with him.

  “Fuck no,” Shep says.

  “Why not? She’s amazing, Shep. I really like her.”

  “Never said I don’t like her.” He smirks then. “I like her. I like her a lot.”

  “Yeah, her and that hot tub in her backyard.” Ledger snickers.

  Shep’s smirk only grows. “Oh yeah, definitely. It’s got jet sprays, dude. You can’t compete with that. That hot tub can do things you can’t even fathom, little brother.”

  “Oh, I can fathom. I can fathom a lot.” Ledger playfully kicks at the legs of the chair Shep is sitting in. “In fact, I fathomed it last week with her little sister, Jessica.”

  Shep turns to Ledger then. “For real? You and –”

  But before he can go on, I squeal, “Ew, gross. Both of you.”

  While at the same time, Stellan speaks up. “Enough. All right? You can exchange your glorious war stories later.”

  Ugh.

  They’re such players.

  Sometimes I think that’s why they hate Reed so much. Because they know he’s exactly like them.

  Ledger and Shep shut up and before anyone can say anything else and sidetrack the conversation again, I ask, “Why are you guys bringing me cupcakes?”

  Ledger side-eyes Stellan and Con. “Because you’re our sister.”

  Getting serious, Shepard nods. “And we love you.”

  “We also respect you,” Ledger says.

  “And your choices.” Shep goes next.

  “Also your independence,” Ledger adds, making me think that they’ve memorized their lines.

  Shepard proves me right in the next second. “Yeah, we respect that too.” Then frowning, he tilts his head toward Stellan. “Wait, is that what it is? We respect her independence.” Looking at me, he explains, “Stella here said something this morning that totally went over my hungover head.”

  Ledger snickers again at Stella, I’m sure.

  It’s my fault really.

  When I was a kid, I couldn’t say Stellan so I’d call him Stella and, well, it caught on. And now every time Shep wants to annoy Stellan, he calls him Stella.

  I glance at Stellan apologetically, who’s watching Shep with a flat look. “You like your face, don’t you?”

  Shepard chuckles because they’re identical twins. “Not on you though.”

  “Yeah, keep talking and I’ll rearrange it for you.” He glances at Ledger who’s still snickering. “Yours too.”

  When the most mischievous of my brothers, Shep and Ledger, go quiet again – not happily though – Stellan speaks up, looking at me. “Look, what these morons are trying to say is that we acted like giant asses last night. We shouldn’t have barged in, like an army or something. But you scared us, all right? It’s not like you to lie and we thought something happened to you. We thought –”

  Ledger bursts out then, as if he’s been holding it all on the inside. “We thought he did something, okay? We thought you needed our help.” He shakes his head angrily. “You needed us to rescue you from him and…” He goes quiet for a second before saying, “You need to be careful.”

  “I know and I am. And –"

  “No, it’s… you need to be really careful. Really.”

  “O-kay,” I say, frowning at Ledger’s grave tone. “I am.”

  “You don’t get it.” He sighs sharply. “The thing is… fuck it. The thing is that he’s attractive. Good looking, handsome, whatever. Not more than me, but still.”

  “What?” I’m so confused.

  Shepard snorts.

  Stellan’s lips twitch as well.

  “Yeah, and also the thing is, Calls, that our little brother wants to say that he’s got a big boy crush on him,” Shep adds with raised eyebrows.

  Stellan chuckles as Ledger swats Shep’s head. “Fuck you, dude. I’m trying to explain something.”

  “No need. We get it,” Shepard says, hitting Ledger in the stomach with his elbow.

  “The point I’m trying to make is, he takes advantage of that,” Ledger continues loudly, rubbing his stomach. “Of his looks. Girls become stupid when it comes to him and he uses their stupidity against them. And you’re my sister. He’s bound to mess with you. Because he’s smart enough to know that I’m going to win this season. Like last season. So you need to stay away from him, Callie. He’s a fucking asshole, all right?”

  I bite my lip as I finally get my window to apologize. “I know and I’m sorry. I don’t want to ruin your game and –”

  “This is not about the soccer rivalry.”

  That’s Conrad’s voic
e.

  He’s been sitting in his spot, all quiet so far, letting the rest of them talk and joke around. But I guess his patience is running thin now, because he pins Shep and Ledger with a hard gaze before turning to me and leaning forward, putting his elbows on his thighs. “I can tolerate a lot. I have tolerated a lot over the years. Rebellions, phases, tantrums. But I will not tolerate lies that involve your safety.”

  He pauses for his words to take effect, and they do.

  Because he has.

  Tolerated, I mean. A lot.

  Obviously from Shepard and Ledger, who are the more rebellious of the bunch. All the times Shepard was suspended from school for playing a prank or making out with girls in the school closets. All the times Ledger got into trouble with his anger. Even Stellan has had his moments, not as frequent or severe as the other two, but still.

  And then there’s me.

  I’m a girl.

  A whole different species for my brothers to understand, but they’ve done their best.

  Especially Conrad.

  All the times I cried because of ballet and how I wasn’t good enough. How even though I love ballet, it didn’t leave me enough time to make friends and so I was always excluded from fun sleepovers and tea parties. So all my brothers would entertain me at home, play with me, drink imaginary tea with me.

  Not to mention all the things a girl goes through.

  That Conrad never even thought about before but had to because we had no one else to turn to.

  Tampons and bras and hormones and serious talks about puberty and sex.

  So he has tolerated a lot.

  And I hate that I lied to him.

  “We might have come down on you harder than we thought,” he continues, his serious dark blue gaze on me. “But it was because we were worried. As Stellan said, it’s not like you to lie and I’d like to think that I’ve given you enough freedom that you don’t have to lie.”

  “I know, Con,” I say, contrite. “You have. I was scared that you’d be mad if I told you I was going to his party and –”

  “Fuck yeah, we would be,” Ledger cuts me off.

  Con glances at him. “Ledge.”

  Ledger quiets down then and Con turns back to me. “The reason we don’t want you to go to his party or anywhere near him is not because of some useless, unnecessary soccer rivalry. It’s not about a game. It’s because Reed Jackson is a punk.”

  Con’s jaw clenches and tics for a few seconds as if he can’t even bear to talk about Reed. He can’t even bear to say his name in front of me.

  “He’s a rich punk who only cares about himself. I know him and I know guys like him. Guys like him are selfish, untrustworthy, and reckless. Guys like him don’t care about rules or people. They only care about themselves. Guys like him can’t handle responsibilities. They leave without so much as a glance back at what they’re leaving behind.”

  I don’t know why, but it feels like Con is speaking from experience, but before I can ask him, he goes on, “So the reason we want you to stay away from him is because he’s not good for you. He’s not worthy of you. He doesn’t deserve you. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, Callie? He’s not the guy for you. You need to stay away from him because you deserve better and because you’re smart. You’re smarter than the rest of the girls who fall victim to him.”

  I’m running from him.

  Well, not exactly.

  It’s not as if he’s chasing after me or anything. He’s not.

  In fact, if you look at him sauntering down the hallways, being worshipped by guys and girls alike, you’d think that Friday night never happened.

  That I never went to his party. He never caught me while I was trying to duck out. And I never danced for him.

  The only evidence of that night is that nasty split lip and the bruise on his jaw.

  Even after four days, it looks just as angry and red as it must have when Ledger laid it on him.

  Every time I see it, my heart twists in my chest.

  My legs itch to go over to him and touch it. Touch him.

  But I can’t.

  That’s why I’m running.

  The second I see him, I turn around and leave, which I usually did anyway, but these days I’m ruthless. If he comes in my line of vision, I duck my head. The second I start to think about him, I shut it the eff down.

  Besides, it’s not as if he is thinking about me.

  As I said, looking at him, you wouldn’t even know that Friday night happened.

  Not to mention, there are girls taking care of his bruise. In fact, I saw a girl from junior year caressing it out in the courtyard today.

  I think she even reached up and kissed it. I’m not sure. I didn’t wait to see what she would do once she’d gone up on her tiptoes.

  So yeah, I need to move on and consider Friday night an anomaly and focus on what’s important.

  The upcoming dance show in which I’m the lead.

  Yes, I am.

  I don’t even know how it happened. Because I’m a freshman and they never pick a freshman. They usually go for a junior or senior.

  I’m actually very proud.

  If only this wasn’t so hard.

  I mean, it’s a fairly easy routine. The dance itself is a mix of classical ballet and contemporary choreography. There’s nothing here that I haven’t done before.

  But.

  I cannot nail down the last part of it. I’m having trouble with holding the positions, with my calves being steady, with my toes bearing my weight.

  So I’m basically having trouble with everything and I just want to give up and cry.

  I mean, what kind of a ballerina am I if I can’t get my toes to cooperate with me?

  A sucky one.

  School’s been done for hours but I’m in the auditorium, trying to get it right.

  I can’t though.

  Because I’m tired now. My limbs are exhausted and I want to go home and just soak in a bathtub for hours, clean up the scrapes on my toes, bandage my ankle and take a bucketful of painkillers.

  So I pack up my things, unplug the stereo and bring it to the storage closet located backstage. Opening the door, I switch on the light and set the heavy equipment down on one of the shelves on the far end.

  The moment I do though, I hear something, a creak and a footstep, a click, and I spin around already knowing — hoping — who it would be.

  And I’m right.

  It’s him.

  He’s leaning against the now closed door of the storage closet, his gray eyes glued to me. And just at the sight of him, at the fact that my secret, dangerous wish has come true, I stop breathing.

  I don’t need to breathe anyway because euphoria is bursting in my veins like firecrackers.

  He’s here.

  Here. Finally.

  My heart races as if it’s been waiting and waiting for him to come find me.

  Even though I’ve been making every effort to stay away from him and to run.

  Even though the words that come out of my mouth are the exact opposite of what I’m feeling. “Y-you can’t be in here.”

  Good.

  Good, this is smart.

  This is what I should be saying to him.

  He’s a bad guy, remember?

  It doesn’t matter what I feel.

  It doesn’t even make sense that I feel these things.

  In response, Reed shifts on his feet and settles even more against the door like he has no plans to go anywhere. “Yeah, why not?”

  “Because Ledger is here,” I tell him, my own feet doing what they’ve been doing for the past few days, itching to go to him as soon as I see him.

  But I dig my toes into the ground and stop them.

  “So?”

  God.

  Why is this so appealing? His reckless, daredevil, rule-breaking attitude.

  Maybe because I’ve never broken a rule myself.
<
br />   Maybe because I’ve never seen anyone break a rule with so little care where the repercussions are so dire, AKA getting beaten up by my brothers.

  I bring my arms back and grab hold of the shelf behind me. Just so I’ll stay put. Even though it’s getting harder and harder to do that.

  “He’s at the library, waiting for me to finish up so he can take me home. And I can’t be late. Not after…” I trail off, glancing at the bruise, still so fresh looking and red, sitting on the left side of his jaw.

  His jaw that is shadowed with a light stubble that he must hate.

  Under my gaze, he thumbs it. “Friday night.”

  He remembers…

  Like a fool, I think of that first.

  It doesn’t matter whether he remembers or not.

  What matters is, he needs to leave.

  Nodding, I whisper, “Yes.”

  “So they’re keeping an eye on you.”

  Not them.

  As I said, my brothers have given me all the freedom. They’ve always trusted me.

  This is me.

  I’m trying to make up for last Friday.

  After how they all came to apologize and bring me cupcakes, I’m doing this to make up for the lying.

  It might be too much for some girls – teenagers lie, right? – and I get that.

  But then those girls don’t have awesome brothers like mine. They don’t share a unique bond with their siblings like I do.

  I shake my head. “It’s me. I lied to them.”

  He hums thoughtfully. “And found yourself in the clutches of a villain.”

  My heart skips a beat when he says it, the term I called him that night.

  And it’s a perfect term too.

  He does look like a villain. A gorgeous villain.

  With beautiful wolf eyes and marble skin. A jaw so sharp and cheekbones so high. Broad shoulders and a massive chest that tapers into a slim waist.

  Every part of his body looms large and threatening.

  Even that bruise adds to his danger.

  “You should go,” I tell him, breathless.

  “But here you are, aren’t you? In my clutches again,” he murmurs, completely ignoring my statement.

  I am.

  I have no escape either. I glance at the door behind him, which believe it or not is difficult because he’s covering it all up with his towering body.