Unbidden (Brighton Academy Book 1) Read online

  I hold my head high as I make my way down the hall, ignoring all the stares. Seems word has gotten out about me. The girls all sneer, but the boys? They’re staring at me like they want to do unruly things to me. Some make crude gestures or comments while others undress me with their eyes.

  I make a detour to the bathroom at the end of the hall, glancing around to confirm its vacancy.

  I sigh, turning to the mirror, then gasp as I take in my appearance. A long red scratch is faintly bleeding across my right cheek. I hesitantly reach up and touch it, wincing from the sting. I look around for a paper towel but curse when I remember that along with the fancy school came air dryers in the bathrooms. It was meant to be a green initiative, but for moments like this, it’s a major downfall.

  Running my hand under the tap, I gently wet my cheek and wipe the blood away.

  The warning bell rings, causing me to jump. My heart is beating frantically as I try to soothe my nerves. I wait until I feel calmer before exiting the bathroom. The bell for class rang two minutes ago, so the empty halls don’t concern me. Instead, they provide comfort knowing I have a couple more minutes alone before I have to face the lynch mob again.

  I make it through another class before being bombarded by Tinsley and V.

  Tinsley doesn’t even let me make it to the table before she questions me. “What happened to your face?”

  I sigh, taking a seat next to Victoria.

  I knew I should have skipped lunch today.

  “Nothing. It’s fine.”

  She narrows her eyes, and I can tell she won’t let it go.

  “I hit it on my locker. I’m clumsy sometimes. Seriously, no biggie.” I shrug and turn to my food.

  I don’t see the point of getting both her and Victoria worked up over it, even if I hate to admit that I’m still a little shaken up from the violence and hatred in Ingram’s eyes.

  “Well, I can at least fix that for you.”

  Tinsley jumps over the table, sitting next to me. She starts pulling items from her purse.

  Once I recognize the concealer, I put my hand up to stop her. “Whoa, there’s no need for that.”

  She pushes my hand away. “Quiet. Let me do my work.”

  I shoot Victoria a wide-eyed look, but she only shrugs. I glance back to Tinsley and see the excitement in her eyes.

  “I’m such a sucker,” I mumble to myself. “Go on. Do your thing.”

  She lets out a low squeal. “Trust me. Once I’m done, you won’t even be able to tell you had a mark.”

  I don’t respond, instead closing my eyes to let her work. After a few moments, a voice from behind me startles me, and I fall backward.

  “What’re you doing, Tin Tin?”

  My ass would have been firmly planted on the floor, but a pair of strong, masculine arms catches me instead.

  “Well, who do we have here? You really need to stop falling for me, little fox.” Keaton’s smiling face greets me as I look up, still locked in his arms.

  Rolling my eyes, I stare into his. “Get over yourself, Keaton. Can you let me go now?”

  Keaton stands up straight, pulling me out of my chair to stand with him. Instead of letting me go, he tugs me closer to his body.

  “Come on, foxy lady. Why don’t you stay in my arms a little while longer?”

  I want to be mad at him, but seeing the childish gleam in his eye and the flirtiness in his tone makes me want to laugh instead.

  “You’re being ridiculous. Is this the only way you can get a woman? Accost her while she’s unsuspecting?” Resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let me go, I lay my arms on his shoulders.

  He shrugs. “Not usually, but when she’s extremely gorgeous, I’m willing to put in some extra work.”

  Resting my head on his shoulder, I burst out in a full-body, ache-in-my-stomach laugh, one I haven’t used since my mom passed away.

  I can feel the deep rumble of his own laugh as he rubs his hands up and down my back, holding me to him.

  After a few moments, I pull back, wiping tears from my eyes. “Thanks, Keat. I needed that.”

  He leans in and goes to kiss my cheek, pausing once he spots the mark. “What happened to your face?”

  I roll my eyes, pulling back from him. “Nothing. What’s up with you, Yates?”

  “What about us?” a new, deeper voice says from behind me.

  This one sends shivers running down my back involuntarily.

  I look up to Keaton and find a knowing look in his eye. I narrow my eyes on him, letting him know he’s reading something from nothing, then turn around and face Reed. As I go to speak, Keaton beats me to it.

  “Look at her cheek.”

  Reed’s eyes take in my entire face, coming to land on my cheek.

  “So what? Tinsley, it’s time for you to eat. Come on.”

  “Stop being a dick, Reed.”

  I whirl, shocked that Keaton stood up for me.

  “Just because you want to get your dick wet by some two-bit whore doesn’t mean I need to acknowledge her. Have your fun if you want, but I highly suggest you wrap up.” He gives me a once-over. “Hell, do it twice, then get tested. Come on, Tinsley.” His voice brooks no argument.

  Keaton comes to rest his arm over my shoulder as Tinsley gives me an apologetic smile. As they leave, Keaton whispers in my ear, “Don’t let him get to you. He’s a dick to everyone, especially those he’s threatened by. Keep your wits about you, little fox, and you’ll be fine.”

  This time he does press a kiss on my cheek before leaving.

  I collapse back in my seat and turn to Victoria.

  “What in the fuck just happened?”

  She smiles widely at me. “Two Yateses down, one to go. Looks like Keaton’s taken a liking to you.”

  I just roll my eyes.

  ∞∞∞

  “I love this mall,” V gushes when we arrive. “It has something for everyone’s price range. If I want to buy designer, I can. If I want to buy something from Forever 21, I can do that too. You never know. Besides, I've made some killer purchases from the ‘normal person’ stores.”

  “Good to know,” I tell her as we exit the car.

  I stand by the back bumper as she comes around. V instantly loops her arm through mine and starts pulling me toward the door.

  “Okay, I have a game plan. First, we hit up the food court. I need a slushie from the pretzel place. Then we window-shop and figure out what your style is, and then we try on and buy.”

  “My style?”

  As we pass through the doors, V starts pulling me toward the pretzel place.

  “Look, I know this lifestyle isn’t yours. You’ve had so many changes in such a short amount of time that I don’t want to take that away from you. Besides, we’re two completely different people. I would never expect you to dress like me outside of school. So, I want to know what your style is, then maybe refine it a tad. Money is a nonissue now no matter how hard that is to hear right now,” she says as we stop in front of the cash register.

  “Can I get a blue raspberry slushie, please?” she asks the server, then turns to me. “You want anything?”

  “What the hell. Make it two, please.”

  “I knew you had good taste!” V says teasingly.

  After we receive our slushies, we walk around and window-shop for about an hour, V asking my opinion on different items to get a “feel” for what I like before I finally give in and agree to try something on.

  “Okay, bear with me. I know you love your Chucks, combat boots, and jeans. You can keep those, but what if we go dressier with the tops? Maybe find you some boots with chunky heels and maybe some sneaker-style wedges,” she pleads while rapidly fluttering her eyelashes.

  “You know batting your eyelashes at me won't work, right?” I deadpan before sighing. “Okay, I’ll try it. I dig those boots,” I tell her while pointing behind her.

  V turns around and gasps. “Yes!” she squeals before grabbing my hand and pulling me towards
them.

  She takes a pair off the shelf and starts inspecting them. “I could never pull these off, but you can. What size?”

  “Eight,” I tell her absentmindedly while taking off my current shoes.

  V hands me a box, and I take the boots out. I undo a zipper on the side and slip my foot in, zipping it back up before putting the other shoe on. I stand and make my way over to the three-way mirror.

  “Yeah, those are definitely going home with us. I wonder if they have them in any other colors,” she says before turning to look.

  I take myself in and love what I see. Skintight jeans, black thigh-high boots that lace up the front with a thicker heel, and a plain tee. I look like me but a little more grown up. Like one of those photos on Pinterest we all wish we could pull off but honestly can’t afford.

  I guess I can now.

  “Okay, so they also have them in brown and grey, I grabbed both. You have to get all three. Plus, I found two different styles of sneaker wedges,” V says while stacking boxes on the bench next to the mirror. “Honestly, you look awesome.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her while still staring at myself.

  “Come on. Take them off so we can buy them and move on. I have some clothing ideas based off all of these.”

  I don’t reply, just move back to the bench and sit down, slipping them off one by one. I hand them to V, and she slides them back in the box.

  “Anything else from here?”

  “Yeah, I need a pair of classic black sneakers,” I tell her before grabbing a pair I had in the past and know are awesome for when I’m on my feet all day long.

  I follow V up to the register and take in my six boxes plus several others. “Uh, these aren’t all for me, are they?” I ask hesitantly.

  “Of course not, silly. These six are for you, and those six behind the cash register are for me,” V tells me with a wave of her hand.

  Have I ever owned so many shoes at once?

  The rest of the shopping trip flies by once I decide to just go with it. V picks out jeans, skirts, flowy tops, tight tops, dresses, and everything in between for me to try on. She treats me like her own personal Barbie doll, but the whole time, she respects my style and never expects me to be something I’m not or something I'm uncomfortable with. In return, she doesn’t make a peep when I buy a plain white button-up top and black pants or grab applications for jobs from different places; she just enjoys a basket of pretzels while I fill them out before returning them. All in all, it's a win.

  Chapter Four

  Friday morning, I round the corner into the kitchen while wiping sleep out of my eyes only to stop dead in my tracks when I notice a man sitting at the counter, drinking coffee and reading something on a tablet in front of him.

  “Uh….”

  He turns and looks at me, a smile overtaking his face as he pushes out the stool next to him.

  “Morning, Sage,” he greets me warmly.

  “Hi… Richard?” I guess.

  “How did you sleep?” he asks while setting down his tablet and holding eye contact.

  “Good, thanks. How was your trip?” I make my way to the coffeepot.

  “It was a normal tech conference. Lots of chest beating and bragging.”

  “Sounds riveting,” I deadpan, causing him to bust out laughing.

  “It's good people-watching, that’s for sure. Are you settling in okay?” He seems genuinely interested.

  “As well as to be expected when moving in with a bunch of strangers.” I shrug.

  “Well, we may be strangers now, but we won't be for long. No matter what, you’ll always have us.”

  “Thanks. It’s just weird going from no family to having more than I ever have before.”

  “That would be quite the transition,” he tells me thoughtfully. “Anyways, welcome home. I can’t wait to hear all about what you and Victoria get into.” He rounds the counter to rinse out his coffee cup. “Oh, and fair warning: watch out for Victoria and Alice. They aren't used to hearing the word no, and I have a feeling you’ll be giving them a run for their money.” He winks over his shoulder while leaving the kitchen.

  “Have a good day!” I holler after him.

  One thing is for sure, this is a much different life from the one I'm used to.

  ∞∞∞

  “Welcome to today’s class. Today we will be learning how to interact while in a social engagement, specifically dancing. This will prepare you for the ball at the end of the year, which will also be your final exam.”

  Groans come from around the room. Mrs. Bonavich doesn’t even bat an eye.

  “Now, for this exercise, I want the women to sit at various desks around the room. The men will approach and use proper technique on how to ask a woman to dance. I will demonstrate once. Then the woman will accept or decline properly. If the dance is accepted, you dance on the makeshift floor here and continue to interact until the end of the song. Does everyone understand the assignment?”

  Internally, I roll my eyes. This finishing class has been as ridiculous as I thought it was going to be. So far it’s been all about how to interact with the rich and famous of the world. We had a whole class on which silverware to use at dinner. I now know you move from the outside in, but why I needed to know that, I haven’t a clue. I don’t understand why rich people make things like having a simple conversation so complicated.

  I blink to find I missed the teacher’s demonstration. The men all stand up, gathering at the front of the room. The women, me included, stay in our seats. I sit up straight, knowing if I slouch the teacher will zero in on me. That’s one thing I learned from this class: from the moment you walk through her door, Mrs. Bonavich expects you to treat the entire class as if it’s the most important dinner, event, or meeting of your life. She tends to make an example of me since I’m of “such low blood.”

  I don’t bother looking around, just focus on the music that fills the air and zone out. It isn’t like any of these guys will actually ask me to dance. While things have settled, I’m still a pariah. Tinsley makes a point to talk to me when she sees me in the halls or at lunch, but Reed often interrupts and pulls her away. It’s obvious he doesn’t want me anywhere near his sister. Keaton, on the other hand, has encouraged my friendship with Tinsley. He also always smiles when he sees me. I don’t know if he’s sincere or not, but I try not to dwell on it. He won’t matter in eight months. Hell, this whole place won’t matter.

  “May I have this dance?”

  I gasp as I come out of my thoughts.

  The brown-haired boy isn’t one I’ve noticed before. He’s an inch or two shorter than my own five foot seven, but he has a friendly smile. He bows, holding out his hand. I smile and take it, getting up from my seat and allowing him to lead me to the dance floor. Mrs. Bonavich gives me an approving smile, and while I dislike this class, that sliver of approval means something to me.

  I was so distracted by that and the fact that he asked me to dance, I didn’t stop to think about what I was expected to do next.

  Shit.

  Seeing the look on my face, the brown-haired boy speaks lowly. “Put your left arm on my shoulder and clasp your right hand in mine.”

  I do as he says as his own hands find their place within mine and on my hip. He takes a deep breath before he starts speaking again.

  “Back, over, up, over.” He repeats this while also applying pressure to my body, leading me in the direction he wants me to move.

  After a couple of close calls for his feet, I finally find the rhythm. Once he’s comfortable with my dancing, he stops repeating himself.

  “I’m Jared, by the way.” He smiles.

  I smile back at him. “Sage. Thank you for asking me to dance, although you probably regret it after having to coach me through most of it.”

  He gives me a half shrug. “Thank you for accepting. I don’t mind helping. You looked lonely, and the teacher did kind of require me to ask someone.” As if realizing what he said, he rushes to explain.
“I don’t mean I wouldn’t have danced with you otherwise. You’re beautiful. Gorgeous, honestly. I just wouldn’t have normally had the gumption to ask you. I mean… look at you.”

  I laugh lightly and squeeze his hand. “I know what you meant. Thank you for the compliment. I’m happy you asked me to dance with you. You shouldn’t be shy though. Any girl would be lucky to be your dance partner.”

  The beam on his face tells me I did the right thing. And I meant what I said. He’s cute and seems to be a good guy. I can tell that by the way his hands don’t roam, unlike some of the other guys in the class, and the fact that he whispered steps to me through most of the dance so I wouldn’t look like a fool.

  Jared goes to speak again but freezes as the song comes to an end. I almost ask him for another dance when someone taps me lightly on the shoulder. I gasp as I turn to find Reed standing behind me.

  “May I cut in?” He phrases it as a question, but the look in his eyes says it’s a demand.

  Jared immediately drops my hand. I turn to him and give him a tight smile. “Thank you for the dance. I hope you’ll save one for me at the ball.”

  The dejected look leaves his face at my statement. “Sure. Can’t wait.”

  With that, he turns and leaves with a smile. I watch him walk away before a throat clearing behind me draws me back to Reed, my own smile faltering in the process.

  I consider declining his dance, but I decided I might as well get his daily humiliation done with. I move toward him, looking to the side as I hold my arms out in the same position as before.

  “Really? You need a dance class. This form is terrible.”

  My eyes fly to his, anger in them. Before I can respond, he takes his position and starts moving us. His pace is much faster than Jared’s had been. I struggle to keep up, stepping on his feet twice in a matter of minutes.

  “Slow down,” I hiss at him.

  “First time I’ve ever had a woman ask me to slow it down,” he quips.

  I glare at him. “Unlike you, I don’t have the pleasure of years of dance and etiquette classes engrained in me from birth. Why did you even ask me to dance?”