Page 88 of Havoc at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 1)
Flames sweep over the cabin and consume it, leaving nothing but ash in their wake.Two years earlier …Everything I own is lying in a heap in the backyard. I'm the only person home at the moment, standing with one hand on the edge of the sliding glass door, my eyes focused on the admittedly small mountain of clothing, books, and furniture tossed haphazardly on the gravel-covered area near the old shed.
“Boo.”
A voice surprises me from behind, and I jump, a strong arm banding around my waist and yanking me into a firm chest.
I know immediately who it is that's holding me there: Victor fucking Channing.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to whisper, fear a hot, wild thing inside my chest. But my body's a traitor because it's not just fear that I'm feeling, it's want. Need. An emotion I never thought I'd be able to associate with the Havoc Boys, not after what they did to me during pageant week.
Not when they ruined homecoming.
Not when they make me question every step I take.
They've turned Prescott High into a nightmare for me.
“We've decided to have a bonfire,” Vic says, his mouth too close to my ear. I stay stone-still, terrified of whatever it is he's got planned. That's when I see Aaron come around the corner of the house, a red gasoline can in one hand. He doesn't look at me as he moves up to the pile and drenches it in flammable liquid.
They're going to burn my stuff.
I can only pray they're not going to burn me, too.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper, but I've asked that question a hundred times, and I've never gotten an answer. Victor just laughs softly and releases me. I stumble away from him as Oscar, Callum, and Hael join Aaron in the yard.
It's Vic, though, who pulls a lighter from his pocket and approaches the pile.
I don't have a lot in life, barely anything, and what I do have, I've worked hard for. I can see my new heels for the winter formal in that pile, the ones I worked two shitty jobs for. They're propped up next to a shoebox full of old pictures, pictures of a dad I didn’t get to keep, of me and Pen as babies, of a life that didn't suck quite so bad as this one does.
The leader of the Havoc Boys doesn't skip a beat when he leans over and sets my entire life on fire, the flames catching and licking across the pile in seconds. I just slide to the floor and sit there on my knees watching, waiting, wondering.
Why? Why me?
All I ever wanted was to be one of them.
All I ever wanted was to belong.
But that need, that desire, like so many others, is and will always be a worthless pipe dream; the taste of it is bitter ash on my tongue.I must fall asleep in the van because I don't remember much between climbing into the car and waking up in Aaron's bed. His familiar smell surrounds me, like rose and sandalwood, and I have to fight back the wave of strong memories.
I lost my virginity in this bed.
Aaron said he loved me in this bed.
I frown and shove the covers off, climbing out of the bed and swiping my hands over my face. My phone is lying on the nightstand, the screen still off, whatever angry words my mother might want to say hidden within.
I leave it there as I stand up and grab my backpack from the floor near the door, pulling out my change of clothes before I creep down the hall to check on Heather. She's passed out, curled up on an air mattress that just barely fits between Kara's and Ashley's beds.
A sigh of relief escapes me as I lean my shoulder against the doorjamb and watch the three of them sleeping. The first real smile I've given in weeks takes over my mouth, and I feel this unsettling sense of contentment.
I could live a life like this, getting up early in a house that's free of hate, showering, making breakfast for the girls … But I don't let myself hope for it. Hopes, wants, dreams, they can all be destroyed in the span of a single exhale. A ragged inhale. A surprised gasp.
Shaking my head, I push away from the wall and head for the bathroom. It must be early because I don't hear anyone else moving around in the house. Good. I smell like a campfire, and as much as I'm glad that Principal Vaughn got his last night, I also don't need a scented reminder of what happened.
The bathroom is free, thankfully, so I step in and lock it, stripping down and climbing in the scalding warmth of the shower. As I let the heat wash over me, I pretend like I'm scrubbing away all the bad memories, like soap and water can really heal an injured soul.
