Page 138 of Anarchy at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys 4)
I take a seat next to Aaron in the rear of the bus, trying my very hardest not to burn a hole in the back of Trinity's head with my violent stare. She’s sitting next to my husband, and she’d do best to remember to keep her hands to herself.
Aaron curls his fingers through mine, and I lean toward him, resting my head on his shoulder. If I have to sit here and watch my husband pretend to be interested in another girl, I may as well do it resting against the side of a man I love just as much.
“Don't worry, Bernie,” Aaron breathes, nuzzling into me. “Eventually, you'll get your chance to show that girl exactly how you feel.”
He's right, yet again, but like I said before: it doesn't make it any easier. Sometimes, the right thing feels so wrong that it hurts. I keep that in mind as the bus pulls onto the street we make the three hour drive up to the lodge.Rogue Elk Resort is a busy place, this soaring building with log walls, wood ceilings, and old fir floors. Everything is decked out in plaid or printed with bears; it's not my aesthetic, but I do my best to appreciate it. Students from four different schools make up the crowd, half of them interested in hitting the slopes while the other half are most concerned with sneaking away to fuck.
Looks like teenagers will be teenagers, regardless of income bracket.
Since we’re not officially part of the school group, we're not beholden to their schedule, one that seems to consist of planned meals, group activities, and scheduled excursions to ski or snowboard. Frankly, if I had to participate in that crap, I'd likely consider myself trapped in the ninth circle of hell.
“I cannot believe Victor talked me into coming on this,” I say as I lay out an outfit for dinner on the bed in our shared room. The boys and I have two connecting suites with only two beds, but considering everything that's going on, it doesn't seem safe to split up. We’d all rather share a room than risk being caught off guard.
“Would you have rather he come by himself?” Aaron asks with a shit-eating smirk stretched across his full lips. He’s relaxing in a chair near the fireplace, his chestnut hair falling over his forehead in just such a way that I can’t possibly find it in myself to be pissed-off at him. “Spent the weekend with Trinity while you sat at home and pined after him?” Aaron laughs as I flip him off, but he's not entirely off base with that.
There is no way in fucking hell that I would have let him go on this trip with Trinity without me. After our talk in the closet the other day, I’ve come to realize that it isn’t Victor that I don't trust: it's myself. And I'm going to do my best to change that.
“Good point,” I admit reluctantly, turning around to look at Aaron and crossing my arms over my chest. He studies me with the careful fragility of somebody who's in love, somebody who, when they look at you, stares at you like it might be the last time, every time—just in case. I move over to him, curling my fingers together behind his neck and playing with a few loose strands of hair as I straddle him. “The thing is: I hate skiing, you're too injured to snowboard, and I'm not about to spend my time hanging out with prep school assholes. So, what do you think we should do?”
Aaron gives me a heart-stopping grin before running his fingers through my ponytail and giving it a little tug. “I can think of a few things we could be doing,” he whispers as he puts his hands on my hips and pulls me just a little bit closer to him.
“So, Aaron Atlas Fadler, you want to fuck me, is that it?”
“I wouldn't say no …” he says, drawing out the word for a moment. With a grin, and a very un-Havoc-like squeal from me, I let him pick me up and carry me over to the bed. He manages it just fine, even with the medical boot and the cast. I’d say it was because he’s so close to being done with both of them, but we know that’s not it at all.
It’s because he’s a badass.
“You thought of me,” I whisper as he braces himself above me with his one good hand. Looking down at me with green-gold eyes, I can see that he knows exactly what I mean. You thought of me when you made the choice to break your hand, when you attacked a man in the woods with his own gun, when you took a chance on carpooling with David Benedict. All of that, for me.
