Page 10

TEN

LENNON

I refused to let myself cry in front of either of them, to give them more power than they already have over me, but the second I stumble out of the Uber in front of my apartment, the tears fall hot, heavy, and wet on my cheeks, my chest heaving with small sobs.

My hand’s shaking so badly I can hardly get the key into the lock.

Somehow, I manage to unlock it and step inside, throwing my purse on the foyer table, not caring where it actually lands.

“Oh, you’re home, good. You can help me wax my bikini li—” Maisie stops short as she appears in front of me, her words dying on her tongue when she sees me. Undoubtedly, there’s mascara running down my cheeks, my eyes red and puffy from crying. “Len, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

She rushes over, gathering me into her arms without hesitation, where I crumple, crying into her chest. Her fingers stroke my hair, and for the first time tonight, I feel safe to break.

To let go of everything I’ve been carrying that feels like the weight of the entire world.

It doesn’t take me long to recount what happened, my watery words trailing off into sobs, until I’m completely empty. There’s nothing left to cry.

My hurt begins to morph into anger, the disbelief wearing off with it.

The betrayal by Chandler feels like nothing compared to my father’s, and it hurts. It enrages me in a slightly unhinged way that I don’t feel the least bit guilty over.

“The audacity. The only thing Chandler has is freaking audacity…” Maisie says when I’m done, shaking her head. We’re sitting on the hardwood in the hallway side by side, my head lying against her shoulder. “I bet you he had a little dick too.”

I laugh. “If it’s in comparison to his ego, then yes, absolutely. There’s no way there’s room for both.” Sitting up, I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, resting my cheek on top.

“I’m sorry, Lenn. Chandler’s a complete asshole, but your father bringing him there is unbelievable. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. He never deserved you then, and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you now.”

She’s right, and I know that. I’ve never questioned the decision to walk away from him because it is and always was the right choice.

I just wish that my father cared more about me, his daughter, instead of how I represent him. I’m not a shiny trophy for anyone, especially not a guy like Chandler.

And I wish that Chandler would get the point. Move on and leave me alone. He fucked up my life enough to come back and try to do it all over again.

My gaze moves to the pink gemstone on my finger.

After everything that happened with him after my senior year, I decided to rebrand the promise ring that my parents got me.

Instead of throwing it out along with the stupid promise I made to my parents, myself, and the man I would marry one day, I’ve used it as a way to take a step toward reclaiming pieces of myself.

My body. My choices.

If I wanted to hold on to my virginity until I’m a hundred and die an old spinster without ever giving it away, then it would be my decision, and no one would make it for me.

From that moment on, I made a promise to myself.

That when the time came, I would give my virginity to whomever I felt ready to without consequence.

No one would control me by guilt or archaic expectations.

I took the ring to a jeweler and had the phrase “ De meo arbitrio ” inscribed inside of it in Latin, which means “from my will.”

Fuck the patriarchy and their arbitrary roles that women should play.

I’m going to play by my own rules.

A realization ripples through me, an idea forming somewhere in the depth of my anger and hurt.

“Mais…” I start, swinging my gaze to her.

“You know my father wants so badly for me to be a perfect, dutiful wife, hanging on the arm of a man who doesn’t love or respect me because it looks good for him.

He doesn’t care that I have my own hopes and dreams, my own goals.

He doesn’t care that I would be in a loveless marriage with a man who can’t keep his dick in his pants. All for appearances.”

“Right, because he’s a superficial dick,” she says.

“He chose someone perfect, in his eyes, at least. Influential family, good gene pool, a trust fund. He chose the epitome of the ‘good guy’…” I trail off, chewing my lip until a smile tugs at my lips. “So what if I choose the exact opposite?”

“What do you mean?” Maisie asks, brow furrowing.

My knees drop, and I sit up, turning toward her.

“I mean… from this point forward, fuck the good guy. The one with the perfect mask in place. Look where that got me. Cheated on. Heartbroken. Used. I’m going after the type of guy my father would hate.

Not only because it’ll send him completely over the edge, and I can’t wait to see it, but because the bad boys?

They’re the safe bet. They don’t want wives.

They don’t care about anything but having fun, no strings attached.

” I shake my head. “Me telling Chandler to fuck off and throwing his shit in his front yard was clearly not enough to send a strong enough message that I’m done with him, but moving on with a guy that’s his polar opposite, and a guy out of my father’s nightmares… sure as hell would.”

Maisie perks up, her blue eyes widening while a smile takes over her face. “Okay, okay, okay. I’m listening.”

“Imagine if I brought the absolute worst guy I could find on my arm to an event, paraded him in front of my father and all his colleagues. He would have a heart attack on sight.”

She laughs, the sound echoing throughout the hall, causing me to laugh too. “Yeah, I’d pay money to see you walk in with someone like your new ‘skating partner.’ Can you even imagine his face if you rode up on Saint’s motorcycle in a freaking Chanel gown?”

My nose scrunches.

“First of all, he is absolutely not my skating partner, and second, well, that would require us to survive in each other’s presence for longer than an hour. We can’t stand each other.”

“Len… wait,” Maisie squeaks. “What if you actually did though?”

I scoff. “Okay, this went a little haywire. Let’s rein it back in. It would never work. He’s an arrogant, self-centered, intolerable asshole who has the manner?—”

Suddenly, her hands are on my forearms, and she’s shaking me, cutting me off.

“Lennon, listen to me right now. This is the perfect idea. Saint Devereaux is the bad boy of Orleans U. He’s covered in tattoos, always has a black eye or busted lips from getting into fights.

He drives a freakin’ motorcycle and is a hockey enforcer with a horrid reputation.

If you brought him around your dad, he would actually keel over and die.

I can’t even think of anyone more perfect than him. ”

Okay, well, she’s right about one thing: he is absolutely an asshole and the definition of a cliché bad boy. It’s a little ridiculous, if I’m honest. Maybe that’s why he acts like that. It fits his whole broody, fuck-the-world vibe.

The reason I want to strangle him with my bare hands, and I’m not even a violent person.

Well, unless it comes to him.

“Maisie, we hate each other, like… wholeheartedly cannot stand to be in the same room together.”

Her shoulder lifts. “And? You don’t have to like each other for him to be your pretend boyfriend to piss off your father. I mean, he’s also not that bad to look at. There are worse guys to dangle around like a boy toy, for sure.”

I chew my lip contemplatively. God, this sounds insane, but also…

I’m considering it. Aren’t I? I’m actually entertaining this. She’s right, he isn’t bad to look at… and if I could harness his assholeness for good, it would actually help that he’s horrible.

But how? How would I get him to agree to that, with his obvious hostility, even if it was just fake?

Oh.

OH.

“He wouldn’t just help me to be nice because he’s not. But I could offer him my ice time for next semester. Summer said that since technically I signed up first, I get first dibs for next semester… which I’m not even sure he’s aware of yet. I could give it up to him, if he agrees.”

Maise’s eyes widen as her lips quirk in excitement. “Yes. Oh my God, this is kismet. It’s perfect, Len.”

“It’s crazy ,” I correct her.

Maybe just crazy enough to actually work.

“Yeah, maybe so, but you know what else is crazy?”

“What?”

“Your father when he thinks you’re riding more than Saint’s motorcycle.” She giggles loudly, biting at her bottom lip.

I blanch, reaching out and pushing her shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. He is stupidly hot though. I’ll give him that.”

“Yeah, he is, but on a serious note, if you do this, there has to be a rule.” Her gaze is serious as she peers over at me.

“The one and only rule: don’t fall for the bad boy.

Under any circumstance, do not let yourself get caught up in all of his charm.

It’s a trap, and if you think being hurt by a trust fund fuckboy hurts…

imagine having to see Saint around campus, flaunting his prospects in his face.

Unbearable. He’s clearly good at winning people over because girls fall for it all the time. Don’t be that girl, Len.”

“Trust me, the last thing I have to worry about is falling for Saint Devereaux. Hell will freeze over before I catch any kind of feelings for its ruler. ”