Things I Wanted To Say (Lancaster Prep Book 1)

I MEET Sylvie in her room to get ready for the party Halloween afternoon, after class. Anticipation rippled throughout campus the entire day, reaching a fevered pitch by last period, and no one could concentrate. The teachers pretend they don’t know about the party, but they have to. It’s all anyone can talk about. I wish I were more excited, but with Whit and me over, I don’t have much to look forward to.

I pretend to be excited for Sylvie’s sake instead.

We do our makeup first, sharing the bench at her vanity table, the both of us applying heavy eyeshadow and layering on red lipstick. Her excitement is palpable. It fills her entire room, giving me nervous energy, and I glance at my duffel bag sitting on the floor, almost afraid to put on the costume I know is going to cause a scandal among everyone who attends Lancaster Prep.

They might’ve never really noticed me before, but they’re going to see me tonight.

“Tonight is ripe for a scandal,” Sylvie announces once she’s finished applying her lipstick. She studies me, rubbing her ruby red lips together, her eyes sparkling. “This will be a life-changing party.”

“If you say so.” I’m reluctant to agree, because I need no life-changing events right now. I’ve already had one, thanks to Whit and I agreeing we shouldn’t spend time together anymore.

I’m loathe to admit this, even to myself, but I miss him. It’s stupid, when I’m the one who pushed for it.

My emotions for him make me feel stupid.

“Things are going to happen tonight, Summer. I just know it,” she continues. “If Spence makes a move, I’m going to let him.”

“Let him what?” I ask warily.

“Let him touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Whatever. I’m ready. I’m tired of saving myself.” She starts putting away all the cosmetics, shoving them back in the drawer with one sweep of her arm. “I’ve been preserving my virginity all my life, and I’m sick of it. I might not have much time left. I want to know what it feels like to come with a boy inside me.”

“When it’s your first time, you might not come when he’s inside you,” I tell her drolly.

She laughs. “Says the girl with allll the experience.”

Ouch. That sort of hurts.

I say nothing, dropping my lipstick into my makeup bag and zipping it a little too fiercely.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Sylvie says, her voice low, her expression contrite. “I was just teasing you.”

“I know.” I give her a grim smile. “It’s okay.”

She didn’t mean it. I know she didn’t. I’m not proud of my past fucked up experiences, but how is she to know that, when I haven’t told her everything?

She puts her hands together, her smile stretching wide. I can tell she’s trying to shift the mood. I’m a complete buzzkill and she’s so excited for this stupid party. “Let’s put on our costumes!”

I rise from the velvet bench we shared, going to grab my duffel bag before I head for the bathroom, but her voice stops me in my tracks.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to change in the bathroom.” I wave my bag. “I want my costume to be a surprise.”

“Oh, good idea.” She claps her hands as she jumps to her feet. “I can’t wait to see it.”

“It’s kind of sexy,” I add, frowning. “Probably too sexy.”

“Ooh, I seriously am dying to see it now,” Sylvie says, wagging her eyebrows at me. “Trying to drive my brother crazy?”

“Not even,” I say with a scoff, though that had been my original intent.

I ordered the costume online, before Whit and I ended things. I imagined he’d take one look at me and be unable to resist.

Now he’ll probably be all over some other girl tonight, giving her his undivided attention while I’m standing there looking pitiful with too much skin exposed.

Ugh.

Sylvie offers me a knowing smile and I ignore it, slipping into the bathroom and shutting the door with a quiet click. I remove all of my clothes hurriedly, even my bra and panties. The costume doesn’t allow for any undergarments. I take my time with the fishnet stockings so I don’t snag them, and hurriedly put on everything else, staring at myself in the mirror when I’m finished.

So much skin is exposed. Too much, really. This costume isn’t appropriate for a high school party, I’m sure. But there will be no chaperones or staff on hand to cast their disapproving looks. Whit and Sylvie are Lancasters. They can do whatever they want on campus, whenever they want to.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I walk out of her bathroom and do a little twirl. “Ta da. What do you think?”

I finish turning and face Sylvie, who’s mouth is hanging open as she studies me. “Oh my God, Summer.”

My stomach cramps with nerves. “Is it too much?”

She slowly shakes her head, snapping her mouth shut. “If you’re trying to get someone’s attention, it’s going to work. That costume is a freaking guarantee. And I thought my costume was revealing.”

Sylvie mutters that last bit under her breath.

I go to the giant full-length mirror propped against her wall, noting that it’s one similar to what Whit has in his room, not that I mention it. I tilt my head, studying myself, knowing that yes, I am absolutely pushing my limits when it comes to this costume.

But I look damn good. I stand a little taller, wobbling on the narrow boot heels. I keep myself under wraps constantly, not wanting anyone to notice me, but Sylvie’s right. I’m going to get someone’s attention.

Maybe someone different. Someone new. I don’t need Whit. Not anymore. He has no claim on me.

Of course, deep down I know he’s the one whose attention I’m trying to get. Maybe that makes me pitiful, but I sort of don’t care.

Fuck it. I want all of their attention tonight. Every single boy in the senior class. Maybe the juniors too.

“You’ll get cold,” Sylvie says as she stops to stand beside me, staring at her own reflection.

“So will you,” I tell her. She’s dressed as a dark angel, with skin tight booty shorts and a black corset that plumps up her breasts. Her skin is pale, downright translucent, as I can see the blue veins in her arms. Across the tops of her breasts. Her legs look long and thin, and she’s wearing black sky-high stilettos on her feet. “I love your costume.”

“You look amazing,” she says, her voice almost reverent.

I’m clad in a red-sequined cropped tube top, my belly on display. I thought about wearing red booty shorts, but I upped my game, and am basically wearing red bikini bottoms. It’s skimpy, I’m barely decent, really. Fishnet stockings and thigh high boots complete the look. A golden pitchfork and red sequin horns atop my head are the final touches.

“You’re completely exposed.” She slaps my ass, making me flinch. “Does Whit know what you’re wearing tonight?”

“We’re not—involved anymore,” I say, unsure how to describe us. “We broke it off with each other a few days ago.”

“Huh. We’ll see how long that lasts. He’s going to take one look at you in that outfit and lose his damn mind,” she says with an evil laugh. “Did he break it off with you because of Leticia?”

I frown, deciding to play it off. “Who’s Leticia?”

I turn the name over and over in my mind. Leticia. It’s pretty. I’m sure she’s beautiful. Poised and elegant and polished. She wears twin sets and pearls and is modest. She wouldn’t be caught dead in a revealing Halloween costume that is basically begging for someone to proposition her.

“His future wife. Crazy right? They’ve been chosen for each other since we were all little kids. She’s nice. Pretty. Bland.” Sylvie rolls her eyes, bumping her hip against mine. “Nothing like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“She doesn’t have a personality. She just agrees with all of us. My parents. Me. And of course, my brother. She stares at him with dopey eyes while he barely pays her any attention. It’s pathetic. There’s nothing wrong with her, she’s just boring,” Sylvie explains. “Oh God, I keep running my mouth and hurting your feelings. You probably had no idea Whit has someone else.”

“It’s okay,” I say with a shrug, oddly reassured by Sylvie’s description of Leticia. I’d much rather be the more exciting one. Though I guess Leticia is wife material, while I’m more like, mistress material.

Like my mother.

“I know one thing. Leticia would never wear a costume like you’ve got on. She’s really modest,” Sylvie says.

Just as I suspected.

“And I’m not?” I raise a brow, turning to the side. My butt cheeks are literally hanging out, covered in fishnet.

I sort of don’t give a shit.

“You normally are. You don’t play up your features at all, when every other girl at this school is trying her hardest to make herself stand out. Including me.” She smirks, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. “But you? It’s like you’re always trying to blend in.”

“Not tonight,” I say.

“Definitely not tonight,” Sylvie says with a little laugh. “You ready to go? I snagged the keys from one of the staff golf carts earlier. Whit loaded the back of it with extra liquor, so we have to bring it out there. At least we won’t have to walk that far in our heels.” She kicks up a foot, a pointy stiletto aimed right at me.

“Great idea,” I say, glancing around. “Are you ready to go?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She rubs her hands together. “Are you bringing your phone?”

“Where would I put it?” I hold my arms out. There’s absolutely nowhere on my body for me to stash a phone. “I left it in my room.”

“Good idea. Oh!” She runs over to the mini fridge in her room and pops the door open, bringing out a bottle of vodka. “Let’s pre-party first.”

We chug from the bottle, the icy cold vodka slithering through my veins, mellowing me out. Sylvie can’t stop giggling as she sips delicately from the bottle.

“Let’s take a couple of photos before we go. We must document this moment,” Sylvie suggests.

We pose in her room in front of the mirror. Sweet and innocent at first, with beaming smiles and wide eyes. Then we turn things raunchy and wicked. Hands on our hips, chests thrust forward with our tongues out. I help Sylvie put her wings on and take a photo of her standing with her legs braced and her arms crossed in front of her, the wings rising behind her. She looks amazing.

It’s fun, spending time with Sylvie. She helps me forget all my troubles—and so does the vodka. She can’t stop laughing, and I get caught up in her happiness. I’ve been mopey since Whit and I called it off, but tonight, I’m on top of the world. I’m going to strut into that party and he’s going to swallow his tongue when he looks at me.

I just know it.

When we’re finally done taking photos and she posts a few of them on social media, we go outside and climb into the golf cart. Sylvie drives it like a mad woman, constantly going off the trail and laughing uncontrollably. The day started off gloomy, with gray skies and a constant drizzle, but it stopped just after lunch. The air is chilled and the ground is still wet, but at least it’s not raining.

We arrive at the ruins to find the party already in full swing. People are everywhere. Standing outside, surrounding the old building. Sitting on the steps. Almost every single one of them clutches a beer can or a red solo cup. Loud music comes from inside, and so many people are crowded in there, all I see are bodies. Moving against each other as they dance. Clustered in tight circles as they talk. Almost everyone’s in costume, many of them wearing masks, and I barely recognize a soul.

“The party has arrived, bitches!” Sylvie screams when she pulls up directly in front of the steps, throwing her arms up after she locks the cart’s brakes with one push of her foot.

A boy dressed all in black, including a cape, pulls away from the crowd near the steps, and I realize it’s Spencer. His face is ghostly white, little strips of fake blood dripping from the corners of his lips. He smiles when he sees Sylvie, revealing his vampire teeth.

“Looking fine as hell tonight, Sylvie.”

“Why thank you, prince of darkness.” She hops out of the golf cart and runs up to him, patting Spencer’s chest as she smiles up at him. She glances at me from over her shoulder. “Check out Summer.”

His gaze shifts to me and his eyes widen as I carefully climb out of the golf cart. “Uh, holy shit.”

“Is it too much?” I ask as I approach them, resting my hands on my hips and stopping to pose.

His gaze is everywhere, as if he doesn’t know where to look first. “Does Whit know about this?”

Irritation simmers in my veins and I push past Spencer, shoulder checking him. “Fuck Whit Lancaster. I don’t care what he thinks.”

I leave Sylvie and Spencer behind, marching up the rickety steps and into the building with my head held high. People stare as I walk past, launching into furious whispers once I’m past them, and for the quickest moment, I second-guess my costume choice.

A group of girls sneer at me when I approach. One of them coughs into her hand, “Slut.”

I send her a death glare but she only laughs.

A makeshift bar is set-up in the closest corner of the room and I go to it, grabbing the already poured glass and shooting it. The alcohol burns as it slides down my throat, making me wince and I grab another one, drinking it in one swallow as well.

There. More liquid courage should help. My brain is already swimming. Doesn’t help that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“Hey, sexy.”

I jerk away from the hand that tries to settle on my hip, turning to find a boy from my English class smiling at me. I try to remember his name, racking my brain as I study him. He’s wearing all black too, but that’s it. As in, he’s not really dressed up at all. He’s watching me with dark heated eyes, his thick hair falling over his forehead. He’s not a bad looking guy, but he’s staring at me as if he can already imagine me naked.

He probably can, considering how skimpy my costume is.

“It’s Bryan,” he offers when I still haven’t said his name, glancing over at the bar nearby. “How much have you had to drink?”

“I just got here,” I answer with a smile.

“It’s my lucky night then,” he says, his gaze snagging on my chest. “Why haven’t I noticed you before? You’re new here, right?”

Of course, he fully expects me to know who he is, yet he doesn’t know who I am. Whatever. These boys are all the same.

“Yes,” I say truthfully. “Brand, spanking new.”

“I like, I like.” His hand goes to my hip again, and this time, I don’t pull away. I like his attention. At least he’s not shunning me or calling me names. “Tell me, Miss Brand Spanking New, do you have a name?”

“Summer.” I reach around him and grab yet another drink, sipping from it this time. Every pour in these cups is strong, not diluted by much and the alcohol is going straight to my head. I’ve always been a lightweight. “Like the season.”

“The season where we’re half-naked most of the time because it’s so hot?” His gaze rakes over my body. “I get it.”

Laughter escapes me, and I smother it by taking another drink. “You know who I am. I’m sure Whit told you.”

“Whit Lancaster?” He raises his brows. “I hate that fucker. Thinks he owns the world.”

“Right?” I laugh, loving that he hates Whit. We could form a club. “I mean, he does own this school.”

“His parents do,” Bryan amends with a sly smile. “Big difference.”

“He didn’t try to get you to snub me?” I ask him point blank.

His expression doesn’t change a bit at my words. “Right. You’re that girl. Why the hell would I snub you? Look at you.”

His appraising tone makes me grow warm inside.

The music changes up, a fast song that was popular a few months ago starts playing and I smile at Bryan. “Let’s dance.”

Without waiting for his reply, I drop the cup on the table and take his hand. He follows me into the throng of people, until we’re in the dead center. I start moving, the alcohol loosening my muscles, making me feel free. He barely moves. Just stands there and watches me as I sway from side to side, raising my arms above my head as the beat consumes me.

“Fuck,” I hear him breathe, which makes me laugh. All these girls at Lancaster are a bunch of stuck-up prudes. We’re almost eighteen. Shouldn’t we be free to do whatever we want? To dress skimpily and have fun without repercussion?

Having male approval is something I crave, I realize as I see the way Bryan stares at me. My daddy never gave it to me. Jonas’ attention was fleeting. Yates was annoying and even scary, yet I still wanted it.

And then there’s Whit. His disapproval was a turn-on. His approval, necessary.

God, I’m so fucked in the head. Why would anyone want to deal with me? Be with me? Be my friend?

I dance and dance, letting myself get lost in the beat of the music. Other bodies brush against mine and I smile at them. They smile at me in return if they’re male, and scowl at me if they’re female, their gazes full of hatred.

God, I am so over people judging me.

Bryan has barely moved from his spot and I go to him, draping my arms across his shoulders, my face in his. I tilt my head close to his ear. “You don’t dance?”

“I’m too busy watching you.” He settles his hands on my hips, his fingers pressing into my bare skin.

I feel nothing at his touch, but I still chase it. Chase the approval, chase the smile on his face. The way he looks at me. He wants me. He’s imagining fucking me right now and I smile at him, tipping my head back as he leans forward, his mouth barely brushing mine.

“You’re a fucking tease,” he tells me.

“I’m a fucking sure thing,” I return saucily.

His grip tightens and I pull away from his hands, turning so my back is to his front. I sing along with the chorus, rubbing my butt shamelessly against his crotch, and I can feel him beneath his black jeans. He’s hard.

Good.

I keep it up, my gaze searching, looking for the one person who I want to witness this, but of course, I don’t spot him anywhere. He’s probably already cozied up with some idiot girl who’s willing to suck his cock in front of everyone else.

Poor thing. I know what it’s like, wanting him. It’s painful.

Wonderful.

I shut my eyes, trying to banish him from my thoughts. I basically grind my ass on Bryan’s dick and he settles those hands on my hips, his fingers sliding brazenly beneath the waistband of my bikini bottoms. I pull away some, his hands dropping and then I turn to face him once more, bending my knees and dipping low, so my face is right at dick level.

“What the fuck?” he yells with a laugh. I can tell he’s enjoying this. “Were you a stripper in a former life or what?”

“You wish,” I tell him as I slowly rise, my body brushing against his the entire way. “I’m the devil, don’t you know?” I point at my sequined horns atop my head with an evil grin.

“You’re fucking tempting, that’s for sure.” His grip is firm as he slams my body into his, his voice a low growl. “Come with me.”

I mock pout. “I still want to dance.”

“Let’s get out of here for a few minutes first. I need to cool down. Then you can dance all you want, Satan.” He grins.

I grin too.

Glancing toward the doorway, I spot Whit. Dressed all in black, with black devil horns on his head. Anger surges through me and I curl my hands into fists. Of course, we match.

Of course.

His gaze finds mine, narrowing when he sees me, his upper lip curling in apparent disgust. I grab Bryan from behind, resting his hands on my hips as I begin to gyrate, putting on a show for Whit. I want him to know I’ve moved on.

I have.

Whit glares as I continue to dance, Bryan’s hands toying with the waistband of my bikini bottoms. I let him, reveling in the heat I see in Whit’s eyes, wishing he was the one whose hands were on me. I part my lips and raise my arms, lifting my hair up off my neck, swaying back and forth to the song. My eyes fall closed for a moment and I lose myself, wishing for Whit’s hands, not Bryan’s. Wishing for Whit’s mouth on my neck, not Bryan’s.

When I open my eyes once the song ends, Whit is gone.

Bryan takes my hand, leading me out of the crowd. I spot Sylvie standing with Spencer and wave, but she stares at me, her eyes wide as she shouts, “Summer, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’ll be back,” I tell her, pointing at the back of Bryan’s head, mouthing, he’s cute. I give her two thumbs up and her expression turns horrified.

“Don’t go outside with him!” she yells at me.

I ignore her warning, laughing when someone slaps my ass as I walk past. Some guy with a lecherous grin on his face. I have no idea who he is. The first one gets away with it, so another guy slaps my ass. Yet another touches my waist. They’re all trying to grab at me, and I let them, not caring, too busy laughing, basking in the attention. Nothing bothers me. I totally want Bryan to touch me. I might even let him fuck me. I want to forget about Whit once and for all and let someone else give me what I need for a change.

Bryan comes to an abrupt stop at the top of the steps, causing me to run into the back of him. “Move out of my way,” he demands.

“What the fuck are you doing, McAllister?”

I shrink behind Bryan, recognizing that deadly voice. It’s Whit.

And he sounds furious.

“Trying to leave with my new friend. Now move.” Bryan doesn’t sound scared of him whatsoever, which is kind of shocking.

Everyone bows down to a Lancaster.

“You’re not going anywhere with her,” Whit says quietly.

Everyone outside goes silent, eager to watch, ready for drama, as always. I cower behind Bryan, not wanting Whit to see me. Not wanting to see Whit.

“Who the fuck are you to tell me who I can and cannot fuck? Just because you’re a Lancaster, it doesn’t mean shit to me.” Bryan glances over his shoulder, snagging my hand in his and tugging. “Come on, Satan. Let’s get out of here.”

I follow behind him, Whit shockingly enough stepping aside to let us pass, his gaze landing on me. Burning me where I stand.

“You’re really going to go with him.” His words are aimed at me.

“You have no claim on me anymore,” I say haughtily, pausing so I can give him the full effect of my costume.

He barely looks at me, and that hurts. Doesn’t he notice? Can’t he see?

Bryan tugs on my hand. “Come on,” he mutters, but I don’t move. I’m rooted to the spot.

A girl approaches, settling herself right beside Whit, and I squint, my vision a little blurry from the alcohol as I really take him in. Accompanying the black horns is a red pitchfork that he’s currently clutching in his hand. I suppose the devil himself doesn’t have to dress up, but it’s so damn annoying how we match.

The girl’s face is heavily made up, and she’s wearing a sexy witch costume, complete with a pointy witch’s hat on top of her head. I realize in an instant it’s Caitlyn, and she’s smirking at me, curling her arm through Whit’s.

“Nice costume,” she sneers at me. “You may as well have come naked.”

“Gee thanks,” I taunt. “Your costume is scarily…accurate when it comes to your personality.”

Her expression turns murderous. Whit doesn’t say a damn thing, appearing amused by the both of us.

“Right, and yours is accurate too, since you look like a complete slut,” she says, but her insult is weak.

Laughing, I give her the finger and she scowls in return. Bryan wraps his arm around my neck, pulling me in close and kissing my forehead. Whit’s gaze is murderous as he watches us, and I smirk at him, unable to help myself.

“Come on, Satan,” Bryan says, his lips moving against the side of my face. “She’s just jealous.”

“Have fun with my leftovers,” I tell her as Bryan releases me.

Bryan grabs my hand and I let him lead me down the stairs, feeling Whit’s furious gaze upon me the entire time.

We walk through the soggy grass, Bryan’s steps hurried as he practically drags me behind him. I can’t stop giggling, thinking of Whit’s face when he saw me on the dance floor. How angry he looked. How he has Caitlyn now, who probably has no idea who she’s dealing with. He’s so fucking dark and twisted.

A ripple of unease moves through me as I think of all the things Whit and I have done. I love his brand of dark and twisted. I have no idea what Bryan’s like, but I’m sure he doesn’t even come close to what Whit’s capable of.

We approach the grove of trees, the damp air hushed, the sound of the ocean in the distance. I breathe in the scent of pine, the cold air making goose bumps rise all over my exposed skin and I gasp when Bryan shoves me against the thick trunk of a towering pine, the bark scratching my back as he pins me to it with his body. “Ow,” I complain, reaching to rub the back of my head, glaring at him.

“Sshh,” he says, his mouth on mine before I can say another word.

His kiss is hard. Punishing. I gently bat at his shoulders, trying to make him stop, to push him off me, but he won’t let go. He tightens his hold on my waist, his fingers pinching into my skin. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, searching for mine, and I tentatively touch it. I try to pretend he’s Whit, hoping it makes my response easier, but it’s no use.

He’s not Whit. Not even close. His tongue is too big in my mouth, and he’s so pushy. I hate the feel of his hands on my body, how he gropes every part of me. I shove at his shoulders, trying to avert my face away from his to end the kiss, but Bryan is persistent.

“You said you were a sure thing,” he whispers against my cheek, right before he dips down and drags his too wet mouth along my neck.

Alarm fills me at his words. I don’t like this. Not at all. I press my hands flat on his chest, desperate to push him away, but he’s too strong. “Stop.”

“Aw come on,” he says with a low chuckle. That sound fills me with dread. “Don’t be such a fuckin’ tease. Give me a show. Dance for me like you did earlier.”

“Let me go,” I demand.

He goes completely still, pulling away from me slightly to glare at me. His gaze is unfocused, and I realize too late that he’s smashed. He’s had a lot to drink tonight. Probably something else too. Coke? I noticed a few people wiping white stuff away from their noses earlier on the dance floor.

“You said you wanted this.” His voice is quiet. Disbelieving.

“I-I changed my mind.” I curl my fingers around his shoulders and smile, a tremor moving through me at the dark look in his eyes. “Let’s go back inside. We can dance some more, okay?”

“No.” He says, reaching for my tube top and tugging it down. My breasts pop free, the cold air making my nipples harden and I cry out as I try to cover myself, but he won’t let me. He grabs hold of my hands, keeping them at my sides. “Fuck me,” he says, his gaze on my chest. “Look at your tits.”

His voice is reverent, as if he’s never seen a set of boobs before. He starts to reach for them.

“Stop.” I break free from his grip and grab at my top, ready to yank it back up, but he stops me, his hand crushing my wrist, his mouth back on mine as he presses me firmly against the tree.

“Don’t fight it,” he mutters against my lips, his other hand going for my bottoms. He slips his fingers just beneath the fabric and I lift up my knee, trying to fight him off. “Don’t fight me. Calm down, Satan. You’re going to like this. I promise.”

He pins me in place, overwhelming me with his strength.

My thoughts are frantic as he exerts pressure on my wrists, pulling up so my arms are above my head, completely exposing me. I start to tremble when he holds my wrists together with one hand, his other hand sliding down. Along my face. Across my shoulder. Down my chest, until he circles one hard nipple with his index finger.

“You want it,” he murmurs, a whimper leaving me when he pinches my nipple. He glares at me. “You like it rough.”

I gape at him, horror consuming me. How does he know? Did Whit tell his friends? And then the rumors spread?

“Any girl who’s fucked Lancaster likes it hard.” His fingers pull tighter on my nipple, making me cry out. He smiles. “She likes it when it hurts.”

“Please,” I whisper when he cups my breast, kneading my flesh roughly. “Don’t do this.”

“You want it,” he says, leaning in so his mouth is just above mine. “Remember? You promised you were a sure thing. I expect you to deliver.”

He kisses me and all I can do is take it, sobbing into his mouth, but he doesn’t even notice. His hand is too busy, his mouth too greedy. I should’ve never worn this stupid costume. I was asking for trouble from the moment I appeared at the party like this, and I honestly thought Whit would’ve stopped Bryan from taking me away.

But he didn’t. He let me go. He doesn’t care about me. He probably never did, I think as Bryan runs his lips down my neck, across my collarbone, his mouth getting closer and closer to my breasts. Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.

Bryan squeezes my right breast, his fingers brutal, his head dipping down and his mouth open so he can suck on my nipple when he’s suddenly gone, ripped away from me.

“Motherfucker—” Bryan utters, right before a fist connects with his mouth, the sickening sound of flesh hitting flesh filling the air before he drops.

I shriek, more with relief than anything else, when I realize it’s Whit punching the shit out of Bryan. He hits him again. And again, his knuckles red, his eyes blazing with fury as he stands over Bryan, who crumples into a ball on the ground, trying to protect himself.

“She said no, asshole,” Whit says, literally spitting on him, reminding me of the time he saved me from Elliot. He kicks Bryan directly in the ribs and he rolls over with a grunt, away from us. “Sick fucker.”

“She wanted it,” Bryan says with a groan. “She promised me she was a sure thing. She grinded on my dick.”

“Doesn’t mean shit if the girl says no. Ass face.” Whit nudges Bryan’s backside with his booted foot before lifting his head to glare straight at me.

I stare at him in return, breathing heavily, my top around my stomach and my breasts exposed. Tears stream down my face and I know I must look a mess.

His lips firm and he slowly shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me, kicks Bryan one more time for good measure, and then turns.

And walks away.

What the actual fuck?

Tugging my tube top back into place, I chase after him, calling his name.

He keeps walking, his back stiff, his shoulders straight. Tension radiating off of him as if it’s a living, breathing thing. I pick up my pace, desperate to catch up to him, and I snag his hand, my fingers curling around his.

He whips around, yanking his hand from mine, his expression one of pure anger. I’ve never seen him so mad before. “What the hell, Summer?”

I go completely still, shocked he called me by my first name. He never does that. Surely never in public. Not that anyone’s around.

“T-thank you,” I whisper, just as my entire body starts to quake. “He was going to—going to—”

I choke on a sob.

Whit pulls me into his arms and I collapse against him, his familiar smell wrapping around me, making me feel safe. I cling to him, crying into his soft black shirt, my tears flowing uncontrollably. He just lets me cry, holding onto me, his arms around my waist, his chin resting on top of my head. I feel his fingers tangle in my hair and that just makes me cry harder, my stomach roiling at the realization of what just happened to me.

Whit’s right. Bryan was going to rape me against that tree. I should’ve never left the party with him. I only just got there, and I’d already had too much to drink. My entire night is ruined, and I’m sure I ruined Whit’s too.

I don’t know how long I cry like that, but it feels like an eternity. Shuddery breaths leave me and I hiccup as I slowly pull away from him so I can look into his face.

It’s the same unfeeling, cold Whit staring down at me. “Are you through?” he asks.

I nod, hiccupping once.

He grips my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “Don’t fuck around with strangers. I won’t always be around to rescue you.”

Overwhelming hatred races through my veins, making my blood boil. “You’re not my hero,” I spit at him.

“I am tonight. Was last time too. I can’t keep saving you, Savage. Eventually, you’re going to find yourself in this position again, and I won’t be around. What will you do then? Huh?” His fingers squeeze my chin, but I remain still, not about to show more weakness in front of him. “That asshole almost raped you. He had his hands all over you, and you fucking asked for it, dressed like you are. What did you expect?”

Tears start flowing again, streaming down my face, but still I say nothing.

“You’re a fucking mess, Savage. Figure your shit out. Before you end up dead and buried in the ground.”

He shoves me away from him, heading back toward the house.

And this time, I let him go. I refuse to follow after him.

Fuck Whit Lancaster.

Fuck him.