Page 2 of The Good Girl

“That wasn’t hitting on me.” He was trying to intimidate me. To break me before we’d even made it to the church. He was trying to put me in my place.

Chapter Two

Tristan

“What was that about?” Blythe asks, her eyes burning into me as I take the seat next to her. If I sit opposite her, then she’ll keep making eyes at me, and I’m trying to dial that back. James murmurs about grabbing our drinks and heads over to the counter, attempting to avoid whatever drama he thinks is brewing here while Clay snorts at the question, his eyes meeting mine for a moment.

The five original founding families of Silvercrest formed the core of The Society, the head of each family was also known as The Council. As the town began to expand with more settlers, so did The Council until there were seven families at the helm of the ultra-secretive and exclusive Society. In this town, if you were from one of these seven families, you were practically royalty and everyone knew it.

But power always comes with a price, and in a world where heritage and legacy meant everything, same-sex relationships were void, love was useless and autonomy was a pipe dream. At least, for the Legacies anyway. The Legacies are the children of those seven families, and unlike other Society members, there is no leeway in our lives. Who we marry is more than just a political agreement, it’s something that will shape the very future of Silvercrest. The term Legacies is used even outside The Society, it’s what the other kids in school call us when they think we’re not listening, but if they only knew the half of it.

“We seem to run into Elena Montgomery quite a lot these days, man,” Max says as he takes a seat on the other side of Blythe, and a wave of relief washes over me. I hope she starts shifting her attention to him soon, because otherwise I was going to have to have a frank discussion with her about boundaries. We hooked up, it was supposed to be casual, but she kept pushing for more. I couldn’t give more, and I didn’t want to. Elena was endgame.

I shrug in response, Clay avoiding my gaze this time since he was the only one in my small group of friends who was also a Legacy, which meant he knew all about my engagement with Lena. Not that we were all that close, he was like a hedgehog, covered in spikes designed to keep people at arm’s length unless he allowed it. I was closer to the others, in particular the Hawthorne twins, Atlas and Athena (Attie). Tabitha Black and her brother Easton were also my friends, but Easton was away at college currently. Then there was Hunter Kingston and the Grimaldi family, Noah and Poppy were Legacies while their brother Roman was a Council Initiate, meaning he was a little too old to be considered a Legacy anymore. Elena Montgomery was the only Legacy who hated me, but I was determined to change that.

“Funny that,” Clay half coughs, as I kick him under the table. “Why did we come here again?”

“She’s hot, but uptight as hell,” James remarks as he slides the tray with our coffees onto the table, saving me from having to answer.

Silvercrest Academy had an excellent cafeteria, but we still preferred to come offsite for our coffee, so I don’t know why they’re moaning. They didn’t have to come here with me. Besides, it was also a great opportunity to blow off our next class and get high in Max’s basement since he lived the closest to the school.

“Watch it, man, that’s the mayor’s daughter you’re talking about.” Max laughs, but I don’t notice the nervous way he glances around the shop. The residents of Silvercrest may not know what The Society is, or who The Council are, but they knew the founding families had power. A make-or-break kind of power.

“What happened with the class president thing?” James asks, handing me my flat white with three sugars. I have a sweet tooth, and I’m not ashamed of it as I lean back and watch Clay grab his espresso shot, handing Max his iced black coffee.Eurgh.

Max shrugs. “She stepped down, said she had too many extra-curricular activities already.”

“Well, she is ‘little miss perfect’,” Blythe bites out, and it’s impossible to ignore the bitterness in her voice as she slides down in her chair and pulls at a loose thread on her blazer sleeve. The Silvercrest uniform consisted of a black blazer, with a silver trim, white shirts and trousers or a black pleated skirt with knee-highs for the girls.

For a moment, I think about how Lena would never have loose threads on her uniform. She was always immaculate, whereas Blythe had personalized her tie, cut thumb holes in her oversized blazer and added safety pins as some sort of statement decoration to her skirt. Her socks were also always down by her ankles, rather than pulled up elegantly like Lena’s were, and for some reason today that irritates me. She runs a hand through her long dark hair, ruffling it, adding to the devil-may-care/bed-tumbled look she has, and my jaw clenches.

“So, is she vice president?” James queries. None of us really paid attention to who was supposedly who on the student body. We barely went to class, so why would we?

Once again Max chimes in, and I wonder if I misread his interest in Blythe. If his attention even so much as wavered towards Elena, we’d have a problem. “I heard her speaking to Hunter Kingston and apparently she doesn’t want it, she just wants to focus on cheerleading and debate club.”

“Don’t forget she’s doing all AP classes too,” Clay reminds them, a glazed look on his face as he pulls a silver packet out of his blazer pocket and pops a pill. He was taking more and more risks these days, but it wasn’t my place to stop him. I knew what he had going on at home, and I couldn’t exactly blame the dude. Marian Windsor was a few crayons short of a box, making her a little…eccentric.

“Fuck, that’s intense, man.” Max gives a low whistle as he reaches for his drink. “She’s going to be leader of the free world one day.”

He isn’t wrong about that, but the appreciative gleam in his eye makes me want to growl. Of course she was going to rule the world, she was Lena, and she was also mine. With the pretense of dropping something, I reach down, nudging Blythe as I do, which forces her into Max. There’s a yelp as he jumps up, his iced coffee spreading across his crotch, and I bite back a smirk, hiding it before I straighten without offering an apology.

“Following in her daddy’s footsteps and being given hand-outs the whole way no doubt,” Blythe scoffs, standing as she wipes a napkin over her skirt where she was splashed. She had no clue what life is like for us, seeing only the rich spoiled image on the surface.

“Pull your fucking socks up,” I snarl, nudging her shoe with my own, and her eyes narrow in response.

“Why do you care?” She flips me off as she sits back down, mistaking my annoyance for teasing. With a laugh, she gestures down at my trousers, which are ripped black jeans and the blazer I have thrown over a faded band T-shirt. “You’re not even wearing your uniform, douchebag. Just the blazer doesn’t count.”

Folding my arms, I level her with a glare and her mouth closes, her laugh dying out. I rarely lose my temper, but when I do, it’s deadly. “Don’t call me that.”

Small lines appear between her brows as she frowns, hurt clear in her blue eyes. “But the prissy princess can?”

“Don’t call her that either.” I deliberately keep my voice calm and collected this time, refusing to get sucked into Blythe’s insecurities. Clay’s eyes lock with mine, and the amusement there sends a flash of warning down my spine. I could kill them if I wanted to, I mean I wouldn’t. But I could. We both could, and we’d walk away scot free. He knows it, and I know it. And while I wouldn’t kill them, Clay I wasn’t so sure about. As his inclination to care declined, he seemed less morally stable, and given we weren’t exactly pure to begin with, that made me question just how depraved he was these days.

Max tries to break the tension as he grabs his bag and gets to his feet, deciding it’s time to head over to his house. “Fuck, man, I know you used to be childhood friends or whatever but you need to chill. Want a joint? It’ll help you relax. Or I’m sure Clay has some Xanax.”

I roll my eyes, but accept the joint he hands me. I need to reign in my emotions if I’m going to win Elena over, besides drama wasn’t in my nature. I was more of an enabler, a strategic thinker. I wanted an easy life. And if I had to play nice to get it, then I would. Blythe leans across my lap to light the spliff, one hand firmly on my thigh, which she rubs suggestively as the flame flickers. Tonight I’d tell her that we were done completely, this girl would never get near my dick again, especially since she wanted to talk shit about the woman who would be my wife. Not that Blythe knew that yet, but soon she would.

“Excuse me, you can’t—” The pretty blonde cashier calls over, seeing me take a drag and exhaling a cloud of tangy smoke. “Oh. Mr. Radcliffe. Mr. Windsor. Apologies.”

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