Page 30 of The Good Girl

I feel eyes on me again, and I know without turning that Tristan is somewhere in the crowd, watching and waiting. He’s like a hunter, but I refuse to be his prey.

“That was great! I’m so pumped, there was so much energy!” Serena says as she grabs her towel from the bag next to mine. “Are you coming to the party with us tonight?”

“Nah, I have somewhere I need to be,” I say apologetically. I rarely go to the events afterwards, be it house parties, yacht parties, lake parties, or trips to the diner. They were just excuses to get drunk, do drugs, and compare how rich your family was, and I didn’t have the patience for that. I always had more work to do, events for my father or nights like tonight where I just need to dance.

“Okay, but Sam kinda was really hoping you’d be there,” she leans in and whispers. “I heard from Brent that he’s planning on asking you out.”

I couldn’t even pick the boys she’s talking about out of a lineup, but since she was making an effort to get over the weird tension in our friendship, I tried to play along. She nods her head over her right shoulder to one of the linebackers on the football team. He was easy on the eyes, but what was the point? Nothing could ever come of it. My mind flits back to the conversation earlier in the week with Tristan. Was he jealous? Did he think I was sleeping with someone? It’s almost like my thoughts summon the devil as he appears, but he doesn't even spare me a second glance. He’s wearing a fitted white T-shirt, a pair of torn jeans, and a khaki shirt. The whole outfit screams casual and chilled, but I know it’s really just a pretense as I clock the designer labels. In a town where money rules everything, there’s no way he bought clothes at an ordinary store. His father would never allow it.

“Hey, Serena, isn’t it?” Tristan says smoothly with a smile ghosting on his lips as he stands with his back partially to me.

Serena gives me a questioning glance, and when I shrug, she nods and flashes him a flirty grin. I mean, I know he’s attractive, but he’s also a dickwad. How can he just smile at girls and watch as they melt? He’s not a god, he’s someone who got lucky in the genetic lottery, and he knows it.

He looks her up and down openly, taking in the cheer uniform. The black pleated skirt is edged with a white and silver strip while the top is cropped with long sleeves, the silver and white banding on the arms. The whole ensemble is finished with silver hair bows and silver pom-poms.

“You looked great out there. I love, and I mean, LOVE the uniform.” His voice is oozing charm as he compliments her, and I see her brain cells fading as she falls for it.

“Thanks,” she purrs, placing a hand on his arm. Rolling my eyes, I grab my bottle and pull up the cap. I’m sweating a little, but I still have excess energy, and there’s a pressure building in my head that I can’t ignore. I feel like I’m losing control as I try to steady my breathing and cool down. I want to dance. I want to scream. I want to bite him.

Good girls don’t get angry.

They stay calm and collected.

They never break.

“Your belly bar kept catching my eye, glinting while you moved.” He glances over his shoulder at me when she’s not looking.

I take a drink, aware of his eyes fixed on my neck as I swallow, before I give him a charming smile of my own. He smirks and turns back to Serena, determined to get under my skin, unaware I already told her weeks ago she could ask him out if she wanted. Pushing the lid on the bottle back down, it’s like I’ve lost my mind as I find myself standing on my tiptoes and calling out over the rest of the squad.

“Hey, Sam!” I shout at the attractive football player. “You want to take me to the party tonight?”

His eyes widen as I catch him off guard, and beside me, I can feel Tristan stiffen. Serena whispers something to him, but he doesn’t respond. We’re both watching Sam now, I don’t even need to see Tristan’s face to know that his eyes are seeing the same thing I am: a cute jock with sandy blond hair and blue eyes.

“Urm, yeah…” Sam says hesitantly as the other players cheer and whistle before grinning at me. “Yes. Definitely. Want a lift home first?”

I try to look shy and sweet as I nod. “Yeah, let me just grab my bag.”

He should give me butterflies, but he doesn’t. I’m on autopilot, behaving how I know I should, rather than how I feel. It’s a strategy I learned when my father first started doing political campaigns and one I use daily. I’ve asked Sam out for all the wrong reasons, but he doesn’t need to know that. I’m going to go and enjoy myself, since it doesn’t look like I’ll get to dance tonight. At least, not the kind of dancing I need.

“What’re you doing?” Tristan hisses, grabbing my arm as I squeeze myself through him and Serena to get to where Sam is waiting.

I turn and watch him coldly, even though I feel like I’m burning up under his glare. His hand is scorching my skin, reminding me why I am pushing him. I can’t be broken, not by him. “We’ve already had this discussion, Tristan. My sex life is none of your business.”

“Like fuck—” he spits, but I yank my arm free.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Serena asks, her soft voice faltering as she finally notices the battle of wills we’re having.

“Nothing. I’ll see you later at the party. I’ll give you all the juicy deets.” I wink and giggle, feeding into Tristan’s anger. Serena doesn’t disappoint, giggling in return and slapping my ass as she tells me to have fun and ‘stay safe’ tonight. Tristan looks like he’s ready to murder her as Sam slings his arm around my shoulder and leads me out to his car.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tristan

Idon’t know what possessed me to go to the fucking pep rally. I hated school events normally, but Elena was avoiding me ever since the music room on Monday. I thought since The Council dinner at Hunter’s we were making progress, but apparently not. Sitting in the stands with Tabitha and Attie, I watch as she jumps, twirls, and does cartwheels across the sports hall. I can see some of the tension leaving her body with every leap and every landing, but it isn’t enough, the routine is still stifling her.

In the music room, I’d pushed her again. Forced her to face some things she didn’t want to think about, and while it hurt when she used the cut on my face as a defense mechanism, it was kind of hot, especially when she forced me to my knees at her feet. I also saw how I’d rippled that calm confidence of hers. She wanted me. She just wasn’t admitting it yet. The woman was going to drive me crazy if she didn’t give me just an inch soon, I didn’t even want a mile.

The rally ends and people start filtering out into the parking lot, but my eyes glue to her as she goes to the bench and starts looking through her sports bag. Her pretty friend stands next to her, chattering on, and I can see Lena feigning interest, but her eyes are dead as the redhead carries on. It was this thing Elena did, when she reined in her feelings and thoughts; her eyes went flat, and she faked whatever it was she was supposed to be feeling. I would say Randolph was to blame, but having met Adeline Montgomery, I knew this was something she’d inherited from her perfectly placid mother. I doubt the woman had ever revealed a true emotion in all her life, but then again, she was a Hawthorne, and that family terrified me. Atlas and Attie were exceptions, but their father Rowan and older brother, Ares–they were some scary people. By Society rights, Adeline was more powerful than her husband, and yet she was happy just to be an ornament in his political career. Something was going on there.

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