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"Raina, are you listening to me?" I glance over at my mother, who is doing her best not to frown at me. Frowning causes wrinkles, and Jenna doesn't wrinkle. It ruins her gracious socialite image. I'm sure her Botox appointments have doubled, at least, in the last two months.
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"I heard you," I say calmly, shoving my new laptop into my old leather satchel. "I just don't care."
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Jenna's perfectly painted lips almost disappear as she glares at me. I grab the lunch I packed out of the giant fridge her housekeeper keeps stuffed with Whole Foods bullshit and check to make sure I have my phone and keys.
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"Listen here, Raina Grace. Warren pulled a lot of strings to get you into Sullivan Prep. Don't you dare embarrass us." She's angry, I can tell by the Texas drawl slipping into her hissed words.
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"Do my best," I say flippantly. "Wouldn't want your hubby to be upset with your redneck relatives, after all."
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She follows me out of the back door, watching with her arms folded as I step up on the running board of my truck. Well, more accurately, my daddy's truck. Bryan, in a fit of guilt, had brought it all the way from our home in Texas out to Sullivan's Point for me. Jenna hated it and threw a fit, but since her hubby loved the idea that Bryan was paying my insurance and putting money in my account for gas, there's not much she can do about it.
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"I don't see why you can't just ride to school with Courtney," she spits out. My stepsister's Audi is still in the garage. Princess Perfect is probably still putting on her face. I bite my tongue as I toss my bag across the seat to the passenger side, and try to keep my face neutral.
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"She has cheerleading practice after school, remember? It wouldn't be convenient for either of us for me to be sitting around waiting for her." And we hate each other, I add mentally.
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Whatever argument she opens her mouth to make is drowned out by the classic country that comes wailing out of the speakers when I turn the key. I crank down my window and give her a pageant queen wave, smiling inwardly as she stalks back into the house.
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The Beast roars to life, the power of the big engine vibrating through me. She's a Texas truck, a 1983 Dodge Ram charger 1500, lifted and chromed. Daddy left her mostly stock, but I appreciate the sound system upgrade as I swing her around and pull out of the driveway. As soon as I'm out of sight, I switch the radio from Daddy's favorite burned CD to bluetooth, and let my Spotify playlist take over. I grew up on Alan and George and Hank Jr, but I only blast them to irritate my mother. Yes, I'm petty like that.
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Halsey and I rock on down the road, the bass thrumming through my bones, soothing the nerves I pretend I don't have. I hate everything about this. I don't want to be in California, in my mother's house, headed to some school full of spoiled trust fund babies I have nothing in common with. Like he read my mind, my phone starts vibrating with a Jason Aldean song, my brother's ringtone. I swing into a service station, glancing at my watch as I answer. I've got plenty of time, but even if I didn't, I'd take this call.
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"Hey, beautiful." My brother's deep voice is warm and I can hear his smile. "You ready for this?"
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I smile despite myself, heading for the coffee bar at the back of the store, zeroing in on the biggest cup of the highest caffeine level they offer.
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"I was born ready, boy," I say with more confidence than I feel. Tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear, I add cream and sugar to my coffee. "How's the hay coming in?"
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"Shitty, I guess. Too much rain too early. Marco says it's weedy as hell. I guess it's good we're not full up right now."
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My heart clenches a little, homesickness never far away. I should be there, standing on the back porch, my fourth or fifth cup of coffee in the oversized Yeti mug I bought Pops for Christmas, looking out at the barns. Swift would be flopped down at Marco's feet, her icy eyes following his every move under her perpetually furrowed eyebrows, her tail thumping occasionally. The picture is so clear in my mind that my eyes prick with tears. I clear my throat and blink hard.
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"I guess so. Are we okay?"
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He chuckles. "Yeah, we're okay. The old man may be a dumbass, but he always made sure the ranch was covered. You just worry about getting through this shit and coming home, Queenie."
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I smile at the cashier as I pay for my coffee, stuffing my change into the jar on the counter and mouthing an apology for being on the phone.
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"I miss your stupid face, bubba."
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"Miss you too, Raina. Give em hell."
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"Always."
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We disconnect, and I'm shoving my phone back in my bag as I round the side of my car truck, almost running face first in the guy stretching up on his toes to peer in the windows.
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"Can I help you?" I snap. He turns and I take a deep breath. Damn, he's pretty. Dark eyes sweep over my five foot four inches, a slow smile curving his lips. A diamond stud in his ear catches the light as he tilts his head, blatantly checking me out.
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"I sure hope so, pretty lady." He offers me his hand, and I stare at it, eyebrows raised. Tattoos cover the dark golden skin of his arms, disappearing into the tight sleeves of his black t-shirt. "Please, tell me this is your truck?"
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Amused despite myself, I smile, taking his hand to shake. Instead he lifts it to his lips, his eyes dancing with mischief as he places the lightest kiss on my knuckles.
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"Wish granted. You like it, I'm guessing."
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"Almost as much as I like you. Wanna get married?"
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I laugh out loud, giving him a good once over. He's tall and lean, but muscled in all the right places. Remembering the back view, I'd put good money on him looking fantastic in Wranglers. I sigh with regret. "Sorry, but- jailbait, son. Come back in a few years."
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Instead of scurrying off, he grins. "Is that so?" He pulls a wallet out of his back pocket and flips it open, showing me his ID. His student ID. I don't recognize the name of the high school, but it's current. And he's only 18. Maybe I found one thing not to hate in California, after all.
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"Well." I give his ID another look and grin. "Ariel Ramon Escondidas. It was nice meeting you, but I have to go. Can't be late for the first day, ya know?"
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He steps back and lets me open the door, his hot gaze roaming from me to the Beast with blatant interest.
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"You really gonna leave me hanging, ma? At least let me get those digits. Or your name?"
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"Raina." I give him a wicked smile as I pull my door closed. "See you around, Ariel."
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I can hear his laughter over the radio as I back out. When I glance back in the rearview mirror, he's standing where I left him, arms crossed over his chest, watching me go with a smile.
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****
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I hate uniforms. I'm not a slob by any means, but looking like a waitress isn't really my thing. I button the white shirt over my tank top and smooth the black skirt, grimacing at the green blazer I'm expected to wear despite the heat.
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I wish for the millionth time I was home, starting my senior year at Boone High with the rest of my friends. I fold my arms over the steering wheel, tempted to just pull out and keep driving, all the way back to Texas. I don't belong here, where all the girls are sporting highlighted blowouts and designer bags, and the parking lot is full of luxury cars.
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It's just eleven months. You can handle it.
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Not that I really have a choice. Grabbing my bag, I sling it crossbody and push open the door, hitting the ground with my shoulders back and head up. I may feel like I'm drowning, but there's no reason to advertise it to the sharks surrounding me.
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The looks and whispers start before I'm even halfway across the parking lot. Thanks to Daddy's spectacular fuck up last year, I'm used to it, but I'm also tired. I just want to get through senior year and go home. All I have to do is stay under the radar, make good grades, and score well enough on the SATs to get into a decent vet school.
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Eyes on the prize, I tell myself. This is nothing, just a detour to get where you're going.
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I wish I believed that. I check the campus map I downloaded to my phone during orientation just as it goes wild with notifications. Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat- I slide down the notification bar and find myself grinning like a fool.
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Ariel Escondidas wants to be your friend.
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Someone works fast. I hit accept, and it instantly buzzes in my hand with a message.
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I'm looking for you everywhere, but no sexy truck and hot Texan here. Where you at, dream girl?
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I sidestep out of the way of the other students, typing a quick message.
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Hell, apparently. Aka Sullivan Prep.
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He doesn't respond immediately, so I reorient myself using the map and head for my first period assignment. I pass a group of girls who instantly start whispering and giggling as I go by, and roll my eyes.
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The phone buzzes again as I reach the classroom, but I wait until I slide into a seat and grab out my binder and a pen before I check it.
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Didn't think that would be your scene.
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It's not. It *is* my mom's, though. What can you do?
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I add a facepalm emoji and hit send as the teacher comes in. She leans against her desk as the students settle into their seats, and as soon as the bell rings she claps her hands together.
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"Okay, folks, let's get started. Welcome to…"
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I tune out most of her spiel about the wonders of AP History, studying the syllabus and making notes in my planner about assignment dates and projects. I've always been a good student, mainly thanks to helping keep the ranch books and schedule balanced since I was old enough to do basic addition and subtraction. Guilt tugs at me, knowing Bryan's probably struggling to do all the day to day chores and the paperwork by himself.
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"Miss Silver!"
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I yank myself out of my thoughts and focus on the teacher. From her annoyed look, I'm guessing it's not the first time she's called me.
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"Yes ma'am?" I deliberately bump up my accent, giving her wide eyes.
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"Since you're new to Sullivan Prep, I thought I'd give you a chance to introduce yourself to the class."
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A dozen sets of curious eyes turn towards me. I plaster a neutral smile on my face as I curse inwardly.
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"There's really not much to say," I demur. The teacher raises an eyebrow and I decide I hate her. "I'm finishing out my senior year here, since my mom lives out here. I'm from Texas. That's about it."
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"I see. Well, I'm sure you'll enjoy your time here."
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Bet I won't, bitch, I think, but I just give her a non-committal nod and wait for her to move on. As soon as she turns away, I slide my phone out into my lap and check it. Ariel's message makes me smirk.
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Cool. She can pay for the wedding. Speaking of, wanna get together after school and start planning?
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He's attached a cartoon gif of a leering chihuahua waggling his eyebrows, and I bite my lip to stop the giggle. His ridiculous flirting is just what I needed today.
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The first few periods drag by, but Ariel's intermittent messages keep me smiling and make it easy to ignore the stares and snide remarks. By the time lunch rolls around, I'm ready to get the hell away from all of them. Insulated bag in hand, I climb up on the hood of the Beast and scoot back to lean against the windshield. The eucalyptus tree over my head rustles softly, and if I don't look around, I can almost pretend I'm home. Apple in hand, I close my eyes and tilt my face up to the dappled light, letting everything else fade away.
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"Dreaming of me, Sleeping Beauty?"
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I startle, slipping on the slick paint of the hood and sliding towards the bumper. Strong hands catch me around the waist and swing me to the ground, Ariel's white teeth flashing in a grin. There's a matte black crotch rocket wedged between the Beast and the little Mercedes coupe parked beside it that I can instantly see him on. I fold my arms over my chest and glare up at him.
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"You realize this is stalking," I growl. "What are you doing here?"
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"Work study program." He shrugs. "I'm out for the day, so I thought I'd come by and check on my wifey."
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I roll my eyes. "You're ridiculous. Don't think I don't know it's really my truck you're after."
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He lifts his head and runs greedy eyes over the Dodge. "Guilty." His gaze moves back to me, and I shiver under the heat in it. "But don't sell yourself short, Raina. I'm definitely interested."
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Before I can respond, there's a shout from a Cadillac Escalade rolling past. It brakes sharply and the doors fly open
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"Hey, asshole!"
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I look at the three boys stalking towards us. They're radiating aggression, all of them focused on Ariel. They're also gorgeous. Looking between the four spectacular male specimens raising their hackles at each other, I'm tempted to fan myself dramatically. They might not be cowboys, but California boys may have some merit.
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Ariel's face changes, closing down into cold fury, and he shifts to put me behind him, stepping forward. Oh, hell no. I grab his arm, feeling the corded muscles bunching underneath his skin and moving up beside him. The potential for violence pours off him in a wave of icy intention. His eyes flick towards me and I give him back a cool smile. I should be scared by that flat black gaze. Instead, my skin hums with awareness.
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"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Ghost?" The leader stops a few feet away, pure hatred in his eyes as he looks at Ariel. "You're not wanted."
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"I'm not here for you, Raphael." Ariel's gaze moves over the other two contemptuously. "Or your boys. Just came by to see my girl."
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His girl? I'm going to strain my eyes if I keep giving them this kind of workout. But I'm willing to let him play his hand out, so I move away enough to lean against my truck.
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Three sets of eyes move to me, and I'm a little shaken by the disgust on all of their faces. I hear the bell ring signaling the end of the lunch period, but I keep my ass planted right where it is. There's a small crowd gathering at a distance, and Ariel spares them a quick glance. He takes a deep breath and it's like a switch flips. His body relaxes and his lips quirk upwards in a cocky smile.
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"That's you, babe," he says. He moves into my personal space, tilting my face up to his with the tips of his fingers. His eyes hold a question, and the reckless side of me decides to go with it. No one ever died from a kiss, right?
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I go up on my toes, intending to just brush his lips with mine, but he slides his arm around me, lifting me against him and pressing me back against the truck. His mouth slants down over mine hard and I gasp. His tongue flicks against mine, the piercing I hadn't noticed running along the roof of my mouth. Heat flashes through me when he wraps his hand in my braid and gives it a quick, sharp tug. He pulls away, his eyes molten. He leans his forehead against mine, angling his head to whisper in my ear.
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"Dios, Raina. Later?"
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I nod wordlessly, not entirely sure I can still speak. His fingers tighten against my hip before he pulls away, running his hand over his face. His eyes are thoughtful as he looks at me. I manage to give him a flirty smile and blow him a kiss off my fingertips.
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"See ya soon, babe."
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He shakes his head, a grin breaking free, and turns back to his bike. I watch him strap on his helmet and kick it to life. He guns it out of the parking lot, and I take my time retrieving my bag from the hood of the Beast. I'm avoiding the angry eyes of the three boys towering over me until the one Ariel called Raphael speaks.
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"Don't bring your trash around here, hillbilly," he growls. His fists open and close at his side. "We don't want it."
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I glance over at him as I pull out my phone, checking my next class location. He doesn't seem to want a response, so I don't bother giving him one. As I start moving away, one of his friends grabs my arm. Long fingers dig into my arm, and blazing blue eyes glare down at me.
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"Did you hear him, bitch?"
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Daddy tried to raise a lady, I promise he did, but big brother made sure I wasn't a helpless Southern belle. There's plenty of witnesses to it being self defense, and I'm sure at least some of them have their phones set to record. Someone always does.
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Rule number one: they always expect you to go for the balls, so don't.
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Rule number two: the ring finger is connected to the tendon that controls the whole arm, and takes roughly five to eight pounds of pressure to break. Which means that if someone- theoretically me- were to grab an assailant- like a certain blue eyed boy with a bad attitude- by that finger, bend it back sharply and spin, they could possibly put the assailant on their knees in the parking lot with their arm pulled up between their shoulder blades.
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Which might be where things ended up.
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Raphael and his friend start towards me, and I give ol' blue eyes' arm a little tug. He growls in pain and the others freeze.
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"Let's get something straight, boys. I don't know y'all, I don't want to know y'all, and I don't know or care what your problem with Ariel is. That's your business. But you keep your hands to yourselves, because otherwise, I'll have to hurt you. Where I'm from, we believe strongly in self defense, you understand?"
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"Yes." The one who grabbed me looks at me with grudging respect. I look into his eyes for a long moment, then nod and let him go, stepping back.
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I see them exchange a quick look, and the blond with the bedroom eyes glances at my truck. Putting my hands on my hips, I shake my head.
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"Uh-uh. Don't even think about it, pretty boy. If I find so much as a scratch on the Beast, I'll run her right over your scrawny ass."
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Raphael, who seems to be the only one with the talking stick, sneers at me.
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"Who the fuck do you think you are, hillbilly?"
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The smile that spreads across my face feels like pure evil. So much for staying under the radar, now all I can do is fake it till I make it.
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"Wait and see, city boy."
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