The Peer and the Puppet (When Rivals Play, #1) (14)

“And I’m in enough trouble thanks to you,” I reminded.

“Me?” He couldn’t have sounded more disinterested.

“Yeah. You.”

His lip curled as he drove us down the tree-lined driveway. “I’m not the dumb hick who thought she could be the next Patsy Quick in a fucking swamp.”

“Fuck you.”

Ever’s condescending snort had me flushing with humiliation even before he said, “Not even with a paper bag and a thousand condoms.”

Self-preservation flew out the window when my fist collided with his temple. Too far. He swerved into the next lane and cursed as he quickly regained control of the Range before slamming on the brakes. By the time I unfastened my seatbelt to fight or flee, he was already yanking open my door and pulling me out by my arm. My warning growls went unheeded as he slammed the passenger door shut and pushed me up against it.

“The first two were free. You hit me again, I hit back. Are we clear on that, Archer?”

I stared into the angry depth of his eyes, and the only thing I could do was smile, knowing I’d finally gotten to him. “Go to hell.”

“I am hell, so you’d better wise up.”

Feeling as if he’d carved the warning into my skin, I didn’t respond, and he finally let me go. I debated getting back in with him until he threatened to run me over if I didn’t. Guilt didn’t rear its ugly head until the red bruise appeared on his temple. I sighed, knowing it was wrong for me to hit him, but I still couldn’t bring myself to apologize. Ever didn’t speak another word as he drove, and ten minutes later, he was pulling onto a huge campus with brick and glass buildings and fields of green. I was still gawking when he parked, grabbed his bag, and hopped out. Ever’s name could be heard from every direction when I slid from the car. He ignored them all. The moment the door closed, he engaged the lock.

There would be no hiding.

I became all too aware of the stares and whispers.

Just apologize.

My lips parted to speak, but then the words died in my throat when the asshole from the beach suddenly appeared next to Ever. They stood of equal height and build, but their features were noticeably different…and fucking remarkable. Where Ever was regal, Vaughn was boyish, and that had to be where the trap lay because under the aristocracy and allure brewed a storm. Vaughn had chosen to wear a red sweater vest over his white button-up with the sleeves rolled up with a navy tie and navy pants.

“Glad to see you made it home in one piece,” he smugly observed.

“No thanks to you.”

He simply smiled as if he knew something I didn’t.

I crossed my arms, forgetting my nervousness. “It’s a good thing you weren’t too busy wrapped around a tree to notice.”

His lips twitched as he leaned against his car. “Wouldn’t that be the pot calling the kettle black?”

My gaze switched to Ever, who glared at his friend as he shouldered his pack. “It seems I’ve become a hot topic.”

Ever snorted as he stepped onto the concrete and into my space. We now stood so close that his every exhale blew a strand of hair that had escaped my messy ponytail. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He walked away without another word and the ball of nerves inside my stomach finally unraveled. Vaughn’s gaze flickered back and forth between Ever and me before he pushed away from his car and followed.

The parking lot and manicured lawn quickly emptied.

What the hell?

I rushed for the arched entrance.

Jefferson High looked nothing like this with its simple white structure and a ceiling that occasionally leaked when it rained. No one ever bothered to complain, knowing there would never be money in the budget to fix it.

Luckily, the headmaster’s office wasn’t hard to find. I picked up my schedule along with a new student slip, but when I tried to leave for my first class, the secretary informed me that I was to see the headmaster.

I stifled my groan and took a seat like a dutiful Brynwood academic. Almost immediately, the door to the headmaster’s office opened, and a stout man with a receding hairline of gray and a kind smile appeared.

“Miss Archer?” I stood and shook the headmaster’s offered hand. “I’m Headmaster Burns. Brynwood Academy is pleased to have you, young lady.”

He then showed me into his office where another student with mocha skin, whiskey eyes, and brown hair pulled into a neat bun waited. The lower her gaze swept over me, the higher her eyebrows rose.

“This is Tyra Bradley. She’s one of our finest students. I’ve assigned her to be your guide for the next couple of weeks to help with your transition. If there is anyone who can get you settled in, it’s her.”

“Hey, I’m Four.”

She nodded politely but didn’t lose that wary look.

All right then.

“Miss Archer, if you have any questions, I have an open-door policy. Brynwood also enforces strict but necessary rules that we would like to see all students follow.”

I noticed him studying my uniform with a deep frown, so I glanced at Tyra for help. We looked the same minus the tie and pompous shoes, of course.

“Is something wrong with my uniform?”

“The tie and oxfords aren’t an option, Miss Archer. I also advise that you do not pass through those doors again with your shirttails untucked from your skirt.”