Raine, Page 2

  “Hey, aren’t you that Forester chick?” Marylyn’s screechy, malicious voice stood out over the pounding music. The head cheerleader for the varsity football team darted in front of her, stopping Raine in her tracks. Behind her, her three amigas fell into formation, creating a flying V of menace. “The one Camron’s fucking, right?”

  Raine paled at her crudeness, but held her ground. It was no secret that Marylyn had a thing for Camron, and it made sense that the quarterback and the cheerleader would make a better couple than the quarterback and the social reject… in the movies. But this wasn’t some teenage drama and she wasn’t a movie star. But these girls? They were exactly what you’d expect to find in one of those teen movies—antagonistic, materialistic, sadistic, and any other words that ended in istic, bitches.

  The girl standing behind Marylyn’s left shoulder leaned in. “I heard the only reason he made her his girlfriend is because she spreads like warm butter—easy.”

  On Marylyn’s right, another girl she recognized as a cheerleader sneered. “I heard she gives head to all the guys on the team before a game for good luck.”

  Their words stung like tiny knives. This was why Raine hated coming to these parties. Whenever Camron was gone, she became a target for The Bitch Squad. Balling her fists at her sides, Raine stared them down. The only reason she didn’t strike back was because she remembered her mother’s saying that two wrongs never made a right. If she tossed back insults, it wouldn’t get her anywhere—they’d just hit her twice as hard. She had to swallow several times to quell the burning sensation in her throat.

  “Why are you even here? It’s not like you belong here,” Marylyn snarled, her pale eyes burning with unmasked hatred. “Camron doesn’t love you. Hell, I don’t even think he likes you. Do you honestly think he would want to date you?” Looking her up and down, Marylyn’s lip curled in disgust. “You’re nothing to him but a joke. A conquest.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The temperature in the room seemed to rise as Raine continued to stand there, each word Marylyn threw at her like a brick. The worst thing about it was that everything she was saying echoed Raine’s fears. Did Camron really want her or was she a joke to him?

  “Don’t I? Look around you,” Marylyn said, opening her arms. Raine did, finding a lot of eyes locked on her as they continued to dance and talk, pretending not to listen. “Do any of these people look like your friends?”

  No, they didn’t. They weren’t. Raine knew that. She’d told herself over and over again that it wasn’t an issue for her, but now… Now. She felt the room shrinking in on her. “Stop.”

  “No one likes you. You’re nothing but a game to him, and when you’re not around, you know what he does? He laughs at you. Poor, ugly, doe-eyed Raine Forester, too stupid to figure out that she’s being played for pennies—”

  Slap! “I said stop!” Everyone in the room froze to look at her. Raine’s pulse thundered in her ears, her arm trembling, her palm burning, as she stared at the angry red handprint forming on Marylyn’s cheek.

  With tears in her eyes, the head cheerleader glared at her. Her voice, a deadly growl, directed a warning at Raine. “Big mistake, bitch. Big fucking mistake.” Then she walked away, the other cheerleaders surrounding her in a protective circle.

  The music continued to play. The chatter steadily rose as everyone slowly began to return to whatever they were doing. And Raine just stood there, shaking, unsure of what to do with herself.

  Needing to escape, but with nowhere to go, Raine raced upstairs.

  The second floor was quieter—and empty—as if no one were brave enough to venture here. The isolation gave her the sense that, if she was found, she might be in trouble. Briefly, Raine considered returning to the party, but the idea of running into those girls again was enough to push her forward.

  A long, narrow hallway, lined with doors, stretched from the front of the house all the way to the back. Curious about what was hidden behind them, she went to the first one and gripped the handle.

  Should she open it? She just wanted a little peek, and then she would close it, she told herself. No one would even know she had been here. Looking over her shoulder to be sure she was still alone, she opened the door a crack.

  Pushing her glasses up, she saw that, inside this room, the walls were painted deep beige with flower-patterned drapes to match. A large bed sat in the middle, taking up most of the floor, and every piece of furniture was made of dark hardwoods. Expensive.

  The next room was a sea green and looked like it was taken straight out of a Pottery Barn magazine. Everything from the shabby chic dresser to the knickknacks and throw pillows were perfectly placed. Staged.

  This must be the guest room.

  The third and fourth bedrooms were equal size and decorated similar to the second, with one following a purple scheme and the other a soft, heather grey. The main bathroom sat across from the fourth bedroom and was as large as the first bedroom. It housed his-and-her sinks, a marble vanity, mosaic tiles, and the softest looking towels she’d ever laid eyes on. The tub was so deep it could hold two people comfortably.

  She closed the door before the urge to test it out consumed her.

  At the end of the hall, she found a fifth door and a second set of stairs leading back down to the first floor. She had two choices: return to the party and track Camron down, or see what was behind the last door.

  Curiosity getting the best of her, she opened the door.

  Another stairwell cloaked in darkness. Craning her neck, she couldn’t make out anything beyond the first few steps and, no matter how hard she listened, she couldn’t hear anything coming from inside.

  Go up or go down?

  “Why are you even here? It’s not like you belong here.” Marylyn’s words played in her mind, reminding her that she didn’t have anyone down there who would miss her.

  “Don’t turn into a chicken shit now,” Raine muttered to herself as she set her foot on the first step. A strange chemical, just strong enough to detect, filled the stairwell. Paint, maybe? Running her hands over the walls, she crept higher, carefully placing each foot on the carpeted steps, but she couldn’t locate any switches. Just her luck, and another reason she shouldn’t be up here.

  She pressed on.

  The stairs took a small turn and then opened into an expansive room that appeared to span the entire length of the house. Raine’s jaw dropped as she stood in the doorway, soaking it all in. The room was magnificent. Stark white walls accented by colorful canvass paintings, sleek black modern furniture creating sitting and work areas, and workout equipment creating another. A wall of windows overlooking the wooded property turned it into a retreat. And in the center of it all was a giant circular bed covered in a thick white duvet and topped with red pillows. She was so amazed by what she saw that she didn’t even notice the guy sitting across from her until he spoke.

  “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

  TWO

  “I asked you a question.”

  The girl’s mouth popped open and then snapped shut as she fumbled for words. Jarret didn’t allow people in his room. It was his space, and he didn’t share it with anyone. In the year since his parents bought the house for him, he’d been the only person to step into the room… until now.

  “I love your room,” the girl said, offering him a shy smile as she finally found her voice. God that smile—soft and radiant with a hint of bashful. If he wasn’t so pissed off that she’d ignored all the ground rules he’d laid out for his little brother and his friends to follow, he might have actually enjoyed it.

  A little on the shorter side, the girl was stunning. She wore her fair hair short, caressing the tops of her slender shoulders. Her face was soft, oval-shaped with a sharp chin, too full lips, slim nose set between large brown eyes that looked out from behind a pair of thick purple glasses and, despite the muted lighting, he could tell that she was all curves beneath that tight-fitting white dress.
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  She looked like a bride—graceful and angelic. Again, stunning came to mind. She was everything he should avoid.

  Irritated with himself, Jarret tilted his head to the side and asked in a purposefully low pitch he often used to instill fear, “Are you lost, little girl, or deaf?” Right now, most girls would be shaking in their heels, but not this one.

  Before his eyes, she squared her shoulders and met his gaze. “I’m not lost. I was just…” She scanned the room again, marveling over the smaller details. Her eyes landed on the batman light switch he’d found at the bottom of a box that he’d used during his super hero faze as a kid. For some reason, that it’d caught her attention made him want to smile.

  None of that changed the fact that she was where she didn’t belong. “Snooping,” he supplied, finishing her sentence for her. “You were just snooping.”

  “Exploring.” She gave him a tight smile that told him he was right, but she’d never admit to it. Jarret felt his lips twitch in amusement. He had to remind himself that this girl had deliberately defied the rules, and she needed to get out.

  “No one is allowed up here.” Unfurling himself from the rolling chair, he strode toward her. If his impressive height and build hadn’t been enough to scare her off, his glower sure did the trick. Stopping just short of running into her, Jarret glared down at her, his shaggy midnight hair draping around his face as he bent slightly at the waist. “People aren’t allowed past the first floor. No one comes in my room.”

  This close, he could see that her eyes were the softest shade of brown, reminding him of a copper penny.

  Lungs constricting as he continued to look into those unwavering eyes, he was just a little proud that she had enough gumption not to back down from him. Most girls tripped over themselves when he looked at them, and they cleared a path when he got angry. But, he was surprised to realize, he wasn’t angry. He should be. This girl had invaded his privacy, but, for some reason, he was enjoying her in his space. For some reason, he thought she looked good in it, her mismatch of chic and awkward girl next door suiting his casual décor. This close, he could smell her delicate, floral scent—jasmine—and he felt his body sway to catch a better whiff.

  She swallowed hard, the movement of her throat catching his attention. She had a delicate throat, slim and graceful like a swan, and his hand lifted to touch it. When she flinched, her golden eyes growing wider, Jarret jerked his hand back to his side. What was he doing, trying to touch her? Had he lost his mind? What was this girl, twelve?

  Backing up a step, Jarret allowed his annoyance to bleed into his words, his voice coming out in a low, angry timbre. “Are you slow or somethin’? I said no one is allowed in my room.” By all rights, she should have lifted her skirts and run already.

  He wasn’t sure what caused it, but Jarret’s words seemed to spark something in her, and her eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me names.”

  Had he? He hadn’t realized… He was surprised to find the girl before him so pissed, her plump lips pursed and her hip cocked. She folded her arms, pushing her small breasts higher. He smirked, allowing his gaze to travel over her. She was the perfect mix of cute and sassy, making him entertain thoughts of how she would react if he kissed her and let his hands roam over her soft, supple flesh.

  Seeing her anger piqued sent a thrill through him. He loved a girl with fight in her, and he couldn’t help fanning the flames just a little. “If the shoe fits…”

  “Probably better you than me,” she remarked.

  He narrowed his eyes, mimicking her attitude, but not in anger. More like interest. And curiosity. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had gotten smart with him. Anyone who knew him—any sane person—understood that Jarret wasn’t someone you wanted to cross. Apparently, she wasn’t all that sane. Who was this girl?

  She shrank back as he stepped closer, towering over her small frame. He had to remind himself that she was a high school girl, at a party, who’d broken his cardinal rule: stay out of his space. No doubt she was running with that bitch crew he’d seen his brother, Cam, hanging out with.

  No matter how cute she might be—or how intriguing—he made a special point to avoid her kind. “Run along, little girl,” he warned. “Run back to your bitchy little friends before I boot you off my property.”

  It was then, as he hovered over her, that she must have realized who she was dealing with. The breath stole out of her and she stammered as she searched for her voice. “You’re Jarrett,” she finally gasped.

  Finally, she made the connection. He’d assumed, since the party was at his house, that she had already known who he was, but clearly she hadn’t, and he couldn’t really blame her. He and Camron were total opposites. Where Camron had their father’s blonde hair, he had their mother’s black. Where Camron was tall, he was taller. Camron was a people person. Jarret locked himself away in the third floor attic, preferring to keep to himself. They were brothers, but the only thing people could say were the same were their eyes, but Jarret’s held a darker, harder quality to them—a result of things in life that’d roughened his edges.

  Unconsciously, she leaned closer, and he wondered if she saw that too, those edges, and wanted to explore them.

  Hell, he wanted her to. Temptation tugged at him, urging him to close the last bit of distance and pull her in, touch her, kiss her, learn her. Instead, he pulled back, towering over her with a bemused expression. She knew his name. “That’s right, little one, and who might you be?”

  “Raine. My name is Raine.”

  “My favorite kind of weather,” Jarret mused, delighting in the hint of blush coloring her cheeks. Raine frowned as Jarret returned to his desk and gave her his back.

  “Why aren’t you at the party?”

  “I don’t congregate with youngins’,” he said snarkily. There was entirely too much drama that came with the teenage crowd, and he wanted no part in any of it. That this girl had wandered beyond his invisible boundaries made him question just what her motivations were. He decided to ask. “Tell me, did you simply wander off, or were you looking for something in particular?”

  Turning in his chair, he was just in time to catch the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks deepening before she turned her face away to hide it. After a brief moment, she looked back at him. “What’s that supposed to mean, looking for something?”

  “It means you’re painfully transparent, little girl.” He laughed humorlessly. She almost had him fooled. He almost believed she’d simply lost her way, but that act of avoidance, there and gone in an instant, told him she’d come up here for a reason. He didn’t have to think too hard to know what that reason was, and it pissed him off. “I have to admit. For a second there, the lost, innocent act almost got me. Almost. You know the way out.” He turned away, returning to his work, but his focus was shot to hell.

  “Act?” Raine’s dress swished as she stepped deeper into the room.

  He listened harder, waiting to see what she would do or say next. When only silence filled the room, he grew curious. Could she have left without him hearing her?

  Jarret spun around in his chair. Raine stood in profile to him bent over a canvas he’d painted recently. She pinched the frayed edge of the paint-stained wife beater he’d used to cover it between her fingernails and lifted the fabric up.

  “Wow.”

  He didn’t have to look to know what she was seeing. Hidden beneath the shirt was a black canvas covered in swirls of color. The look on her face when she peeked over her shoulder at him told him she thought it was something worth awing over, but to Jarret it was a piece of shit destined for the trash.

  And she had no right looking at it. Once again, she’d invaded his privacy.

  “Excuse me,” Jarret snapped out. His chair scraped across the wood flooring as he shoved to his feet and stormed over, yanking the material from her hand. He intended to replace the cover, but the force of the action tore it off completely instead, leaving the painting fully exposed. “Shit.”


  Raine gaped, and he didn’t know what that meant. Did she like it? Hate it? Assuming the latter, Jarret scraped his fingers through his hair. He knew it was bad, which was why it was covered up.

  “You did this?” she asked him, craning her neck to see over his shoulder as he scrambled to cover it back up.

  “Yeah, I—don’t fucking look at it!”

  The near hysteria in his voice caused Raine’s eyes to widen, and she stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “Well, you did,” he snapped, taking special care to cover all the edges so not a single ray of color would show.

  But Raine had seen it.

  Nothing could erase the memory of his failure. The vision of wide colorful swirls painted in rich tones of red, brown, and black dancing and flowing in graceful arcs around and through pale pinks and buttery yellows was now fresh in his mind, and he longed to get rid of it. His father always told him that he didn’t have a talent for art, so why did he keep trying? Knowing that this girl was standing witness to his humiliation was almost too much to bear.

  “Would you leave already?” Jarret snapped. When she didn’t immediately move to comply, his arm shot out and he jabbed a finger toward the door. “Get the fuck out of my room!”

  He hadn’t meant to shout but…Oh, who was he kidding? Jarret wanted her gone, and she went. Mission accomplished. But no sooner had he turned to get back to work on his latest project, he heard footsteps entering.

  Apparently, this Raine chick was a glutton for punishment. Perturbed, he spun around. He was in the process of telling her to take a hike when he realized it wasn’t Raine he was yelling at. Instead, a very attractive girl in a dress that suctioned to her body in all the right places, smiled seductively at him. “I thought you might like a drink,” she said, holding up two unopened bottles of beer. “But if you want me to go…” She turned to leave, and Jarret held up his hand.