Disorder by J.L. Weil

Chapter Nine

Igave new meaning to dragging your feet. Only part of it was due to me not being a morning person. Seventy percent of my procrastination came from not wanting to go to the Academy on a Saturday.

Who the fuck enjoyed going to school on their weekend?

I guessed that was the punishment of a Saturday detention.

This early in the morning, all I could think was Principal Wallis could suck my ass.

I had Ava to blame for this early morning torture. Why in God’s name did they demand we be there at seven in the morning?

Still half asleep, I slipped into my favorite pair of leggings and added a knitted black sweater that was frayed in random spots over the lacy bralette. I found Brock downstairs in the kitchen sipping coffee when I appeared barely functioning. He held out a cup for me. I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought it: Brock is a godsend.

Savoring the first bold sip, I leaned into the counter, thinking it was the damn best coffee I ever had.

Or maybe it was Brock in the morning that made it taste so good.

He stared at me from the other side of the kitchen island, eyes smoldering. “I’ve never seen anyone consume coffee the way you do.”

I took another long sip. “Then you need new friends. Coffee is the nectar of the gods.”

His lips twitched. “Most people would say that about booze, not coffee.”

“And that is what is wrong with this world,” I replied, smiling at him. “You sure you don’t want me to wake her up?” I asked for the third time. “I can call her an Uber.” Ainsley was still fast asleep on his couch, but who could blame her. I wouldn’t be up if it weren’t ordered by the principal.

I cursed Ava.

“It’s fine. I’ll pump her full of electrolytes while you’re doing time.”

I gave him a sarcastic short laugh. “Hilarious. Be nice,” I said over the rim of my cup.

Without an ounce of humility, he grinned. “When am I not nice?”

That damn smile. It was like a spider’s trap, waiting to ensnare me in his web of sexiness. I snorted, practically shooting coffee out of my nose. “If I had the time, I’d make you a list.”

“Good thing Grayson’s on his way.”

I took another drink of my coffee. “Anyone ever tell you that you guys are extreme?”

“Try and stay out of trouble, Firefly,” he retorted. “Detention isn’t good for our school transcripts.”

I rolled my eyes. As if any of them cared about their files. “What’s the big deal? You’ll just have them altered anyway.”

He lifted his mug in salute. “True.”

I hated that I wouldn’t be there when Ainsley woke up. Hopefully, she wouldn’t freak out, waking up in a strange place and then realizing it was Brock’s house. She was so going to freak out.

What mattered though was she was safe. And alive.

I didn’t know how I would be able to sit in detention with Carter and not put my hands on him. Thinking about last night, what he could have done to her, what he might have done to her… it made me sick. My coffee rolled and sloshed in my stomach.

She had been alone with him in his car with Porter and Shawn, three of the biggest assholes at the Academy.

Was an expulsion in my future? If I got expelled, so would Grayson.

He wouldn’t let me go down alone.

It was bad enough that Carter had drugged her, but if he had done something to her while she’d been out of it. If he had taken advantage of her… I’d lose it.

I understood the Elite’s deeply rooted desire for retribution for Kenna. I was more invested than ever.

As much as I wanted to know what happened last night, I also hoped Ainsley didn’t remember a thing. Sometimes it was the memories that were detrimental. They lingered. They popped up when you least expected it, bringing you back to that horrible event over and over again.

Grayson honked twice when he pulled up to Brock’s house, letting me know he’d arrived. We drove a block or two in uncomfortable silence. Things were still weird between us. How could they not be? Neither of us knew how to act around the other. At some point, we would have to figure it out.

“So, are you angry you have to spend your Saturday morning in detention…with me?” I added, taking a sip from the to-go mug of coffee Brock had supplied me with.

Fynn wasn’t joking about Grayson and his cars. Today he drove a silver Bugatti that was too damn fast to be driving to school. It was like a bullet shooting down the road, and Grayson handled it expertly. “I’m not thrilled about the detention but… Ava had it coming. The way I look at it, it’s for a good cause.”

“I thought you and her were close.” It had seemed that way the night I ended up playing strip poker at Brock’s. Oh, God. It made sense now why Grayson had been so quick to leave the room. Strip poker with your sister? Bad idea.

The thought had my cheeks warming, and I promptly drank more coffee.

“By close, you mean am I fucking her?” he remarked flatly. “No. Not currently. She’s way too clingy for me. Brock only keeps her around so he can watch her.”

“He doesn’t have feelings for her?” I wanted to thump myself on the forehead. That sounded way too much like I cared who Brock had sex with.

“Are you fishing?” he asked, lifting a brow. “Look, I’m not going to get in the middle of whatever is going on with you and my best friend. It’s weird enough without me thinking about you sleeping with him.”

Seeing Grayson squirm was sort of funny. The scrunched expression on his face made me want to keep making him uncomfortable. “Is that a problem for you?”

His head jerked toward me for a split second. “You having sex? Or you having sex with Brock.”

A ghost of a smile played at my lips. “Both.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

I wasn’t letting him off the hook easily. “Which one?”

“Both,” he replied, his lips curving.

I smiled back at him. “You’ll have to explain this whole standby girl thing to me and how it works.”

He shook his head at me like I was a pestering little sister, which I guess in a way, I was. “I can’t give away Elite secrets.”

We pulled into the almost empty school parking lot; only ten cars versus hundreds sat parked. I reached for my coffee only to find that it was empty. It would be a long two hours. Sighing, I unfolded myself out of the car and faced the school. An arm slung over my shoulder, pulling me against a firm chest.

“Is it true you screwed the quarterback last night?” a playful voice that could only belong to one person asked.

I rolled my eyes, angling my head toward Micah, and shoved lightly at his shoulder. “Ha. Ha. Brock couldn’t be so lucky.”

His light blue eyes twinkled down at me. “Anytime you get bored of sleeping at Brock’s, my bed is always available.”

He smelled nice. Not as intoxicating as Brock, but still really good. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I retorted.

Grayson came around to my other side, frowning at Micah, who still had his arm around me. “You do, and Brock will kill you. And then Micah,” he told me.

I winked at the playboy, unable to miss the opportunity to ruffle Grayson’s feathers. He made it too easy to rile him up. “I promise it will be worth it.”

Micah tossed his head back and laughed.

“Can we stop talking about my friends screwing my sister?” Grayson groused.

Micah and I shared another smile as the three of us walked toward the front entrance. I didn’t know if they did this on purpose, lighting the air right before things got tense. Regardless, it was just what I needed. “What are you doing here?” I asked Micah. As far as I knew, he hadn’t done anything to earn detention. I would have heard about it.

“I couldn’t let the two of you have all the fun.”

The sun beamed over the Academy as the gust of autumn air blew through the open lot. I buried myself closer to Micah and his warm hoodie. “This can’t be your idea of fun.”

He didn’t seem to mind that I was soaking up his body heat. Micah was the type of guy who loved to have a girl in his arms. Any girl would do. “I’ve given up plenty of Saturdays through high school. It’s what family does. We stick together through all the good and bad shit,” he said.

My heart jumped in my chest at the word “family.” It was a simple word for some—a word that brought on feelings of security, comfort, joy, and love. For me, it was a mixture of both good and bad. The idea of the Elite considering me as part of their close-knit family opened an ache of longing inside me. “Am I family?” The question popped out of my mouth, and the second it did, I wished I could take it back. I didn’t want to appear as desperate as I was to belong.

Grayson surprised both Micah and me when he said, “You’re getting there, Lil’ J.”

Nothing like having a pair of escorts usher me into detention. We arrived at the designated classroom with two minutes to spare. My eyes panned the room, looking for a particular face. He wasn’t there. Not yet.

Had Steven managed to get Carter out of detention? That would have been just like my stepfather, and in this situation, fine by me.

I didn’t want to see Carter’s vile mug this early in the morning.

The classroom tables were nearly filled as Micah, Grayson, and I took a seat in the back of the room. It was as if they had been intentionally left open just for us. I had a sneaky suspicion that they probably had been.

These boys.

They were unbelievable.

But the treatment they got from this school…

Over-the-fucking-top.

“Mr. Bradshaw, why are you here?” Mr. Schultz asked, glancing up from behind his desk. He was the teacher assigned to monitor this week’s detention. Mr. Schultz taught in the science department, and he looked the part. Scrawny, nerdy, glasses that fell down the bridge of his sharp nose, and a voice just a pitch too high. “Not that I don’t like seeing your face in detention, but I don’t have you on the list.”

Micah folded his hands behind his head like he was preparing for a nap. “It was last minute. Coach probably didn’t have time to turn it in.”

“If you say so. It’s your Saturday, Mr. Bradshaw.” Mr. Schultz was one of those teachers that called everyone by their last name. He returned to his list, crossing off students as they arrived.

I angled my head toward Micah. “You don’t have detention, do you?” I kept my tone quiet.

Micah shrugged, grinning. “We decided two of us were better than one just in case someone decided to deliver a little payback.”

My mouth opened to tell him how ridiculous they were, but that someone in question walked in. I snapped my jaw closed, clenching my teeth.

Tension descended like a dark ominous cloud over the room as Carter walked in, Ava beside him. They were laughing.

And I saw red.

My hands clenched along the edge of the table, knuckles turning white. It took all my restraint to stay seated. I wanted to hurdle over the table and banshee-attack Carter, rake my nails down that face he was so proud of. Then I’d pounce on Ava. Her smug, glossy grin made my blood boil.

Micah leaned closer and whispered, “Put the claws away, tiger.”

I didn’t know how they managed to stay so cool beside me. Anyone looking at Grayson and Micah would believe they were bored and uninterested. Their expressions were masks, because I knew that under the yawns and blasé attitude, they were simmering with anger. “How do I make it through the next two hours without strangling him or Ava?” I murmured for their ears only.

“Just think about waffles,” Grayson suggested.

“Or sex,” Micah added from the other side of me.

I guess I knew what they were thinking about. But neither of those would work for me.

Carter sauntered into the room like he just got laid. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ava hadn’t sucked him off in the parking lot before coming inside. A little morning pick-me-up.

Disgusting.

The two of them together equaled a really bad trip.

“Take a seat, Mr. Patterson. You too, Miss Whitmore. You’re both late.” The look Mr. Schultz gave them said he’d rather be anywhere but here as well.

Carter and Ava slid into the two empty seats at the table to our right. “Did you walk here or get Daddy’s driver to drop you off?” Micah's eyes seemed to dance as he posed the question. He enjoyed tormenting Carter. He also enjoyed being the center of attention. Carter wanted to command a room with his presence when he walked in, but it was Micah who managed to do so effortlessly.

Snickers sounded through the room.

The incident from last night had already spread like a disease through school.

Mr. Schultz folded his hand over the paper with our names on it, pointing his gaze toward my table. “Mr. Bradshaw, you know the rules. This isn’t a social hour. No talking or I’ll move you to a different seat.”

“I’d be happy to switch,” Carter volunteered.

Grayson scowled.

Everyone in the room was aware of the sudden ice coating the air. Even Mr. Schultz felt it. My two personal guards stiffened beside me, all teasing gone. They became cold, with a vow of violence swimming in their eyes.

“That wouldn’t be wise, Mr. Schultz,” Micah warned, leaning back in his chair.

Silence fell.

Mr. Schultz pushed up his glasses as he shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the implication in Micah’s warning.

Halfway into our detention, which was basically a long-ass study hall, a balled-up piece of paper sailed onto our table, landing on my notebook. Grayson’s scowl deepened as he snatched up the wadded note before I could. Unraveling the ball, his eyes scanned the scribble, and the set of his jaw hardened.

Rolling my eyes, I took a glance at Mr. Schultz, and plucked the note out of Grayson’s hands. Micah leaned over, reading the message over my shoulder.

They can’t always protect you. I’ll be waiting.

“This guy just doesn’t know when to call it quits. I knew he was hard-headed, but shit…” Grayson snapped the pencil between his fingers in half.

Shadows crossed Micah’s normally twinkling eyes. “Should we take him behind the school?” he whispered, deadly serious.

My gaze darted over to Carter and Ava’s table. The two of them kept their heads forward, but I caught the hint of a smirk on their lips. They enjoyed this. “I don’t think beating the shit out of him will stop him. It didn’t work before.”

“No,” Micah admitted. “But it will feel good.”

Grayson cracked his knuckles. “I agree.”

An hour later I dragged the two of them out of the school by the hoods of their sweatshirts before either of them made good on their claim to beat the ever-loving snot out of Carter. Again. They’d already broken his ribs. Shattered his car. Threatened him. What next? I didn’t want to find out today, not when Ainsley was waiting for me.

* * *

Ainsley sat on the couch nursing what looked like one hell of a hangover when I walked into Brock’s house. Her eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded as she sipped on a bottle of grape Gatorade. But at least she was awake.

Brock sat in one of the big, cushiony chairs, Grayson taking the other. I went to Ainsley, joining her on the couch. Strands of her rainbow hair fell out of the messy bun atop her head as I hugged her. “God, Ains. I was so worried. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Her mossy green eyes were clearer than they had been last night and filled me with relief. “Fuck, Josie. I don’t know what the hell happened,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

Micah perched on the end of the couch arm, closest to me. “You were flying higher than a kite.”

I shot him a dry look. “Are you sure you’re okay?” That was the most important detail to me. All the other questions could wait until I was satisfied my best friend was fine.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out inside, because I am. I’ve never blacked out before. Ever. Gotten so drunk I pissed the bed? For sure.”

“Been there,” Micah muttered, a grin of approval tugging at his lips.

I rolled my eyes.

“What do you remember?” Brock prompted.

She glanced at Brock for a moment before casting her gaze floor. “Not much. I went to Trenton’s party with Rory and Trevor.” Trenton McGuire was Public’s center on the soccer team. He was the Brock of Public, but not, because no one was really like Brock. But I guess Trenton was as close as you could get. “It was just a typical party. Everyone was drinking. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital.” The color in her cheeks heightened, shame sparkling her eyes as she lifted them.

“You didn’t see Carter at the party?” Micah asked.

She shook her head, clutching the bottle of Gatorade. “That’s what is so strange. I didn’t. I still can’t believe I left with him. You know I would never do anything that stupid, Josie.”

“I know,” I assured, squeezing her hand.

“What was Carter doing at a Public party?” Micah questioned. “Definitely not his scene.”

“I think we know why he was there,” Brock mused. All eyes looked to Ainsley.

Fresh guilt stabbed into me. “He went intentionally to look for me.”

Grayson leaned forward in his chair, pressing his elbows into his knees. “Did you notice anyone from the Academy there?”

She nodded. “Yeah. But that’s normal. Academy crashes Public parties all the time, same with Public.”

That was true. “He could have had someone else slip her the drugs,” I suggested.

Brock agreed. “Likely. Carter needs to be extra careful. Getting someone else to do his dirty work would keep him out of the spotlight. If no one saw him at the party, then we couldn’t prove he was there.”

“The coward was probably waiting in the car,” Micah seethed, his voice dropping.

Ainsley unscrewed the top on her drink, taking a quick sip. “I don’t understand. Why would he drug me? What was the point?”

I wrung my fingers. “Me. He is sending me a message, letting me know there are other ways to hurt me if I don’t give him what he wants.”

Confusion descended over her features as she ran a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. “What the hell does he want from you, Josie?”

My eyes met Brock’s and held for a long moment before I turned back to Ainsley. “This is my fault. I’m sorry, Ainsley. I’m so sorry.” I didn’t want to involve her further in this mess. She’d been hurt enough.

“You can’t blame yourself. These are Carter’s choices, not yours,” she argued, getting fired up. I preferred to see her angry than sad.

“She’s right, Firefly.” Brock’s aqua eyes lingered on me.

“I won’t let him hurt the few people I care about to get to me,” I replied with determination, a fire spreading in my belly.

“If you remember anything, call Josie,” Brock instructed Ainsley.

She nodded. “Of course. I should call my mom before she sends out an APB” Setting down the plastic bottle, she reached around to check her pockets, still dressed in the clothes she wore last night. Her brows bunched together. “Shit, my phone. I can’t find it.”

Ainsley was notorious for losing things, especially when she was drinking. Alcohol made her forgetful and careless. Not that I was any better. “Are you sure?” I asked, a horrible feeling pitching into my gut.

“Yeah. I had it in my pocket. You know I never bring a purse to a party.” It was something we both had gotten accustomed to doing, leaving the handbags at home and keeping all our personal stuff on us. Less shit to lose at a party. “It’s probably sitting under a pile of pizza boxes at Trenton’s. Or it’s stuffed in between the couch cushions,” she speculated.

Those were all likely possibilities, but my gut feeling said her phone had been taken.

What the fuck would Carter want with Ainsley’s phone?

“Here…” I dug out my phone. “If you need to call or text your mom. I’m sure she is worried. I texted her last night to let her know you were staying at my house.”

“Thanks, Jos. For everything,” she rasped.

“Don’t thank me. None of this would have happened if it weren’t for me.”

Her lips formed into a scowl. “Stop blaming yourself. I won’t have it. You’re my best friend. What happens to one of us happens to both of us.”

Her support was unyielding even after what she’d been through, but I still couldn’t help feel somewhat responsible. No, I couldn’t control Carter or what the asshole did. But it was because of my relation to him that the bastard sought out to hurt my best friend. “Maybe Rory knows where your phone is. Or can help fill in some of the blanks,” I offered.

“I’ll give her a call after I talk to my mom.”

I hugged her again. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so scared. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It was true. Ainsley was family to me—the only real thing I had from my past.