Ruthless knight

Chapter 11

My mouth drops open as I watch Bianca saunter down her driveway to my van. 

Long dark hair falls down her back in silky waves, her glittery gold shadow and winged eyeliner are immaculate, her impossibly high cheekbones are contoured and highlighted to perfection, and her outfit…

Dear God. 

Cole is going to lose his shit when she walks through the door, and every guy at Christian’s is going to duke it out for a chance to stand next to her. 

The nude colored low-cut, belly-baring shirt—if it even qualifies as one given there’s so little material—combined with the matching skirt that rides dangerously low on her razor-sharp hipbones, showcases her flawless body. 

To top it off, every time she moves, the crystals and rhinestones on the fabric catch the light, making her look like some kind of exotic naked shimmery goddess sent straight from Heaven. 

Too bad her personality came straight from Hell. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” I ask as she gets settled in the passenger seat. 

It’s only then I notice the scar on her lower abdomen. I want to ask her what it’s from, but I don’t want to be rude or upset her. 

A

I look down at my purple cardigan and black maxi skirt. I see nothing wrong with my outfit. In fact, it’s one of the better ones I own because it doesn’t draw attention to all my rolls. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” 

“Nothing…if you’re going as a librarian for Halloween.”

“Halloween was yesterday,” I remind her. 

With a huff, she flicks a button on my radio and a rap song about getting bitches and money starts to play. “Yeah, and tonight’s the big Halloween party at Christian’s.” Folding her arms across her chest, she leans back. “God, you’re so out of the loop, sometimes it feels like we don’t even go to the same school.” 

True dat. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I shout over the music. 

Besides, why in the world would I want to hang out with a bunch of rich, mean, fake jerks who only care about superficial things like popularity and appearance? 

At least that’s what I tell myself as I step on the gas and head to Christian’s. 

The party is in full swing by the time we walk in and I feel stupid for being the only one who didn’t dress up. 

“I’m getting something to drink,” Bianca—who’s evidently a belly dancer for Halloween—tosses out over her shoulder before making a beeline for the living room. 

Just like I predicted, every guy she passes is practically salivating. So much so, a few of them leave their dates and follow her—make that us, because I’m not leaving baby Covington in shark-infested waters by herself—to the table lined with alcohol bottles. 

“I bet there’s soda in the kitchen,” I helpfully suggest, but she shakes her head.

“No need.” She plucks a red Solo cup from the stack. “I’m not drinking. This is only for show.” 

I’m about to ask her why she feels the need to do that, but a familiar voice behind us cheerfully slurs, “Well, if it isn’t the best tutor in the world.” 

Best tutor my ass, we’ve only had one session so far and he fell asleep in the middle of it. 

I turn around to face Oakley. He’s wearing a wig with two long braids, a cowboy hat, and a shirt with a huge pot plant on it. He also has a guitar strapped to his chest and of course, a joint in one hand. 

An equally tipsy Morgan—who appears to be a sexy nurse—is draped over his shoulder. 

“I thought we were supposed to go upstairs so I could check your temperature?” she croons. 

Oakley gives her a dopey grin. “In a minute, baby girl.” 

Beside me, Bianca stiffens, looking like she’s been stabbed in the heart before she quickly recovers. I make a mental note to ask her about it later. Not that she’ll tell me, but it’s worth a shot. 

I notice the word “trigger” scrawled on Oak’s guitar and grin. 

Oakley doesn’t strike me as someone who listens to country music, but I can see why he’d be a fan of this particular artist given their mutual love for marijuana. 

“Let me guess…Willie Nelson?” 

“Fucking A. Yes!!” He grins. “Finally, someone got it.” 

“My dad’s been listening to his music for as long as I can remember.”

“He’s a pretty awesome dude.” Puzzled, he surveys my outfit. “Librarian?”

“Told you,” Bianca sings before she takes a sip from her cup and looks up at Oakley. “You look awes—”

“What the fuck?” a sinister voice rumbles. 

Before I can register what’s happening, a tall figure wearing a football helmet and a Patriots jersey with the number twelve on it charges in our direction. 

Upon closer inspection, I realize who it is. 

It doesn’t surprise me that a cocky quarterback like Cole would go as yet another cocky quarterback for Halloween. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

For a moment, I think he’s talking to me, but nope, he’s glaring daggers at his younger sister. 

Bianca starts to speak, but Cole takes off his helmet. 

And then his shirt. 

A few wolf whistles and catcalls break out and I force myself to ignore his lean, toned body, flawless skin, and those killer abs that lead to the sexiest V I’ve ever seen.  

“Put this on. Now.” 

Bianca simply laughs. “Yeah, no. The Patriots suck.” 

A few people around us titter in agreement and that only pisses Cole off more. 

“The Patriots do not suck,” he seethes as he takes hold of her arm. “What sucks is seeing your little sister dressed up like a skank. Let’s go.” 

“I’ll be right back.” She crinkles her nose at me as he leads her out of the living room. “This won’t take long.”