Chapter 1

Tangled

By

Em Wolf

Chapter 1

Tacked amid a cloudless, blue canvass, the sun was a brilliant roasting badge of ninety degrees. Miles of unspoiled beach furled in either direction. White-capped tides slapped the shoreline coyly, the water’s bejeweled surface unfairly cheerful in the oppressive heat.

Despite the broiling conditions, Tess couldn’t help but admire the backdrop. Growing up in a one-bedroom apartment hemmed in by mortar, brick, and iron bars would do that to a girl.

As much as she’d enjoyed her stay, Tess had had her fill of the exclusive Montauk in all of its tragically self-conscious elegance. The picturesque town had provided a much-needed breather amidst a chaotic summer. But she missed the city—the noise, the smells, and most importantly, her bed.

As if on cue, a volleyball whizzed past her head. “My bad, T. Why don’t you get that sexy ass over here and join us. Maybe we’ll finally win a game.” Tristan glared at his teammates, having not quite retired the title of lacrosse captain.

“Don’t blame them. It’s the captain’s fault for leading them into folly,” she teased before kicking the ball to him, eliciting guffaws and jabs.

Tristan rolled with the punches and deferred to her ‘own’ with a sweeping bow before scooping up the ball and returning to his game. A minute later his team roared as the opposition’s spike smacked him square in the face.

It was probably a sign he should stick with lacrosse.

Although it was barely past noon, everyone was hydrated, or rather dehydrated, on liquored sweet treats mixed by some of the best bartenders this slice of the peninsula had to offer. The party had started out with four people at nine this morning. Eventually four became eight and eight became sixteen and Tess had stopped counting after her fifth rum and coke. Since then, the party had lurched from the deck to the beach.

Trussed in their vibrant, haute couture swimwear, sunlight blinked off carat rich jewelry and trendy accessories.

Her earlobes and wrists were naked by comparison. But she embraced her minimalist lifestyle. Unlike her silver spoon fed schoolmates, she was not the product of upper class breeding—more like illegitimate backwash. Hard to believe a bony-limbed girl from East Flatbush, Brooklyn could make it this far up the food chain.

Tess had her mother to thank for such an esteemed position. How a woman who’d barely scraped by for decades managed to ensnare an investment banker surpassed her comprehension.

But she was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Her mother married the summer before her junior year of high school and relocated her and her brother to their stepfather’s Upper East Side penthouse. In addition to adapting to their newfound affluence, they were forced to transfer from New York City’s public school system to one of the most sought after preparatory schools on the East Coast. Yet another handout, compliments of her generous stepfather, whose connections with his alma mater ensured a speedy entry.

Fast forward three years later and here she stood, shoring up a pretense she donned like a well-worn pair of shoes. Sipping from her cup, Tess surreptitiously scanned the crowd. It wasn’t out of boredom or obligation that she took up an offer to join her former prep schoolmates on a weeklong benderof debauchery.

No.

There was really only one reason why she’d agreed. After seven weeks of globetrotting, her best friend would be stopping here first.

Cameron Reynolds had been her first friend in the foreign world of overindulgence.

Her first day of prep school had been something of an eye opener. At the behest of the school’s dress code, she was forced to remove her lip and eyebrow piercings and substitute her favorite pair of Doc Martins for a prissy set of flats.

It wasn’t enough. With no string of pearls adorning her neck, cashmere headband, or even a Chanel tote to beautify her uniform, she looked painfully out of place. And like sharks in the water, they’d scented her out.

One smartass comment about her earlobes, stretched by years of wearing plugs, was all it’d taken for her temper to flare. She’d spun around to deliver her thoughts on their supercilious establishment when her ankle twisted on the step. Flailing, she sailed backwards and landed in the arms of an innocent bystander. Warm, vividly shaded eyes had pulled the breath from her lungs and made her forget what she’d been angry about in the first place.

“I…I’m sorry,” she’d spluttered, face on fire.

“It’s fine,” he said with a low, throaty chuckle. “It’s not every day a beautiful girl falls into my lap.”

Still stuck on stupid, her brain scrambled for some form of intelligence. “Ah, some idiot…he…” Her cowardly mind hoisted a white flag and promptly blanked out.

“Don’t worry about it,” he rescued her with a charming grin and offered his hand. “Cameron.”

She stared for a second before cautiously easing into his comforting grip. “Tessandra. Tess for short.”

The corner of his perfect mouth dug a little higher. “Nice to meet you, Tess for short.”

The rest, as they said, lived in infamy.

He swapped out her tools of war—of busted lips, bloodied knuckles and four letter curse words—for subtly, deception and doublespeak. She learned that appearances were everything—that as long as she talked a good game, there was no going wrong. Perception became everything. He rounded out her sharp edges until she was able to walk, talk, and act like one of them.

Inevitably, he cracked her shell and loosed her secrets. He met her past without disgust or condescension. It was no wonder she’d fallen for him. He accepted her despite her many faults. And though they clicked in every way imaginable, he had yet to realize they belonged together. Every time she—jokingly, of course—broached the subject of a relationship, he waved it off or tactfully changed the topic.

She’d been friend-zoned. Hard.

But Tess wouldn’t let that deter her. Not this year. She was tired of waiting in the wings, praying his flavor of the month wouldn’t become something more.

She swilled her coconut rum concoction to muffle the anxious strum of nerves. He’d texted her three hours ago from Dallas/Fort Worth that his cell would in all likelihood be dead by the time they touched down at JFK.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

Tess fashioned her features into an amiable expression as blonde bombshells Lauren Mallory and Erin Beech strolled toward her. As far as frenemies went, they were relatively harmless. In fact, this summer had been the first time she’d been extended invitations to party that weren’t ‘plus one’ by nature. It was a feat, considering she was one of the few people allowed into their fold that they hadn’t known since kindergarten.

Tess washed down a grimace and dipped into her reserve of enthusiasm. “Hey girls.”

“What’ve you been up to? I feel like you’ve been like a ghost all summer,” Lauren said, stirring her Bloody Mary with a stalk of celery.

“Yeah, I thought you went with Cameron to India,” Erin chimed in, forever the cosigner.

“I planned on it, but I had other obligations.” Like working. “I promised this inner city youth organizer I'd help out with one of his programs,” she said, pulling the excuse from her ass.

“How could you sacrifice three months to deal with them?” Lauren said the word as if left a bad taste in her mouth.

Tess cemented her disdain under a layer of pained forbearance. “I can't exactly put a trip to Dubai on a resume.”

Lauren looked at her with sympathy. “Oh Tess, forever the overachiever. When will you learn that resumes and volunteering are purely supplemental?”

Supplemental for people who had an in. Tess, sadly, would have to get by on her own merits. “I wish you would’ve told me that before summer started.”

Erin bobbed her head as she surveyed her attire. “Love the dress. Very boho chic. Who’s the designer?”

“I don’t know.” And it was the truth. She’d plucked it off the clearance rack at a flea market a few weeks ago. Her stomach fell in knots as bewilderment sketched across their faces. “It’s by an up-and-coming designer. He hasn’t really made a name for himself yet. My way of supporting the arts. And besides, I refuse to wear anything made by the hands of underpaid, inhumanly treated workers,” she didn’t say half-heartedly.

“You should convince them to work for my father. He’ll even recomp them a whole three dollars an hour.” Tittering, Lauren and Erin clinked their glasses in a toast of abject ignorance.

But it wasn’t like she could castigate them; not without risking all she’d worked for. Guilt pinged hard through her as she tallied another mark in the hypocritical column that’d become her life. As much as she couldn’t stand these people with their snobbish cruelty and fake airs, they were elemental in her climb to the top.

After all, networking was everything, even if it did mean relinquishing her soul.

A chorus of shouts and feminine squeals spared Tess from further scrutiny as they turned toward the deck.

Heat doused her.

Despite obvious fatigue from an eighteen-hour flight, he greeted old friends with matching gusto.

Cameron epitomized the All-American archetype. Blond hair and cornflower blue eyes topped off the cut of classically proportioned features: the slender, patrician nose; the high, sweeping plane of his forehead, and his mouth…dear God. Full and sensual, she’d spent many a restless night imagining if his lips were as soft as they looked. Lithe and lean, his white linen button down strained nicely against his pecs and his khakis emphasized toned calf muscles.

There were other minute differences to his appearance. Complexion darker, hair sun-bleached and sexily tousled, another inch taller, and deliciously fit; these past few months had definitely been good to him.

“Excuse me, girls.” She flung dignity to the wind and abandoned the duo. “Cam!”

He singled out her voice amongst the throng. The unabashed joy that lifted his face fisted her heart. “Tess.” He caught her in a swinging embrace. “It’s been a while.”

“Who’re you telling?” She reveled in his strong embrace and buried her face in his neck. Beneath salted musk and airport and people, he smelled exactly as she remembered: of rich pine and end of winter snowmelt.

Cameron pulled back to appraise all he had missed. “Damn, T, what’ve they been feeding you?”

For a second, she panicked and immediately thought back to her last few meals. Tess clipped his shin when she caught the mirth dancing in his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you look good.”

Her skin flushed and prickled at the same time. “And I didn’t look good before?” she sassed, only half-kidding.

“Cam, my man!” someone bellowed.

Squeezing her hand, he cast her an apologetic glance before being dunked into a conversation with the former class president.

She swept her annoyance under a mask of polite interest. As much as she’d enjoyed these last few months of academic reprieve, she couldn’t wait for this semester to start so she and Cam could leave.

Against her mother’s wishes, Tess opted to attend the same university as her best friend. Yes, it was incredibly codependent, but after enduring sixteen painful years of self-imposed solitude, she wasn’t quite ready to let him go. For all her pragmatism, when it came to Cameron, she was sadly a fail.

That and the thought of another girl occupying her slot in his heart made her ill.

Taking note of her empty cup, Tess tugged free from Cameron’s grasp and gestured towards the bar. Shooting her a brief, pleading look to ensure she didn’t leave him with these nitwits, he reluctantly returned to the conversation. Tess waited until her back faced him to adorn a goofy grin.

This semester would be different. She could feel it.

Tess weaved through the horde of partygoers and cut to the indoor bar. “Can I get another rum and coke?”

The bartender turned, his practiced charm slipping as he did a double take. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he said with a sexually charged smile. “You need anything else, just let me know.” He winked before setting off to complete the task.

Tess had never taken great stock in her looks. A late bloomer, she spent the majority of childhood and well into adolescence all elbows and knees and too-tall attitude. Struggling with rebellious, auburn curls made the job even more difficult. If she ever heard another soulless ginger or Shirley Temple joke it'd be a day too soon.

Over time, the corkscrew curls loosened into manageable waves. It was also around the same time she learned the importance of a good blow dryer and non-store brand hair products.

Tess froze as a familiar voice registered.

Awareness drizzled down her spine like freezing rain, evaporating the cloud of nostalgia.

She located the source of her discomfort a moment later, leaning against the far end of the solarium’s entryway. The blood in her veins slugged to a crawl, encumbered by ice.

Joint dangling from his mouth, a pack of inebriated harpies encircled him, all vying for his attention. He neither invited nor discouraged their actions, but merely observed their antics with a derisive smile.

There was the reason behind Cam’s absence for the last month and a half. Not for a fun-filled adventure, but to supervise his drug abusing best buddy.

No. Abuse was putting it lightly.

He was a full on addict.

A train wreck squealing against the rails at full speed.

A complete and utter waste of genetic material.

How these two had been friends since diaperhood mystified her.

Half-French, half-Greek, one hundred percent grade A asshole, he stood outfitted in all black, resembling the devil in repose. His features exuded nothing but pure ego: the carelessly mussed, ink-black hair, the wicked bow of his mouth, the impetuous slant of his cheekbones, and the arrogant perch of his brows.

There probably wasn’t a girl for a two hundred mile radius he hadn’t made misstep, just in passing.

Tess was the exception, for she saw through the pretty packaging. He was as beautiful on the outside as he was ugly on the inside. Conceited, cruel, and misogynistic, she endured for years under the sharpened blade of his tongue. She likened his malevolence to a cancer, swift and far-reaching in its ruination.

She inwardly sneered.

Adonis Benoit.

What were his parents smoking when they named him? Talk about overly conceited. It was no wonder he had a penchant for megalomania.

Narcissus would’ve been more befitting for the self-absorbed, chauvinist pig. Hopefully he too would drown in his own reflection.
During her introduction into polite society, Adonis had immediately taken a disliking to her and made no secret of it. All bottled anger and volatility, she spent the entirety of her prep school career as his verbal punching bag. Every word had cut, aimed to maim. The force of his animosity, of his presence in general, overwhelmed her. Asphyxiating and alchemic hot, he wore his enmity like a cloak. A weaker person would’ve buckled beneath the static cling of his toxic personality.

Tess learned early on that there was no point in putting on airs for him. He had a maddening habit of seeing through her. And so she dealt with him the only way she knew how.

Tess met him toe-to-toe, refusing to take his shit. She didn’t know if he was unused to people calling him out or if he simply liked to goad to the point of confrontation. Although at times he got to her, she never presented weakness; she saved those moments for the bathroom stall.

Thankfully his frequent truancies relieved her of stomaching his presence. Sometimes he’d be absent for days, other times weeks. He spent maybe a third of the time actually in class. So while she worked her ass off to score high marks, he lived it up, boozing, snorting, mainlining…whatever his vice of the week.

She remembered petitioning Cam once to get him the help he needed.

His expression had been fatigued in its resignation. “I can’t help him if he doesn’t want to help himself.”

She hadn’t been satisfied with the answer. A monster lurked beneath the pretty façade. Once unchained, God help those in his path.
As if sensing her perusal, his eyes lifted above the glossy heads of the lollipop guild and connected with hers.

Tess quickly looked away, hoping he would pretend they hadn’t accidentally made eye contact.

No such luck.

Adrenaline fizzled through her bloodstream as he maneuvered past his hangers-on. His saunter was slow and deliberate, his heavy-lidded gaze assessing. Pupils stretched wide, they reflected an unending maw, cavernous, empty of soul and life. Some of her tension unwound, gauging his demeanor as symptomatic of a hallucinogen-high. At least she wasn’t expected to bear the brunt of another coke-fueled rage.

“I see Cinderella has decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Fuck off, Adonis.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he replied, the indolent croon at odds with the distaste that shaped his mouth. “Why the long face, wildcat? Did stepdaddy not pay out for services rendered this month?”

His words rotted at the pit of her stomach. Taking the high road, Tess bit her tongue and mentally willed the bartender to mix her drink faster. A rum and coke should not be this complicated.

The orange-red coal of his joint glowed. “Mm, I’ll take that as a yes.” She wrinkled her nose as he exhaled a plume of smoke in her face.

Despite the handful of inches separating her five ten and his six three, he seemed to dwarf her. “But I know what you’re really here for.” He caught an errant strand of her hair and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger as if testing the quality. “Cinderella is still waiting for her Prince Charming, right?”

Patience thinning, she smacked his hand away. “Better than waiting for my next overdose.”

Black fire engulfed his eyes before it succumbed to the sultry cloud of his high. “I’ve missed that mouth of yours.”

“I can’t say the same for you,” she countered flatly.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Do you want to know why he’s sidelined you?” His gaze meandered over her head, sweeping the vicinity before bending down conspiratorially. His lips ghosted her ear. “Your type is merely the intermission before the grand finale,” he said in a low, smoke-rasped voice. “A dirty little secret. A warm hole to bang out and blow his load before moving on to something more refined. Stop wasting your time.” And on that note, he ambled off, leaving her adrift in a scrim of self-doubt and cannabis smoke.

She hated Adonis with every fiber of her being.

Tess told herself that Cameron cared nothing for labels or the fact that she didn’t hail from ‘good stock’. Those things didn’t matter to him…did they?

As if in answer, Cameron entered through the French double doors. She fixed her mouth into a smile as he sidled next to her. “How long have you been waiting?”

“Long enough,” she said lightly. “I see you brought Adonis.”

“What’d he say?” Cameron asked warily, already prepping for damage control.

“Nothing that bears repeating.” A century later, the bartender finally set her drink down. But who was she to complain about free booze?

Cam ensnared her wrist before she could toss it back at once. Keeping his gaze hooked on her, he maneuvered her glass to his mouth and began drinking. Tess flushed, her pulse trilling, as he pulled away and smacked his lips. “Rum and coke? I know you can be more creative than that.”

“Only where it counts,” she said saucily.

His laugh was full and hearty. “I'll have what she's drinking,” he called to the bartender.

Tess bumped her hip into him. “You have good taste.”

He nudged her back. “I learned from the best.”

After securing his drink, they rambled outside to mingle. It seemed that no one could get enough of Cameron.

Always one step ahead, he made sure they steered clear of Adonis’s beat and for that, she was immensely grateful. They joined a semi-circle of their old crew laid out near the surf. Cameron snagged the last thatched beach chair and pulled her down alongside him. Her skin tingled as his calf rubbed against hers. She noted, somewhat gleefully, that he didn’t make a move to put more space between them.

“Oh look, our diamond in the rough has found her other half,” Katherine “Kitty” Larson said with a sugarcoated smile. Unlike Lauren and Erin, Kitty had never quite warmed up to her. As the self-established queen bee of their pecking order, she made it her job to ensure all knew their place. “You should've seen her wandering around here, Cam, like a puppy that lost her favorite chew toy.”

Her knuckles flexed at her side. Sometimes Tess longed for the good old days when all it took was one jab of her fist to solve a problem. No smoke and mirrors act or talking one another in repetitive circles. Nothing cleared the air like a good scrap. “Better a lost chew toy than a lost boyfriend. But don't worry. I'm sure he wasn't worth it,” she said, infusing her words with a dollop of sincerity.

Cameron coughed to hide his amusement. “I take it you had an eventful summer.”

“You could say that,” Kitty said primly, any hint of provocation neatly stowed. “How was Dubai? Meet anyone special?”

“Yeah, tell us man,” Tristan said, having given up his burgeoning career as a professional volleyball player. “How were the Indian women? I bet you had ass on tap.”

“They're ok. But they've got nothing on American beauties.” Tess’s chest tightened as he shot her a boyish smile.

“How adorable,” Kitty said, her voice oozing saccharine semi-sweetness. “So does that mean after three plus years you two are finally a couple? You've been waiting long enough, haven't you Tess?”

Panic and humiliation clawed up and clamped around her throat as an expectant hush fell over the group. Tess thought quickly. “Why ruin a good friendship?” She made herself take a casual sip of her drink. “And besides, there’s something…crass about hooking up with a good friend just for the sake of doing it.”

“We can tell you a few things about crass, right Kitty cat?” Tristan winked.

Ill-concealed snickers met the not so secret revelation. Kitty’s features reddened behind wide-framed sunglasses. “I'm getting another daiquiri.” With studied grace, she floated to her feet and sounded the retreat.

“Well played, Tess,” Tristan grinned at her. “I missed your feistiness.”

“And I missed your...you,” she ended purposefully on a lame note.

He winced, palming his heart. “Words hurt, you know.”

Cameron threaded his fingers through hers before she could respond, rerouting her attention. “If we had another year of prep school, I daresay you would’ve dethroned her royal highness,” he whispered with a sly smile.

“What can I say? I learned from the best,” she recited his earlier words and teasingly pinched his thigh.

Something fired behind his expression. Before Tess could make heads or tails of it, he abruptly stood, pulling her with him. “Let’s get out of here.”

“What? But you just got here,” she said, warmth skittering from her hair follicles to her toenails.

“And I’m already over it.” His mouth caught her ear. “There’s only one person I want to spend time with tonight.”

Дата добавления: 2015-10-16