Foes & Cons Read online

  It makes me burn with everything from lust to fury.

  The thing is, I’ve always thought Blair is pretty. Not in a conventional way, but I know her on a deeper level. She’s hilarious and sincere, and the way she never gives a fuck what other people think is so refreshing in this damn town.

  No, she’s beautiful. It just takes a little more looking to see it.

  But now? The girl who’s standing across the parking lot is a damn knockout.

  Curves in all the right places, chocolate waves down to her ass, and there’s … maybe it’s a confidence I’ve never seen on her before as she moves across the blacktop to the entrance of the school.

  “What the fuck happened to her this summer?” Glavin wonders aloud.

  “It looks like she went into a plastic surgeon, that’s for sure,” Duff, a dick from the lacrosse team who I never understood why we allowed to hang out with us, puts in his two cents.

  “Either way, I wouldn’t mind laying her down in the back of my truck.” Matthew’s eyes are hungry as he tracks her.

  And me? I want to rip everyone’s eyeballs right out of their sockets. Because once upon a time, all that could have been mine.

  Two years ago, Blair Oden betrayed our friendship. She made a mockery of me for no fucking reason. So, I made good on ruining her high school existence.

  I looked for her all this summer. Around town, at the office that both our fathers share, at the lake parties I knew she’d never show up at. I kept an eye out so much that it only ended up further angering me, further supplanting that sadistic need to make her pay.

  I have no idea why she threw away our friendship a week before our sophomore year started. Especially when it was just on the cusp of being something more. In all honesty, on an alternate timeline, I probably would have kissed her in that closet during seven minutes in heaven. But she dashed any hopes I’d had, and there was nothing left between us.

  Nothing but hate and spite.

  And now, there’s maddening desire, because holy shit if my cock isn’t rock-hard for her right now.

  But there’s more than that kind of poison flowing through my veins.

  I am downright pissed. How dare she leave town and come back, reinvented? I spent years trying to overcome the embarrassment she threw my way. And now she’s going to show up, flaunting her ass and shaking her hips like her shit doesn’t stink?

  No. I am about to bring her back down to earth.

  Blair wrecked me in a way no one ever had, or ever could. So it’s my mission to serve that dish back cold, on a silver platter.

  2

  Blair

  So far, so good.

  There have been no sexually explicit words spray painted on my locker. No porn magazines falling out of it. I wasn’t catcalled by one of Sawyer’s friends, and none of the mean girls have come up to tell me how average I am.

  All in all, I can call this the most successful morning of high school I’ve had in two years.

  Maybe they all forgot about me while I was away for the summer. Hell, I forgot about me.

  I spent the summer in Haiti, volunteering to build an all-girl’s school in one of the most impoverished villages in the country.

  It’s a miracle I was allowed to go; between Dad’s fretting and constant worry I’d be kidnapped, and his inability to accept that I didn’t want to work a summer internship at his architecture firm, I thought my chances were slim to none. But I got my butt on the plane. And then I survived the first week of bloody rips in my hands from holding a hammer for the first time in my life, and of sleeping on a cot with the thinnest blanket possible while the heat and mosquitos tried to eat me alive.

  After that, though, it became the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done in my life. Growing up in a privileged, upper-class suburban town in New Jersey, my peers are more concerned about which BMW they’re getting for their birthday than whether or not they’d have running water into next week. I’ve always felt out of place here, too aware or something for my own good. Going to Haiti, spending time with the people there and meeting all of the children who I hoped like hell would be given a better chance from the school we built … it was something more than myself.

  I shed the pathetic, quirky persona that had been slapped on me over the years. I am no longer the weak, bendable girl who took too much snickering in the halls as she passed. This summer left me with a newfound confidence that I’ll carry with me through this school year like a suit of armor.

  My locker is a ghost of how I left it last year. We do clean outs at the end of every semester, but I usually leave some of my personal effects since this has been home base and will continue to be here at Chester High School.

  The picture of our student government last year is tacked at the top, showing me with my arm around Nate, the President to my VP. We’ve run every year uncontested, mostly because class cabinet is an undesirable job to the rest of our peers. Humping each other at dances and getting drunk at the homecoming football game are much more important things than all of the work that goes into organizing them.

  There are two pictures of Laura and me, one from homecoming last year, posing in our dresses in the front hallway of my house. And the other from our class trip to the local amusement park freshman year. I smile, knowing we’ll have the best of times this year before she heads off to the top ballet company in New York City, and I go off to college. That is, if I get into my top choice.

  My fingers land on something pinned just underneath the homecoming picture. It’s a ticket stub, one I shouldn’t keep here, but I’m too weak to throw it out. It’s from a movie that Sawyer and I saw together one weekend just before freshman year. His mom had dropped us off, since we both couldn’t drive yet, and he used his allowance money saved up over three weeks to pay for my ticket and popcorn. I like to think that was the beginning of the spark for us, the romantic thing that could have taken flight.

  Instead, we’d become enemies.

  “Here I thought you actually did something productive over the summer. But I guess you just went under the knife. Did we finally get to you?”

  Sawyer’s voice is too close to my ear. Typically, I’d jump back with a start, or try to swat him away. I would show him, or his cronies, how much they were affecting me.

  But I was different now. Something about being away from this place, away from my tormentors, has strengthened me. There’s a whole wide world out there, places far away from this judgmental town. And soon, I’ll be able to break free and explore them.

  That notion gives me confidence, which allows me to stay stock-still as my nemesis leans far too much into my personal space.

  “I figured I might see you at the plastic surgeon, that’s why I went,” I jab back. “But I forgot, they don’t do surgery on over-compensating egos. Unless, of course, it’s for growth. You know, in some areas you might be lacking in.”

  My eyes flash down to the crotch of his khaki blue shorts, and I try to keep my sneer on my face. In all reality, I’m attempting to keep the goose bumps from breaking out all over my skin. The thought of seeing Sawyer Roarke naked is the stuff of my most secret fantasies and also the bane of my existence.

  I don’t want to think the guy is hot, but oh my Lord, it should be illegal to be that ridiculously gorgeous. As if he wasn’t attractive that night in the basement closet during seven minutes in heaven, over the last two years, it has only intensified.

  Sawyer has muscles on muscles, lean and ropey like only the school’s star soccer player could possess. Since I’ve been gone, it seems he’s grown another four or five inches on his mountainous frame, and when I peer up into those startling green eyes, they’re fixated on my boobs. That strong jaw tics, the skin of his face tan and golden from what I’m sure were many a day on the shores of Norma Lake, the town’s hot spot.

  Yes, my ire for Sawyer is only heightened by his frustratingly good looks. But apparently, my summer transformation is also unnerving him.

  “If you’d like
to see how much I’m not lacking, we can find the nearest bathroom. I know you missed me.” A dark eyebrow raises cockily.

  “I admit, I did miss the scent of jock BO and delusion. Can I help you with something, Sawyer?” I step into his space, almost challenging him.

  Those emerald pools flare, along with his nostrils, because he wasn’t expecting that. Like I said, typically, I cower. A sick, satisfied sensation settles in my gut at the glee I feel at surprising him.

  “Just wanted to come congratulate you, or maybe warn you. Looks like you finally decided to not be the weird girl this year. But we can all see through it. Don’t think that wearing a pair of shorts that show your ass cheeks is going to land you a date, or a spot on homecoming court. You’re still the exact same nerdy chick you were last year. The same weirdo you’ve always been.”

  His words cut deep, but I don’t let him see the blood. Sawyer is a shark, that’s what he’s looking for. That’s what he feasts on.

  How many times have we been here? Him saying something nasty, or me doing the exact same? We’ve cut each other down, past the quick, to a thing way beyond hurt.

  Malice simmers in my veins, and I move in close, getting in Sawyer’s face. “And you’re still the same repugnant asshole. So I guess some things never change. Stay away from me this year, Sawyer. You’re right, I’m not the same girl. I’ve got bark with my bite now, and you don’t want that. I’ll dismantle your castle, pull you from your high horse. Remember, I knew you before all of these people thought you were invincible. And I know for a fact that you’re not.”

  There is a pang of guilt in my gut as Sawyer’s eyes register the hit. For one split second, he lets me see the hurt. Our weapons are down, if only briefly, and we can glimpse the strife and wreckage we’ve waged on each other’s battlefields.

  Then I remember the pros and cons list. It’s kept the burning in my gut alive for two years. My best friend, which he was once upon a time, with all of his most scathing inner thoughts. I knew, the moment I saw that list, that he had never and could never love me the way I did him.

  “Remember, Blair, you made us this way.”

  If I’m not mistaken, there is a note of sadness, or maybe bitterness, in his deep tone.

  Yes, I made us this way. But he broke us before we even had a chance.

  3

  Blair

  “See you bright and early tomorrow?”

  Nate puts an arm around my shoulder, and we walk in tandem out of our AP physics class.

  “If there is one thing I hate about being senior class vice president, maybe the only thing, it’s the early wake-up calls,” I grumble.

  “And if there is one thing out of your personality type, it’s that you’re not an early bird.” My male best friend bops me on the nose.

  He’s right, it’s the one part of my type A personality that just doesn’t fit; I can’t wake up naturally, or happily, before eight a.m. if my life depended on it. Sure, I do it, because my schedule relies on it and I have shit to get done. But I’ll bitch and moan all the way to our six-thirty class cabinet meeting tomorrow and then proceed to do so for the rest of the year. Just like I’ve done for the past three years, and Nate has been present for every meeting.

  We met freshman year, when we were trying to decide whether we’d run against each other for president. Then I realized I had no shot against Nate, a naturally charismatic extrovert, and I backed down. It’s not as if we don’t run things like a team anyway and being second in command actually frees me up to pass some of the things I want to in student government without the scrutiny. Nate can take the heat, while I don’t even want the thought of a burn.

  I get another round of strange looks as we walk down the hall, and I automatically bristle.

  “That’s what happens when you get insanely hot and toned over the summer, honey.” Nate whistles low in my ear.

  I swat at him. “Shut up.”

  “It’s true. If I played for that side, I might go after you now.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I duck out of his embrace.

  “If you played for my side, that would solve all of my problems. We’d date, because we were meant to be, and I’d never have to worry again.”

  “But alas, the female breasts do nothing for me.” He pouts as if this makes him sad at all.

  “What are you saying about breasts?” Laura falls into step with us.

  Nate points at mine. “I was just saying how good those babies look.”

  Laura snorts, and we all stop at her locker to let her put her books away for the day. The final bell rung just moments ago, and the halls are mobbed. There are younger students rushing to get to their buses before they miss them, athletes half-dressed on the way to their locker rooms, and teachers yelling at kids for kissing or goofing off or just generally being kids.

  “They do look particularly perky this year. I think you’re finally becoming a woman.” She gives me a look like my sprouting curves make her proud.

  “Can you both stop?” I blush tremendously.

  If it wasn’t for these two, despite their incessant teasing, I would never have made it this far into high school. Don’t get me wrong, every day wasn’t a tour through hell. I’m one of those nerds who actually likes school and excels in my classes, and I love my spot in student government. There are a few other surface friends I have, and it’s not like I’m being left off the list of people’s birthday parties. It’s just that ever since my falling out with Sawyer, I don’t really feel like I belong in Chester. I don’t know my place anymore, and I’m looking forward to college to try to figure that out.

  “All right, fine. I have to run to practice, but I’ll text you later. We’re still buddy watching The Challenge, right?” Laura points at me.

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. You know I have a huge Johnny Bananas crush.” I give her moon eyes, because I do.

  “I’m Team Wes until I die, so I have no idea how you like that asshat. See you later, bitches.” She pulls her field hockey stick out of her locker and jets off to practice.

  “Jocks.” Nate rolls his eyes. “You headed downtown?”

  I nod. “You know me too well. Yep, off to have my annual first day dinner with Dad at the office.”

  “You need a ride?” he asks.

  I pull my keys out of my backpack. “Nope, got the license right before school started. Haiti wasn’t keeping me from the American roads.”

  It’s a running joke between my friends that I was never going to get my license, because I just kept pushing it off and bumming rides. But after coming home from my volunteer work, I knew I needed to be even more independent. Dad promised me my pick of whatever car I wanted if I passed the test, and I knew how lucky I was. But when you are the only child to a single dad and you’re as close as I am to mine, we celebrate life’s milestones hard.

  Nate and I walk out to the parking lot together, hug goodbye, and promise to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning. Then it’s twenty minutes to downtown Chester, which is really just a very long street of local shops, businesses, and restaurants bookended by fast-food chains and a Target.

  The bell over the door rings as I walk into my father’s studio on Main Street. He and Thomas Roarke, Sawyer’s father, have been partners at their architecture firm since the first year after they graduated Princeton together. They moved to Chester and opened up shop, and have become widely successful for both their residential and commercial designs. Tom and my dad are an unlikely duo, but they’re each other’s best friend and their studio has been like a second home growing up.

  Unfortunately, that means I still have to spend a lot of holidays, summer barbecues, and spare time not only interacting with Sawyer, but pretending I don’t want to gut him like a fish. When we were thick as thieves, that wasn’t a problem. We were each other’s best friend and loved all the time we spent together. Now, it’s an extra-fresh level of hell.

  With its deep green walls and woodsy feel, their studio/office has a cozy
but elevated feel. I’ve spent many an afternoon doing my homework on the sunken leather lounge chairs just in front of the plate glass window that faces out onto Main Street in Chester. We’ve had dinner near their drawing desks, takeout Chinese from Hunan Lion, or steaming cheese pizzas from Marianna’s Italian Kitchen.

  And I am here, Chinese food in tow, to celebrate the beginning of the school year as my dad and I always have. We sit at his desk, discuss my entire day, and share lo mein and sesame chicken.

  “There’s my girl!” Dad beams as I walk in, standing to come scoop me up into a giant bear hug.

  As far as favorite people on the planet go, my dad is mine. I may not have a large circle of people around me in my life, but the universe did bless me with one of, if not the best, parent in the entire world. Not even Dad, parent. Because, well, he is both for me.

  My mom took off years ago, and her face is a fading memory in my mind. Not that she didn’t keep in touch when her ego felt like it. Mom is a grade A narcissist, a woman more concerned with her physique and status in the social media rat race of fitness bloggers than her own offspring. She never cared about me more than how many likes my baby pictures could garner her on her website or in magazines, and when I was six, she took off on a yoga retreat and never came back.

  But her grand delusion doesn’t allow her to just fully leave me alone; whenever she feels like I might be forgetting about her, there she is, popping back up with a phone call or a hurried visit. Not that she bothers to ask me any questions about myself during either of these, or take any interest in her only child’s wellbeing or development.

  It used to sting, to stab at my heart that my mother doesn’t truly care about me. But then I remember that my dad is four times the parent of any other normal parent, and I’m at peace with it.