The Complete Arrogant Series(39)

“It’s not that late,” I whisper.

“What are you doing?” She rubs her nose, crinkling it like an adorable little bunny rabbit. She’s so fucking cute it kills me.

“Get ready,” I say. “I’m taking you out tonight.”

“It’s a week night,” she protests.

I’m not going to argue with her. I’m not going to force her to go. I’ll just leave her with three words and let her decide her fate. “We’re celebrating tonight.”

Tonight, Waverly believes she’s going to college this fall, and she deserves to celebrate. She deserves to be happy, and to have someone be happy for her, even if it’s her jackass stepbrother.





CHAPTER 16




Waverly

I’ve never snuck out in my life, but here I am, ten o’clock on a school night, walking toward a twenty-one-and-over bar in downtown Whispering Hills. Music travels down the street with a steady thumping that beats in time with our footsteps.

The beating in my chest coincides with the music, giving me an adrenaline rush. My body’s been tingling with raw dynamism since the moment we snuck out of the house and dropped my acceptance response in a nearby mailbox before cruising across town.

“Welcome to the dark side.” My cousin, Liberty, opens up the alley entrance in the back of the place a moment later. She’s always been my rebellious older cousin—the one my father would keep at an arm’s length because he said she would be a bad influence on us. “Jensen, how goes it?”

She slaps his shoulder and gives it a squeeze before leading us down a long, dark hallway. The music grows louder as we pass door after door. My shoes stick to the floor when I walk, making a Velcro noise with each step. It smells like alcohol and cigarettes.

“Come on.” Jensen slows down, slipping his hand across my lower back. He leans into my ear so I can hear him above the noise. “Tonight’s all about you.”

His words warm my soul more than he’ll ever know. I rarely feel special, especially growing up in such a large family.

Liberty takes us to a VIP area with a bunch of low-to-the-ground seating and a blue velvet rope separating us from the rest of the bar scene. A fancy looking bottle of clear alcohol sits on a bucket of ice surrounded by several bottles of beer.

“Kian’s headlining tonight,” she yells. “So we get the VIP treatment.”

Everywhere I look, people are dancing, laughing, drinking, touching, feeling, kissing, partying. I’m surrounded by everything I’ve been led to believe is evil. But it can’t be evil. Everyone’s having so much fun.

“I’ll be right back.” Jensen taps my leg and exits the VIP area, coming back a few minutes later with a cup for me.

“What is this?”

“Sprite.”

I laugh.

“What’s so funny?” He hands me my cup.

“If you’re going to be bad, Jensen Mackey, at least invite me.”

I feel it—that rebellion in my marrow that creeps up from time to time. I’m feeling good, my freedom just two months away. Jensen says no one can take it from me, and I’m finally beginning to believe he’s onto something.

And that calls for a celebration.

“You feeling all right?” Jensen grabs a beer from the ice bucket and twists the cap off. He promised to take me under his wing tonight, swearing on his life we won’t get caught.

I swipe the bottle from his hands and take a swig. It’s disgusting. It tastes like watered wheat. My face puckers instantly as I was not expecting the bitterness. Jensen studies me, watching as I take a second drink and a third. It tastes better with each swig, the distinct bite subsiding.

“Okay, then.” Jensen grabs himself another beer, uncaps it, and then clinks it with mine. “To Waverly and her bright future, whatever it may entail.”

“To the University of Utah.” I take another drink.

Liberty stands up, whistling through her fingers as a new band takes the stage. It must be her boyfriend. He takes a seat on a bar stool, his guitar slung around his chest. She is glued to him, a smile claiming her red lips. A tattoo vining up her forearm reads “wild thing” in ornate, cursive letters. I admire her ability to not care what anyone else thinks, to be her true self and to live a life that’s all her own.

He strums and then tunes his guitar and the crowd cheers. The rest of his band takes the stage. He’s wearing aviator sunglasses and a tank top, his arms covered in tattoos much like Liberty’s. His hair is long and mangy, and yet he’s somehow still a striking man. Anyone with half a brain can see he and Liberty are cut from the same cloth.

I finish my beer just as they finish their first song, so I help myself to another. A few songs later, I’m working on my third beer. My face is numb, my body relaxed. I’m sitting here, but I may as well have melted into a puddle of tranquility.