Make Your Move (Hannaford Prep, #2)

by J. Bree

I don’t want random hot guys. I want a mobster’s son with the face of an angel and the rap sheet of a street kid. I want the singer with a soft heart wrapped in barbs and trip wires of devastating wit to keep it safe. I want the billionaire’s unwanted son with eyes of ice and an endless love for his sister.

I WILL DRIVE BACK THERE IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME SOON ECLIPSE ANDERSON. Also, what is your middle name? I need to know it because apparently you pull the kind of shit that requires a full name sort of reaction.

I finally see the damage. I always knew he was a lonely sort of guy, his lyrics make your chest ache in a way that can only come from heartbreak, but I didn’t understand how he fit in with Harley and the twins until now. His life may not have been in danger but his soul was. I want to add his dad to the planner. I want to hunt that man down and say hi with my knife but the longing in Blaise’s voice is an echo of my own. It’s the echo of a little kid praying that someday their parents will love them enough to stop hurting them.

I’m wrapped up in bed with a heating pad, Blaise’s iPod, and a half-eaten tub of ice cream when Avery opens the door to Harley. He glances over to me as he talks to her but the music in my ears drowns him out and I let my eyes close. This week’s playlist makes my heart ache in the best/worst way, all dark and sweet with longing. I’d started putting together a list of songs to give back to him and I knew my list was an answer to his. Whoever it is that Harley is hoping to date, she has done a number on Blaise. I hate her intensely. I keep trying to imagine what she looks like. She must be stunning to have caught both their eyes.

She’s so clueless

It's only in the black light that you can see the ink that covers me. The skeletal structure I've had tattooed to my skin, the jaw opening wide etched in my cheeks with vicious teeth. Every inch of my body is covered in the whorls and arches that imitate the pelt. The black light shows that underneath the human facade I wear the truth of who I am. The Wolf.

I nod. I don’t need to tell him that I’m not talking about the Jackal’s threats. I’m talking about my stupid heart that I need to protect as fiercely as he protects his because when I had nothing at all in this world I still had myself. I can’t afford to give pieces of me away to spoiled rich boys looking for distraction.

“What’s wrong, little Nightingale?” Blaise murmurs and his hand brushes my hair away from my face. I think my cheeks would be on fire if I wasn’t so out of it. My eyes roam over his face in a way I’ve never let myself before. I take in his jawline, the dusting of light freckles over his nose I’ve never noticed before, the eerie clear depths of his eyes.

I’m sitting on my bed and stressing about leaving Hannaford tomorrow. I don’t know how to be in a relationship at all and now I’m trying to navigate a secret plural relationship long distance, with a mobster’s son, a murderous billionaire’s son, and a rock star. I try to be subtle about asking what the hell we’re doing but I’m not exactly a subtle kind of girl. Harley laughs at my attempts.

“I'm weird. I wear guys’ shirts and sweaters with booty shorts and skirts. I listen to the same three albums on repeat. I like French toast, coffee, and cherry anything. I don't function my birthday or Christmas. I can kill a grown man eight different ways with nothing but my bare hands. I’m never going to be normal.”

Ash grabs my chin and stares down at me, the blank mask gone and in its place a smoldering intensity. I can’t look away. “If you're trying to warn us off, it's not going to work. We've never agreed to anything as quickly as when we agreed to share you. I'm not planning on wooing you, I'm planning on doing whatever I need to do to get to keep you.” I swallow and he licks his lips. “I want us to keep you. I don't want you all to myself, I want to share you with my best friends and I want you to love every fucking second of it.”

There isn't a lie in his eyes, only plain truth and desire. I nod and he eases up a little with a smirk. “I won't get out of bed before the coffee machine is on. I hate blues music and listen to Vanth as religiously as you do. I run track because it makes me feel like I'm dying and sometimes I need to feel like that. I miss my mom and I hate my father. My brother is trying to kill me and my father is taking bets on how long it’ll take him to succeed. Finding Joey standing over Avery's lifeless body broke something in me that I don't think I'll ever be able to fix. I’m a ...

“I’ll write you a song, Mounty. While you and Arbour are shacked up and loving every second of the break, I’ll mope around New York with my parents and write you love songs,” Blaise sulks and Harley throws an empty coat hanger at him. I pass him the iPod and he flashes me a gorgeous grin.