Cruel Prep - A Mafia Romance

"Who asked you?" I snap.

He grins and backs up, hands raised. "Woah there. No need to bite."

"No need to be an ass, either."

He lets his hands fall by his side and slips them carelessly into his pockets. God, he really is obnoxiously gorgeous. Like, I'm mad that someone this good-looking exists in the world. He studies me for a moment longer.

I burn under his gaze, but I refuse to walk away. It feels like we're sparring here, and the first one to leave loses.

Then, as if he'd gotten everything he came for, he nods once and walks away. His shoulder brushes mine as he passes.

He calls back over his shoulder, "See you around, new girl."

3

LILY

I head outside to catch my breath. My skin is crawling after seeing Mr. Foster and then the gorgeous asshole one right after the other, so I could use a little fresh air.

There's a set of concrete stairs set into a grassy slope. I sink to a seat there and pull out my notebook.

Sketching always calms my nerves. The margins of my notebooks have been filled with doodles for as long as I can remember. When I draw, I can just let go, be free.

Or at least, that's usually the case.

But after a few minutes of letting my mind wander, I realize my scribbles have turned into an arched eyebrow.

His arched eyebrow.

I quickly turn the page and start fresh on a blank sheet, taking a deep breath to clear my head.

"Why'd you stop?"

I startle and look over to see a tall boy with platinum blond hair slouched on the steps above me in front of me. He has on a brown leather jacket with frayed patches on the chest and sleeves.

"Oh, thanks," I mumble, smoothing my hand over my notebook. "It was just a doodle."

He shrugs and looks towards the school like he really doesn't care either way. Without looking, he pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket and lights up. In the same motion, he offers the pack to me.

I don't smoke. Correction: I've smoked before, but only because I found a pack of cigarettes in the street when I was thirteen and wanted to know what it would be like.

Still, the cigarettes feel like a test, and I don't want to fail. So, I nod and accept one. The boy lights it for me, his eyes watching the flame as it tongues the tip. When it catches, he licks his lips and takes a long puff of his own cigarette, blowing the smoke in my face.

"You're new," he comments.

I roll my eyes. Not this again.

When I don't answer, the boy blows out another puff of smoke and leans back against the metal stair railing. "Bold of you to pick a seat in Loser Land on your first day."

I look around. The guy is right.

The rest of the student body has come out for lunch period, and-not to judge books by their covers-the handful of kids who've chosen seats over on this grassy slope don't exactly measure up to the boy who scared me in the hallway. They're a little grungier, a little angstier. Not nearly as arrogant and confident. Clearly a tier below.

"I wasn't given much of a choice," I admit.

The boy nods and exhales another cloud of smoke. "We're a better pick than the Golden Boys, anyways," he says.

I frown. "The Golden Boys?"

"Oh, that's cute. Real naïve. You won't last long like that, though."

"Are you going to keep being an asshole, or are you going to explain what the hell you're talking about?"

Instead of explaining, he jabs his cigarette across the lawn. I follow it to see a group of guys lounging around a picnic table in the sunlight.

One is tall, pushing six-three, but skinny, whereas the one next to him is broad and muscly. The tall one has short-cropped hair, a long nose, and is dressed in name brand from head-to-toe-athletic pants, shoes, and shirt. He looks like a walking advertisement.

The stockier boy is much more fashion-forward with a pair of jeans rolled at the ankles, leather boots, and a white T-shirt half tucked into his waistband. His skin is deeply tanned and I can tell he whitens his teeth even from a distance. They practically glow in the sunlight.

The group erupts in more laughter just as the two boys in front part, letting a third boy through. As soon as he steps into view, I gasp.

It's the boy from before.

In the sunlight, he looks even more unreal. His dark hair has a blue sheen, and I can make out the full shape of his lips. His face looks just as chiseled as it did in the shadows, though, and I realize that is just his face. It wasn't a trick of the light. This boy really looks like he is made from marble.

"Those," my new friend drawls, "are the Golden Boys. Finn and his fuck buddies."

I make the connection immediately. I don't know how I missed it before.

Finn. As in, Finn Foster. Son of William Foster.

Fuck.

"Like you're any better, Dallas?" comes a new voice, acidic and cutting.

I shade the sun out of my eyes and look up to see a girl standing in front of us, one hip jutted out to the side. She has on skintight jeans and a dangerously low-cut T-shirt. Her hair is bright red and falls around her shoulders in movie-star curls, and her frowning mouth is painted the same color red.

"Fuck off, Cora," Dallas snarls right back at her.

"Why don't you eat a dick?" she spits at him.

He sighs, stubs out his cigarette, and stands up. "Time to make my exit. Nice to meet you, new girl. Be careful of those assholes. Be careful of this bitch, too." He nods at Cora. "Everyone in this school is a fucking snake."

Then he saunters away, the patch of a horned devil on the back of his jacket gleaming in the Texas sun.

The girl who just came up, Cora, leans against the stairway railing and smiles at me. "Thought you might need some rescuing," she says pleasantly.

I blink. It's the first kind voice I've heard all day. "Oh," I say softly. "Thanks."

She sinks to a seat next to me. "Besides, I wanted to meet the new girl. Nothing interesting ever happens here. I've been going to school with the same kids since kindergarten. When someone new shows up, we notice."

"Right," I answer. I'm a little on the defensive after meeting Finn and the kid in the leather jacket in quick succession, but the girl seems bubbly and warm. I sigh and make a mental note to loosen up. No need to make more enemies than the ones I already have.

"I see you've met Dallas." She jerks her head in the direction of the boy with the devil on his jacket.

"He seemed a little..." I pause before finishing, "I dunno, on edge."

Cora rolls her eyes. "He thinks he's holier-than-thou because he's in a biker gang. But don't let the tough guy façade fool you. He's just an errand boy for those Hell Prince shitheads."

My mouth falls open. "He is really a biker?"

Cora's red mouth pulls into a grimace. "With the obnoxiously loud crotch rocket to prove it."

"This school is a lot to process," I comment.

Cora laughs at that. "Girl, you don't even know the half of it." Then she catches me staring into the distance. "I see you've discovered the Golden Boys, too."

I blush and avert my gaze. "Dallas was saying something about them."