Текст книги "Thief"
Автор книги: Chantal Fernando
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 8 страниц)
Thief
by
Chantal Fernando
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
About the Author
All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook is copyrighted material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any form without prior written permission from the publisher, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.
CHANTAL FERNANDO
Published October 2015
Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs
Edited by Hot Tree Editing
THIEF is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offense to the content, as it is FICTION.
Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders, The authors acknowledges the trademarked status in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copyright © 2015 Chantal Fernando
All rights reserved.
Dedication
To Mallory Green.
Thank you for all your help, but mostly thank you for being you.
Every girl needs a Mallory in their lives.
Chapter One
“She’s hot,” I observe, nodding my head toward the blonde walking through the hallway.
Max checks her out then flashes me his signature smirk. “She looks...opinionated.”
I roll my eyes and stare at him in disbelief. “Opinionated? Seriously?”
Can a girl look opinionated? Is this a thing?
“I’m opinionated, and you love me,” I point out, pursing my lips together. The things this guy comes up with sometimes…
“Yeah, as my friend,” he says, wrapping an arm around me. “I’d never date you though. You’d drive me fucking crazy.”
“You’re an asshole,” I grumble, but then shake my head and smile to myself. Max has lived next-door to me ever since we were five. We’ve been friends ever since I can remember, and although people I tell the story to like to romanticise it, there’s no way in hell we’ll be anything but friends at any point in our lives.
“Yet you love me anyway, true friendship right there,” he comments distractedly, gaze following a blonde. He points at her. “Now her, though…I’ll be right back.”
I laugh and glance down at my class schedule. Today’s the first day back at school, and in true Max form, he’s spending his morning checking out all the new girls the school has to offer. I, on the other hand, am more interested in making it to my classes on time and staying on top of my workload from day one. I’m almost at my English class when I hear a voice say, “What the fuck are you wearing?”
Curious, I look to the right to see a pretty girl standing there in a short denim skirt and a tight black top. Sure, the skirt is pretty short, but not unlike what most of the other girls at school wear on a daily basis. She’s beautiful, I notice, with jet-black shoulder-length hair that’s straighter than I could ever get mine, and clear blue eyes.
“Don’t embarrass me,” I hear her reply through clenched teeth.
“Go home and change,” the guy growls at the poor girl. I look at him from behind. Tall, very tall. A mop of dark hair, and a nice build. Broad shoulders covered in a white t-shirt, and jeans showing off his narrow hips. But still, no girl should put up with that from her boyfriend, no matter how good he looks from behind.
“Now, Sierra,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or I will drag you home myself.”
“Hey, don’t talk to her like that,” I blurt out, unable to keep my mouth shut. Yeah, I can be impulsive like that. I also don’t like seeing men intimidate women, and worse, women accepting it.
The boy turns around, and for a second, I’m taken aback by the colour of his eyes.
Violet.
Framed in thick, dark lashes, I’ve never seen eyes the colour of his in my life.
And he’s hot.
Tanned skin, full lips, high cheekbones, and a straight nose.
Yeah, this guy is blessed in the looks department.
Why are the jerks always hot?
“Mind your own business, little girl,” the boy says to me, snapping me out of my lust-filled daze, his spectacular eyes narrowing on me.
Little girl?
I look at Sierra, who is currently giving me an odd look.
“Come on, you don’t need to listen to this,” I say to her, giving the guy a disgusted look.
She steps forward, coming to stand next to me, and flashes the boy a triumphant look. He scowls, shakes his head, and then walks off in the other direction.
“Thanks,” Sierra tells me, smiling. “If you didn’t interrupt, he actually would make me go home and change. My brother can be so overprotective sometimes.”
Brother?
Shit.
That kind of changed things.
“I thought he was your boyfriend,” I admit, grimacing and walking next to her down the hallway. “And I’m Viola, by the way.”
She laughs, her lips quirking upwards. “Nice to meet you, Viola. And no, he’s my older brother. He thinks I shouldn’t give boys the wrong impression by wearing revealing clothes.” She pauses. “And that it will attract the wrong type of guys.”
I chew on my bottom lip, asking myself why I had to open my big mouth. When we arrive at my class, Sierra says bye and heads to her own class, hips swaying in her short skirt.
So much for me being a hero.
“There you are,” Max says, coming to stand next to me and handing me a red liquorice stick. “What classes do we have together, other than English?”
I hold my hand out to look at his schedule. He passes it to me, the paper sticky from the candy he’d been eating. “Eww, Max.”
I wipe my hand on my jeans while I scan the paper. “English and human biology, it looks like. Only two classes? That sucks.”
“They’re probably still holding a grudge after last year’s math test fiasco,” he points out, licking his fingers.
I hand him back the paper and smile as I reminisce. The teacher had left out a copy of our final exam, and Max had taken it, photocopied it, and passed it out to everyone in class. When everyone got perfect scores, they didn’t know who to blame and had no proof, but somehow Max and I were the ones held under suspicion. They were right about Max, of course, but I was just guilty by association.
“They need to let that go,” I say, walking into class and looking around for a seat. I take one in the middle and Max sits next to me. I know he’d prefer to sit in the back, but unlike him, I want to get my work done. We compromise with the middle. I make him do some of his work, and he makes me laugh with his jokes, which makes the classes go quicker. Max saying hello to someone has me raising my head.
Violet eyes scrutinize me as the boy sits down on the other side of Max.
“Dashiel, this is Viola,” Max says, nodding his head in my direction. “Vi, this is Dash. We play basketball together. Today’s his first day here.”
I lean forward to see him over Max. “Hello, Dashiel.”
“This is your girl?” he asks Max. “I never thought you’d choose someone so…”
“Opinionated?” Max offers, laughing to himself. I slap his arm and throw him an unimpressed look, which only makes him laugh harder.
Dashiel smiles, and holy hell—he has dimples.
Deep, delicious, twin dimples.
I stare at them without blinking or breathing for longer than I’d like to admit.
“Exactly,” he continues, ignoring me and pulling out a pen from his bag.
I force myself to turn away from him and look straight ahead, staring at the blackboard. I haven’t had a proper boyfriend before, but if I did, I’d imagine he’d look like Dashiel. Sure, I’ve gone on a few dates in my time—okay, two dates, but I’ve never had an actual boyfriend, and I’ve never really wanted one. I hear him talking to Max, but I don’t look in his direction. Instead, I pull out my pink folder and matching stationary and wait for the teacher to commence with the first lesson of the year.
“We have a few new students this year,” Mrs. Jade says, opening her file and scanning a piece of paper. Is she going to make them stand up and introduce themselves? Because that’s awkward.
“Lara Ram and Dashiel Edwards, welcome to our school. I’m sure everyone will be friendly.” She says the last line in a threatening way, as in we better be friendly, or there will be hell to pay. “How about both of you stand up and tell the class something about yourselves?” She looks around the room. “Lara?”
A cute, chubby blonde raises her hand. “I’m Lara. I just moved here from the city.”
We wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t, so we all look in Dashiel’s direction. He stands and glances around the room, making eye contact with everyone. Except me.
“I got expelled from my last school, so I was sent here. I have four sisters, and I’ll kill anyone who even looks at them wrong.” He pauses—to make the threat more dramatic, I think. “That’s how I got expelled last time. Oh, and no one calls me Dashiel. The name is Dash.”
He sits down and the class waits in awkward silence for a few tense moments before Max calls out, “I’ll show him around. Don’t you all offer at the same time.”
Dash chuckles.
Mrs. Jade pushes her glasses up on her nose and says, “Dash, I’d like to see you after class please.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies politely, not seeming bothered in the least.
“Okay, class, open your books to page four,” she continues.
We open our books. And I have this feeling that things are going to change this year.
For better or worse, I have no idea.
But I’m going to find out.
Chapter Two
“Why are you acting weird?” Max asks me right in front of Dash.
I look him dead in the eye. “How am I acting weird?”
He narrows his hazel eyes and studies me. “Did you make me lunch?”
I roll my eyes at him and pull out his sandwich in a zip-locked bag, a packet of chips, and a green apple.
“Perfect,” he beams, taking them from my hands. “Thanks, Vi.”
“No problem,” I tell him, knowing tomorrow he will do the same for me. We started this in primary school, when we used to swap lunches anyway most of the time, and it’s something that’s stuck with us.
“She makes you lunch?” Dash asks, looking between the two of us. “That doesn’t sound very feminist of you.”
Max lifts his head and pins Dash with a look. “It’s just something we do.”
Dash nods, a contemplative look on his face. “Do you want to play some ball?”
Max nods and finishes his sandwich in a few bites. “Fuck yeah.” He turns to me. “Do you want to play with us, or sit here?”
“I’ll sit here,” I tell him. He knows how shitty I am at sports, but he still tries to invite me.
“You play ball?” Dash asks me¸ violet eyes observing me.
“Nope,” I reply, opening my packet of chips.
He looks confused then stands up. “I’ll meet you on the court, Max.”
“All right,” Max replies.
I watch as Dash walks up to a young girl, one who looks a lot like Sierra.
“That’s his sister Jasmine,” Max says to me. “There’s four of them. Two are in high school, and two are in primary school. They’re all young.”
“How long have you known him?” I ask curiously, still watching him speak to his sister.
“We’ve played ball together for about a year now,” he says, drinking water from his bottle. “He’s really good. An asset to our team. You’d know if you ever came to any of my games.”
“The last time I came to one of your games, your girlfriend had a fit,” I decide to point out.
“And that’s why she’s my ex,” Max says, standing up and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Are you just going to sit here alone?”
I look to my left and then my right. “Well, I’m sure all my friends will keep me company.”
He throws his head back and laughs.
I have a couple of friends, of course, but I’m not close to them like I am Max. They’re more like acquaintances, or ‘convenience friends’, as Max calls them. The type of friends you chat with, hang out with, and have fun with, but you will probably lose contact with the second school is over. I don’t mind my own company though, and I’ll happily sit here and read by myself. Max walks off to the courts, and I finish my book then pull a second one out of my bag. When the bell goes off, I check what class I have next, which turns out to be Home Economics, and head in that direction.
*****
I clear my throat. “So, about before…”
“You mean when you eavesdropped on a private conversation between me and my sister then thought it was a good idea to butt in and give us, random strangers, your personal input?” he says in a dry tone I don’t appreciate.
“To be fair, I thought you were her boyfriend—”
“You know what they say about people who assume,” he continues, rudely cutting me off.
I hold my hand up. “There’s no need to be a dick, dude.”
Dash tips the flour into the bowl and starts stirring. When he walked in late to Home Ec, the seat next to me was the only one left, and now we’re both stuck together, baking bread and making awkward conversation. I pour some oil and flick it into the bowl. Dash stops his aggressive stirring and looks up at me. “That was way too much oil.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I tell him, grabbing the salt. “We need to put the salt in.”
“I’ll do it,” he says, taking the salt from me and tipping some in.
“This is a group activity,” I say drolly, pulling the bowl toward me. “I don’t care how much of a control freak you are; this is my loaf of bread too.”
He expels a sigh, like it’s taking all of his energy to deal with me, and pushes the bowl in my direction. “Have at it then, Viola.”
Liking my name on his lips, I avoid his eyes and pick up the ball of dough, squishing it in my hands. Who am I kidding? I don’t know how to make bread. Or anything. Yeah, I’m no Martha Stewart.
“What do I have to do next?” I ask, refusing to feel sheepish. I glance over at the instructions then look around at the other students nearby, just to see what theirs looks like. When I look back to Dash, I find him already watching me.
“What?” I ask.
He blinks slowly a few times. “How does Max put up with you?”
I slam down the ball of dough on the cutting board. “I’ve been wondering the same, only about you.”
He grabs the dough from me, and I watch him finish it off then place it in the oven without even looking at the instructions. He’s probably one of those guys who is good at everything and anything.
How annoying.
I start filling out the worksheet the teacher gave us, happy to be doing theory work over practical. I hate this class, and I hate cooking—or baking, as it were—but I’m not about to get a bad grade for any class. I finish the worksheet quickly, and then slide it over to Dash. He did the baking, so the least I can do is play my part in the team by being of use. His lip twitches as he glances over my paper.
“How do I know you’re smart and those answers are correct?”
I roll my eyes at him and say, “How do I know the bread is going to taste good?”
He grins then, dimples making an appearance. He takes my paper and copies the answers. When he’s done, he lifts his head, looks at me, and says, “If the bread tastes like shit, it’s because you put too much oil.”
I can’t help it; I laugh. It’s either that, or throw something at his head. “You’re infuriating.”
He shakes his head. “And you’re not?”
“No.”
“You’re nosey,” he decides to point out. “Who stops and interrupts a private conversation?” He pauses. “On a Monday morning, the first school day of the year?”
I guess we were back to this again.
“Who yells at their baby sister on the first school day of the year, at a new school, where anyone walking by can hear?” I ask him back.
“I do, when my sister is wearing a short fucking skirt and when it’s not anyone else’s business,” he says, starting to sound angry.
“Well, next time, yell at her before she leaves the house,” I suggest, scanning the classroom for a distraction.
“I’ll do that,” he replies, voice laced with sarcasm and contempt.
I wonder if someone will exchange seats with me.
He taps his pen on the table, the sound filling the awkward silence.
“Are you and Max dating?” he asks after a few moments.
“No,” I reply, wrinkling my nose.
“Have you ever dated?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and studying me.
“Nope.”
He nods, but looks adorably confused. “I don’t get the two of you.”
And I don’t get him. One minute I want to stab him with a fork, and the next I’m thinking about how adorable he looks. What is it about this guy that has my head reeling?
“You don’t have to,” I fire back, arching an eyebrow at him. Many people don’t get Max’s and my friendship, but many people don’t get a lot of things. In a time where loyalty and honesty are rare qualities, I’ll bet they don’t understand. They wouldn’t know what true friendship is if it hit them in the face.
He shrugs like he couldn’t care either way, and then goes back to ignoring me.
So I do the same to him. Except, every now and again, I peer at him from the corner of my eye. Luckily, he doesn’t catch me.
The bread turns out delicious. Dash doesn’t say anything, but his smug expression speaks for itself. I realise in this moment that while I’m fascinated with this boy, I don’t like him very much.
At all.
Chapter Three
It doesn’t take Dash long to find a girlfriend, and of course, I’m not surprised. Only a week into school, and I see him walking around with Jacquelyn Bateman, one of the most popular girls in our school.
Max whistles as he sees the two of them together. “Not bad, Dash, not bad at all.”
I look at him, my forehead furrowing. “You dated her last year. Isn’t this weird?”
Max just shrugs and puts his lollipop back in his mouth. “She’s fair game, Vi. I don’t really care who has her after me.”
“Charming,” I reply, dragging the word out. “This is why I remain single, because I have you as an example of what boys are really like.”
“We’re seventeen, Vi,” Max says, running a hand through his brown hair. “If anyone is looking for something permanent at this age, then they’re stupid. And you’re way too good for any of the boys at this school anyway.”
“That’s why they’re all lining up to ask me out,” I say wryly, looking back to Dash and Jackie.
Max stops in his tracks and pulls me to a halt with him. “Have you looked at yourself recently? You have a nice little body, a thick head of long-ass, silky dark hair, and brown eyes that are a little too wilful for my liking…” I kick his shin at this point of the speech. “Ouch! See?!” he grumbles then continues, “Bottom line: you’re hot. If I didn’t see you like family, well…but I do, so… Okay, fuck, this is getting awkward, but you get the drift.”
I lace my arm through his. “Thanks, Max. That’s very sweet of you.”
“Now let’s never mention it again,” he mutters then changes the subject. “I made us chicken salad rolls for lunch today.”
“Excellent,” I say with approval then cringe when I see Dash and Jackie walking up to us. Jackie is the girl who lost her shit when Max brought me with him to his basketball game, and I’m not exactly her favourite person.
Okay, she hates me.
“Max,” she purrs then looks to me, her expression dropping. “Viola.”
I don’t even reply, just lift my chin at her.
“Dash was just telling me about his game next week,” she continues. “I guess I’ll be there, being a supportive girlfriend.”
“And a supportive ex-girlfriend,” I point out, smirking. “Because you’ve been with almost everyone on the team.”
Max sighs and throws me a look that says ‘Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?’ while Dash studies me with an unreadable look on his too-handsome-for-his-own-good face.
“Jealous none of the boys like you, Viola?” Jackie sneers, wrapping her pink-tipped nails around Dash’s arm.
“Actually, lots of guys like Vi,” Max says, wincing as he looks down at me apologetically. “They just don’t ask her out, because they’re scared of me.”
My eyes narrow on Max’s guilty-looking face. I look at him from the point of view of a stranger. He’s tall, about six-foot-one, not as tall as Dash, but bulkier. I know none of the guys at school want to mess with him, but never once did I consider he’s the reason I’m never asked out.
I shrug, suddenly feeling better about myself. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not interested in anyone from this school anyway.”
Well, that’s a lie, but they don’t need to know that.
Or is it? I don’t know what I want from Dash. All I know is I like being around him. The fact he is dating Jackie speaks wonders about what he’s looking for right now, and although I shouldn’t judge him, I am.
“Whatever,” Jackie says, flipping her red hair over her shoulder. “Dash, will you walk me to class?”
“I actually have to go to the gym now,” Dash says, taking a step in that direction. “But I’ll see you later.”
He leaves, and so does an unhappy Jackie.
Max and I glance at each other at the same time, shrug, and then continue walking.
“Are we going to the movies on Friday night?” he asks, chewing on his lollipop, making loud crunching sounds.
“Yeah, why? Don’t tell me you have a date and want to cancel on me,” I say grumpily, staring up at him with my brows raised.
He puts his hand around my shoulder and grins. “No date this weekend, so you can relax. You act like I ditch you every weekend. That happened one time in all the years we’ve known each other!”
“And I’ll never let you forget it,” I say, poking my tongue out.
“Brat,” he grumbles.
When Dash falls into line with us, Max and I both give him side-glances.
“No gym?” Max asks, chuckling.
Dash shoots him a stern look, but says nothing else on the subject. “What do you know about a guy named Tom Richards?”
“Why?” Max asks.
“He’s asked Sierra out on a date, and she really wants to go, apparently,” he says, sounding extremely put out.
Max looks to me. “Have you heard of the dude?”
I nod. “Yeah, he does the school yearbook with me. A year younger than us.”
“Decent?” Dash asks me, gently grabbing my arm and pulling me to stop. “If he’s an asshole, there’s no way I’m letting her go. Her tears worked last time, but they won’t be saving her this time.”
Both their eyes linger on me, waiting for my answer. I shift on my feet, not too sure what to say. I don’t know the guy that well, but he seems nice enough. What if he turns out to be a dickhead though? Then everyone will blame me in the end.
“I mean, I don’t think I know him well enough to make this judgement.” I think of Sierra having to deal with her overbearing older brother yet again and feel a pang of sympathy for her. I then come up with an idea that has less pressure on me if Tom turns out to be a bad boy. “What if you tell her she can go to a movie with him? Max and I will be there Friday night, so we could keep an eye out on her, and you wouldn’t have to worry so much.”
I feel like squirming as Dash looks at me, thinking about my idea. He’s wearing a red cap today, and earlier I saw another girl take it off his head to put it on hers.
I didn’t like that.
The cap suits him, though. As does the black t-shirt he’s wearing.
“You wouldn’t mind doing that?” Dash asks, turning his attention to Max.
“Not a problem, bro,” Max replies, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll even threaten him a little, if you like.”
“You’re the best,” Dash replies, flashing his dimples. “I have to stay home this weekend to look after my younger sisters, so I won’t be able to keep an eye on Sierra.” He slaps Max on the shoulder affectionately. “Got to get going.” He turns that violet gaze on me then, and I think I stop breathing. “Thanks, Viola.”
“No problem,” I manage to get out then watch him as he leaves.
He stays home all weekend to look after his sisters?
“That’s nice of him to stay home with them,” I say, trying to wrap my head around Dash and exactly who he is.
“Yeah,” Max says, bumping me so I move forward. “Sometimes he brings them to the basketball games if Sierra can’t watch the younger two. He’s a really great brother. Four sisters, though…that’s a lot to take on.”
I have to agree.
“What if they ditch the movie or something?”
Max just grins, flashing white straight teeth. “I’ll have a little talk with Tommy boy before Friday.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, shaking my head. Max is an only child, like me, and I can picture him doing this to his sister if he ever had one. I guess the closest thing he has to a sister is me, and since I don’t really have much of a love life, his bullying skills have been put to rest until now.
“I am, actually,” he says, looking amused. “Look at us, chaperoning teenagers.”
“Teenagers who are like a year or so younger than us,” I point out, smirking. “That probably makes us a little too responsible for our age, if you ask me.”
Max stills. “You’re right. We should turn up to the cinema drunk.”
I laugh, even though I know he’s totally serious.
