Revenge Kisses (3:AM Kisses Book 14) Read online

  “Don’t worry about Jen. Last night wasn’t as bad as it sounds.” The lie feels numb coming from my lips. “I went over to the Kappa house with Rush and Eli, and as soon as I saw Harper, I made a beeline for her.”

  “Harper?” Trix cocks her head as if asking if she heard right.

  “That’s right. Last night at the Black Bear, I overheard a group of girls talking about the douchebag that she’s seeing as he walked by. They said he’s been hitting on them, and”—I drop my head in my hand a moment and moan—“I felt bad for Harper. I talked to Jen about it, and she said she knew for a fact he was making out with some chick.”

  “I bet it was her! It was Janelle!” Trix shouts so loud as if it were the winning answer to some cheesy game show question. “She was shitting on you, and you didn’t even know it.”

  “That might be so. Anyway, last night when I saw Harper, I felt bad. Hell, I felt obligated to tell her something, anything. All I wanted to do was warn her.”

  Trix slides over next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “The way you wish someone would warn you if the shoe were on the other foot?”

  “That’s exactly right.” My stomach turns as Lawson’s words come back to haunt me. He said he tried to warn me. My mind races with all the interactions we’ve had over the last few months, and I push them out of my head for now. “And that’s when Lawson tracked me down. He dragged me to a dark hall in the back, the lights went on, and I heard Harper make a horrible sound, something between a scream and a gasp.” The room around me evaporates a moment, and I’m right there with the lights blinking on, Justin’s meat hook wrapped around Jen’s tit, their mouths still conjoined as they looked over to us. “I just saw her face—some dude’s hands all over her and I lost it.” My voice breaks and Trix scoots in closer. “The next thing I remember is pulling him off her by the shirt and bashing his head in with my fist. Damn, it felt good.” I reach over and clasp her shoulder in a weak attempt to hold this other side of me. Trix and I have always viewed ourselves as extensions of one another, but right now I’m glad it’s not technically true. I’d never want her to feel this agonizing pain I’ve launched myself into. “She never apologized. She never said a word. I took off for a second before turning around, and I saw the unthinkable—Jen helping that asshole hobble out of there.”

  “What did you expect? You just caught her cheating on you. Her true colors were revealed. Once a snake sheds its skin, there’s no going back.”

  I glance over at my sister. “I’m not sure I get the reference, but my head’s sort of scrambled at the moment.”

  “No worries.” She pulls me into a hard embrace. “Hey, what are you going to do about the internship?”

  “Crap.” I bang my head against the wall a few good times. “I forgot all about that. I can’t do it.” Just the thought of showing up at So Shoe Me makes my stomach turn. As a business major, I was looking forward to a solid internship each summer while at Whitney Briggs, and the first was to be with Janelle’s father at his footwear superstore.

  “Fuck. I’m not doing it.”

  “But you need it to get into the program! Damn her to hell for ruining this for you too!”

  “Shit.” I sink my head into my hand, and swear to God, I see my entire future dissolve to nothing.

  “Okay, I’ve got it. You can take my place at Orville Realty.”

  “What? No way.” I pull back to examine her, and I’m stunned to find tears in her eyes. For as much rage as she’s fronting, she’s hurting for me, and that alone tears me apart even more than Janelle did.

  “Yes way.” She pounds her fist over my chest just enough to let me feel it. “I’m undeclared. I don’t even need an internship. It was Dad’s idea. He won’t care. Dad says Forest, the guy who owns the place, is some longtime family friend. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to have either one of us. The downside is you start tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow. Shit.

  “Fine. But only because you don’t really need it.” I give her foot a light kick. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I’ll just forget about the shoe store. I wasn’t looking forward to a summer of stinky feet anyway.”

  “And I want you to forget about her too. Don’t you even think of talking to that stinky skank ever again. You understand?”

  “I’ve got half her stuff here.”

  “I’ll take care of that. I’ve been thinking it’s about time for a bonfire. That’s the way we usually start off summer, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t burn it.” An acid bomb goes off in the pit of my stomach. “As horrible as it was to have her shit all over me last night—”

  “Stop!” She gives a half-hearted sock to my arm. “She’s an evil, evil person. Don’t you dare go soft on me.”

  “She’s not evil.”

  “She’s boning some other guy! The exact guy you tried to warn your friend about.”

  “She’s boning him?”

  “Yup. I bet she’s on her knees right now, kissing all his boo-boos, making sure his balls—”

  “Stop.” A viral rage percolates in me at the thought of Jen—who up until twelve hours ago I thought was my Jen—is out there doing some dude. Justin the asshat of all the frigging people.

  I’m going to kill him. Justin Asshat, whatever the hell his last name is, had better run if he sees me coming.

  An image of him grunting on top of Jen sears through my mind, and I dip my head in my hand once again.

  Trixie wraps her arms around me, and her tears soak my shoulder.

  Janelle and Justin hurt me, and they hurt my sister.

  Somebody is going to have to pay.

  Orville Realty is located in sunny downtown Jepson surrounded by an upscale sushi bar and a gym that costs a mint to get into. I should know. I’ve been a member for the last three years. Thankfully, there’s no football practice for the next solid week, which hopefully will give me enough time to pull my head out of this fog bank I’ve been thrust into. I’ve been walking around like a corpse all morning, got lost on the way to the car and the damn thing was in the driveway. I can’t stand how fucked up I feel, especially after the fact she hasn’t bothered to call, and we’re staring down the barrel of forty-eight hours after the incident.

  I head into the polished building with its mirrored glass door and let the air conditioning breathe some life into me.

  A slender brunette about my age with hair teased out into the shape of a tumbleweed greets me with an overenthusiastic smile.

  “Welcome to Orville Realty where we make sure you come first.”

  My mouth opens and closes at the double entendre. I’m not even sure she’s aware she’s spouted it. I shake my head a moment. Get your head out of the gutter. This is the real world, not some college campus where every last person would have laughed at the sexual undertones of Orville’s dirty slogan.

  “I’m from Whitney Briggs University. I’m taking my sister’s place with the internship.”

  “Oh, right!” She gives a spastic jump in her seat, and it’s only then I see her nameplate, Happy Horton. That has to be a joke. Nobody can possibly be that happy and also go through life with it as their moniker. “Go on in. Forest is giving the other intern his usual spiel. You’ll have a great time here this summer.” She bites over her lip as her eyes take the elevator down my chest while checking out the goods. I’m used to it, though. I’ve never let it bother me, and since I’ve had Jen in my life I’ve never let it excite me either.

  “Thanks.” My stomach sinks as I head on past her. I didn’t for a minute consider I might not be doing this internship solo. A part of me is hoping to find Justin in there with his big swollen head, courtesy of my brass knuckles, and I’ll gladly finish him off. I know for a fact I could have gotten myself suspended—or worse, tossed off the team—for brawling on The Row last night, but off-campus, away from Greek life in general, the dude better pray I don’t find him in a parking lot somewhere.

  I give a light knock over the door before letting m
yself in and find an older man, although much younger than my father, sitting behind an oversized desk with an overdone tan and white block teeth like some cartoon version of himself.

  “Forest Orville.” He stands to greet me, and just as I lean in to shake his hand, I spot a girl sitting in the chair to my left, her hair slightly tousled, and I freeze.

  I recognize those pouty lips, those dark brows that flex like caterpillars with her every emotion, and right about now she seems to be having a dozen all at once. She dons a pair of dark sunglasses, and she keeps her nose straight ahead so I have no clue if she sees me.

  “Harper?”

  She slumps in her chair, and a dull groan expels from her as if she’s about to vomit.

  “She’s not having such a great day.” Forest grimaces at her.

  “Join the party.” I fall into the seat next to her and glare at the talking orange spray tan.

  “Geez.” He leans in and inspects me with a discriminatory gaze. “What the heck went on over at Briggs this weekend?”

  “Frat mixer,” I offer. “I guess you can say things went a little too far.” I cut a quick glance to Harper and half-expect her to give me the finger, but her frown redefines itself instead.

  “Ah!” He rocks back in his enormous leather chair and locks his hands behind his neck. “I went to school at Briggs. I know all about the keggers on The Row. And those girls. Nothing like some Whitney Briggs coeds to get a guy going.” He haws out a laugh, and I don’t know whether or not to feel bad for the guy because he just made himself sound like an ass in front of Harper. “Don’t worry”—he offers a quick wink her way—“you’re hot too, sweetie.”

  Did he just? I give a few hard blinks as if struggling to wake up from a bad dream. There’s no way Agent Orange here just set himself up for a sexual harassment lawsuit.

  Once Forest manages to break his perverted gaze, he gets straight to the business of introducing us to a few of the real estate basics. “Travel as a team. Learn as much as you can about the area before you show a home, and in the event the home has history, brush up on that as well. Forget all the bad crap, though. Nobody wants to hear that some lunatic dismembered someone in the master bedroom.”

  A brief yet satisfying image of Justin’s dismembered body flits through my mind. I can’t stand the fucking thought of his mouth on my girlfriend. His hands were practically digging into her tits. I close my eyes hard, just begging for the visual to do a disappearing act.

  “I’ve offered you a young couple just starting out.” He holds a blue file, and I take it. “A Mr. and Mrs. Capwell. They currently live in a penthouse suite here in Jepson, and they’re looking to add a home to their portfolio.”

  Harper and I share a quick glance, and something in me cinches when I see the outline of those dark bags under her eyes from underneath her sunglasses. I know she’s hurting—hell, I’m hurting too.

  Forest garbles on about God knows what before he gets a call and decides to take it outside. I wait for the door to shut behind him before I even look in her direction.

  Harper is beautiful. I wish I could say sweet, but she is hot. Why in the hell would Justin leave her to bang some other chick? It doesn’t make sense. But then again, I’m probably jumping the gun. We caught them getting as far as second base, and thankfully that was all.

  I turn my seat in toward hers and do my best to catch her gaze. “I’d ask if you were okay, but I think I know how you’re feeling.”

  “You think you know how I feel?” She snaps off her sunglasses in one angry burst, exposing me to cherry-stained eyes. “How could you possibly know how I feel after my boyfriend of two years decided he’d rather hide his joystick in Sabrina the Teenage Bitch!”

  “They’re not fucking. Do not even imply that again, or I will smash windows until I track down that douchebag.”

  “Oh, but they are fucking.” She leans in with a wildfire in her eyes that only the truth can bring, and my stomach sinks past my feet, straight down through the floorboards. “And it’s all your hussy idiot of a girlfriend’s fault!”

  “Don’t call her that.” My insides grind, just trying to get my head around the fact Jen might be wrapping her legs around some other dude. “And it’s not her fault. Everyone knows that douche canoe you’re dating was trying to bone anything that moved. He probably got her drunk.”

  “Ha!” she balks so loud it comes back as an echo. “Wouldn’t you like to think so! That disgusting cum guzzling skank has been tracking my man as far back as last semester! I have at least three sorority sisters who can attest to this. Not to mention the fact she’s already sprayed both her social media feeds and his with enough couple shots you’d think they were engaged. They’re Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram official. So, you can just pack up all your hopes and dreams regarding Little Miss Not-So Innocent and shove them off a cliff right along with your so-called relationship. She screwed you, Knox. Just like she’s screwing my boyfriend!”

  “Crap.” I lean back in my seat, stunned, but mostly gutted—eviscerated. “The thought of Jen hiding something so huge, boning some dude behind my back. God, she was double-dipping.” I look to Harper for no good reason. “Oh hell.” I drop my head between my knees a moment. “I’m going to have to hurt somebody—starting with Justin.” I force myself to sit up and take a deep breath before I pass out.

  “I’m definitely going to hurt somebody—starting with that vapid twat.”

  “I’m going to kill him.” I stare out at the wall in front of me, lost in thought.

  “I’m going to kill her,” Harper parrots with an equally disparaging tone.

  “Whitney Briggs University is about to experience its first double homicide.” It comes out as more of a sad fact than a verbal threat.

  “And we will be Whitney Briggs’ first dual felons.”

  “Probably not the first,” I offer. I’ve seen firsthand what those Greeks are capable of.

  Harper gives a smug grin as if agreeing. “Definitely not when you have loose and easy girls out there doing everything they can to steal someone else’s man.”

  I scowl at the thought. “We both know it’s Justin’s greedy dick’s fault.”

  “That might be a tiny bit true.” She lets out a huff of a laugh, and I can’t help but wonder if that tiny bit comment was a dig at his tiny little dick. “Maybe we should rethink the felony. I really don’t look good in orange.”

  Our eyes lock a moment, pain searing over pain, our hearts ripped open, still bleeding from the wounds given to us the other night.

  I lean in. “You’re not going to invoke any of that don’t get mad, get even bullshit, are you?”

  “Don’t get mad, get even.” Her lips twitch with the idea of a smile. “I kind of like where you’re going with that.”

  “You can’t get even. I haven’t taken the homicide off the table just yet.”

  “How could we possibly get even?” She scoffs at the ceiling. It seems like more of a rhetorical question at this point. “I mean, how could we ever drive the stake deep enough to evoke an ounce of the pain they’ve caused us?”

  “I don’t know.” She pats her hands together with that faraway look in her eyes. “I thought about wrecking his car—wrecking her car. Dousing a bunch of pads with red nail polish and sticking them all over their windshields.”

  “Shit.” I’m genuinely stunned by the grotesque revelation. “Okay, that’s just disturbing. Maybe forgo that last stunt. Heck, forgo them all. I’d hate to see you with an arrest record over this. They’re not worthy.” I kick the wastebasket over, and a week’s worth of crumpled papers tumble across the floor like snowballs. “Let’s narrow this down. What’s driving you insane?”

  Harper lets out a heavy sigh, her lips swell twice their size as if she’s about to cry. “What’s driving me insane is the fact he’s touching her the way he used to touch me. The fact he’s found something with someone else that he should have had with me.”

  I nod my head with a steady beat
because I’m feeling every word she just set before me. “I’m right there with you. I can’t fucking stand the fact he’s manhandling my girl.” My fist punches the steel desk like a reflex, and my knuckles feel as if they’ve all snapped like candy canes.

  “Don’t go breaking your hand.” She leans forward, her gaze still set on some invisible horizon. “Let’s break some hearts instead.”

  “They don’t have hearts. Case in point, they’ve moved on in a day without so much as the middle finger.”

  “Oh, they gave us the middle finger, all right.” She gives an incredulous huff. “I say we give them the finger right back.”

  “How’s that?”

  “It’s enchilada night down at the Black Bear. Justin might be willing to give me up, but he’s not giving up his persistence to shoot up his cholesterol. He likes his food hot and heavy just the way he likes his skanks. Meet me there at six. I’m buying—all the enchiladas you can handle.” She stabs the sunglasses back onto her face as she gets up to leave, and for the first time since we’ve been here, there’s a smile blooming on her face. “Things are about to get a hell of a lot hotter.”

  Shady and the Tramp

  Harper

  According to the Kübler-Ross model, there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. I’m pretty sure I barreled past denial once I saw Justin pawing that blonde little witch with my own two eyes, and I breezed happily right into anger. And don’t think for a rotten cheating minute that I will at all entertain bargaining, depression, or acceptance. I’m quite content now that I have rage pulsing through my veins. This hate-filled fury is all I will ever need to get me through this life. But first and foremost, I plan on fostering this incessant need for revenge. And in the name of my new vengeance-filled retribution, I plan on looking extra delicious tonight for my first foray in recouping my pride while at the Black Bear.