Blunt Pain

Merit

The small town of Esperton had the best and worst of both worlds. It was small enough to feel safe, had quaint little boutique stores uptown, and was big enough to avoid the slums of downtown, where the trailer park was. The area was neatly divided by the railway, giving new meaning to the phrase, “from the wrong side of the tracks.” Merit had spent the last week of her summer holidays getting acquainted with her new surroundings, having moved to the quieter, safer town after her parents’ divorce.

Her father, Maximilian, was busy chasing his newest secretary, an almost identical replica of her mother, albeit much younger. Her mother, Tiffany, on the other hand, hadn’t mourned her divorce for long, and the move to Esperton was so she could remarry.

Merit had learned early that endings in her family were rarely mourned. They were replaced, upgraded, polished over like scratches on expensive furniture.

Senior year was right around the corner, but Merit only focused on one thing, a scholarship. It was her ticket out of there, her salvation, and her fight for freedom. Her mother had already spoken about a nice suitable match, but she was not going to play the nice, obedient, trophy wife to some asshole.

In the super wealthy circles, like the one she came from, things were much more sinister than people actually thought they were. They traded sons and daughters in marriage to keep the circle close-knit and the wealth where they wanted it.

Contracts came disguised as engagement rings, and loyalty was measured in bank accounts and bloodlines, not affection.

Her bedroom was overly large and exquisitely decorated. She had a walk-in dressing room and an attached bathroom, not that she would have minded not having them. Money was something used as a weapon; it didn’t often bring comfort, and Merit hated it.

Her new stepbrother, Jackson Cathwell, had his room across the hall from hers. She’d already seen the way he looked at her, as something new to play with. If only he knew she wasn’t the toying kind, but he’d learn sooner or later. His gaze lingered too long, drifting instead of landing, and it made her skin crawl in a way no locked door ever truly fixed.

She’d driven to school in her brand-new Mercedes-Benz CLE convertible. The white car didn’t stand out in the parking lot among the other flashy cars of wealthy kids attending the school. Much like the town, the school had its elite wealthy clique, then there were the rest of their peers. Even that little clique had its own divisions of super wealthy, wealthy, and well-off.

Rows of polished paint and tinted windows glittered beneath the late summer sun, luxury lined up like trophies on display. Everyone was looking down on someone. Merit hated the school immediately; she only had to suck it up for one year, though. People gawked at her, but she held her head high and hoisted her book bag over her shoulder.

A familiar pressure settled between her shoulder blades—the silent expectation to perform perfection, to belong without ever needing anyone.

“Are you Merit Rossini Cathwell?”

Merit blinked and looked at the girl standing in front of her. “Minus the Cathwell. I’m not related to that douche bag.”

The girl laughed, and Merit could see genuine amusement in her eyes. “Don’t let Lord Cathwell hear you say that, but yeah, he is a douche. I’m Aspen Michaels, and your official tour guide. Welcome to Esperton. I’d say be careful, but I think you’ll do just fine.”

Aspen Michaels had wavy, dark brown hair, which fell down to the middle of her back. It was the kind of flowy, perfectly styled hair Merit had always dreamed of having. Instead, she’d inherited her great-grandmother’s strawberry-blond hair that she either had to curl or straighten to make it somewhat presentable. There was no in-between with her hair, but the fact that it was thick and glossy was overlooked by her.

“So, Aspen, to which elite clique do you belong?”

Aspen blinked her eyes in surprise, then she grinned. “The top of the food chain. Not even your wannabe stepbrother can reach that altitude.”

Merit decided she liked Aspen. For a rich girl, she was a breath of fresh air. “I think we’re going to get along great.”

They were nearly at the large front doors leading inside the school when the roar of engines had both of them turning around. The sleek steely silver car sped through the rows of parked vehicles, with a Jaguar F-Pace speeding down the other lane, looking like they were racing each other.

The two vehicles, one brand new and the other, definitely vintage American muscle, turned, missing each other by mere inches, and finally pulled into their respective parking spots. It seemed like the whole school was staring at them.

Excited murmurs rippled outward like shockwaves, reverence and curiosity tangled together in the collective inhale of an audience that already knew a spectacle when it saw one.

The door of the silver car opened, and Merit’s breath hitched in her throat. The boy, who looked nothing like a boy, dragged a hand through his dark hair. He was tall, the T-shirt spanning tightly across his shoulders and chest. He pulled a scuffed leather jacket on and grabbed a backpack from his car. He looked effortlessly like trouble.

Something sharp flickered in his posture, a restless edge that didn’t belong in a place so carefully groomed and well behaved.

The one in the Jaguar crossed the lot, equally tall, dressed in designer jeans and a baseball jacket. The two boys met halfway, bumped their fists together, and kept walking. Merit couldn’t tear her eyes away from the one she knew would ruin a girl’s reputation, given half the chance.

“That’s Axl Reynolds,” Aspen said, and Merit turned to look at her. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone, but thankfully, everyone else was staring as well. Aspen chuckled as the two boys headed toward them. “Come on, let me take you to your locker before the bell rings. We have similar schedules, so I can show you to your classes as well.”

“Thanks,” Merit said.

Axl Reynolds walked past her, and for a moment, it felt like he was looking directly at her, but he only nodded his head at Aspen. He was taller than she’d initially thought, broader, too. His knuckles were bruised, a faint yellowish tint on his cheekbone, but man, what was in Esperton’s water? He was hot, bad boy personified, scuffed boots and all.

The moment he walked past her, it felt like she could breathe again. She followed Aspen through the school halls to the seniors’ lockers and studied her schedule. She got her books out for first period and entered the class just as the bell rang.

The only open seat was in the back, right next to the brooding, scowling Axl Reynolds.

“Hey,” she whispered, as she sat down.

Axl didn’t even acknowledge her, hadn’t even turned his head to look at her. She was used to being noticed, and the fact that he couldn’t even be bothered to greet her stung.