Chapter 1 | Fallon
There’s nothing quite like the sounds of your boyfriend fucking someone else.
Not that I’d ever let him fuck me—not after the promise I made my father.
Still, it’s true.
The shrieks of, “Harder! Harder!” are a disgusting assault the second I open the door to his place. It’s not like I thought this would last, but I figured he’d at least have the balls to end things with me before sticking his dick in someone else.
I should’ve known better.
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
I take my time walking deeper into his dorm room, not that the place is all that big. Emerald Hills Prep might be for the rich kids, but it’s still a high school. I let my fingers trail along the marble counter, knocking a picture of Misha with his computer club buddies onto the floor and stepping over the broken glass.
Even the sound of it shattering doesn’t stop the cries from the bedroom, so I doubt he heard. This chick deserves an Oscar for her over-the-top performance, whoever she is.
That little bit of chaos, leaving broken glass in my wake, is enough to tip my lips up into a hint of a smile.
I’m sort of detached, you know? Like when you know you’re about to see something horrible, but you can’t turn back so you go to that place in your mind where you’re watching from above. Where you’re not directly impacted by the emotions of the scene.
Or maybe I just don’t care that much.
My heart’s not even racing. I don’t have tears tracking down my cheeks. I’m not about to go in there and ask him what I did wrong. Fuck that noise. Misha knew the score when we got together. There would be no sex, not ever.
Not unless it was him my dad agreed to marry me off to and considering his father is only a defense attorney, it’s unlikely. Sure, he could be useful, but not chain-my-daughter-to-your-son-for-life useful. My dad would definitely hold out for a better arrangement. I’m not willingly signing away my freedom for some shitty attorney we could afford to hire for centuries at his hourly rate and still have millions left over.
I stand outside the door and let my palm skim along the hand-carved solid oak before taking a deep breath and pushing the door open. Even though I don’t give a shit about Misha, it’s not exactly fun to watch your boyfriend plowing into your arch nemesis.
Well, one of them.
My nose wrinkles as I watch Eden Matthews’ fake tits bouncing around while Misha fucks her from behind. Neither of them notices me right away, so I lean against the doorframe and watch the show. I pull out my phone and take a video to use against them at some point because I’m not about to let these idiots get one over on me. I don’t know what I’ll do with it yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something.
It’s Misha’s own fault. He left the door unlocked like he wanted me to walk in on this. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was too much of a pussy to end things with me, so he thought he’d let this do the job for him.
It’s one of the reasons I agreed to go out with him when he asked. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d push me for things I’d never be able to give him, and I wanted a little bit of fun and to blow off some steam for a while, so we came to an agreement. He’s been my boyfriend for three months, and while he’s a surprisingly good kisser, he’s still a teenage boy.
Ugh. See? This is why the only guy I’ve ever truly wanted stands out. He’s mature, not the kind of man who’d be afraid to tell you exactly what he wants. High school boys are so not my type.
As always when I think about Cole, a shiver runs down my spine. God, watching these two fucking is like waiting for paint to dry. It’s so… boring. Maybe it’s the way Mischa’s face has turned red, and his eyes are clenched shut, or how it seems like Eden wishes she had her phone in her hand so she could be scrolling her socials.
Either way, I’ve seen enough.
With that in mind, I put my phone away and start up a slow clap. As I suspected, when Misha’s pretty blue eyes meet mine, there’s not even a hint of shock or surprise at being caught. No remorse. There is a spark of relief in there that tempts me to kick him in the balls, but right now I’m not going anywhere near those disgusting things.
“Fallon—” he starts just as Eden’s attention turns to me. A wicked smile slowly curves her over-inflated lips up. It’s satisfied and smug and I roll my eyes.
That grin of hers falters at my obvious lack of jealousy or heartbreak.
I notice Misha doesn’t bother pulling his dick out of her while he’s talking to me, which I’m glad for. I don’t want to see that.
I hold up my hand. “Save it. Now that you’ve no doubt picked up a full scope of venereal diseases, I’m not interested.” That wipes the satisfaction off Eden’s face as she glares at me.
“I think it’s obvious we’re over, Misha. If only you had the balls to tell me yourself, I could’ve been spared this disturbing display. As it is, I thought you had more self-respect than to climb in bed with the class whore, but here we are.” I turn, tossing my hair over my shoulder in my best hair flip to date, and start to walk away, and then call out over my shoulder, “I hope you realize you’ve got the entire senior class’s sloppy seconds!”
To be fair, Eden’s probably fucked most of the juniors, too.
If they expected me to throw a tantrum, cry, beg, or whatever, I hope I leave them disappointed. Truly, the only thing I care about is the hit to the hard-won respect I’ve carved out for myself at school. This is a direct strike against my reputation, and I can’t let it stand.
But I don’t react in anger.
It’s never gotten me anywhere before, and it won’t now. I’ll need to plan my revenge carefully for maximum pain and humiliation.
I am my father’s daughter after all.
But all that can wait for later. As I get in my car and turn toward home, anticipation creeps into my blood and buzzes through my veins. It’s not about the surprise birthday party that awaits me at home, the one I’m not supposed to know about.
It’s not about meeting my future husband for the first time tonight, the one my father’s picked for me.
It’s not about the lavish gifts my father’s no doubt got waiting.
That hopefulness that makes my head spin like I’m drunk has everything to do with the one man I can’t have, the one I’ve been desperate for since before I turned sixteen. The one who only sees me as his best friend’s little girl.
The one I crave so badly, I fear no one will ever measure up.
As I drive through the custom iron gates and make my way down the long driveway to my childhood home, I park behind his car, trapping him here, and a giddy thrill shoots all the way down to my toes.
He’s here, and maybe this year I’ll get my wish when I blow out the candles, because all I want for my birthday is Cole Callahan.
My dad’s best friend.
Thank you for reading my story! I hope you're enjoying it so far :)
You can read the entire thing now over on my Patreon (click 'support me' in my profile or go to patreon.com/heatherashleywrites)