One Eighty (Westover Prep Book 1) Read online

  Table of Contents

  One-Eighty

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Synopsis

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Social Media Links

  OTHER BOOKS FROM MARIE JAMES

  One-Eighty

  Westover Prep

  Book 1

  Marie James

  Copyright

  One-Eighty: A Westover Prep Novel

  Copyright © 2019 Marie James

  Editing by Marie James’s Betas

  EBooks are not transferable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Huge shout out this time around to the #1 man in my life! My dear, sweet husband, you are amazing! Thank you for making my dreams come true and supporting me relentlessly from day one. This wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t for your support!

  My amazing BETAs, you ladies are the absolute best! Laura, MaRanda, Brenda, Jamie, Michelle, and Jo, thank you so much for the help on this book! Mary, you amaze me each and every time we work together! Thank you for your help and for all of your support throughout this process!

  Laura Watson! Thank you! You keep my head on right. I couldn’t do this without you!

  Wildfire, you are an amazing group of ladies, and I’m so blessed with the opportunity to work with you gals! Christine and Jennifer, you gals are amazing, and couldn’t be more grateful for you two to be in my corner!

  Another shout out to RRR Promotions and Natasha for helping get this book out into the world. As always, you nailed it!

  Readers, I can’t even begin to tell you what you mean to me. Without you, I’d have no reason to write these books. Thanks for your continued support!

  Until next time!

  ~Marie James

  Synopsis

  He loves what he can't remember — she can't forget the truth...

  PIPER

  Arrogant, controlling, and an absolute jerk.

  He's everything I loathe, and everything I want to forget.

  But he doesn't remember a bit of it.

  One accident, one misstep, changed everything.

  Changed him.

  Now, he's different and unbelievably sexy.

  But I refuse to fall for a bully.

  DALTON

  Sexy, smart, feisty, and perfect.

  She's everything I want, and nothing that I remember.

  What she says I am, I refuse to believe.

  For her, I will be anything.

  I will do anything.

  Even destroy the bully from before.

  Epigraph

  “Tell me every terrible thing you did, and let me love you anyway.” ~Sade Andria Zabala

  Prologue

  Dalton

  They tell me I used to love the color black.

  There are many things from my past that I hate.

  Myself and the dark color surrounding me are the two things leading the pack right now.

  People whimper and cry beside me, and I’m just numb, so broken that my pieces can’t combine enough to form wetness in my own eyes.

  I deserve this.

  I deserve watching the love of my life with her ashen face and hands crossed on her stomach in constant repose as the preacher talks about her devotion to life and helping others.

  I deserve the looks from her mother and father that speak of the million ungodly things they wish would happen to me.

  I deserve the blame my own parents planted at my feet for my involvement in the steps that led up to today.

  I deserve it all.

  The torture.

  The accident.

  The getting my heart ripped from my chest because of an undiagnosed brain bleed that snuffed out the life of the most beautiful girl in the world.

  She was fine when I left the hospital that day. Even her mother assured me she would be okay.

  She didn’t deserve this.

  She didn’t deserve the monster that tormented her daily.

  She didn’t deserve to suffer at the hands of an idiotic boy and the army of bastards willing to hurt her at his command.

  She deserved the world, and yet she gets a wooden box and six feet of dirt, all the while I’m left on earth without her.

  I can’t do that.

  That can’t happen.

  Our story doesn’t end this way.

  It should be me in that casket. Me leaving this world behind so she can shine in the bright light of the sun and live her life to all its glory.

  It should be me.

  It should be me.

  It should be me.

  My hand trembles as I reach into the inside pocket of my sports coat.

  I’m not scared or afraid of what comes next.

  It’s the anticipation, the thrill of joining her that makes my blood sing, the unused energy making my fingers twitch.

  July sun glints off the barrel as I hold my salvation to my head and pull the trigger.

  Chapter 1

  Dalton

  “Why don’t you explain the text you just sent?” I do my best to keep a rational tone, but the topic of discussion always leads to a heightened sense of awareness, one I usually manage to keep others from seeing.

  “I figured it was self-explanatory,” Kyle argues on the other end of the line.

  He’d just sent a text that reads: You won’t believe what one of the guys has planned for Mary tonight.

  Remaining silent, I wait him out. I have nothing but time; hence, the reason I’m standing in my driveway washing an already clean car. Well, spraying the wheels specifically. I’ve already taken the T-tops off my ’71 Stingray Corvette in preparation for the wild night I plan to have in celebration of the school year ending yesterday. I’m finally a senior, and ruling Westover Prep has always been my legacy, but now it’s official.

  “Vaughn has been toying with Mary for weeks.”

  “The sophomore?”

  “He’s a junior now,” Kyle co
rrects. “He’s convinced her to come to the party tonight at my place. She’s certain he’s all but in love with her. When she arrives, he’s going to text her to come upstairs, only to find him messing around with someone else.”

  His chuckle makes me cringe, which is a confusing reaction to what he’s just told me. The junior varsity baseball players all have to do something outlandish for initiation in order to become part of the varsity team, but I can’t remember when taunting Mary became a group endeavor.

  It was always my thing, until it wasn’t. These days, I don’t have to do a thing to make her life miserable. I have a half dozen or more friends vying for my attention that torment her for me. I mean, it doesn’t stop me from having a little fun at her expense, but I could take a few days off, and she wouldn’t start to think I was suddenly a nice guy.

  “I bet she cries just like that time we knocked over the corn display at the grocery store and blamed her. I swear her face was as red as a tomato. Elijah’s dad was pissed at her. Remember her blubbering trying to explain what happened?”

  Grinning at the memory of that day, I continue to spray the already-shining chrome of my wheels. Tormenting the girl next door has been a regular part of my day since the very first day of kindergarten. I was willing to be her friend back then. She was the prettiest girl in pigtails after all, but after choosing to play with another kid over me, it was game on. I’m not second best. Never have been, never will be. That was the day I decided to make her life a living hell. I was a heathen at five, and now I’m unstoppable. I’ve reminded her of that every single day since.

  Sounds petty, doesn’t it? Well, petty and repetitive is what you get in small town Westover, Colorado. We literally have nothing better to do, and even repeated pranks are funny when you’re bored.

  Hearing footfalls, I turn just in time to see Piper “aka Bloody Mary” Schofield walking up my driveway. The nickname “Bloody Mary” came from an unfortunate incident in sixth grade. The fact that her first menstrual cycle started at school when she was completely unprepared has given our class more than enough ammunition. I wouldn’t be surprised if several kids in class don’t even know her real first name. More than once, I’ve even overheard teachers mistakenly call her Mary before correcting themselves. Those are the best days. The ones where she’s reminded just how much power I have in our small town.

  The Mary walking up my drive right now looks nothing like the timid and standoffish Mary that was at school yesterday, or any other day since I met her, for that matter. Gone are the frizzy layers normally crowding her face. In their place are smooth, luxurious curls, either highlighted by the nearly setting sun or professionally colored. The soft, golden curls bounce almost hypnotically as she moves, and irritatingly, my fingers itch to touch them.

  She’s always been pretty, even though I’d never admit that out loud to anyone, but this evening she’s a knockout. Her smoky eyes barely even look my way as she walks past me as if I don’t exist.

  My jaw drops as she saunters by me with more arrogance and assuredness than she’s ever displayed before. She’d never act so haughtily in the presence of others, but her brazen demeanor right now irritates me even though there is no one here but me to witness it.

  Normally, she’d cower away, make plans to come over when she knows without a doubt that I’m gone. We live right next door to each other, easily able to see the other’s driveway from our living room windows, so it’s not like she can be surprised I’m standing here. She wants to be seen. The realization strikes a chord with me.

  “Speak of the devil,” I mutter.

  “What’s that?” Kyle asks in my ear, and I frown at the fact that she’s somehow managed to make me forget I was on the phone.

  “Nothing. See you tonight.” I hang up as I watch her ascend the front steps of my house.

  Although her hair and makeup are done, she’s dressed as she usually is at school in khaki shorts and a loose t-shirt, her clothes hiding her tiny frame. I’m surprised she came over, knowing she would have to walk past me to go see my younger sister, Peyton. They aren’t friends exactly. Mary isn’t really friends with anyone but one other girl in our class, something I’ve made sure of over the years, but I overheard my mom talking to my sister last week that her failed state math test will keep her from going to high school in the fall, and she needed Mary to help her study for the retake in a little over a month.

  One problem with tormenting the girl next door is struggling not to get caught. Not only do we live in a small town, but our parents are good friends. The balancing act has been part of the fun these last couple of years, and knowing that Mary can never get away from me completely is just another method of torture I like to remind her of.

  As I’d guessed, my sister comes out on the porch after Mary knocks on the door.

  Graduation is tonight, and Kyle’s house has been volunteered to host the after-party. He lives just outside of town, so there’s a decreased chance of the police crashing. His place is always the best place to get loud at. Besides, his parents are always gone, so the lack of supervision makes for the optimal party place.

  Without a care, I watch my nemesis show my sister something on her phone. Both girls smile, and the radiant sparkle in Mary’s eyes rubs me the wrong way. She’s not supposed to be happy. She’s not supposed to be brave enough to walk past me without flinching or worrying about what I’ll do to her. She’s supposed to cringe in fear at just the mention of my name and skulk into the shadows terrified of my next insult.

  I’m agitated even further with the way my cock seems interested in the way her hair swishes back and forth across her back as she shakes her head in response to something my sister has said.

  I’m not supposed to want her.

  I’m supposed to ruin her.

  Instinctively, my lips lift in a sneer as she turns back in my direction, but I falter for a split second as she glances my way. Her bright blue eyes still carry the sparkle that showed when she was speaking with Peyton until they lock with mine. Darkness clouds the vibrant blue, and it’s enough to snap me out of whatever trance she’d placed me in.

  Without another thought, I turn the hose from the wheels of my car and direct the flow straight at Mary. Her once lush curls drown and flatten in the water flow. Shock fills every feature of her face as the dark makeup around her eyes begins to melt down her face. Disappointment washes over me when a dark tank top is made visible under her now soaked t-shirt, rather than a bra or her bare tits.

  Her eyes slow-blink as she stares at me in surprise, as if there’s no way I’ve just done this. Her hands are open at her sides as if they too can’t believe what just happened.

  “You seemed a little dressed up for youth reading at the library,” I say with as much seriousness as I can manage. “I guess your plans for the night have changed.”

  Shrugging, I turn the hose back toward my car. I don’t know how long she stands there staring at my back, but I can’t let her go to the party as the sexiest girl in our senior class. If I notice how hot she is, that means others will too, and I need Mary to stay in the gutter right where I put her years ago. Teenage boys are controlled by their dicks, and no matter how much the guys don’t like her on my account, that would change very quickly if they’d seen what I just did.

  Chapter 2

  Piper

  “What a waste,” I mumble as I aim the blow-dryer at my ruined hair. “Two hundred dollars down the drain.”

  Fresh tears burn the back of my eyes, and although I’m trying my best not to cry, I know I’m going to fail. I always fail. Even after years of Dalton Payne meeting the expectation of being the biggest jerk ever born, he still has the ability to make me cry. I’ve gotten better at hiding it from him and his blockheaded friends, but all bets are off when I get home.

  I made it into the house and upstairs unnoticed, a feat I don’t always manage, after he, unprovoked, sprayed me with the water hose. I’d let my guard down. After getting a very expensive bala
yage, nutrient wash, and had my hair curled to perfection, I had my makeup professionally done at the mall in Colorado Springs. It took less than ten seconds for him to destroy it. Stupid me imagined that he’d see how the smoky eye makeup made my blue eyes pop, and he’d finally see me. I would no longer be Bloody Mary, but a pretty girl who deserved to be treated better than he’s ever managed in his entire life.

  As predicted, I lose my battle against my tears, but I watch in the mirror as they roll down my red cheeks. I don’t want to ever forget how he’s treated me. One more year of torture is all I have to suffer before I can leave this godforsaken town and be rid of all of this. My fingers itch to grab the only thing that has brought me comfort over the last two years, but my bedroom door opens before I can find my reprieve.

  “Let me get dressed,” I tell my friend Frankie before closing the bathroom door.

  I tell her almost everything about myself, but some things I can never speak out loud. I trust her more than anyone else walking this earth, but trust is a funny thing, and I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone completely.

  My inner thighs tingle with need as I cover my dark secrets with a pair of blue jeans before pulling on a loose shirt. I don’t bother to look in the direction of the dress I had picked out for this evening. My now frizzy hair and makeup-less face wouldn’t work with the formfitting satin I’d previously planned on wearing.

  Frustrated, I swing open my en-suite door and look at my best friend. She’s staring out the window, and I already know exactly what she’s seeing.

  “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not going to the party tonight.”

  “You have to go. We’ve been planning to attend for weeks,” Frankie argues as she turns her head slightly in my direction but not enough to lose sight of what’s below.

  “What are you doing?” I ask as if I don’t already know the answer.