Savage Little Lies: A Dark High School Bully Romance (Court Legacy Book 2)

Sloane

“So, I take it Bow’s unaware we’re working on a project together?”

Ares’s head lifted after what I said, a pencil in his teeth. He’d been working out our objective tonight, i.e., where to start on getting something down on our huge canvases. We had a lot of work ahead of us, and we both needed to be smart about it.

His pencil fell from his teeth with his frown, and I shrugged.

“Bow?” I questioned, hiking back against the white muscle car. “She didn’t look like you’d told her we’d be doing this.”

Not that I cared really. Like he’d said, all that wasn’t my business, but the girl had definitely looked like a deer in headlights today.

Ares pushed the pencil behind his ear, his paint-splattered bibs secured at his hips. I’d purposely worn jeans and a T-shirt to differentiate. We may be working together, but I wasn’t working for him. Last time I’d shown up in bibs like him, I’d ended up looking like his employee, and I wasn’t having that shit.

It seemed he’d noticed our similar choice in dress the other day, or at least, was mixing things up. In any sense, we’d both managed to avoid wearing the same fucking thing.

Ares hooked thumbs in his pockets. “How about you just focus on the work,” he said, then directed me on the other side of the car. “You start there. Take what I sketched out and replicate it.”

I saluted him, which made him scoff. I swear, by the end of this, we’d probably both kill each other. I didn’t know what had compelled him to ask me to do this shit with him, or what had compelled me to say yes.

I think I knew when I pulled out my phone, a distraction from everything going on back home.

I checked my phone for texts. I’d told Bru before I left again today I’d be around for him. I had my phone on in case he needed me. He probably wouldn’t. He never did, and his response this morning had been the same as when I’d told him about the project.

He’d verbally pushed me out the door, then promptly told me to not make any noise on my way out. He spent most of his days sleeping, and though I often asked if he was feeling any worse, he stressed he was fine.

He was almost stubborn about it.

The thing about my brother was, he had a lot of pride. He did just like me. The pair of us were so used to just looking out for ourselves and each other, when we actually needed help, we refused to seek it.

For all I knew, my brother really could be dying, but he’d never tell me. This made me even more vigilant about checking in despite his doctor telling me (telling the both of us) Bru just had to sweat this shit out. We were informed to tell Dr. Richardson if Bru got any worse, and since he hadn’t, we didn’t call.

Despite my brother’s ailments, he was still acting like himself, so that was good. Definitely didn’t stop me from checking my phone every few minutes, and the first person to call attention to that was Ares. He was quick to tap the rubber end of his pencil on the car, getting my attention.

“That going to be a problem?” He directed a finger toward me, my phone. “Because if it is, you should probably leave it somewhere it’s not.”

So, yeah. Me and this phone? Wasn’t negotiable. Not with my brother being sick. I palmed it. “The phone’s not a problem.”

“Good.”

“As long as it’s not a problem for you that I’m on it.” And might as well let him know that right now. “I told you my brother is sick. He needs me around.”

“Your seventeen-year-old brother who can take care of himself,” he volleyed. He placed his hands on the trunk. “Anyway, isn’t your guardian supposed to do that shit? He is taking care of you, right?”

I really didn’t know what his problem was or why he just couldn’t help but be, well, himself. I realized he didn’t have any siblings. At least, not any that I’d heard about.

I also knew he hated me, but he could stand to have a little sympathy. I shook my head. “No. Because my brother and I take care of ourselves.”

“Right.” He smirked. “You guys are all about taking care of yourselves in that big-ass house you live in. Your brother’s fancy ride and that sweet tuition you both got.”

I blanched. “Yeah, well. I’m sorry that my dad dying and someone helping us after the fact bothers you.” Because that was exactly what had happened. My brother and I were orphans, and he knew that because Dorian knew that. The dark prince had admitted himself he’d looked into us, into me. And whatever Dorian knew, his friends definitely did.

I watched the words play on Ares’s face, the tall boy saying nothing.

I smirked now. “Well, I don’t expect sympathy from you. Someone who obviously has it all and always has.” I waved a hand to his garage. The thing alone was as big as some of the places I’d grown up in over the years. “My brother and I have always been number one and number two. And though we had my dad, he had problems, so it was always basically just number one and two. My brother and I had to work just so we could fucking eat.”

At one point, I’d had like three fucking jobs, taking on the burden for Bru as well. He was the smart one, and I wanted him to do something with himself. I’d never let him work more than what we needed.

Even then, it’d been too much.

Ares’s gaze followed me, my movements. I was restlessly checking my phone, which was pointless. My brother was probably asleep because of his meds. I huffed. “So, yeah. We have Callum. But no, I don’t make him take care of me. Care of us. He may have stepped in when our dad died, but we never asked him for anything. Let alone the house, the car, and your stupid fucking school.”

And why was I telling him all this? Mentioning all the dark shit?

Mentioning my dad.

That was private, but for whatever the reason, I was talking about it with this asshole.

The asshole had eyes on me, his head cocked. He wet his lips. “How’d he step in?”

“What?”

His shoulders lifted. “Your guardian. You said he stepped in. How?”

Not that any of that was his fucking business. I cuffed my arms. “It was all my dad. Apparently, he left a will?” Ares’s eyebrow arched slowly, and I nodded. “Anyway, my brother and I didn’t know about it. It named Callum as our guardian.”

Ares cuffed his arms now, his head still angled. “Callum.” His lips pinched tight. “You’re saying your dad left you with him? Had the foresight to do such a thing when he had all these problems like you said?”

One of his problems had been paranoia, so I guessed that hadn’t really surprised me when I thought it.

Ares leaned forward. “He left a will when it didn’t sound like y’all had a whole lot.”

Surprisingly enough, it didn’t sound like he was making fun of me for once. I shrugged. “Our dad was really paranoid. Suffered from anxiety and mental illness.”

I studied that pass over Ares’s face. Again, I had no idea why I was telling him this stuff. It was just pouring out, all this a lot. Maybe it’d been a long time coming since I’d been stressed.

I scrubbed my face. “Look. I committed to you, and I’m going to be here.” He had me locked in on that in case he’d forgotten. “But I need my phone. It won’t get in the way, and this may sound stupid to you, but I need to look out for my little brother. I know he’s seventeen. I know that, but he’s sick, and he’s all I have.”

There was so much truth in that, and though that may look different from the outside, that was true. Callum had given us stuff, but it was temporary.

His lips pursing, Ares kept silent, and it was obviously pointless to try to reach the human part of him. I sat on a stool, phone in hand, and he came around the car.

“It’s not dumb,” he said, and my eyes flashed. He frowned. “I have brothers too. They’re not blood, but I do. And I have Bow.” He paused, his jaw shifting. “She’s my sister. The guys my brothers. So no, it’s not dumb.”

I knew he had them, and though I didn’t have that kind of bond, I didn’t know if it’d feel the same. Thatcher and Bow probably had a connection that he’d never had with her. There’s nothing wrong with that, but they weren’t blood.

Blood was different, I think.

Of course, I didn’t know the alternative, so I couldn’t say, and in his silence this time, Ares tapped the car.

“We can’t start like this,” he grunted, grabbing a hoodie off the car. He slid it on over his head. “Let’s go on a field trip. The energy is all fucked in here, and we can’t start that way.”

I agreed about the energy being fucked, but what kind of field trip?

What that apparently was had him heading to his car. He opened the door. “Come on. I got a place where we can get out of these negative vibes. I don’t work well in my head.”

Had what I said managed to affect him in some way and, I don’t know, actually give me some fucking sympathy?

Maybe not, but he was right about one thing. I didn’t work well in my head either.

I got up. “Where we going?”

Of course, he didn’t say, looming by his big-ass ride. Smirking, I got my own hoodie. I zipped it over my clothes, and even though it was against my better judgment, I did get in his Hummer. The thing was honestly built for combat, not a teenage boy.

It did fit him, though, both obnoxious and large. Ares definitely liked to have a big presence.

“Get ready to put some work in,” he said, revving the thing up. Sometime between getting in the car and turning it on, he’d lit a joint. The thing currently smoked from the side of his lips. He grinned around it. “But by the end of it, we’ll actually be able to get some stuff done here.”

*

Ares’s field trip was only a partial ride. The rest was a fucking trek through the sewage systems of Maywood Heights, and he had us huffing it the whole way. My only saving grace was there was no actual sewage going through the pipes, and Ares did stress the city used these for rainwater to prevent flooding.

Still, I was ankle deep in shit and muck. He’d driven us to the outskirts of town, and only the arrogance of the abundant and privileged would allow someone to leave their expensive-ass Hummer out and about for anyone to take. We literally left it behind to take the pipes, and Ares not only did it, but acted like he’d done it many times before. His next move was to throw me a bag from the back of his trunk, and it was heavier than shit. He strapped one about twice the size on his own back and had the nerve to sprint after that. He left me behind for a good solid length before realizing. He stopped every few feet for me to catch up and didn’t hesitate to flash that smug fucking grin of his.

“We really got to get your cardio up, little,” he said, jogging backward. We’d made it out of the pipes at this point, walking a concrete channel that water from the pipes spilled off into. He smirked. “It’s a good thing you’re not running for your life.”

Yeah, good thing, and fuck me for taking a hit of his joint when he’d offered it. I hadn’t smoked in a while, and the buzz definitely wasn’t helping my situation.

It only seemed to push more power into Ares’s football legs, but I had enough energy to realize that I’d been insulted again.

“We said no insults,” I said, trying not to gasp for breath, but then gave the hell up. I didn’t run at all. I grimaced. “I’m not little.”

The frown was only partial on Ares’s lips. Stopping his jog, he sprinted up to me. He leveled a hand high above me. “You’re little to me.”

Okay, so we both knew that wasn’t what he meant by the word. “You’re calling me little as in beneath you,” I growled, which made him chuckle.

“Or maybe it just means you’re little,” he chortled. He raised a hand. “Give me a break. Everyone is smaller to me.”

And I was sure that was exactly what he felt about most people, him and his friends.

He laughed. “I’m sorry, but it’s a hard habit to break. I literally associate you with the word. I don’t think of you any other way.”

Nice.

His head cocked. “I’m just saying that’s your name. That is what I associate with you.” He’d tugged his hair down in the car, his hand scrubbing into his curls. “Just give me that one, and if you want, you can call me something else too.”

I opened my lips.

He frowned. “And no. It ain’t going to be bitch.”

Well, that certainly limited things. I chuckled, which only made his frown deepen.

He waved a hand. “Come on. You think about it as we walk.”

He let me walk this time, which was good, and for once, he held back the length of his strides. I knew because he kept pace with me more often than not. I almost made a joke about him being an actual decent person for once, but he took us into another pipe. This one was bigger than the rest, and neither of us had to duck.

On the other side was a hill, scenic, which jarred me for a second. We’d been surrounded by concrete only a breath ago.

“Watch your step,” Ares called, ahead on the hill. “One false step, you’re rolling down this thing.”

Yeah, I got that.

But the view was definitely something.

The hills rolled ahead of us, a sea of green that led into the city. Smokestacks from local factories puffed into the setting sun, but there weren’t a ton, which made them less of an eyesore.

“You good?” Ares had turned back at this point, his hand on the hill. Even he needed it to keep from sliding.

I was good, so I followed, but his bag on my back wasn’t helping. Ares navigated the trek like Spider-Man. We were angled, but you wouldn’t have known it with the way he navigated the hill. His bag clearly wasn’t bothering him.

“It’s just up here,” he said, and when I saw it, well, I saw it. A fresh wall of concrete from the channel was on the other side.

And it was tagged.

Graffiti completely painted the wall, the colors rich and buttery. Ares stood beneath the wide work, and when I got to him, I did too.

It was all seriously sweet, some of it abstract and some of it not. There were portraits too, childlike faces. Someone had done a lot of work here. Well, some people. It seemed like a lot for just one person.

Taking off his bag, Ares revealed the contents. Aerosol cans lined the interior. He took one out and proceeded to head to the wall.

I cut in front of him. “What the fuck are you doing?” I knew he was a rich kid, but I refused to think he was this dense. “You can’t just fucking tag a wall.”

His brow hiked. “Uh, yeah. I can.”

“Nah.” He may be stupid, but I wasn’t going to let him get killed for his stupidity. “You can’t just tag walls.” I raised a hand. “Someone’s already been here.” And depending on who that was could get his ass shot. He didn’t grow up where I grew up. There were territories, gangs. “You could piss someone off.”

He chuckled. “Well, I don’t think my dad or me will mind.” He lowered his arm. “This is our wall. We did this.”

He stood back, letting me see.

“You did this?” I directed a finger. “You and your dad tagged a wall.”

Ares’s eyes lifted, and he proceeded to head to the wall again. He shook up his can, then blended into the art.

The transition was seamless.

He knew this wall obviously, and he was showing me.

“When Dad first took me here, I thought he’d lost his fucking mind.” He directed a look at me. “You saw that fucking trek.”

I did, huffing it the whole way.

I approached him, watching behind. I’d never seen him work right in front of me, and the kid was talented. Like epically. I was good, but he was great.

I really didn’t know how I felt about that. The competitor in me was annoyed, which was silly. I was sure he’d worked with the greats.

“I was in middle school then. Things were kind of rough.” He spoke casually while he sprayed, his back to me. “Dad took me out here to deal with my attitude.”

I recalled him saying his dad was a kind man. If he was, something told me his childhood couldn’t have been that bad. I supposed I didn’t know his mom, though. I mean if she was still around.

I propped hands on my hips. “You got issues with your mom or something.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, turning. He laughed. “I was just a little shit.”

I rolled my eyes.

He tossed me his can. “Come on. It helps. Dad called it illegal art therapy.”

Shaking the can, I took him up on his dare. I got that color going before Ares directed me to take off my bag. He had more cans in there, and I used them.

I painted one of my galaxies, and funny enough, I’d never tagged a wall before. I guessed I hadn’t wanted to deal with the territory shit.

Ares stood behind me for a while, nodding at my work before joining in himself with another spray can. He let loose on the wall, the pair of us doing our thing.

We didn’t talk while we worked, nothing but the sound of our spray paint in the air, and he was right. It was definitely therapeutic.

“What does your mom think about all of this, then?” I asked him, wondering about her. If she wasn’t terrible, why was he such a little shit? I mean, his life seemed pretty fucking good, privileged.

He smiled. “Dad said it was our little secret. My mom would hate this shit. She’s in politics.”

“Is she cool?”

His painting slowed a little but didn’t stop. He was adding to something he’d already started, geometric work. This didn’t surprise me since he said he was into that too.

“She’s the best woman I know. Strong.” He looked at me. “I wish I deserved her. I guess she and my dad got stuck with my attitude. Stuck with me.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw, his eyes narrowed. Shaking his can, he proceeded in his therapy, and maybe it did work.

He was telling me things about him too, things about his family and his respect for them. He seemed not to have a lot of that for anyone outside of his friends.

Family, bonds, obviously meant a lot to him, and that reminded me so much of someone.

“Where are your parents now?” I asked, painting too. I needed another distraction. I swallowed. “Just wondering. I mean, you have parties and stuff. Didn’t know if they were workaholics or something.”

That would explain a lot of his aggression, his attitude. I also hadn’t seen his parents at the house, but I hadn’t gone inside recently.

“They work, but they’re not workaholics. They’re actually out of town now.”

“Where?”

He didn’t answer for a second, and honestly, I just kind of asked the question off the cuff. We’d been talking, vibing. I faced him, and he’d stopped painting.

“They’re visiting D and his family,” he said, my eyes flashing. He sprayed a line. “And I got another rule.”

He didn’t give me a chance to ask, lowering his can.

Tension narrowed his eyes. “Personal shit isn’t needed with what we’re doing. In fact, it’s completely unnecessary to do what we have to do.” He fingered his hair. “So let’s not get into it. And that goes double for anything that has to do with D.”

I heard the words, the rule, but a request lingered there in his tone and the way he looked at me. It was like he was asking me for this new rule, and it was one that didn’t bother me. I didn’t want to tell him about my own shit.

I just had.

I told him more things than I ever thought I would about my brother and my worries about him and who we were before Maywood Heights. He hadn’t even pulled my arm.

“I can be about that, Wolf,” I said, putting out a hand. “I can call you Wolf, right?”

That was something that only his football friends called him, and something that should trigger him.

But I had given him an inch. I couldn’t stand the name little.

His grin started slow.

“It’s on loan,” he said, putting his hand in mine. “While we’re working together.”

He shook once, then let go. He proceeded in his art therapy, and I did with mine. It must have worked in the end.

I didn’t check my phone once.