All the Little Secrets: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers High School Romance (English Prep Book 2) Read online

  The beating of my heart grew as I crept along my cobblestone driveway. My fingers tingled with little prickles as I shifted into park and turned my ignition off. Relax. I blew out a breath when my hands dropped into my lap, clutching my keys with so much force I’d be surprised if I didn’t have small dents on the inside of my palm. I quickly flipped down the visor and glanced at myself in the mirror. Soft, orange light splayed on my cheeks, showcasing my freckles underneath the worn-off makeup from this morning, and I gave myself a stern talk.

  “Take a deep breath, Piper.”

  My puffed cheeks grew smaller as air left my mouth with each deep breath I took. I shook my head angrily as I flipped the visor back up, snapping it into place, and opened my door. I wasn’t fooling anyone. Even the little twinkle in my eye was downcast by fear and anxiety.

  The cool night air bit at my cheeks as I stepped out of my car and glanced up at my house. Three stories of perfectly laid brick, glossy wood floors, soft, plush carpet, and expensive furniture was what awaited me every single day, but not a single ounce of love or security resided inside. I remembered the day my parents told me we were moving to a different house, in a different town, like it was yesterday. Their faces were bright with excitement and new possibilities. It was like they thought a new house and school could actually erase the past and rearrange the future. I was absolutely baffled at the thought, and to be honest, I still was. Nothing could change the past. Not even denial.

  My eyes darted to each and every window on the front of my house. All dark. Not a single light on. There were no other cars in the driveway, no movement outside at all besides the swaying trees dancing with the sudden gust of wind. Another sigh left my lips. I knew what I was walking into. But just because I’d been here before, in this exact position, didn’t mean I was mentally prepared for it. Could I ever be mentally prepared for this? Would I ever be okay with feeling like my heart was lodged in my throat as panic seized my body?

  My hair swayed with the breeze as I walked up to my front door. It was hard seeing someone destroy themselves. It was like a broken piece of glass becoming more jagged with each new memory, and that piece of glass felt like it was slicing away at my flesh each and every time I got close.

  But nonetheless, I kept coming back. I kept caring. Because that was just who I was.

  As soon as I stepped foot inside the foyer, noting the alarm had been disarmed, my heart grew weaker. My pulse was racing, and my hands were shaking even more than before. I reiterated aloud, “It’s fine, Piper.” Then, as I shut the door behind me, I called out, “Jason?” I knew he was here, and if he heard my voice instead of my parents’, he’d come out. So I waited. I flipped the light on as I walked farther into the hallway and instantly paused near the opening of the kitchen.

  My eyes widened as I spotted a line of red-dotted toilet paper trailing through the hallway from the washroom. What the hell? My heart went into triple speed as my voice grew panicky. “Jason? Where are you? Are you okay?”

  I picked up my pace and all but ran up the stairs, skipping over the tiny, random bits of torn toilet paper, all of which had blood on them. They were like little clues to a scavenger hunt. A scavenger hunt that didn’t have a gleaming treasure at the end.

  As soon as I was in front of Jason’s old bedroom, I pushed the door open. It was dark in his room, except for a small stream of light pouring from the bathroom. There was a quiet rustling of noise coming from inside, and it should have made me proceed with caution. Or it should have at least prepared me for seeing the shell of a human my older brother had become. But it didn’t. Instead, I all but ran and pushed the door open wide, taking in the sight quickly, like downing a shot of potent vodka.

  “Jesus Christ, Jason.” I quickly stepped in front of him and tilted his head back by the tips of his hair, peering down into his bloodshot eyes. One was so swollen it barely opened, and there was a trickle of dried blood coming from his mouth. His red t-shirt was ripped at the collar, and as I further investigated his body, I noticed small cuts lined his elbow all the way down to his wrist. “What the hell happened?”

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” Jason’s words were muffled, probably due to the swelling of his busted lip.

  “I don’t know. China, I think. They don’t know you’re here, even though you tripped the alarm.”

  He dropped his head but brought it back up slowly. “Wait…they changed the code?”

  Obviously.

  “Because of me?”

  I didn’t answer him because it was redundant. Of course they changed the code because of him. What did he expect after stealing hundreds of dollars’ worth of things from them last time he made an appearance? He knew he wasn’t allowed here, yet he continued to come back, trying his hardest to get around the fact that my parents had completely given up hope on him.

  I turned around and grabbed the white hand towel sitting on the vanity top and ran it under cold water. “What happened?”

  My brother shook his head, cringing. He shut his eyes, small crinkles forming on his skin. He took a heavy breath, and I held mine, waiting for his answer.

  “I fucked up.”

  Always the same response.

  I began blotting at the flakes of blood on his chin. I felt nauseated, sick to my stomach, and even though I’d been in this spot so many times over the years, the disappointment never got any easier to deal with. Seeing my brother like this was a hard pill to swallow. “Is that why you stole so much shit from Mom and Dad last time you were here?”

  He nodded, just barely—like if he didn’t admit it, then it wouldn’t be true.

  “Jason,” I exhaled, still blotting at his face. Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks, but I bit my tongue to keep myself together. “They’re done with you. You know that, right?”

  It was true. My parents were so done with my brother and his never-ending fuck-ups. They set their life-after-Jason plan into motion the second he stole from them. Their hope had vanished into thin air, leaving me the responsibility of being the only one to care.

  Jason’s eyes flashed open, the green in them so much more potent against the red, bloodshot color that surrounded them. “But you’re not. Right, sis?”

  I should have said no. I should have told him that he needed to leave. That I, too, was sick of his shit. That I couldn’t keep watching him do this. That I resented him for the last few years of my life. That I hated him for what he did to our family. But I didn’t.

  I swallowed back a lump as I wrung out the white towel in the sink, wetting it once more. “Who do you owe this time?”

  “His name is Tank.”

  My hand paused as I peered down at his tattered jeans and ripped shirt. “I don’t think I’m familiar with him,” I answered.

  My brother winced as he sat up a little taller along the vanity cabinets. “That’s a good thing, little sis.”

  A sigh left my lips as I blotted his face again. “How much do you owe?”

  The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit my cheek, waiting.

  He paused and averted his eyes away from me.

  “Answer me, Jason.”

  His chin tipped, and I could see the remorse plain as day. “Twenty thousand.”

  The cloth from my hand dropped to the floor with a whoosh. My ears felt hot; my chest squeezed a little tighter. “Wh…what?”

  His gaze shot right through me. “I owe him twenty fucking thousand, and if I don’t get it to him by tomorrow night, he’ll kill me, Pipe. He’ll fucking kill me.”

  I caught my pale reflection in the bathroom mirror and muttered, “Shit,” under my breath.

  Chapter Two

  Ollie

  Being a Powell was both a curse and a blessing. Everyone thought they knew me. They thought they knew exactly who Ollie Powell was. The younger (barely) brother of Christian Powell, the alpha of English Prep. The nicer of the Powell boys, the one who was like a ray of fucking sunlight—much the opposite of Christian, who was like get
ting a glimpse into the midnight sky. But here was the funny thing… They were all wrong. They were so fucking wrong.

  Sure, I had the light features: light hair, glimmering white, pearly smile—thank you very much, Crest whitening toothpaste—charismatic as fuck. I mean, a tip of my chin and a wink had girls falling at my feet. The women faculty of English Prep—even Ms. Boyd, the old bat of a secretary—blushed when I shot a dazzling look their way. The only person not affected by my charm or tricked by my amiable personality was Piper, but that was a whole different story.

  Regardless, people thought they knew me.

  But they didn’t.

  I had secrets.

  One secret turned into another secret, and before I knew it, it was like I was living a double life. The first was filled with long days at English Prep, followed by football practice, with nights at my best friend’s cabin, drinking warm beer and tongue-fucking girls. But the second was filled with adrenaline, exhilaration, distraction, and a group of people who knew absolutely nothing about me. Nothing but my first name and the type of car I drove.

  And that was exactly how I wanted it.

  A distraction was something I needed, something I craved. It set me free, allowing me to relish in my anger and perplexity of the situation I was in. I mean, I had to put all those heavy, suffocating feelings into something, something that was away from Christian and my friends.

  Which was what led me to this place right here.

  An old dirt road out on the outskirts of Pike Valley, surrounded by the smell of pine and gasoline. Pike Valley had four valleys: the two wealthier ones—which was where I lived—and then the two others that were filled with middle-class folk and the poor. I was currently smack-dab in the middle of the valleys, waiting for my turn to get a taste of adrenaline.

  “You ready for tonight? I’ve got money on you, bro.”

  I tipped my chin up to Brandon, one of the guys who had already raced, giving him a slight nod. He was good, but his car lacked agility. It couldn't quite shift as fast as mine, which was why I was in a different bracket than he was. There was more money on the line when it came to me, but that didn’t really matter much.

  Again, this was just something I did to get my heart pumping, to distract me from real problems—from reality. I didn’t care about the money. Cash wasn’t exactly hard to come by for me; forking out eight hundred dollars a weekend was like child’s play. My father never even asked where my money went. There was an allotment on my card, but as long as I didn’t go over it, he turned a blind eye.

  Which was a problem all in itself.

  Christian, on the other hand… If he knew I was here, doing this shit, he’d be royally fucking pissed. Which almost made it more fun.

  I leaned back onto my Charger’s leather seat as I peered out the rolled-down window to Brandon. “I’m always ready.” I winked at Brandon’s girl. She bit her plump lip and fluttered her eyelashes at me when he wasn’t looking.

  I chuckled. Girls here were thirsty. So thirsty. Every single one of them was dressed in revealing clothing, showing off their flat stomachs and perky tits, hoping that they’d get a piece of whomever won the race.

  They were all the same.

  Yawn.

  Although, they did entertain me for a short while.

  My eyes trailed a blonde girl as she walked over to the starting line. The tips of her hair were stained pink, which matched the color of her lips to a T. Once she flipped the strands over her shoulder, I knew that was my cue to get ready. My phone buzzed as I drummed my fingers along the steering wheel. I glanced down for a brief second, seeing that it was Eric asking where I was.

  I quickly typed, I’ll be out soon, got some shit to do, and I threw my phone in the backseat. Resting my back along the leather, I wiggled my fingers a few times before wrapping them around my steering wheel again. I revved the gas as I pulled up to the starting line next to a blue Charger much like mine.

  I guess we'll see if this guy is as good as me.

  “Are you boys ready?”

  My lip curled at the blonde babe standing between the two cars. Adrenaline spiked my blood, and my heart went into triple speed, pounding against my ribcage. I basked in the control I felt sitting there, waiting for the go-ahead. My foot ached to smash the gas as I brought my RPMs up, waiting. My hand held the shift stick as if it were my own fucking dick, ready to go on a wild fucking ride.

  “Get ready,” the blonde girl shouted. I trailed my eyes down her bare legs, appreciating how short her shorts were despite the cool evening air. My blood pumped faster and faster as I scanned the crowd full of reckless teens all ready to watch the spinning wheels of our cars. “Get set.” My teeth clenched together, my jaw as tight as a rubber band. “GO!”

  My foot hit the gas, and I gunned it from the get-go. Dust flew all around me, so much that it was difficult to see, but I’d been on this road many times in the last few months. I knew where I was going. I was in control. I was the one making the rules here. I shifted a few times, going around the second curve, and then, I heard nothing. I had no clue if the other Charger was close to me or if he fucking drove into a tree. Being in this car gave me a sudden rush of exhilaration that soared through my body. My heart pumped with massive amounts of adrenaline which carried me further into an abyss, and that was exactly what I needed.

  Distraction at its finest.

  I passed the finish line as a deep breath escaped my mouth, my tires squealing as I fishtailed to stop myself from going any farther. I paused, sitting with my back against my seat, my pulse still thumping underneath my skin, as I waited for the other Charger to catch up to me.

  Fucking pussy.

  I knew I’d beat him.

  He probably didn’t even know how to handle a car like that.

  My phone dinged from the backseat just as my opponent came into view. I pushed my arm out the window and held up a number one to him. Better luck next time, bud.

  A few guys with their cameras still out sent the text back to the ringleader of the races, Frankie, some washed-up guy from Wellington Prep who apparently flunked out of college, to let him know I won the race.

  A sense of pride washed over me, but it did nothing to fill the gap inside my chest that was rapidly splitting back open like a fresh cut to my skin. A few minutes of racing and the high was already gone. So much build up for it to just disappear within seconds afterward.

  But those few minutes of feeling nothing, worrying about nothing, hiding nothing, were worth it. They were so fucking worth it.

  As soon as I drove back to the starting line, I parked off to the side and climbed out of my car. My lips tipped at the electric-blue Charger, the guy inside probably feeling like a complete fucking fraud of a man for racing such a shitty race, but someone had to lose, and it wasn’t going to be me, that was for sure.

  “Good race, my man. Good fucking race!” Brandon came over and slapped me on the shoulder and brought me in for a stiff bro hug.

  “It wasn’t hard,” I bemused as I pulled myself back. His girl was still staring at me with those fuck-me eyes, and I silently said, Thanks, but no thanks. I didn’t share girls, even for a night.

  My phone dinged again as I watched Frankie splitting money for the race. I got a cut if I won, so tonight I made some money, but it would likely just go right back into next weekend’s race.

  Reaching into my backseat, I pulled out my phone as one of Frankie’s girls handed me my money. “Thanks, babe.” I winked as I brushed my finger over the inside of her wrist before swiping the dollar bills from her. She blushed as she put her other hand up to her mouth, softly biting her thumb in the process. See, too easy.

  One of Brandon’s friends piped up as I began looking at my texts. “You down for next weekend’s race, too? They might move you up a bracket. What is that, like, four weeks in a row that you’ve won?”

  I scanned my screen as he continued to go on about my racing.

  Christian: You going to Eric’s tonight?
I’m with Hayley. We’re going to watch a movie at the house before she goes back to Ann’s, then I’ll head out for a bit.

  Ann = Hayley’s ex-social-worker who she now lived with.

  I swiped that text away and looked at the next.

  Eric: Dope. Squad is here, except Christian since he is pussy-whipped by Hay.

  I snickered as I gave the guy rambling about my racing a slight nod, pretending that I was listening to him.

  The next text had me pausing for a beat.

  Hayley: Did you end up checking on Piper last night? I saw you leave Eric’s for a few shortly after she left.

  I sighed, still irritated that I just couldn’t help myself. It’d been months since she and Hayley were chased off the road by a bunch of felons who were after Hayley due to her father’s fucked-up shit, yet I still felt a deep hole carve out in the bottom of my stomach at the thought of her or Piper being on their own.

  I knew Hayley was fine. Christian was with her 99% of the time—which was precisely why he didn’t catch on to what I was up to on Saturday nights. But Piper… She had no one watching out for her.

  There was a strange and twisted part of me that felt like I needed to be her knight in shining armor. I was certain it was a Powell thing, Christian and I always needing to save someone. I was sure a psychologist would say it was because we weren’t able to save the most important woman in our lives a few years back, but I wasn’t for sure.

  I quickly texted Hayley back.

  Me: Yes, I did.

  What I failed to tell Hayley—or anyone, for that matter—was that I sat and watched Piper’s house for way longer than I should have. Once she arrived at her house, she sat in her BMW for a few moments, almost as if she were trying to gain the courage to walk inside her house, which was conflicting, considering there was no one home. From what I’d learned over the last few months of being near Piper and observing her from afar was that she was pretty much on her own the majority of the time. Her parents traveled often—as did most of our parents. That was why we at English Prep were at English Prep. Most of our parents were loaded, and that was because they worked a shit-ton, usually out of town, like my own father. But Piper was alone all the time. Hayley was her best friend, and other than her cousin, Andrew, who went to the other prep school in the area, that was it.