You Said I Was Your Favorite (A Lancaster Prep Novel)

I’m such an asshole, I disgust myself.

Yesterday in the dining hall, I became infuriated seeing my sister with Daisy. Why the hell is she invading every part of my life? My thoughts, my dreams, practically every fucking class, she’s right there. Blonde and quiet and always watching me with those big golden eyes. I tell myself I can’t stand her.

Yet I can’t stop thinking about her.

And I don’t understand why.

It felt good, being mean to her. Pushing her away. The moment she ran, Edie turned on me, giving me endless shit about what a classless human being I am.

I said nothing. Didn’t protest, didn’t argue with her description. Every word she said was true. I’m a mean piece of shit who deserves every bit of grief Cadence gives me—a direct quote from my little sister.

Fucking Cadence. She’s another problem, one I can’t shake. Constantly following me around and inserting herself where she’s not wanted, just like Daisy but worse.

So much worse.

Couldn’t sleep for shit last night, the confrontation with Daisy running on repeat in my head. How I crushed her spirit all over again with a few choice words. How good it felt for a brief moment, watching the pain flit across her face. She tortures me so it’s only fair I give her some torture back, is what I tell myself.

Petty. Shitty. Immature. That’s me.

I gave up on trying to sleep and decided to go for an early morning run instead. It’s something I find myself doing more and more lately. Helps clear my mind, leaving it blessedly blank and not thinking about anything but the pounding of my feet on the ground. The steady pace of my breaths. The amped up speed of my heart.

And when I stop, it all comes flooding back. How Cadence won’t leave me the hell alone. The way Matthews sneers at me every time I so much as glance in his direction. How his mean secretary makes me staple endless packets of bullshit every day during second period, locking me away in a stifling office the size of a cardboard box while I can hear her and Daisy laughing at their desks.

Fuck, the sound of Daisy’s laughter. It’s light and pretty and…perfect. It lightens my heart and eases my morose thoughts, even when I’m stuck in that office doing mindless work and mentally cursing Matthews for putting me through this torture.

The sweet torture of Daisy’s laughter and not being able to see her when it happens? That’s even worse.

I scrub a hand over my face, my steps faltering. I almost trip over my own feet and I come to a stop, breathing heavily as I rest my hands on my hips, quickly realizing that I’m not too far from the garden Daisy’s father keeps.

Those damn rose bushes sit in a line on the other side of the garden, the branches still heavy with blooms. I stare at them, idly wondering which color is Daisy’s favorite.

I’d go with the yellow roses, but that’s too obvious. The red ones are beautiful. Deep in color and giving me blood vibes, which means I’m demented and sick and I need to think about sunshine and sweet things, not death.

Maybe it’s the orange roses. I didn’t even know they could be that color, but there they are, waving at me on their branches when a gentle breeze sweeps through, ruffling my hair. Drying the sweat that coats my skin.

I hear the sound of hinges creaking, the slam of a door, and within seconds, there’s someone walking toward the rose bushes, a giant floppy hat covering her head, the handle of a bucket clutched in her hand.

Fucking Daisy.

Like a perv, I sneak behind a nearby hedge, peeking around it so I can spy on her. There’s no one around. The entire campus is eerily silent and I slip my phone out of my pocket to check the time.

It’s not even seven yet.

I return my gaze to Daisy, watching as she moves down the row of rose bushes, a pair of clippers in her hand as she snips off the dying buds. She never cuts off the newly-bloomed flowers and I wonder why. My mother always has the gardener bring in fresh flowers that she would arrange in vases throughout our house in the Hamptons during the summer.

Daisy leaves them to grow, though I can tell she likes them. She bends over one of the deep red ones, breathing deep and inhaling the scent, a shocked sound leaving her when she backs away with a breathless laugh.

A bee flies out of the flower, buzzing away and Daisy pushes the hat out of the way so it falls to rest against her back, holding on by a string around her neck. She tilts her face toward the sky, closing her eyes and something tugs at my heart. At the way she enjoys the early morning light bathing her face. How she’s completely alone and absorbing the beautiful morning, while I stand behind a shrub like a goddamn stalker watching her.

Turning, I walk away, disgusted with myself. With the choices I’ve made and the attitude I have. I should change. I should be better.

But I don’t want to. This is who I am.

Whether I like it or not.

“Who reads during lunch?”

JJ makes this observation in his usual sardonic tone, but no one else is paying attention to him. I guess except for me.

“What are you talking about?” I ask because I know he wants me to. Truly, I don’t give a damn.

We’re in the dining hall for lunch, sitting at our usual table, surrounded by others from our social circle, including a few girls, such as Cadence. She’s sitting on the opposite end of the table though so at least she’s not trying to catch my attention or worse, touching me. I don’t know how many times I have to blatantly ignore her or tell her to her face that I’m not interested—she doesn’t get the hint.

Her persistence is almost admirable.

“That one. Over there.” JJ inclines his head in the direction he wants me to look and I almost groan out loud when I see who he’s talking about.

Daisy sitting alone at a table, her face buried in a book. The cover is illustrated with what looks like a couple wrapped up in each other in a tight hug, and though it’s colorful and bright, that is definitely not a children’s book.

At least she’s not sitting with my sister.

“Wait a minute. That’s jail bait.” JJ laughs and I glare.

I don’t like him calling her that. Inferring that he might be interested in her sexually—he needs to take his diseased dick and keep it far, far away from Daisy.

“Oh God. He’s talking about Daisy Albright.” This comes from Cadence, who was eavesdropping on our conversation. Typical. “She’s so annoying.”

“She’s so nice,” Mya adds. She’s Cadence’s best friend and I can tolerate her a little more than Cadence. Barely. “No one is that nice.”

She’s not, is what I want to say, but that would be a lie. The only time she’s mean is when she’s dealing with an absolute asshole who’s pushed her to her limits and that would be me so…yeah.

“Isn’t her dad Ralph?” JJ grins. “I love that dude.”

Cadence wrinkles her nose. “His hands are always so dirty.”

“He’s the fucking groundskeeper,” JJ says, tearing his gaze away from Daisy. “Of course, his hands are dirty.”

“Like under his nails, there’s constant dirt.” The grimace on Cadence’s face isn’t attractive. Matches her ugly soul, though outwardly, she’s a complete knockout. I can’t deny it. Naked, she looks pretty good too but shit. She’s not worth the headache she gives me. “It’s gross.”

“He has a garden,” I say in Ralph’s defense.

They all look at me with blank expressions on their faces, like they can’t grasp the concept.

“What? I’m serious. He has a garden out back, behind my building. He’s growing vegetables. Has a few fruit trees and flowers. Rose bushes.” I shrug, hating how closely they look at me. Like they’re surprised I’m talking about gardens and shit, but I’ve always noticed the garden. It’s so large, it’s difficult to ignore. I can stare at it out my room window whenever I want.

Lancaster children don’t stay in the dorms on campus, which gives us a little more freedom, though not much. We have our own suites where we get to live during the school year. Where we can come and go as we please—to a point. “He’s always out there puttering around. Planting shit. Digging up shit,” I continue to explain, realizing I need to shut the hell up so I can be done with this conversation.

Cadence giggles. “I hope you’re not being literal.”

Mya joins in, the two of them laughing, though it dies when they both finally notice the scowl on my face. “God, you’re so moody lately,” she mumbles.

She’s not wrong.

“I don’t mind,” Cadence says brightly and that’s it.

I’m done.

Pushing my chair back, I rise to my feet. “I’m out of here.”

JJ stares almost lovingly at his tray full of food before he glances up at me. “You want to leave now?”

“You can stay,” I tell him, my gaze seeking out Daisy despite my negative feelings toward her.

No one has joined her for lunch. Not my sister and not anyone else. Does she really not have any friends? While we’ve gone to school together the last three years, I’ve never really paid attention.

Now it’s like she’s all I can think about and I hate it.

Hate. It.

She seems perfectly content alone though. Her gaze is fixed on the book, her delicate brows drawn together in concentration. The tray in front of her has a plate on it with a sad looking sandwich and an apple. She’s got one of those giant pastel-colored—a turquoise shade, big surprise—steel water tumblers sitting to her right. Either she’s on trend or she truly likes to stay hydrated because that cup is huge.

“You sure, bro?” JJ asks.

“Yeah.” My gaze never strays from Daisy as I grab my backpack and sling the strap over my shoulder. “I’ll see you after school.”

I’m gone before he can say anything, Cadence shouting goodbye at me as I walk away from the table. I don’t turn back and acknowledge her—what’s the point? I’m too intent on something else anyway.

Someone else.

It’s weird how Daisy has become a constant presence in my life. I mean she’s my academic rival so of course I was always aware of her. And I’ve always thought she was hot, though I don’t discuss her with anyone.

Not even JJ.

Who’s part of Daisy’s group? Who does she hang out with? I really hope her only friend isn’t Vivian, Matthews’ secretary. Talk about pathetic…

Daisy is definitely a loner.

Drawing closer to her table, I stare at the back of her blonde head, the way the ends of her hair curl perfectly. The ponytail is a sweet touch.

Maybe even cuter than the braid.

I’m close enough to smell her when she tilts her head to the side, her ponytail sliding over her shoulder as she reaches behind her and grips the back of her neck with her left hand. I note the way her fingers press into her flesh, as if she’s massaging herself, and I hear a sweet sigh come from her.

That sigh settles in my dick, making it twitch.

What the hell?

She must sense I’m behind her because she glances to her right, her gaze landing on me, recognition dawning in her eyes. The friendly look on her face disappears like magic. “What do you want?”

“Ease up, Grumpy.” I do the chin nod thing, playing it cool. Hating how riotous my pulse turns at her nearness. “Whatcha reading?”

Her cheeks color and she slams the book shut so it’s lying face down on the table. “Nothing.”

“Must be good if you’d rather read than hang with your…friends at lunch.”

Her expression remains impassive. Hard to read. “I don’t have a lot of friends.”

The words hit me right in the chest, stunning me silent because what do you say to something like that?

She shoves the book in her backpack and reaches for the sandwich, bringing it to her mouth so she can take a bite. I watch her, transfixed as she chews and swallows, then grabs her tumbler cup and takes a sip, her perfect lips wrapped around the straw tight.

Jesus. I need to get away from her. She’s making me feel things I’m not used to.

“Are you just going to stare or do you want something?” she asks once she’s let go of the straw.

“I should go.” I don’t budge.

Her lips curl in a tiny smile that’s full of relief. Like she can’t wait to get rid of me. “See you later then.”

Realizing I need to leave, I turn on my heel and exit the dining hall without another word, frustrated.

Confused.

Why did I even bother talking to her yet again? She’s not my type. I’m not interested in charity cases. Sweet girls who would put way too much faith in me when all I’d do in the end is disappoint them.

Fuck that.