Dirty Little Secrets: A Hillcrest Novella (A Prep Series Book 2) Read online

  2020© Trilina Pucci LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including by photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for inclusions or brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Designer—Ashes and Vellichor

  Editor—Erica Russikoff, ericaedits.com

  One Love Editing, oneloveediting.com

  Fairest Reviews Editing, fairestofallbookreviews.blog

  Proof—All Encompassing Books, and Rumi Khan

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  More from Trilina

  Sneak Peek

  Acknowledgments

  Jackson

  I let out a breath, the weight of this race on my shoulders. This opportunity isn’t something to treat with arrogance, but right now, I need all of it to fuel me over the finish line. I’m just a dude from Savannah who taught myself to row. How the fuck did I get here? I’m competing against the best of the best, at this fancy prep school, with these rich-ass kids.

  No. Get your head in the game, Jackson. I’m a Price—we’re Southern, proud, and determined. I will own this asshole to my left. He will not beat me. There’s no good goddamn way I will go home with my head hangin’ low. Next year, for my senior year, I’ll row for Hillcrest and ensure my way into a crew that breeds elite athletes. Olympians.

  Looking over, I see one of those Olympians—Grey McCallister. Fuck, I’m gonna need Jesus for this. I should’ve listened to my momma and gone to church. Then again, I’d probably catch fire just walking in. Grey rolls his shoulders, and any of the small amounts of confidence that my inner speech instilled runs right out of my veins.

  He looks over and chuckles. “Try not to piss your pants.”

  Hold on… “What?”

  He grins at me, cracking his neck.

  “Piss yourself. Don’t do it. You’re going to strain so hard to try to catch me that you’ll piss your pants. You don’t have to catch me to get a spot, Georgia. And you will get a spot—but if you’re going to run this team, you can’t be the guy who pissed his pants.”

  I can’t help myself. I laugh, loud and deep, tipping my head back to the sky. All right.

  “All I have to do is not piss my pants, huh?”

  Grey nods, and we refocus, gripping oars. The one thing I know is that I like a challenge, and he just laid it out. The buzzer sounds through the sky, and I dig my oars into the sheen reflected on the water, pulling my boat out quickly. I dip them back in just as fast, straining all the muscles across my broad chest.

  All that cross-training is about to pay off. My biceps burn from the ferocity with which I row.

  I’m not stopping.

  I won’t slow.

  I will not lose.

  My jaw is so tense I could crack my teeth as I grunt with each dip of my oar.

  “Come on. Bring it!” I hear roared, and fuck me if I don’t let it fuel me.

  When the airhorn rips through the sky again, my entire six-foot-one frame dies, falling back against the rest of the boat. My breath is heaving from my chest. I’ve never rowed so hard, worked so much for a goal.

  My breath still drags from my body as I blink my eyes open and turn to see where Grey is. Damn—he’s a whole lot farther than I was hoping to see. I look up at the same sky I laughed into earlier. I’m pretty sure the rowing gods are doing that same thing to me now, because I just got smoked. Water laps heavily against my scull, and all the worries I held at bay flood my mind. I’ll bet the coach already has a car waiting for me so they can shove me off to the airport. I fucking blew it.

  What the hell was I thinking? That I could come from my life to this big-ass city and get a spot on the most renowned team in the country. I did—I actually fucking did.

  How am I going to look my father in the eyes? “No use crying over spilled milk” invades my thoughts, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t in my momma’s voice.

  Clearing my throat, I sit up and begin to row back, feeling immediate fatigue in my arms. As I get closer to my docking spot, I see guys lining up about twenty feet away, where the grass meets the river. I reach for the wood planks to tie myself off, and everyone begins clapping. What the hell? I look over my shoulder and see Grey tying himself off behind me on the wide platform.

  “That’s for you. Not me.” He laughs. “Enjoy the moment. Stop questioning whether you belong. Decide that you do.”

  I feel numb as I try to reconcile what he’s saying.

  Liam, Grey’s number two on the crew, stands at the end of his dock, taking the oars from Grey, and smirks. “You should be proud. You got talent. That’s the closest anyone’s ever come to Grey—well, except for me.”

  “No. I beat you by more,” Grey levels, climbing from his scull and standing next to Liam.

  Everyone has a defining moment in their life, and I think this might be mine. All I can do is nod as I climb the ladder to the dock, looking at the guys—respect reflected.

  The coach is walking down the dock to meet us as he calls out, grabbing our collective attention. We turn and meet him in the middle as he holds out his hand for me to shake.

  “Mr. Price, I’m impressed. I have no reservations saying that you will be the future of this team, and by the end of next year, you just may be able to best McCallister.”

  “Unlikely” is said behind me, and I turn, humor planted on my face, reaching for my crotch.

  “I’m dry. But damn if you weren’t wrong. You’re a fast son of a bitch.”

  Laughter rings out between the three of us as Liam slaps my shoulder. “Let me introduce you to your future.”

  Ava

  “Come. You have to, Aves. It’s a party to celebrate the new crew guy. Trust me. You want to know the hotties on the crew team,” Laura whines, seated at the vanity in her bedroom.

  Oh, I know them—the entire school does. They’re arrogant gods whose last names hang from the buildings around New York. They run this school, and I’m sure the world, one day. But I’m happy to fly under the radar. Every one of those boys is the same, save a few—but those ones are taken.

  “Eh, who cares. They seem like assholes,” I answer dismissively, flipping through a magazine.

  “They are. But, like, the hot kind,” my cousin counters, giggling at the end.

  I look up, joining in, because as dumb as that sounds, I know exactly what she means. The hottest guys always have a dash of arrogance, with a heap of cocky charm—just enough to make them delicious assholes who you fall for, hard. Not that I get to date those guys, but I know about them.

  “Plus,” she breathes out dramatically, “I can’t have my cousin representing the nerd crew next year.”

  I set my magazine down and narrow my eyes. Laura’s family, but man is she a bitch. If I had my way, we wouldn’t hang out a
s much. But I don’t. Our mothers force us together often. On my end, I think mine hopes that some of Laura’s popularity and personality will rub off on me. My mother wants me to grow up and matriculate into the “women’s clubs” and the “ladies who brunch” cliques she adores so much. But I prefer my “nerd crew”—people who care about school, volunteering, the world, and appreciate a book that isn’t written by a celebrity. It’s not as if I’m unsocial, more like the things I’m interested in don’t matter to them.

  Laura pulls her long red hair into a ponytail, slicking the sides back. “I’ve given a pound of flesh to be in with Caroline Whitmore. Status is important. She’s a game-changer, Ava. Tonight will be good for you.”

  “That girl’s the devil,” I whisper under my breath, reopening the magazine.

  Silence permeates the room, causing me to look up again, and by the scowl on her face, my words weren’t hushed enough. Whoops.

  “Don’t cross her.”

  “Mmmkay,” I answer, as she continues over me.

  “So next year,” she drawls out, “I expect you to run this school as I did. And tonight will ensure that.”

  My eyes roll and roll hard as I flop back on the bed. The cliques, the status requirements in our world make me feel like I’m running on an expensive diamond-encrusted hamster wheel. I wish I could meet a girl from over the bridge that looked just like me and we could switch places.

  “Hellooo? Are you listening?”

  I let out a sigh. “Sorry, I was wishing my life was a Mary Kate and Ashley movie.”

  “Focus, Ava.”

  There’s no way I’m getting out of this. My refusal is meaningless, but maybe I can still make it worth my while.

  I push up to my elbows, locking eyes with her through the mirror. “All right. I’ll go. But only if you shut up and convince your mom to let me switch places with you to visit Aunt Stella next weekend.”

  Laura twists in her vanity seat, leveling her eyes on me. “That’s a big trade, little Aves. Are you negotiating? How non-nerdy of you.”

  Visiting Aunt Stella is coveted amongst the cousins. She’s filthy rich, and each time she has something nipped or tucked and she requires help, one of us goes. And we always come back with whatever oxy-induced shopping spree Stella goes through while she heals. This trip presents itself as very lucrative. Aunt Stella scheduled a whole face-lift, and that means lots of pain pills.

  It’ll be heaven, and I haven’t been in years. I also love her tons.

  I raise my brows. “How much is Hillcrest worth to you? Because I’ll be everyone’s favorite junior tonight. Hot, smart, and fun. A triple threat. I bet I can have Caroline Whitmore eating out of the palm of my hand…that is if she actually ate.”

  Laura tosses her brush at me and laughs. “Done, bitch. There’s hope for your future yet. Now get dressed. We have a party to attend.”

  Jackson

  I close the door to my new home for the next two weeks. The empty boarding room is mine during spring break. Now that I’ve been confirmed for the team and placed as the number one, I’m here for a rigorous training period. Grey will mentor me, show me how to run this team, and I’ll get to know the boys—the ones I’ll be rowing with next year.

  It’s all I’d hoped for, but at this moment, I feel the enormity of what’s happening, and damn it’s overwhelming. I drop my duffle and reach into the front pocket of my jeans, retrieving my phone. The screen lights up as I hit the number.

  Grabbing the back of my neck, I wait for the voice on the other end.

  “Are you already at the airport?” my brother answers.

  Dick.

  “Shut up.” I laugh, walking to the unmade bed and moving the stacked sheets so I can sit. “I was fucking incredible. He never stood a chance. I beat his weak ass by a mile.”

  “Jackson Samuel Price, language.”

  Of course, my jackass brother left out I was on speaker.

  “Hi, Momma.” I smile, lying back on the stiff mattress, resting my phone on my chest.

  “I call bullshit—you lost.”

  A smack from the other end tells me my mom just delivered one to the back of Holt’s head. Good.

  “Ow, Momma.”

  “You deserve it,” I throw out.

  He smacks his lips before saying, “Tell the truth, douche. You got killed.”

  My dad’s voice interjects, “Killed is harsh. Have faith in the boy—maybe it was more maimed, instead of killed.”

  My brother laughs on the other end, and each of their voices speaks over the other. Man, I miss them already.

  “Okay. Fine. I’d like to say that I kept up, gave him a run for his money, but the race was over before it began. He’s fast. However”—I pause for dramatic effect—“I’m lucky to have the opportunity to learn from him. I got a spot.”

  My mother gasps, and I know she’s got her hand over her mouth. I also know that she’s probably crying. I feel bad that I waited so long to call them and share the news, but right after the race, I hit the ground running. It was a gym tour, school tour, paperwork given, and a whirlwind of people met.

  “You’ll be emailed all the stuff, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner—”

  “Jackson,” my father says, cutting me off. “We’re proud of you, son.”

  “Thanks, Pops.”

  “You did good, loser,” Holt adds. “Mom agrees, but she’s crying.”

  I hear her say something but can’t quite make it out in between the cracks in her voice, and I laugh, knowing Holt’s hugging her. He’s always been more sensitive to our mom—thank God, because the woman cries over everything from toilet paper commercials to dog memes.

  But I love her, and her boys would fight anyone outside of us who laughed at her.

  My father clears his throat before adding, “The whole damn town is proud. I was telling Mrs. Quinton about it today, and she was extremely impressed.”

  I love how he calls Savannah a town. It isn’t small, but I guess it is when you come from old money—it tends to equal small circles.

  Jesus. New York rich must mean even smaller circles. I’m knee-deep in the kind of wealth most people think happens only on television shows, and I have a feeling that nobody here would call New York a small town. I rub a hand over my cheek, shaking off the unsureness of my situation, focusing back on my conversation.

  “Oh yeah? I didn’t think cantankerous Mrs. Quinton had a nice word for anybody.”

  The woman is mean.

  “Well, she has family there, so surprisingly, she was very positive… Now that I think about it—hell may be freezing over.”

  Holt and I laugh at the same time, and my mom joins in. Pops is always good for levity in any situation. The line quiets down as the laughter dies, and I suddenly don’t know what to say. I’ve never been surer about something I want, but this is the longest I’ve been away from everything I’ve ever known. And when school starts in the fall, I’ll be here, living a life without my people.

  “You must be tired. You should get some rest, baby,” Mom offers, but I nod instead of answering.

  “And don’t you spend too much time worrying about us. We’re happy to get rid of you for two weeks,” my father jokes, keeping the grin on my face.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer.

  Mom sniffles before saying, “The weeks will go by in a split second, and you’ll be home.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I agree.

  “We love you, son.”

  “I love you too.”

  The line dies, and I stare at the ceiling of my starkly decorated room. Can you miss people before you leave them? Because I think I feel that.

  My cell vibrates, and I lift it to my face, swiping it open to the waiting message.

  Holt: Don’t hog all the pussy. I’ll need something to do when I visit.

  I smile and shake my head, rolling over to stand so that I can make the bed and get a good night’s sleep. Gripping the blanket, I toss it on the adjacent desk and grab the sh
eet, just as there’s a knock on my door.

  I look up, but before I can take a step, another knock follows, harder this time.

  “Hold your horses. I’m coming.”

  The banging picks up over and over as I take quick steps. My voice raises as I tug the door open. “What the hell—”

  The rest of my sentence vanishes. I’m bum-rushed. All the wind leaves my body as my feet lift off the ground with a hit to the gut. Two guys wearing ski masks enter swiftly, shoving a black sack over my head.

  “What the fuck!” I roar.

  I swing, connecting with someone because I hear a grunt. Yeah, asshole, that’s what you get. I’m ready to brawl, but I’m blind. All I see is black. Hands grab my biceps, throwing me onto the bed and holding me still as I fight back. I try to kick, but it’s no use. My palms smack together by force, and the sound of a zip tie fills my ears as the plastic bites my skin.

  “Get the fuck off me,” I growl, struggling against the hold on me.

  A voice I don’t recognize whispers close to my ear, “Welcome to Hillcrest. It’s initiation time, bitch.”

  Aww shit.

  Ava

  Laura and her friends have been holding court for the last hour from the stone ledge around an enormous fireplace. The party is already in full swing. Kids are everywhere, drinking and smoking. It looks more fun than what I’m doing, which is sitting in this spot and listening to banal conversations.

  They’ve ignored me for most of the night, basically treating me the same as they do in school. The one thing I’ve noticed, though, is Laura wasn’t lying when she said they run this school. Every boy seems to want to sleep with them, and the girls smile but only to conceal their jealousy. I guess I never paid much attention to the inner workings of the popular girls before, but now that I am, it’s more frightening and just as lame as I assumed.