Unmasked

Valerie's POV

Turning the key, I heard the door click and expected a meddlesome Jacky-boy to be behind it, arms crossed, scowl on. There was emptiness, darkness and furthermost, silence.

Simone only went to bed when Maria had retired for the night, or when she locked herself away to finish some impending project. Dad arrived tomorrow from his trip, and Jackson...

I ditched my heels, holding them with two fingers, before walking down the hall and into the spacious living room. Flickering light bathed the couches, indoor plants and the ceiling-to-floor window behind them. The plasma screen was on some boring sports channel, but the light coming of it illuminated more than the couch, it made the person slouching on it stick out like a sore thumb.

Jackson was spread out on the couch, on his back. Head turned toward the TV, eyes lightly closed. There wasn't a pint of tension in that boy's body.

I edged quietly, going around the table resting atop the fur carpet. I pulled the remote from his loose grasp, clicking off the TV. It was all I'd planned on doing. It was—but something I couldn't shake took over and I found myself reaching for the cashmere blanket on the couch's back.

I stilled draping it over him.

Jackson had stirred. Just a little nudge of his head. I waited. Nothing more happened, so, I moved away before his eyes flew open.

I couldn't get myself up the stairs fast enough.

God, I thought, locking the door out of habit. Why did I do that?

That question was easy to answer. I cared about the jerk. Yes, he'd lost his temper months ago, slapping me, yes I resented him for it and we'd broken up—though that hadn't been the main fuel—and yes I had no more romantic feelings for him.

Or nearly any.

Because could you ever truly shake your first everything? Sadly, I would have to go with no. And Jackson had been my first everything. First boy who'd called out my attention, first kiss, first date, first orgasm, first time. Not love, though. I refused to believe what we'd shared had been love, because Jackson wouldn't have hit me in any circumstance. If I'd been in love with him, I wouldn't have given up when I found out our parents were seeing each other—getting married.

I believed love was something to be fought for, if it was the real deal. Like what my parents had. What Mom and Dad had shared... It had always stayed with me, even if other things had slipped away and I'd become this Ice Queen to everyone outside, I still remembered how Dad had always put Mom first, me too. How he'd cancel trips when we had big things happening, like when Mom had a huge recital or when I had a school play. When we were sick. Mom had always reciprocated the feelings and gestures. She'd been warm and gentle, never caring much for money. Which had been a problem for my Grandfather when she'd introduced Dad.

I snorted, dumping my clutch on the swivel chair.

Dad came from a family of doctors. He'd met Mom in College, studying Business. He hadn't been the suitor my Grandpa expected. After all, the Monet family business was worth millions with all the hotel chains—that's right, I had my Mother's surname, so did Dad—but he'd proven to be a hard working, intelligent, honest guy. Six years after my parents' wedding, my Grandfather died and Dad took over the business with no one left besides Mom, who'd never wanted it in the first place.

So yeah, what me and Jackson had shared hadn't been love. My parents... It had been true to the bone.

My throat was dry as I stood in front of my desk.

A picture, framed in a lovely shade of gold, stared back at me. Mom. I molested my lip trying to keep from thinking—from opening the doors to hell. Because every time I thought of her... After the good, always came the bad.

I couldn't deal with the bad. Especially at one in the morning.

Wiping my nose quickly, I whirled, opening my walk-in closet. I didn't pay attention to anything but unzipping the dress. It proved troublesome. I shifted my hands, to get good access, stealing glances in the mirror. Waves of fervor started deep in my stomach, like molten lava sloshing around. My eyes slid to the slope of my waist, where a certain boy's hand had been hours ago. Well, more than one guy had put his hand there, but only one had made me hot. If I closed my eyes I could see the way Finn's misty gaze had sought mine, holding on, not backing off like everyone else's.

It had felt... Good.

The warmness of his breath splaying over my neck, the fingers lightly tip-toeing my exposed back... I bit down my lip. Hard. A sudden needy rush swept me over, causing a nice little tingle in certain parts of me.

Jesus. Dear God and every Holy saint. What was happening with me? Had I been hit with a spell? I'd never noticed Matthews. Well no, I had. When Christian hassled him and when he hung with Thomas, but just him?

Never.

I hadn't noticed we were in the same art class!

Lowering the zipper in a fit of rage, I shrugged down the pencil dress, wanting to ball it up and burn it. Like that would make alien feelings die. After slipping on a silky night gown, I made it to my bathroom, working on removing my makeup.

***

Finn's POV

Mom and Dad were arriving this afternoon, Johnny and Carly would go back to their apartment in New Jersey. All my stomach could think of was 'yum'. Finally we were going to be eating something that didn't qualify as rabbit food.

Johnny couldn't cook more than bacon and eggs. Whenever me and April cooked it came out too salty or too raw—which could lead to some serious food poisoning—so it left Carly's cooking. But she was into healthy cooking, meaning veggies and vegan recipes.

I was dying to eat some meat. Tonight I was praying for Mom's stake with sweet mashed potatoes...

"Look who it is!" I shook my day-dreams about a water mouthing dinner and stopped, looking over a shoulder.

At the start of the arch hallway was Lacrosse Star, crowned Prom King, Christian Freight.

Just keep walking, I thought to myself. The last thing I wanted or needed was him getting on my—

"Hey! I'm talking to you, Matthews!" Damn it to hell. I knew he was talking to me! We were the only people in the hall.

Christian really didn't want me to go because fast steps broke across the pavement and when I glanced back, a hand curled on my right shoulder.

A sweet burning smell met my nose as Christian propelled me closer.

Ah crap.

In addition to wanting... whatever he wanted with me, the dude was also high.

"Thought you could slip away without us chatting? No way, man." He grinned widely. The sort of smile he gave before beating people to pulps. "That was quite the revenge you got back at Prom. Stealing the King's and Queen's first dance? Embarrassing. Too bad you embarrassed me!"

"Revenge?" I muttered under my breath. Lacrosse-player-extraordinaire slit red-rimmed eyes as he slammed me into a wall. I bit a wince. "Look, Christian, man—I don't know what you're thinking. Well, I do. That I somehow convinced the prom Queen to ditch you for me, but—"

He grabbed the collar of my shirt, shaking me hard. The back of my head bounced off the brick wall twice.

Thomas would've punched him lights out. But violence wasn't the answer—Mom drilled that into my skull five years ago. She'd be so disappointed if I fought.

"I don't fucking know how you got Valerie Monet to dance with you instead of me—" Maybe because you nearly killed her weeks ago? "—but guess what? I don't care. You're always hanging with Harrington so I can't touch you, but your boyfriend's not here, is he?"

My hands curled, uncurled. The motion kept happening but I couldn't... I wouldn't disappoint my Mom. I'd promised her. No fighting.

The first punch soared and although I wouldn't fight, I could dodge. I angled my head right watching as Christian's hand collided with the hard wall. He jolted in pain, waving the right hand like crazy. A few scratches littered his knuckles.

"You're so dead Matthews."

Breathing heavily I pushed left off the wall and made it three long steps before Christian tackled me from behind. On the floor, I tried shaking off his weight. He pressed on my shoulder blades—my forehead knocked on the floor.

I bit a wince.

Just when I thought my promise was going to be broken, steps—light and brisk—came from somewhere in the hall.

"What the hell Christian?" It was her—Valerie. The smoothness and sophisticated tone was uncanny.

Valerie's shoes clicked faster and faster until high heels were in my field of vision. Against all odds, my cheeks burned red. Why did my brain suddenly think this was so much more humiliating than painful?

"Oh my... You're high on school grounds? You are such a dimwit!" She bellowed, then a hollow thump sounded.

The guy sitting on my back shifted suddenly.

"What's it to you?"

Okay. Really? Were they arguing while Christian was still trying to suffocate me? Yes, his hands were dangerously close around my neck.

Another hollow bang. One of Christian's hands went missing, I felt relief wash in. his missing hand waved Valerie's way—he was swatting her books? She smacked his arm with them.

"Will you cut that out your crazy..."

"Careful with what you say next," she warned, face falling into an icy mask of perfection. Christian wisely shut his trap. "Principal Truman was just behind me, I'm sure he won't take long, so you should really let Matthew's up and scram. Your eyes are a dead give away."

A loud laugh tore from the dude keeping pinned down.

"God help me..." she muttered losing patience. "What a dimwitted moron."

Just when I decided to at least push myself up—make the bastard tumble and maybe bust his cranium on the floor—a loud rumbling came from the middle of the hall.

"What's happening here?"

Christian's weight was gone in the following three seconds, probably not the exact second after because his reaction was delayed by pot or whatever he'd been smoking. Successfully, I pulled myself off the ground, not tripping over my feet when principal Truman came closer, enough to make you want to jump ship. The guy was in his sixties, but damn, guy was scary. He had a military vibe. Gray hair cropped short, pressed suit and pants, black shiny shoes. Mr. Truman wasn't taller than me but the way his chest stuck out and his shoulders stood... Pretty scary.

He arched a pushy eyebrow at me, at Christian, causing wrinkles to stick out immensely in his forehead.

Valerie tossed Christian a gleeful smirk. It was gone before our principal set his sights on her. When his hawk eyes fixed on her, Valerie looked like a worried Good Samaritan.

"Thank God you're here principal Truman! I was just walking when... When I saw them. Christian threw Matthew's to the floor and was trying to choke him." Valerie sounded truly appalled. She put a hand on her chest, glaring at the Lacrosse player who was edging back. "I'm sorry to say this, I hate pointing fingers..."

"What, Miss Monet?" Principal Truman asked shifting eyes onto Christian—blocking his escape thoughts.

She bit her lip like she was debating telling. Something told me her mind was already made up.

"Christian's been smoking pot. Or whatever drugs idiots consume."

Quickly, Christian shoved me from his path to get closer to Valerie. My muscles jumped when a hand reached for her arm—clinging tight. She jerked the arm with no result.

With a tight jaw my hand shot forward, but it stopped. Truman already had Christian's forearm ceased. I heaved a long breath as I watched Christian's fingers uncurl from Valerie's slim arm, leaving red finger marks in their wake.

"You're such a dick, Freight." I snapped, meeting his eyes.

"Language!"

I bit a curse, "Sorry, sir."

Mr. Truman mumbled something about kids these days having no respect for etiquette. His expression softened.

"You should get that checked on, son. It might get infected."

What...?

Feeling eyes on my face, I frowned and stopped right afterwards. The left side of my forehead stung like it caught fire. I tapped two fingers over the damage feeling a sticky substance.

"As for you, Mr. Freight, you're coming to my office. Right now." Christian's looked so red but he walked forward, stepping on my backpack on propose. "Don't worsen your situation, son."

Principal Truman and Freight turned left at the end of the hall leaving me and a certain Queen Bee standing alone, side-by-side. The girl who'd danced with me at prom days ago—the one I'd managed to stir clear of for one day before she stumbled into this mess and saving my ass.

A girl.

My ass had been saved by Valerie Monet.

Good God.

Did I owe her a life debt or something?

"You enjoyed that didn't you?"

"The part where Christian had you pinned down?"

I faked a laugh earning a smile.

"Telling on him? It was quite the innocent little act you pulled with Truman."

She gasped pressing a hand to her chest.

"Acting? Me? I have no idea what you're talking about." She shrugged causing locks of ebony hair to fall over a shoulder. I shook my head bending to grab my stuff. "You have to admit, though, he deserved it."

True. I bet neither of us would ever forget him almost flattening Valerie weeks ago.

A book had spilled from my bag when I reached for it, my fingers brushed more delicate ones. Our hands stayed like that a while, touching. I kept gazing at the English text book. I would've kept doing it, waiting for her to draw away, but she didn't pull back.

I chanced a head tilt.

Valerie was crouched beside me, eyes on our brushing hands. With a quick eyelid flutter, coppery-brown pools found mine sending my heart on a frenzy. They were hauntingly beautiful, shiny, full of life, but they weren't always like that.

Most times they were chilling. Shut off. Dead.

I felt something hurting in my chest at the thought of her looking lifeless, the person I'd seen minutes ago.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

I wet my lips, "Like what?"

"Like..." Valerie swallowed. Her hand jerking from touching mine suddenly. But before the connection between our broke, the same fingers that had touched mine lifted between us, ghosting over my forehead cut. "I get why you didn't fight against Christian months ago, before Thomas. You were kind of... soft looking. But now... today... Why didn't you?"

My brow cocked subtly.

"I think you called me a wimp."

"Well," a soft grin gripped her mouth. "I was trying to be nice and not call you out on it. Directly, at least."

"Soft looking?" A mad blush dashed across those pretty full cheeks. For a minute, I thought she might push me back on my ass. "How do you know I'm not still 'soft'?" Valerie rolled her eyes.

"I knew you were feeling me up the other night."

"What? Don't be ridiculous, Matthews." She dropped her finger. Our eyes were still staring but hers were guarded now. Back to the girl everyone knew. "Anyone who has eyes can see it. I'm merely observant."

Next she stood up. I'd been about to follow when her shapely legs were right in front of me, though. Girls at St. Joseph had to wear uniform on a normal basis, but they had skirts for dressing code while we were stuck with itchy, stuffy jeans.

Her transparent stockings did nothing to hide her fleshy skin.

"Truman's right, you should go to the infirmary and have that checked on." She spun her high heels stalking away, walking as graceful as a nymph.

A nymph? I shook my thoughts into place, shoving the missing book into place and slinging the bag over a shoulder.

Maybe the infirmary would do no good, maybe the impact had been hard enough to mess up my brain, because everything I'd been feeling and thinking for that girl was wrong.

***

A heavenly smell hit me as I pushed open the loft's door.

Mom was home.

Yes!

Johnny had texted me over the afternoon, so, I'd already known but to smell her delicious cooking... Hmm. My stomach did back flips.

I walked over to the couch dumping my backpack and gym bag. It wasn't long before Mom came from the adjoined kitchen, arms thrown open to give me one of her famous hugs. They were crushing—but full of love, she said.

"Aw, my little baby!" She cried wrapping her skinny arms around me. I gasped. For a woman who stood only at half my height she was strong. "I missed you so much! Why didn't you call more often?"

"Mom," I half-laughed, half-breathed. "You talked to Johnny every night." I bet he gave her full reports on our daily lives. Even on Carly's. Mom's loving nature made her care for people beyond her family and own friends, every time we brought home friends she treated them like she'd known them for years. Making them feel cared for and welcome. Thomas was on the end receiving of that treatment, he knew exactly how she was. "Mom, that's enough. I can't breathe."

She pulled back slightly, trying to look stern. Her soft blue eyes shone with happiness that betrayed her attempt.

"Oh my... What happened to your head?" she frowned at the right corner of my forehead.

Subconsciously, I rubbed a finger over the band-aid. The school's nurse had applied some Neosporin and patched it up. Didn't mean it didn't sting every freaking time my face muscles moved.

"Just bumped my head on the pool's ledge." I lied swiftly, dropping a little apologetic smile for my clumsiness.

Mom adjusted the rectangular glasses, pushing them up her nose. Bangs of blond hair fell just above their rim. Mom had used the same hair style since... Since I could remember, really. Dad said she looked too adorable.

"Where's Dad?"

"I sent him on a quick shopping trip. We were out of milk, wine, eggs..." the list went on and I shook my head, hoping Mom had written those things down. Dad wasn't used to grocery shopping without Mom or April. "So," she walked back to the stove when a thin layer of smoke came from the pans. She used a fork to flip a thick, juicy stake. "How was prom?"

I plopped down on a stool, "Yuppie. Questioning Mom is in the house, yo."

She laughed a hearty laugh moving the stakes around so they wouldn't get toasted.

"It was boring."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure it wasn't that bad. Did you take a date?"

"Huh, no."

"Why?"

Was Mom seriously asking me that? For starters, the only girl I'd ever kissed lived in Florida. She lived close to my grandparent's street and every time we went there on family holiday, we'd hung out. One afternoon we end up kissing. That lasted for about a week until we came back and my parents decided I should try for a scholarship in St. Joseph.

"There's no girl I like, Mom. They're all stuck up and snobby."

Mom turned for a moment, hands on her hips and I saw she was wearing the apron April had bought her last Christmas. Gingerbread men were scattered all over it.

"Did you get some...?" Mom jiggled her body giving me—what she thought—was a sexy wink. My eyes nearly fell from their sockets.

"Don't... Don't do that." Mom also crossed boundaries. Boundaries normal parents wouldn't cross. One day she'd been cleaning Johnny's room and she'd found Playboy magazines under the bed. Instead of tossing them out or arguing with him, Mom ran out to the store and bought a box of condoms.

This was her liberal hippie side still kicking. She was okay with us doing fun things as long as we were careful.

"Right," she intoned. "So you just spent hours at a boring party without even... a little dance?"

Oh my Lord.

My Mother tried not showing the super-duper-smile. But I caught wind of it.

She knew.

"Johnny..." I groaned already picturing throwing darts at my brother's head. "I'm never telling him anything again. Ever."

"Oh, honey, he was just being a good brother." Good brother my ass, the traitor. Mom wouldn't stop gushing now. "What's her name? Are you dating her? Is she nice—"

"Mom—no. Just no." I slid off the stool. "It was one meaningless dance. Please don't read anything into it."

"Too late," she shrugged totally dismissive knowing just how to get on my nerves. She did the same with Dad. "I'm already planning your June wedding."

"Argh!" My hands racked my hair as I stalked toward my room.

"Finn, come back! I was only kidding." There was a chuckle on the other side of the door.

Johnny was a dead man.

Tossing off my shoes, I laid on my soft, large bed, placing one hand behind my head looking to the ceiling, not really seeing it.

With a finger I traced the band aid covering the cut and slowly the images of those live, bright eyes came to mind and a shudder rolled through me.

Just a meaningless dance.

Just trivial touches.

Yeah... That sounded about right.