10-10-2016

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T H A N K Y O U

F O R

2 M I L L I O N R E A D S !

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i know i always say it, but THANK YOU, i am so lucky to have all of your support!

a little note since i last saw you (well, you know what i mean): I've been invited to be a part of the Wattpad Futures program!! this is very exciting for me. it means I'll be earning revenue for the time i put into sharing stories like HSHL (y'all know how broke i am). i'm so ecstatic, the opportunity is out of this world, and i really hope you'll support me even if it means watching a few small adds.

the following is a (very long) bonus of chapter 30 from Will's point of view (the fight with francis). enjoy!

SPOILER ALERT read only if you've completed the book!

- ann 💕

William Bishop had never considered himself a particularly angry guy. But, this week was an exception. He'd also thought of himself as rather tolerant when it came to handling his group of friends, but at times, they pushed it. There was always some selfish motive brewing between them, and at the moment, it was an act of control.

As if Will needed anyone else trying to control him.

It was like he was being punished, from the moment he'd met Chloe Whittaker. At the time, he'd thought it was the worst possible thing that could have happened to him. If only he knew how hard it would get.

He slammed his locker shut. There was only one period left before the end of the day, and then he'd at least have the weekend away from them. From the politics. From Francis Greene.

And then he caught sight of her, her head bowed as she shuffled something in her fingers. He resented the wry smile that immediately ignited to his lips. It wasn't supposed to exist, the happiness and reassurance that his body experienced at the thought of her.

In fact, it was cruel. Another punishment to add to the list.

He paced over to her, noting the way her cheeks were slightly flushed. She always managed to look proper, with her crisply ironed clothes and neatly combed hair, everything about her styled to the smallest detail. But it was her eyes that warmed him. The way they were so innocent, so quick to dart around almost erratically. The way they so easily melded with his when she caught his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, nodding to the envelope in her hand. A sheepish smile curled at her lips, and she looked around, nervous.

"Maddy got it for me. For tomorrow," she said.

She showed him the small plastic card, a fake ID. In the photo, her expression was so serious, but he could still see she was struggling not to crack a smile. For a girl so secretive, and a girl who had gone through so much, she smiled a lot. Even if it wasn't always genuine.

"Nice," he said. He looked at her, watching her expression carefully. Savoring it, locking her smile away for later. His guilt of admiring her ate him up. "You look terrifying."

"Thanks," she said sarcastically.

"And you look terrifying now." He chuckled at her scowl, forgetting for a moment the anger he'd been trying so hard to control.

"You're in a good mood," she said curtly.

"It's Friday," he said, recalling again all of the ways he was starting to collapse. "And I don't have to see the smug look on Francis' face for two whole days."

"Friday couldn't have come sooner," she agreed, her eyes wandering back to her locker in thought.

The bell rang, signalling the end of their meet up. He held back a groan at the idea of seeing Francis in their politics class. Sometimes they took the subject too literally. "I'll see you after school, yeah? For the grand farewell of the day."

Of course, he was still honoring his end of the deal with both Chloe and Jack. He was feigning a relationship with her, while keeping tabs for him. It was like he was literally being torn in two, and he couldn't let the darkness creep over him by thinking about his deal with Jack again.

After that night, the party on Brittany's balcony, when he'd been blackmailed from two different angles simultaneously, he'd fallen into a place so dark he wasn't quite sure if he could go on being the same person as he was before. Not after learning about his father.

In ways, he wasn't the same. He wasn't someone shallow, someone without a care. He'd slowly learnt that he had a lot to lose, a lot more than the reckless and naive William who'd made the mistake of messing with Lola Davenport every did.

"Yeah," Chloe said with an eye-roll, oblivious to his thoughts.

When she was gone, and he was alone again, it was like the lid which was holding his emotions tightly inside of a jar was slowly twisting, close to popping open. He was slowly learning that she had a calming feeling on his emotions, even when everything was collapsing, which was absurd. She was one of his greatest problems to begin with.

His warring with Francis had started long before they were old enough for girls to come between them, but that didn't mean it always used to be as tense as things were for them now. It was more than just Francis' power play over Lola. It was his sadistic love for dangling things in front of Will's nose, only for him to rip it away at his liking. He was obsessed with showing just how easily he controlled everything. Lola included.

He was trying his best to keep his eyes on his notes, focusing on the content his teacher was delivering at a quick pace. But the other guys kept dragging his attention towards a different set of politics.

"The girls are planning something," Piers said, tapping his pen against his paper in a way that only someone with the complete intention of annoying people would do.

"Something exciting?" Francis asked, his voice light, as if he were asking Piers about tomorrow morning's weather.

"No. Something... Lola-ish," Piers responded with an amused smirk, hiding his words as much as possible to prevent the professor from telling him off for chatting. "Something evil."

"Oh, you must be mistaken, that wouldn't be Lola," Francis said sarcastically, snorting just as the teacher rounded his table.

Chloe can handle herself, Will thought, trying to pull himself away from the thoughts of protection that swirled within him, thoughts he couldn't afford to consider, or act upon. Not with the pressure building on him from every possible angle, becoming so close it was sure to give out. They had no reason to suspect her. They weren't even going to be there with her. It was just Maddy.

When the bell rang, Will let out an uncontrollable sigh of relief, his shoulders loosening and his attitude shifting. Usually, Fridays meant he was spending the afternoon pep-talking the others, making sure his team would perform well. It was his getaway, a physical way of expelling his stress.

But, like a lot of things this year, that had also been a freedom snatched away from him. All because of a girl, whether it be Chloe, or Lola, or Monica herself.

"Bishop," a voice said behind him, catching him like a hook and luring him back beneath the dark cloud hovering above him.

"What?" Will snapped to Francis, struggling to hold back the ferocity in his tone. Chloe, he was supposed to find Chloe. It was the end of the day, and he'd be dropping her home, her sweet perfume lingering on the leather interior of his car long after he'd waved her goodbye.

He didn't like to talk to her much about the pressure, not when he was so restricted, but for some reason, being in her presence, learning about her weaknesses and strengths, was enough to smooth the surface of his stress. Enough to take away the sharp edges. It was fucked up, and selfish. But some moments it was all he was clinging to.

"Where are you going?" he asked, seemingly amused at the tone Will had used.

"I'm finding my girlfriend," he said through gritted teeth, quickening his pace as Francis followed him down the corridor.

Francis chuckled beside him, testing him for a weakness. Finding the right buttons to press. "You think she adores you, don't you? That she thinks you're all perfect and charming."

Will did his best to ignore him.

"What will she do when she realizes she can't use you for your status anymore? Once everyone sees you as the asshole you really are." As Will stopped, his fists balled in rage, Francis cornered him, stepping even closer. "You thought it was okay to make me look like a fucking idiot by playing around with Lola. But you don't even see that you're the one being played for a fool."

In a way, Will was satisfied that Francis was so far from the truth. But the attention of the students around him was slowly starting to turn towards them, and it only made him want to escape even faster.

"You'd be surprised," Francis said, his voice, though still smooth and slick and curling around Will's thoughts, was raising now, enough for their audience to hear. "When you're not around, Chloe's desperate. She was all over me the first time I met her, before she even told me she was seeing you. She's desperate for power, not you. You're lucky I'm at least moral enough not to fuck your girlfriend, William."

Oh God, it took everything in Will to drop his gaze, to breathe harshly through his nose and to avoid the curious and hungry glances of Arlington's student body, awaiting even the smallest ounce of drama.

He was so close to ignoring it, to letting it slide off of him and fall to the ground. So close.

"Maybe next time, don't go for whores," he said slickly, the glint in his eyes enough to push Will's anger to another level.

A level where he wanted to wipe that happy little smile right from his face.

It wasn't just the insults to his reputation, embarrassing him in front of everyone surrounding them - and no doubt the rest of the school in a matter of minutes with the way gossip spread. It was the fact he was targeting Chloe.

With another breath, and an element of surprise, he didn't stop himself when the wave of violence passed over him again, and this time, his fist collided with Francis' jaw in one clean motion.

"You son of a bitch!"

The students roared with glee around him, but he didn't hear them anymore. It was white noise as Francis' sick smile grew further and he stepped forward to lunge at him. Even he must have known that Will was stronger, though. Will didn't get the status he held in his countless sporting clubs through a few large donations or some cash beneath a desk. He had earned it. He'd taught his muscles to perform, pushed his stamina until he couldn't bare it.

And now he was using it to throw another punch, to slam Francis, his tormentor, and the tormentor of Lola, who had run to him too many times, to the wall, punching him again, hearing the hollow crack of his knuckles against his skin.

"Stop!" a voice yelled, just as arms wrapped around the back of his shoulders, penetrating the haze surrounding Will's mind and bringing him back to some degree of reality. "He is not worth getting kicked out of school for!"

Once she'd managed to pull him backwards a few steps from the blonde boy dripping blood before him, she maneuvered around so she was in front of him, her chestnut eyes boring into his, pleading.

Chloe.

"You start on me and then get your pretty little girlfriend to defend you," Francis spat from the other side of her. "That's not how this works, you asshole."

Will was in a daze, his rage at its peak. If it wasn't for her in front of him, holding him, he wouldn't give a second thought to pushing past and socking him again. But she was there, and he suddenly felt ashamed of losing his temper, knowing that she had ended up involved, and that she was seeing him like this.

"Like you have any qualms about hitting girls too," Chloe spat towards Francis. Then, after a pause, she looked towards him. "Let's go. Before a teacher sees this."

In a way, Will felt like a misbehaving child being brought away from the public eye to be scolded. She led him down the first empty hall they came across, still keeping her arm locked around his as if he'd run off at any instant to continue the fight.

"What were you thinking? I had no idea you could be so stupid!"

"He's-" Will began, but his heart was still pounding and his blood hot in his cheeks, one of which was distantly throbbing. He took a breath. "He deserved it."

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in a way that almost resembled sympathy. She paused by a door which was ajar, peeking through it for a moment before ushering him inside.

"He was saying shit about you, Chlo, in front of everyone," Will said, rage flowing through him again in a single wave. But her touch was grounding him, the knowledge of her presence giving him incentive to try and calm down. For her. "And on top of all this lacrosse bullshit... I don't know. I snapped. And no, I don't regret it."

"And whatever he said was probably designed to stir you up," she said. She was right of course. "You do realise that you'll probably be suspended for this when someone tells a teacher. And level one are undoubtedly going to shun you."

Of course it was all about level one. The silly agenda created by her and her friend to describe the spoilt rich kids and their games. Sometimes it was like she was obsessed with them. "Is being with them all that matters with you?" he asked, running a hand over his face to feel for swelling.

"You know it's not like that," she said. She was starting to sound pissed.

"What's it like then?" he challenged.

"Monica is all that matters to me," she said firmly. She eyed him carefully before changing the subject. "I had no idea you were the kind of guy to throw punches."

Will looked at his hands, a little surprised himself. He laughed a little. "I'm not."

"Then what happened?"

He looked away from her warm eyes, the ones which were searching him for some kind of answer, examining the damage he'd done to his knuckles instead. "I've just been saving that punch for a while. Let's just say it was overdue anyway."

She began pacing. Her body language rarely showed what was going on in her mind, and he suspected she did a lot to hide that. But now, her anxiety was clear as her face furrowed. Then, in a voice which he'd expected to come out sharp, she softened a little. "Well I wouldn't say he didn't deserve it."

A half smile rose to Will's lips. "So now you agree with me."

"No," she said stubbornly. "Violence is never the answer. And to be honest, seeing you hit him was kind of scary."

She was right, of course, as always. The fact that she had found it scary made it even worse. But, allowing himself to care too much would only make things worse in the long run. Sometimes he had to force himself to remember that. "Still don't feel bad about it."

"You know you probably won't get back onto that team," she said quietly.

"Franc wouldn't have opened up that position again anyway," he said with a sigh. "He's pissed off because his girlfriend will never love him."

"How could anybody love him?" she asked with a scoff. As usual, Chloe brought everything down to what worked on paper. Sometimes he wondered if she'd experienced feelings so deeply that she'd ever had to question that before.

"I don't know. Sometimes it just happens, though. There's more to things than your mind can control, Chloe," he said. On paper, he'd never have allowed himself to get this invested in the dangerously gorgeous girl before him. The simmering beauty who'd caught his eye from the moment she'd guaranteed she'd be worth his time.

"Always speaking words of wisdom," she said, and he saw the blush creeping over her delicate skin. She nodded towards him, changing the subject again. "Your cheek is starting to bleed."

Will touched where she'd nodded to, revealing it to reveal blood. "Shit."

She paced to the desk and retrieved a wad of tissues, returning to examine him carefully, her expression surprisingly tender. He wondered if that was part of her act too. Secretly, he hoped it wasn't.

Her fingers were cool and gentle as she raised his chin and carefully began dabbing at the wound. He gulped, their proximity much too intimate. He could already sense her withdrawing, something she always managed when things got too close. So he tried to lighten the mood. "I kind of expected you to be one of those germaphobes who freaked out at blood."

She scoffed, the look of humor in her eyes exactly what he was aiming for. "You clearly don't know me very well."

He loved that little smile, the one she never wanted to betray as genuine amusement. It was just enough to lighten her features, to make his heart skip. By now, his rage had long dissipated. His tone was quiet when he spoke again. "Well, you're very unpredictable."

Her shoulders seemed to relax a little, as if tired of fighting the natural bond growing between them. The trust was so wrong that it made guilt creep through his chest, but so right that it filled him with a warmth that cancelled it out.

"Maddy said I was easy to read the other day."

"That's probably just because you're a good actor. To them, you look like any other girl trying to make friends with them."

"I'll take that as a good thing then."

He smiled, his eyes wrinkling a little. "But I get to see the real Chloe Whittaker, the one who doesn't have to pretend to be someone she's not."

It was so wrong, that the girl who was much too vulnerable to him than she'd ever wanted to be, the one who thought that she was the one with the most secrets, was the exact one he was betraying. What was even more painful was that he had no choice.

The secret Jack held twisted his stomach so painfully he almost couldn't look her in the eye. But she raised an eyebrow, her devilish glance making his heart thud, and it was like he was falling into her trap all over again.

"Maybe I'm pretending right now," she teased.

"I don't think so," he said. She was much more innocent than she thought herself as. She was a contrast to the red-headed girl filled with fire who'd claimed her as her best friend long ago. "How did someone like you get caught up with Monica?"

She gave him a small smile, her hair falling forward. Her attention had long been distracted from wiping his face "We just fit."

He took her wrist gently in his hands, lowering her raised arm, her skin so warm and alive and electric that it made the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end. He didn't let it go. "You're a very complicated girl, Chloe Whittaker."

She was so wildly beautiful, a girl who suffered, not in pity or grief, but in a simmering craving for revenge, that he wasn't quite sure even she understood. That was why he was here for her, to be there when she realized that it wouldn't fill the hole left in her chest from Monica's death.

The way she looked at him made him feel like she cared for him much more than would ever pass through her lips, as if he was the one thing holding her there in once piece. He couldn't feel guilty, when her skin beneath his fingertips felt so right. When he could use his position to try and protect her. When she was the one thing keeping him sane.

He needed her. He needed her to let go, to trust him wholly, to make him believe that she would still be there if he told her everything. He needed her just like she needed him.

"I need to go," she said quickly, breaking their eye contact. "Maddy wants to drop me home so she can see what I'm wearing tomorrow. Please don't fight Francis again while I'm gone."

And, like every other time he got to close, like every time she got near to passing the burden of her grief onto him, to welcome the support he wanted to give her, she retreated.

Like cupping water in his hands, every time he thought he and her were close to being on the same level, every time he thought she might be able to let him in, she slipped through his grasp.

And again, he was alone. He could already feel his demons creeping around his chest, reminding him of all the reasons he shouldn't want her to be there in the first place.

- SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT regarding bonus material to come! -