Forgotten (Falls Elite #1)

19

Tate

"Where were you?" Drew asks as I round the corner, dragging a hand through his light blond hair. His eyes narrow, scanning me for any signs of last night's chaos.

I shrug, leaning casually against my black Porsche, one of my favorite toys. "Smoking behind the gym," I say, keeping my tone light, hiding the irritation that's still simmering beneath the surface after the confrontation with Lexi. Something about it has been clinging to me since last night, though I can't quite put my finger on why. It's not like Drew would care either way, but somehow, I want to keep that moment to myself.

Drew raises an eyebrow but lets it go, as expected. "You missed Seven and Rome acting like idiots in the locker room," he says dryly.

Just then, Seven jogs up, his usual boy-next-door grin plastered on his face. "So, what's the plan tonight? We heading to a party or what?" He leans against the car beside me, already bouncing with energy, even though it's barely noon.

I shrug again, not really in the mood for whatever social circus they have planned. I glance at Drew, who sighs loudly, already exhausted at the thought of another night out. "Do we really have to go to these things?" he grumbles.

Seven rolls his eyes and jabs him in the ribs. "Come on, man, it's our senior year! You can't be as boring as you were last year. Live a little!" They start their usual back-and-forth, the tension playful but sharp, like always.

Rome appears, a silent shadow as usual, but when he speaks, his voice cuts through the banter. "How about we hit up Sage's party?" he suggests, his tone flat.

We all groan in unison. "No way in hell," Seven waves his hands dramatically, clearly disgusted. "That girl is trouble. I'm not stepping anywhere near that disaster waiting to happen."

Rome shrugs. "Just a suggestion." His voice is low, dismissive, as if he already knew the reaction he'd get.

After much deliberation and pointless arguing, they settle on one of the basketball players' house parties. I couldn't care less. It's just another night of drinking and faking interest in shallow conversations. We show up, drink, and talk the night away, the usual mind-numbing routine.

;__;

I wake up with a pounding headache, the kind that makes me want to crawl back into the darkness of sleep and never leave. Groaning, I roll over, squinting at the burning morning light that's seeping through the curtains. My head feels like it's been hit by a freight train.

I glance at the clock: 4:00 PM. Great. I got home just before dawn, and now the day's already wasted. Slowly, I drag myself out of bed and head downstairs, the smell of coffee pulling me toward the kitchen like a lifeline.

Miranda is already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables with the same efficiency she's had since I was a kid. She's worked for my father longer than I've been alive, practically running the house while he's off doing whatever it is he does when he's "on business."

She gives me a long, unimpressed look as I slump into a chair at the kitchen table. "Late night?" she asks, her voice cool but not unkind.

I offer her a small, teasing smile. "You could say that."

She shakes her head, more amused than annoyed, and slides a plate of sandwiches and sliced apples in front of me. "Your father's out on business, as usual," she says, already anticipating the question I haven't asked.

I grunt in response, taking a bite of the sandwich. The familiar taste grounds me for a second. "Thanks," I mumble between bites.

"How's school treating you?" she asks, moving around the kitchen like she always does, making it feel more like a home than it is.

I shrug, but the corner of my lips quirks up, despite myself. "Same as always," I say, but my thoughts drift to Lexi. That troublesome girl has been taking up way too much space in my mind lately. Something about the way she stood her ground against me outside the gym sticks with me.

Miranda notices the smile tugging at my lips. "So, good then?" she presses, eyebrow raised knowingly.

I nod, still chewing. "Yeah, good," I say, though the word feels hollow. School's fine. Boring, predictable. Except for Lexi, who seems determined to upset that balance.

Before Miranda can ask anything else, the kitchen door swings open, and Jane Parker strolls in like she owns the place. My father's girlfriend — or maybe just his latest "companion," since none of his relationships ever seem to last. She's at least a decade younger than him, blonde, polished, and irritatingly smug.

Miranda stiffens, her hands pausing mid-chop, but she doesn't look at Jane. She's too professional for that. I, on the other hand, can't help but let my disdain show.

"Morning, Tate," Jane says sweetly, though her voice is dripping with that fake tone she always uses around me. Like she's trying to play the role of some kind of stepmother. But we both know she's just here because of the baby growing inside her. My father's latest mistake.

"Afternoon," I correct her, not bothering to hide the edge in my voice. I take another bite of my sandwich, not even glancing in her direction.

She smirks, settling herself at the counter, crossing her arms as if she's been a part of this family for years. "Your dad's not home, if you're wondering," she says, her tone casual, like we're having some friendly chat.

"I know." I finally look up, locking eyes with her. "And I wasn't wondering." My words hang in the air, cold and sharp.

For a moment, Jane's confident mask slips, and I see a flicker of something behind her eyes. Maybe annoyance. Maybe insecurity. But then she recovers, smiling that fake, sugary smile. "It's good to see you getting up early... for a change," she says, glancing at the clock pointedly.

"Four in the afternoon's hardly early," I mutter, returning my attention to Miranda, who's silently chopping vegetables like nothing is happening.

Jane leans against the counter, her gaze lingering on me, like she's waiting for some sort of acknowledgment or approval. She won't get it. Not from me. She might have wormed her way into my father's life, but that doesn't mean she belongs here. Not really.

"You know," she starts again, her voice lilting, "once the baby arrives, things are going to change around here."

I meet her gaze, my jaw tightening. "We'll see about that," I say, my tone flat, but the weight of the words hangs heavy between us.

Jane's smile falters for a split second before she turns, busying herself with something pointless at the counter. For now, it's a stand-off. But I know this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

I finish my sandwich in silence, already planning my exit from this house. There's only so much of Jane Parker I can take before the real confrontation begins.