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“I need a distraction. Something to call the game off. I have to be seen on the pitch so my father doesn’t become suspicious, but it can’t go ahead.” I breathe out slowly, letting my head fall back against his shoulder even as every sensible part of me claws for distance. His mouth is too close to my skin, his arm banded protectively around my stomach, and I can already feel myself surrendering to his needs.
“You’re right, this is the last time,” I state, keeping my voice steady enough to make it almost sound believable. Everest nods behind me, his muscles bunching as if about to embrace me tighter. I step forward, harshly leaving the warmth of his touch behind. “I mean it, Everest. No more errands. No more favors. I do this, and then we’re even. I’m relieved of the guilt of who you’ve had to become.”
Everest’s silence is vicious, his aura slamming into the back of me. I don’t look back, forcing myself to keep my head high and shoulders pulled back. I don’t want to see the bruising Meg has caused, or how much he’s enjoyed it. I don’t want to acknowledge that a few years ago, there was no universe where I could imagine being without Everest, but he’s actually been slipping away from me for a long time now.
The academy bell rings somewhere in the distance, reminding me that the rest of the world is still rotating whilst we’re stood here in our little bubble of brick and vines. I duck between the narrow gap in the wall, thorns snagging at my T-shirt as if the garden itself wants to keep me there, but it’s Everest’s voice that stills me.
“I can fix this,” he states, and I struggle to hold back my bitter laugh. I’ve heard that before. Pausing long enough to turn back, I witness the pure misery within his eyes. He knows that isn’t true. Licking my lips, I let my chest expand and will my fingers not to fidget.
“You can’t have us both, Everest.” There’s a flicker in his gaze, a fleeting moment of hope that unsettles me to my core. He actually thought he could. He truly believed that I would always be standing in the background, watching him fall for her. Beneath my surprise, a flicker of anger ignites. Is it because I’m easy to ignore or simply not good enough to hold all of his attention?
Setting my jaw, I don’t waste another second on this back-and-forth bullshit that’s leading nowhere productive. I step back into the service path, winding my way back towards the room I’ve been placed in. Fortunately for all parties, it’s across campus from Everest, so I’d only bump into him on purpose. The air is cooler out here, full of cut grass and distant chatter. I know if I walked into the main courtyard, I’d hear the rumors already circulating. The students here are like vultures, grasping at gossip or creating it when there’s not enough.
Tomorrow, Meg will walk onto that pitch with every eye on her, attempting to prove she’s still the same person she’s always been. Tomorrow, Everest will stand opposite her with his father’s expectation hanging over his shoulders. Tomorrow, if I do nothing, he will expose himself by refusing to humiliate her. Everest may not be all mine anymore, but he has worked far too hard to fail now. He needs me to cause a distraction, and luckily, that’s always been my specialty.
Chapter Three
I had no business agreeing to this face-off, but when it comes to Meg, restraint has never been my strongest virtue. Not when my entire childhood has been hindered by limitations and rules. Yet here I am, on the verge of throwing it all away. Meg O’Connor has the ability to ruin my life, and she doesn’t even know it.
Seeing her yesterday was a revelation. She wasn’t the broken, meek victim I was expecting. She was furious. Silently, gloriously furious with a glint of fire in her eyes. It was dim, but it was there and with some simple provoking, it became a blaze. How easily we tumbled back into our old dynamics, how perfectly she slipped back into her role. And when she punched me, well…I’ve never experienced an internal climax before, but it was fucking orgasmic.
Rolling my neck in the middle of the pitch, I sweep a glance across the bleachers, subtly searching for a hint of Cody. He’s nowhere to be seen. In fact, I haven’t heard anything from him since yesterday afternoon, but I also didn’t miss how he had time to repost the now-viral video of Meg punching me in the throat under his alias, @Inkedinsomniac23. I took that as the giant middle finger it was intended to be, and got myself an early night.
“We love you, Everest!” A wail catches my attention, bringing me back to the here and now. The bleachers are packed with students screaming my name. Their worship is contagious. Sometimes I struggle to remember this is all an act, a way to see both myself and Cody through to graduation. Then we’ll be free of my father’s rule, able to make our own decisions with the help of my trust fund.
Inhaling deeply, I lift my arms up to continue the show, stretching tall enough for my shirt to ride up. The screams become a howl of shrieks, the crowd rewarding me once again for being the asshole they love to hate.
If there’s one thing I’ve learnt quickly, it’s that Hollowbrook loves a performance. Luckily, I have been trained since birth to slip into whatever mask is required of me. Golden boy. Captain. Calloway heir. The smiling tyrant with a lacrosse stick and a legacy that isn’t crushing my soul from the inside. I wear it all until I step foot into the office in my frat house. That’s when the mask slips and I can simply be.
There’s an audible shift in the air, the noise trailing off as my gaze roams towards the pitch’s entrance. Meg steps into the glare of the midday sun, her shoulders pushed back and chin high. Stretched across her front, a number one glares at me from within the fabric of an older version of the Vultures jerseys. My smile grows before I can stop it, the same number burning against my own chest.
Rolling her eyes from the edge of the field, Meg thinks she’s denying me the reaction I crave. If only she knew her sarcasm and disdain have my cock twitching. She strides toward me with her stick in hand, cleats digging into the turf and eyes fixed on my throat. There’s a deep ache still present from yesterday, although the bruising looks worse than it is. Still, Meg fails to hide the flicker of victory in her features, and my pulse kicks up a beat. I almost laugh to myself. I’m surrounded by a stadium full of people chanting my name, yet that slip of a hidden expression is threatening to unravel me.
“I suppose I have you to thank for this morning’s annoyance,” I state coldly once she’s close enough. I’m not even mad, here for the games she brings. Although, even for Meg, planting a fake notification in my calendar and sending me barreling into the Dean’s office half-dressed before breakfast was new. I thought my father had summoned me, but Dean Colt was equally as surprised to see me, toast hanging from her mouth as she was invested in sudoku. Meg’s gaze lifts to mine, utterly unimpressed. Painfully uninterested. I quickly move on.
“I’m surprised you came, Faker.” That does it. A flash of anger alights in her blue eyes.
“I’m surprised you haven’t learnt to stop underestimating me yet,” she fires back. “Or maybe you just want a matching bruise on your jaw.” I snigger quietly, and the sound is more genuine than I meant it to be.
“I always knew you had a bit of a sadist in you.”
Meg bristles beautifully. She doesn’t mean to take the bait, but it’s written all over her face before she slams a wall up between us. I know I’m pushing too hard. I knew it before she even set foot on the grass. This isn’t just lacrosse to her; this is her pride at stake.
Campus has been alive with speculation about what she’ll be like when she returns. It was the whole reason I planned the try-outs for yesterday, knowing I’d lure her in like a worm on a hook. The hope had been to remove her from the public eye so I could minimize the collateral damage. I’m doing a fan-fucking-tastic job at that. Now we’re standing under the scrutiny of a thousand gazes.
Claire steps forward in her little referee uniform, eyes down and cheeks tinted pink. I hand-picked her because I’m an asshole. Meg’s old co-captain calling the match against her is the sort of theatrical cruelty Hollowbrook understands.
“You’ve been dragged into this too, Claire?” Meg scoffs. Claire says nothing, as instructed. Just like I told her not to contact Meg whilst in rehab. She didn’t need to know what they were saying about her, she needed to focus on recovering.
“I thought it would be poetic,” I shrug, rolling my shoulders. What’s the saying, poetry is wasted if no one bleeds for it? Standing a decent six inches taller than her, I smirk down at Meg’s tensed jaw. “Your old co-captain calling the game that shows everyone you belong at the bottom of the pack.”
“Oh, and that makes you the alpha on top?” She suddenly laughs, and my insides clench. The word ‘alpha’ on her lips unhinges something fundamental in my brain, and my cock reacts to it. My throat barely remembers how to work as I struggle to keep the unbothered expression on my face.
“Something like that.”
Meg rolls her eyes, shutting down this back-and-forth I was enjoying far too much. “Let’s do this already.” Claire nods too quickly, then glances at me as if waiting for permission. I frown at her lack of memory when I specifically told her to stall the game, but without Cody showing his hand, I don’t have any other option. I’m going to have to play, and I really, really wanted to avoid that.
“Let’s do this already,” I echo, much to Meg’s annoyance. Trust me, I concur. Standing to face each other, sticks at the ready, Claire prepares to release the ball. Now would be the perfect moment for a distraction, I think to myself, but there’s no such luck. The sound of the whistle pierces the air, and Meg lunges into action. Our sticks clash with a crack that travels up the length of my arms. A flash of burning hot rage contorts Meg’s features as she falls back into old habits, and I let her slip past.
