by Grace, Hazel
Flipping to the calendar app on my cell as I start up the stairs to Dad’s office, I look at my appointments for the week. I make a mental note to remind Veronica to sweep the steps and around the top of the stairs. Appearance is everything, and I don’t want to give the impression that we’re too busy or drained to keep up with the cleanliness of the office.
You gotta fake it ’till you make it, folks.
I let out a heavy sigh, accepting it for what it is as I step up onto the landing at the top of the stairs, just to freeze in place when I realize I’m not alone.
I’m far from it.
In the office, my dad and I share, on the desk where I do all of my work and bust my ass to make this business succeed, are two other people occupying the space.
A space that neither of them have any right to be in.
In a position that the desk is not intended for.
My eyes expand as the scene in front of me saturates into my brain cells, into my veins, and now my arms and legs. Adrenaline numbs my body as I observe the way he thrusts into my assistant with careless abandon.
His hand gripping her throat, her back flush with his chest as she arches her ass for more. My music blocks out their moans, but it doesn’t keep my stomach from knotting and my breath from catching.
I watch Veronica’s mouth open, her brows furrowed not in pain but pleasure. Colson bites his lower lip, his eyes locked on her perfectly round ass. He pushes her level to the desktop as she clasps the edges. Papers fall to the ground, and my little holder full of pens gets knocked over, scattering along the hard surface.
It all happens in slow motion. Every single second feels like a year.
Every memory of Colson and I kissing as teens, his promises of never letting me go, they all batter into me. Each word repeats itself over and over until I begin to feel the tremors of sobs and screams wanting to rip free from my throat.
I can’t pry my eyes away.
And as though he senses me here the whole time, Colson’s head slowly turns, locking onto me. His dick still pumping inside Veronica like his life depends on it.
And that’s when I feel it, the fracture that permeates my heart.
Colson’s lips turn up in a sneer, as he bites harder on his bottom one, his attention still fastened on me. He can see my heart break, I know he can because I can’t hide it.
I fell in love at seventeen with a boy who guarded his heart with a barbed wire fence and hidden landmines. And along the way, I hit every single piece of arsenal planted and scrapped every single inch of sharp pointy steel.
Veronica’s body suddenly jerks up, noticing me for the first time watching their amateur porn. Her dark hair clings to the sweat on her forehead as she pulls her tight black dress over her thighs. Her mouth moves, but I don’t hear the words.
Her apologies are invalid to me at this point.
Not only did she just use my office as center stage for her fantasies, but this was the second time she fucked Colson Hayes.
The. Second. Time.
Colson is pulling up what I assume are his boxers while Veronica strides toward me, her hands upheld in defense.
“Stop,” I seize, halting her midstep in her peep-toe heels. She’s the type of girl I remember brag about getting Colson’s attention in high school. Beautiful, skinny, a fucking idiot.
The last one we have in common.
I keep my eyes glued to her because if I look at him, I’ll surrender every ounce of self-control that I have and can’t afford to lose.
My limited rational side is preaching that it’s not her fault. She’s just an innocent victim in this fucked-up game of Colson’s. But my irrational side, the one that wants to rip her throat out, tells me to act on it. I feel like a lioness that wants to pounce for her stepping in on my territory.
Rational side: He’s not fucking yours anymore.
Irrational side: Rip her head off.
“You’re fucking fired,” I bite out. “Be the hell out by the time I get back and take your piece-of-shit friend with you.” I don’t wait for her to respond, turning on my heels and fleeing.
I need air.
A fucking shot.
A machine that erases every feeling I’ve ever had for the asshole who is righting his clothes in my office right now.
I take the stairs as quickly as I can and reach for the front door of the office when I’m suddenly spun around, coming face to face with the man who has the audacity to retrograde back to his teenage self.
He yanks on my headphones, which sends me over the edge when his voice halts me into any action.
You can’t stop him, can you?
You’re just putty in his hands.
“Bases,” he says softly. His eyes are glazed over in what my first instinct says is lust, but when I look deeper, they look...full of regret? I narrow my gaze.
Who the fuck cares?
My fist slams into his cheek, twisting his head to the side as I place both of my hands on his shoulders and knee him in the groin. He buckles over, a sharp groan penetrating the space between us.
That’d be the last time his dick played a role in fucking me over again.
I step back, leaning over so that I’m perfectly aligned with his face. “If you ever step foot in my path again, I’m going to cut your balls off, Hayes. I will fuck you so hard up the ass that you’ll be walking with a limp. Fuck you. And fuck off.” I yank the door open and leave, contemplating on calling the cops to remove him, but they’d just laugh it off.
A tear hits my cheek, and I quickly brush it away. How many times in my life do I need to say I’m done with Colson Hayes?
Apparently, one more.
Ten years ago
I wait for Sawyer to arrive at the new Papa Louie's Pizza Parlor, purposely getting a booth in the back corner so we’re not disturbed. I’ve already batted off Tonya from gym class and sent a warning glare to Jessica from Economics to stay in her damn chair. But the place is packed with classmates with it being the new place in town. We haven’t had a pizza joint since Little Tony’s burned down when I was ten. It wasn’t a total loss though, their pizza tasted like sawdust and tears of teenagers who hated their lives.
The waitress comes to the table for the third time, wanting to know if I want to order, but I repeat the same shit I’ve been saying: I’m waiting for someone. She raises a brow, mutely telling me I’m being stood up. The first two times, I didn’t believe her. But thirty-five minutes later, I’m starting to think she might be right.
We could’ve come together after practice, but then she’d consider this a date, and it’s not. I’m not mixing our bullshit with my grades, and I need an A on this report.
Five more minutes, and I’m gone.
I shake my head, eyeing our project syllabus again for the millionth time.
She blew me off.
I push against my better judgment to stay, reminding myself that if she’s going to be stupid as hell about this, I’ll just write the damn thing myself. Our little feud will have to wait because the long-term goal of this is far more important than any revenge she wants to pull.
“Sorry I’m late,” Sawyer heaves, plopping in the booth across from me and catching her breath. “The bus was late and—”
“You don’t have a car?”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Why?” I blurt. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t, it’s just that she’s a senior, and I assumed she would’ve had one like the rest of us.
“My parents don’t have money like that,” she deadpans, removing her backpack off her shoulder.
I clear my throat and leave it. “Alright...well, did you decide which couple you want to do?”
“Henry the VIII and Anne Boleyn, if that’s okay with you. Their relationship rocked the Catholic church and shifted England all over a divorce. It’s incredible the things he did for Anne just to behead her years later.”
“Fine with me.”
She blows a piece of hair out of he
r face. “Did you order yet? I’m starving.”
Seriously?
“I didn’t know what kind of toppings you like, so I waited,” I reply instead.
“Double pepperoni, extra cheese, and bacon on my half.”
I wave down the doubtful waitress and place our order while Sawyer pulls out her History book and syllabus. Strands of hair fall into her eyes as she digs for a pen. It must be the hair that makes guys go crazy for her. It’s a luminate feature that shows off her skin and brings out the freckles on her nose.
“Okay, so we can do this one of two ways,” Sawyer goes on, tossing a few colored highlighters between us on the table. “We can justify why Henry separated from the church and how he tested his reign as the most powerful leader in the world.” She straightens her back, putting her pen between her teeth. “Or, we can argue that he put the country at risk of potentially losing allies and leaving England open for an invasion. He did it for selfish reasons because of his lust for another woman while he was married. It overtook all his rationality.”
“Which one are you leaning toward?”
“Option two.”
I roll my eyes. “Why? To show how men are selfish pigs and do whatever they want no matter who they hurt?”
“No.” She blinks. “Because we can write our ten-page paper easier when there are more points to make.” She winks, and a smile cracks my lips.
“Option two it is then, Bases,” I voice, leaning back in the booth.
She cocks her head to one side. “Isn’t that nickname getting a little old?”
“Nope,” I reply, popping the “p.”
“Super original, Hayes.”
I wink at her. “I thought so.”
She fights back her own smile, trying to look exasperated with a little shake to her head and continues. “Should we come up with some key points to make while we are here? Then I’ll write half, and you do the other?”
“Sounds fair enough.” We talk about a few points, write them down in our notebooks, and decide who’d be better to write each.
The waitress brings our pizza and, after a lot of convincing, I con her into trying a piece of mine with pineapple. This, us being across a table from each other, is more comfortable than I thought it’d be. I was expecting a shitty ass attitude and snotty remarks throughout the entire ordeal. Especially after all the bullshit we’ve done to each other. But she wasn’t kidding when she said her grades were important and neither was I, so being paired together wasn’t turning out to be that bad.
For now, I guess.
“I think we can finish it by next week,” Sawyer mentions after we brainstorm everything we can think of. “I have a game against Thurston next week, so I can do most of mine this weekend and finish the rest later.”
I chew the rest of my pizza and nod. “Sure, I get it. How’s your jaw?”
“Fine.” She meets my eyes, but there is no hostility in them.
“First fight?”
She quirks a brow. “Why, are you planning on getting me into another one?”
I guffaw. “No, I didn’t plan on that one nor did I tell Mandy to start it.” Sawyer sprinkles more grated parmesan cheese on her slice, thinking about my words.
“Mandy and you have a past or something? She seemed pretty upset about the fact that we were…” I wait for her to finish, but she doesn’t. So, I continue for her.
“Fucking, Bases?”
Her face pinkens. “Yep.”
“Mandy is possessive over shit she can’t have.” Sawyer half shrugs, pretending to be more interested in her pizza than what I’m saying. “Don’t worry about her, she won’t fuck with you again.” That’s when I get the full-on attention of Sawyer. She looks like my words offended her, like I called her a bitch or something.
“I guess you could use the Principle McMahon card again,” she transmits.
“Didn’t enter my mind but—”
“What’s your batting average?” she inquires, taking a mouthful of her slice. My brows furrow at her change of subject, from the one that she started.
“I think a 0.351,” I reply.” I try not to focus on it.”
“That’s pretty good. Do you have a preference on—”
“Hey, babe.” Sawyer and I glance over to see Gavin walking up to our table and eyeing the both of us. He raises a brow when his attention lands on me. “I thought you said you were going home.”
“After my history project,” Sawyer voices with her mouth full. “I told you I had one.”
Gavin’s eyes never leave me. “Oh yeah...you just never told me it was with my buddy.”
“Your buddy?” I repeat. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I just saw you at practice.”
“We have a project in Mr. B’s class,” Sawyer informs, take a generous bite of her pie before saying, “We were thrown together.”
My jaw locks at her pointing out that it wasn’t her fault she was stuck with me. That it was vital she tell Gavin that she was stranded with me for strictly an arranged school project.
I mean, she’s right, but we were just having a, somewhat, normal conversation. As normal as we’ve ever had, anyways. But now that her boyfriend has shown up, she’s making it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to be here with me.
Gavin slides into the booth next to her, and she doesn’t move away from him, which causes more waves of annoyance to ripple through me.
We both know what he’s doing, it’s man code for “remember who she’s fucking.” The idea shambles with my stomach a bit.
Shit, was he sleeping with her?
I try ridding myself of the idea because I have zero interest in dating Sawyer, and she has none for me either. Even if she does blush when I give her little compliments, and I catch her sometimes staring at me.
More like eye fucking.
“That sucks,” Gavin conveys, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “Did you try to ask Mr. B if you could change partners?”
I raise a brow at Sawyer, and she shifts in her seat.
She didn’t.
I wasn’t going to.
Yeah, she’s a fucking pain in my balls but having a partner who gives a fuck about this project is going to work in my favor. Plus, she’s smart as hell and nice to look at.
Win, win in my book.
“Mr. B doesn’t do things like that,” Sawyer states. “He’s super strict on his policies and doesn’t like when people try to change the way he does things.”
Gavin looks at me. “Maybe I should monitor these project sessions so you don’t fuck with my girl.”
Yep, lay it on me and remind me that she’s yours.
“It’s up to Bases,” I decide, my eyes on her. “Do you need saving again?”
“Did you do something else?” Gavin snaps, clenching his eyes.
I shake my head. “No, not lately. But Mandy Jenason has.” I watch my best friend’s focus snap over his shoulder to her.
“What?”
Sawyer nibbles on her lower lip, looking down at the table, making me ask myself why she didn’t tell him.
Because you saved her from possibly getting her ass kicked.
The on-going rejection is starting to incinerate my last fucking nerve.
“It was nothing,” Sawyer finally imparts. “She was just...because of Colson’s rumor...she thought…”
“She got jealous,” I fill in for her. “Since she thinks we’re fucking.”
Gavin’s scowl returns. “Squash the rumor, asshole. I’m tired of the guys coming up and asking me about it.”
“It’ll die down if you keep squeezing Sawyer over there like she’s your fucking doll,” I counter.
“Colson…” Sawyer warns, but there’s a soft undertone in her voice.
“You wanna go for round two, motherfucker?” Gavin growls, leaning forward. “I’m getting really fucking—”
“Round two?” Sawyer interjects. “You said that bruise was from banging your
head.”
I chuckle, extending my arm over the top of the booth. “Yeah, with my fist.” Her eyes land on me then back on Gavin as guilt starts to fill her pretty green eyes.
She has every reason to feel culpable, being that she’s why we’re here in the first place. And the more it all starts to sink in with all three of us here, the more it all seems stupid.
No matter how much I fuck with Sawyer, things stayed the same with them. It was going to continue to be that way until Gavin stepped in and showed his true self to Sawyer.
The male whore that I know lies within him.
He keeps it under wraps in front of her, but his mask disappears the moment any opportunity presents itself. Like his passionate moment in the drama hall with Brittany the other week.
Which makes me think he hasn’t fucked Sawyer yet. Although it shouldn’t matter to me, I’m relieved nonetheless.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gavin quips. “You’re not the first thing Colson and I have fought over.” Sawyer’s mouth drops slightly before she bows her head into her chest.
Gavin and I’ve had fights, but they were over blunts and getting him to fucking focus on his school shit. Never have we fought over a girl, and with Sawyer, I don’t even want her for myself.
I want her away from our plans.
Our table falls quiet until our waitress comes by asking if we want refills on our drinks. Gavin rejects her offer for anything, before I ask for the bill. Sawyer looks at the pile of books, dazed, then starts gathering up her things.
“Are we done?” There’s an embarrassment and something else I can’t put my finger on in her tone. And suddenly, I don’t know what I’m fighting for anymore.
The more that time goes on, the hazier it gets. This back and forth seems to be more out of something to do, to see who can do more damage toward the other. For me, I like seeing her pissed off and riled up. I’m sure she would beg to differ even though she plays along.
“Yeah, we can be,” I tell her, watching her carelessly throw her shit into her backpack.
“I have something on Monday with my dad,” she informs me. “So, I can start up on Tuesday.”
