Rixon Raiders: The Collection

by L A Cotton

  “Don’t get cocky, Ash,” Jase chimed in. “We treat every game like we’re playing the motherfucking championship game, you hear me?”

  “Yeah, yeah, don’t sweat it, man. We know the deal.”

  “Oh shit,” someone chimed. “Yo, QB, you’d better come see this.” It was Grady.

  My spine prickled as Jase stalked across the room to him, peering over the guy’s shoulder, his eyes hard on the screen. “Motherfucker,” he rasped, his fist clenching against his thigh.

  “Problem?” I asked.

  “Time to get to work, ladies,” Coach boomed. “And that better not be a cell phone I can see, Grady. Get it out of my sight, Son, and get out on the field stat. If you’re not out there in ten, you can spend the next two hours running suicides. You feel me?”

  “Y- yeah, Coach, I feel you.” Grady mumbled as Jase stalked back to his locker. He looked furious, eyes thin, nostrils flared.

  “What’s up?” I asked, but he shook his head.

  “Not now,” Jase said. “We have a practice to get through.”

  That piqued my interest. Whatever he’d seen on Grady’s cell had him all worked up which meant whatever it was, it wasn’t good. And my gut told me there were only two things who could get to my best friend like that.

  Lewis Thatcher.

  And his step-sister.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Hailee

  “We need to talk.” Flick was waiting for me outside English Lit, her expression grim.

  “Okay…” My brows knitted.

  “Not here.” She glanced up and down the hall. “Come on.” Her hand found mine, and we weaved our way through the stream of kids coming and going from class.

  “Flick, hold up, what’s—”

  “Raider traitor.” A shoulder slammed into mine, knocking me backward.

  “Excuse me?” I spun around, glaring at the girl’s retreating form.

  “Okay, we need to go, right now.” Flick grabbed my hand again and started yanking.

  “Felicity Giles, will you just tell me what the hell is—”

  “Thinks she’s too good for us, for the Raiders.” The words washed over me, my gaze landing on a group of girls over by the girls’ bathroom door. They all burst into a fit of snickering when they noticed me watching them.

  “What did you say?” I bristled, narrowing my eyes on their ringleader, but Flick didn’t let up as she kept pulling me toward the main doors.

  “You’re a disgrace,” someone else sneered until I realized everyone was looking at me.

  Every. Single. Person.

  By the time we reached the main doors, I’d been called every insult possible—whore, slut, skank—and a few more I’d never even heard before. We spilled outside and I sucked in a ragged breath, my chest tight as I glanced back at the doors. “What the hell is happening right now?”

  Flick chewed her thumb, her eyes refusing to meet mine. “Flick,” I urged. “What is going on?”

  “Okay, don’t panic...” Her gaze finally lifted. “But Thatcher posted something on Snapchat and people have been sharing it.”

  “He did?” I didn’t even have Snapchat.

  She nodded. “It’s bad, Hails, really bad.”

  “I see.” My voice was flat, my stomach churning. “Worse than the pep rally?”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line.

  “Show me,” I said.

  “Hails, I’m not sure—”

  “Show me.” Holding out my hand, I waited for her to give me her cell phone. She swiped the screen a couple times before handing it to me. A gasp slipped from my lips when my eyes landed on a photo of me. Except it wasn’t me at all. It was my face photoshopped—pretty convincingly—onto a girl’s body, and she was wearing an Eagles jersey, sucking provocatively on a popsicle.

  “Ford’s sister sucks Eagles dick good.” My voice trailed off. “Where did that photo even come from?” Leaning closer, I got a better look. “Oh my god, is that one of my photos from the yearbook last year?” I remembered it now. I’d been in the art studio and Denny Marcus, the yearbook photographer, snapped me mid-laugh. “How the hell did they even get a hold of that?” I said, as if that was really the issue here.

  “It doesn’t matter. Now everyone thinks you—”

  I glared at her. “Not helping, Flick.”

  “Sorry, I just... shit, Hails, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. I’m going to do nothing.” If I didn’t stoke the fire, the flames would die out.

  “When Jason finds out—”

  “He’ll what? Drive across river and defend my honor? Please.” It came out bitter. “He won’t care about this crap. We should get back in there.” I flicked my head to the doors.

  “Seriously? I thought we’d at least skip the rest of classes.”

  “It’s one photo. I’m not going to hide because of one photo.” Even if I did look like an advert for a cheap porn movie.

  “Okay, if you say so.” Flick trailed behind me as we re-entered the building. “What class do you have now?” she asked.

  “Math.”

  “Asher’s in that class with you, right?”

  I frowned unsure where she was going with this. “When he can be bothered to show up, yeah. Why?”

  She gave me a sympathetic look, and said, “Because something tells me this will only get worse before it gets any better.”

  Flick wasn’t wrong. In math I received four hate-notes, had numerous paper balls thrown at me, and some of Khloe Stemson’s friends spent the entire class kicking the back of my chair.

  As I expected, Asher didn’t show, but I’d spotted the team through the window, running drills on the athletic field.

  “How was it?” Flick grabbed my arm as soon as I filed out of the room, keeping me close to her as we fought the crush.

  “Is math ever fun?” I gave her my best smile, and she returned it with a pointed look.

  “Okay,” I conceded. “It was bad. By game night I fully expect to be forced to wear the foam Eagle costume and be thrown onto the field to receive a public beating from Vinnie the Viking.”

  Flick smothered a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not funny, but that conjures up all kinds of crazy visuals.”

  “Gee, thanks.” I pressed my lips together, rolling my eyes, as we made our way down the hall. If I concentrated really hard, I could almost block out the insults.

  Almost.

  “Do you know what really pisses me off?” I said as we reached our locker bank. “When Cameron humiliated me, no one stood up for me. But now they all think I’ve been cavorting with the enemy and everyone is on a personal mission to defend them. It’s pathetic.”

  “It’s football,” my best friend shot back.

  I traded some books and closed my locker. It was history next, the only class I shared with Cameron… if he showed.

  “Okay,” I announced as we stopped outside my next class. “Wish me luck.”

  Flick rested her hands on my shoulder. “You got this. And if anyone gives you shit, just remind them that you ride Raiders and suck Eagles dick. Hell, girl, that’s jersey chaser goals right there.” She winked before spinning me around and shoving me into the room.

  All eyes fell on me as I walked to the back of class. I liked to think I had excellent patience when it came to my fickle classmates, but after an hour of being kicked in the back last period, a seat on the last row seemed like the safest bet.

  “Eagles whore,” someone whisper-hissed as I passed them. But I didn’t bite. I didn’t hang my head or lower my eyes.

  I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

  But my silence only fueled them, and the hushed insults began to ripple around the room like a rising wave, until the teacher, Mr. Henson finally intervened.

  “Sorry I’m late, Sir.” Cameron burst into the room and I dropped my head onto the table with a muted groan. I could survive fifty-five minutes of hearing I was a traitorous slut, but I couldn’t handle hearing
it in front of him.

  His eyes found mine across the room, growing dark as he began to stalk toward me.

  “Mr. Chase.” Mr. Henson sounded pissed. “I’d like you take your usual—”

  “Change of plan, Sir.” He didn’t even look at Mr. Henson. “I’ll be needing a seat at the back. Jones,” Cameron addressed the guy beside me. “Move.”

  The low rumble of chatter followed him as he reached the desk beside me. The guy already sitting there almost tripped over himself to move.

  “Now, if everyone’s in their seats,” Mr. Henson cut Cameron with a harsh look, “We can get started.”

  Ten minutes into the lesson, Cameron rapped his pen against the edge of my desk. “What?” I mouthed, our hushed voices drowned out by the discussion happening between the teacher and a couple of kids up front.

  “You okay?”

  “What do you think?” I whisper-hissed, returning my gaze to the front of the room.

  I ignored Cameron for the rest of class. When the bell finally went and everyone started packing up their things, a paper projectile landed on my desk. I casually opened it, keeping my hand over the page to avoid any wandering—namely Cameron’s—eyes. Someone snickered as I balled up the vile note and stormed out of there.

  I’d barely made it out of the door when I heard, “Who the fuck wrote this?” The harshness of Cameron’s voice reverberated through me, making me flinch, but I didn’t glance back.

  I couldn’t.

  “Hailee, wait,” he called, but I started pushing through the crowds as fast as I could.

  I thought I could handle it. I thought it didn’t matter what people said about me; the lies they told. But apparently even I had a line. And that line was a detailed account of what someone thought a traitorous whore like me deserved.

  Traitorous whore.

  Anyone who knew me, really knew me, knew I didn’t date, let alone hook up with random guys.

  Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I burst through the main doors into the fresh air. But I wouldn’t cry. Not over a bunch of kids who had been all too happy to ignore me for my entire high school existence. Besides, it was anger, not pain, I felt.

  “Hailee, would you just wait up—”

  “Go away, Cameron.” I waved him off over my shoulder as I made a beeline for the parking lot, ignoring the fact he’d called me by my name and not that stupid nickname he usually loved so much.

  “Hey.” His hand curved around my shoulder.

  “What do you want from me?” I spun around, shrugging him off, narrowing my eyes right on him.

  “I...” His response died as he stepped back, putting some distance between us. He swept a hand over his short hair.

  “Just leave me alone, okay?”

  But Cameron didn’t move. He didn’t do anything. He just stood there, watching me, his expression dark; his gaze so intense I felt stripped naked. I went to walk away, but he moved quickly, his hand snagging my wrist. “It’s been like that all morning?”

  “What do you care?”

  Something flashed in his eyes, but he didn’t offer me an answer, and I let out a heavy sigh. “You know,” I said. “All I wanted was to get through senior year. I knew nothing would change with Jason, knew he’d still be obsessed with playing his stupid games. But I was fine with that. It was between us. I could still stay in the shadows…”

  “I’ll fix it,” he said cryptically.

  “Fix it?” My voice was incredulous. “You do know it’s your fault I’m in this situation, right?”

  “If you hadn’t gone to that part—”

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me? What is wrong with you? I’m seventeen, Cameron. I’m supposed to be going to parties, meeting boys, and getting drunk. But wait, I can’t do that because you and my asshole brother made damn sure of it.”

  A couple of kids walked by us, their eyes wide with curiosity. Cameron grabbed my arm and pulled me toward his truck until we were secreted away between his vehicle and the one beside it. “I know we give you a hard time but it’s better this way.”

  “Better?” I sucked in a harsh breath. “For who? You? Jason?” Anger vibrated in my chest as I glared at him.

  “I…” he breathed out. “Look,”—Cameron pressed his hands either side of my head, caging me in. “I only did what I did at the pep rally because Jason was ready to destroy you.”

  “So you were saving me? Please.” Bitter laughter rose up my throat. “You did what you did because you’re just like him. He dishes out the orders and you come running like a good little—”

  “Watch it, Sunshine.” His words were low. Gravelly. As if this was all some game to him. But it wasn’t a game, it was my life. And it was falling apart all because of them and their stupid rivalry with Rixon East.

  “Or what?” My back pressed further into the side of his truck, pinned in place by his intense gaze.

  “You really want to know the answer to that question?” Cameron’s brow rose, a silent dare.

  This felt different. I was angry, yes, but I couldn’t deny there was something else simmering beneath my skin. Something unfamiliar. A deep yearning I tried to fight, tried desperately to ignore, every time I found myself in close proximity to Cameron Chase.

  “What’s the matter, Sunshine?” He leaned in, dipping his face to mine. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Why?” The word spilled from my lips. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “What is it you think I’m doing?”

  I swallowed as his eyes flicked to my mouth, the way they had before in the janitor’s closet and again in my kitchen the other morning. “Toying with me like this,” it came out a whisper.

  “What if I told you this isn’t a game?”

  Not a game?

  What the hell did that mean?

  “I- I don’t understand.”

  Cameron moved closer, his legs brushing mine. My hands flew up, landing on his chest, desperate to keep him there. But the second I touched him, his eyes shuttered, a carnal growl rumbling in his chest. He swallowed it, shaking his head a little. When he met my gaze again, his irises had turned dark. His eyes hooded.

  “Cameron?”

  “Just give me a minute...” A beat passed, and another, energy crackling between us like an electrical storm.

  I needed to go. I needed to push him away and move. But I was rooted to the spot, lost in his gray-blue eyes and all the things he wasn’t saying. My heart galloped in my chest, my mind swimming with confusing thoughts. Cameron wasn’t the good guy here, I knew that. Yet, I couldn’t break whatever spell he had cast over me.

  And I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “Cameron,” I finally said breaking the tension. “I should go.”

  “You can’t go,” he said, his voice barely audible.

  “Cameron, I’m not doing this.” Whatever this was. “I’m not—”

  One of his hands slid along my collarbone, gliding up my neck, his thumb stroking the skin there. I fought a moan. “You can hate me, Hailee. I deserve it, I know that. But don’t insult me by pretending you don’t feel this.” He dropped his head to mine, inhaling deeply. “Tell me you feel it.”

  I could feel something all right, digging into my thigh.

  Swallowing hard, I tried to process what was happening. Why my heart was a runaway train, crashing against my ribcage as if it was trying to escape. Why my skin tingled and I felt hot all over.

  “You feel it,” he whispered again, his warm minty breath dancing over my face. “I know you do.” If I lifted my chin a fraction our lips would touch. We’d be kissing. But I didn’t want that.

  Did I?

  “I…” I wanted to tell him I didn’t feel it, that I had no idea what he was talking about, but there was obviously something very wrong with me because, I felt it. I did. But I couldn’t tell him that.

  I wouldn’t.

  Instead, “I hate you,” spilled from my lips.r />
  Before I could take back the words, Cameron’s other hand cupped my neck and he fixed his mouth against mine, his tongue gently parting my lips and slipping inside. He kissed me slow and deep, right there in the school parking lot against the side of his truck.

  And all I could think was Cameron Chase is kissing me…

  Cameron Chase is kissing me…

  Kissing me.

  Heat flooded my stomach, making my thighs clench together, as he plastered me against his truck, kissing me deeper, harder. Our tongues dueled, fighting for dominance. But he won, and I softened under his touch. The way he nipped my lip, tracing his mouth over my jaw, my neck, sucking and nibbling.

  “Cameron.” It was supposed to be a warning, a signal for him to slow down. A reminder of where we were and what we were doing.

  A reminder for myself to get a grip.

  But pleasure escaped my throat, and I moaned softly.

  “Fuck, you taste good,” he murmured, his lips and hands exploring my skin, my body, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. Which made no sense because we hated each other.

  I hated him.

  I hate him.

  “Wait.” I broke away and he groaned, dropping his face to the crook of my shoulder. “What the hell are we doing?” My voice trembled as I tried to regain control of myself, my stupid fickle emotions.

  “Cameron,” I said jabbing my fingers into his ribs when he didn’t move. “Get the hell off me.”

  He stepped back, his lips curled in an annoyingly sexy smirk. “You’re not making this easy, Sunshine.”

  “I swear to God, if you call me that again, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Kiss me?” His smirk morphed into a smug grin.

  “I’m leaving now,” I said roughly. “Please don’t follow me.” Because I might beg you for things I shouldn’t want. I slipped out from between him and his truck and started walking away but his hand snagged my wrist. “Cameron.” His name left my lips a gentle sigh.

  “Just tell me one thing,” he said.

  “What?” I gave a frustrated sigh. But it wasn’t only Cameron I was frustrated with.

  “Does hating me feel as good for you as it does for me?”