King of Hawthorne Prep

by Jennifer Sucevic

  I drop my backpack onto the wood plank floor and settle at the foot of the bed. “You’re really suspended for three days?”

  His lips flatten at the reminder. “Yup. Mom and Dad are pissed.”

  Join the club. The whole situation infuriates me. “We’re not the ones they should be mad at.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he says, fatigue creeping into his voice.

  We’ve been here less than two weeks and we’re exhausted by the constant battle being waged against us.

  “Of course, it does,” I scoff. Until this morning, Jasper Morgan hadn’t even been on my radar. Now, he’s public enemy number one and needs to pay for what he did to Austin. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to focus on today. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking, we need to devise a plan—”

  “They might expel me, Summer.”

  “What?” Disbelief riddles my voice. This is complete bullshit!

  “Yeah. And in the unlikely event that I don’t get expelled, they’ll kick me off the team. The headmaster is pushing for it and so is the coach. Dad said that I should prepare myself for the outcome.”

  “No! They can’t do that! You didn’t start the fight.” My brother will never survive this hell hole if they take football away from him.

  A wave of grief crashes over him. “Haven’t you figured out by now that they can do whatever the hell they want?”

  Austin has gotten several looks from major Division I colleges, but the scouting has all been preliminary. No agreements have been made or NCAA paperwork signed. Without a senior season, what will happen to those prospects?

  “Can you still get recruited if you don’t play?” I force myself to ask.

  “Probably not.” He stares at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll have to disclose that I was kicked off the team. No one will want to take on a player who can’t get along with his teammates.”

  “We can’t allow that to happen,” I whisper as panic rises in my throat like bile.

  Austin flicks his gaze to me. “There might be another way, but I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

  Oh God.

  My heart clenches under my breast as I wait for him to elaborate.

  “I could move back to Chicago for the year and stay with Max.”

  Max is Austin’s best friend. They’ve been tight since the third grade. Not only is his father the head football coach at our old high school, he’s the history department chair. If anyone can pull strings and legitimize Austin’s residency, it would be Max’s father. He was brokenhearted to see Austin leave and had jokingly suggested my brother stay with them for senior year.

  When I remain silent, too stunned to say anything, my brother continues. “I’ve already texted Max.”

  No!

  It feels like I’m being suffocated from the inside out. Any moment I’ll start clawing at my neck. Selfish as it might sound, I don’t want Austin to leave. The most we’ve ever been apart is a couple weeks in the summer when he attends football camp. I know it’s unlikely that we’ll get accepted at the same college and I’ve been preparing myself for the inevitability, but I’m nowhere near ready to be separated from him now. The flip-side is that I can’t imagine football being taken away from him either. It’s Austin’s everything. His entire reason for being. What would he do without it?

  “There has to be another way,” I croak.

  Somberness fills his expression. I’ve never seen him look so beaten down before. “Well, if you find another solution, let me know because this is the only alternative I’ve been able to come up with.”

  My teeth sink into my lower lip as I blink away the tears.

  There has to be something that can be done.

  Something I can do.

  I just have to figure out what it is.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stare at the physics book splayed open on my bed as the sentence swims before my eyes. I’ve read over the same paragraph at least five times and I still couldn’t tell you what it was about. There’s a quiz tomorrow.

  A quiz I’m going to fail.

  Frustrated with myself and the circumstances, I slam the book shut and hop off the bed. A burst of nervous energy explodes in me and I pace in front of the window. All I can think about is Austin. He wants me to stand back and let him handle his own problems, but how can I do that when there is so much at risk?

  I don’t want him to move to Chicago and leave me. I’m barely hanging on as it is. Without him...

  A shudder slides through me.

  Our old school doesn’t start until the Tuesday after Labor Day. Max’s father jumped at the chance to have Austin come back and play for his old team. My parents spent at least half an hour on the phone with him, hashing out logistics. It’s almost frightening how Austin mentioned the idea a couple of hours ago and it’s already gained so much traction. The only thing stopping my brother from packing his bags and leaving tomorrow is the decision from the board about his future at Hawthorne. If they allow him to continue with the team, then he’ll stay here for his senior year. If he’s forced to quit, then Austin will probably move to Chicago this weekend, so he has time to register, get settled, and start practicing with his old team. The thought of that happening makes me sick to my stomach.

  Tension and fear swirl through me as I swing toward the window and push the heavy drapery aside before peering into the darkness. The stars are out in full force tonight.

  I’ve spent the last five hours trying to come up with a solution to the problem we find ourselves in, but I keep drawing blanks. The only viable option is that Austin should move back to Chicago. Some of my best thinking is done while lying outside and staring up at the stars. If anything can get my neurons firing, it’s that.

  Otherwise I’ll lose my brother.

  I grab the afghan from the chair in the corner and slip out the door onto the small patio off my room. There are definitely advantages to having a private entrance to the house and sneaking out for a breath of fresh air is one of them.

  With bare feet, I skirt around the edge of the pool, heading to the far corner of the yard where I’ve found the perfect spot for stargazing. The little pinpricks of light are so much brighter than the ones in Chicago that it’s almost like I’m looking at an entirely different sky. This weekend, I’m going to unpack my telescope and set it up on the balcony.

  A whapping noise breaks the silence of the night and my footsteps falter as I stop and listen, trying to figure out what the sound is and where it’s coming from.

  Ten seconds later, it repeats.

  I tilt my head and prick my ears, realizing after a minute that the noise is rhythmic.

  Whatever it is, it’s coming from Kingsley’s yard. I can’t see what’s going on because of the thick foliage that separates our properties. It’s not a conscious decision to creep closer until I’m all but buried in a clump of bushes and parting the leafy branches so I have an unobstructed view.

  My breath hitches when I find a bare-chested Kingsley with a lacrosse stick in hand. He’s throwing a small white ball at some kind of standing trampoline. The ball hits the woven canvas and ricochets back to him. He catches it easily with the mesh netting of his stick before flicking the metal pole over his shoulder and releasing it from the pocket.

  The repetitive motion is almost hypnotic.

  Or maybe it’s Kingsley who is mesmerizing.

  A soft sigh escapes as his muscles ripple. With moonlight pouring over him, he looks like an ancient Greek god. My core clenches in agreement.

  I wince at that damning thought.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  He’s terrible.

  Mean.

  Cruel.

  He isn’t the sweet boy who took me out on his boat. I don’t understand what happened to that guy. Maybe he was never real, merely an illusion I wanted to believe in. That thought fills me with so much heartache that it’s almost enough to swallow me whole. We only spent
one day together, but it was enough for me to start falling for him.

  “How long are you going to stand there and watch me?” he calls out, breaking into the whirl of my thoughts.

  I straighten and knock my head against a thick branch. “Ow.”

  Even though his lips tilt at the corners, his attention never deviates from what he’s doing. Nor does he break the rhythm of catching and releasing. There’s no other choice but to push through the foliage into his yard and show myself.

  “Do you spy on me often?” he asks, not sounding interested in the answer.

  “No.” My fingers bite into the blanket as I clutch it to my chest for protection. How that will keep me safe, I don’t know. But it makes me feel marginally better. “I was going to look at the stars.” I gulp and force myself to add, “It’s a cloudless night and they’re bright.”

  He catches the ball with the mesh pocket one more time before tossing the stick to the ground and swinging toward me. The heavy weight of his gaze pins me in place. Movement becomes impossible. I don’t understand the strange power he has over me. I wish there were a way to shake it off and feel nothing. But I have yet to figure out how to flip that switch.

  When he continues to watch me from behind hooded eyes, I clear my throat and blurt, “I like to stargaze at the back of the yard.”

  “I know.”

  The fine hair on my arms rise at that acknowledgment.

  “I’ve watched you,” he adds without the least bit of shame.

  And he accused me of spying? How many times has he done that, and I’ve been unaware? The thought should creep me out but doesn’t. And that is so many kinds of wrong.

  When my tongue darts out to moisten my lips, his gaze drops to the movement before flicking back to mine. Only this time, heat swirls in his eyes.

  “I heard about what happened to your brother.” There’s a pause. “Sucks for him.”

  Anger bolts through me and my shoulders jerk as I scowl. “Football is everything to him.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have jeopardized it.”

  “We both know he didn’t start that fight,” I grit out, irritated with the comment. “You saw what happened.”

  He shrugs before closing the gaping distance between us. “Here’s what you need to understand, Hawthorne. There are people with power and then there are those who don’t have any.” His eyes glitter in the moonlight. “In case you haven’t figured it out yet, your family is one of the have nots.”

  Why does he have to be such a jerk? “You love that, don’t you?”

  One side of his mouth crooks. “Actually, I do. It’s a nice change of pace. The Hawthornes deserve every bit of their self-induced misery.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right about us not having any power in this town or at the school.

  But you know who does have power?

  Kingsley Rothchild. He proved it when he stopped Jasper from doling out retribution in the hallway this morning. All it took was one sharp word from him and the other boy was backing down. Although that doesn’t mean Kingsley or his family have pull over the board at Hawthorne Prep. And even if they did, why would he help me when he’s delighted by our fall from grace?

  “Seems like there’s something on your mind,” Kingsley drawls, interrupting my thoughts. “Why don’t you do us both a favor and spit it out.”

  Before I can think better of it, the words are shooting out of my mouth. “I need your help.”

  “Oh?” One brow slides lazily upward. “Interesting that you would think I’d lift a finger to help you.”

  Honestly, I don’t. But what other choice is there? Kingsley is a last-ditch effort on my part.

  “Austin will move back to Chicago if football gets taken away from him.” I shake my head and clutch the blanket closer. “I don’t want that to happen.”

  He tilts his head, all the while studying me with an intensity that is unnerving. “Why should I care about that?”

  “Please,” I whisper. As much as it pains me to beg, I’ll do whatever I have to for my brother.

  “I’m flattered that you think I hold so much power.” A grin flashes across his face. He is so loving this. “What makes you think I’d offer my assistance even if I could?”

  That’s an excellent question. One I don’t have an answer for.

  My shoulders collapse and I quickly glance away, staring into the swirling darkness of the yard as hopelessness fills me. “I don’t.”

  I sense his movement before I catch it from the corner of my eye. Every step he eats up between us makes my heart pump faster and the adrenaline rush through my veins.

  “That’s it? You’re going to give up just like that?” He makes a clicking sound with his tongue. “Not very persistent, are you?”

  “What?” My widened gaze jerks to him as my mouth turns cottony.

  He picks up a lock of my hair from my shoulder and twirls it absently around his finger. His movements turn lazy, but there’s nothing idle about the calculating look in his eyes. Thick tension builds between us as he continues to stare. It’s only after the air turns explosive does his gaze flick to mine. “You’re going to throw in the towel without even trying to persuade me to change my mind?”

  A shudder of unease slides through me. “I don’t understand.”

  Arousal ignites in his eyes as he tugs gently on the heavy strands. “I think you do.”

  A strange concoction of caution infused confusion churn inside me. “Are you saying that you’ll help me?”

  He shrugs, continuing to wrap the inky-colored lock of hair around his finger. “I haven’t decided if it’s worth my trouble.”

  What does he want? For me to beg?

  If that’s all it will take, I’ll do it gladly. I gulp and force out the word. “Please?”

  His eyelids lower. “That’s an awfully pretty word falling from your lips.”

  Nerves skitter along my bare flesh. Attraction tugs deep inside my core. As wrong as it is, I can’t stop it from spreading throughout my body like a virus.

  “If I make this all go away, what do I get?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmur. It takes everything I have inside to keep the nerves from overtaking my voice. “What do you want?” Whatever price he’ll extract will be steep. Of that, I can be certain.

  “Everything.” He steps closer, his bigger, muscular body dwarfing mine. I crane my neck to hold his steely gaze. “Are you willing to give me that?” There’s a pause. “If so, you have yourself a deal.”

  His hands settle on my shoulders as if grounding me to the earth. His lips hover dangerously over mine. “It’s a one-time offer. Once it expires, it’s gone for good and you’re on your own.”

  When he nips my lower lip with sharp teeth, a groan escapes from me and I drop the blanket from my fingers. An explosion of pleasure-filled-pain jolts through my system, shaking me to the core.

  His lips curve into a wicked smile. “Sexy little moans aren’t good enough. I want to hear you agree to the terms.”

  What other choice is there?

  None that I can think of.

  Austin needs to stay in Hawthorne. I can’t face these people on my own. Not for the rest of the academic year. “Yes.”

  “Good girl.” His fingers bite into my shoulders as he forces me to the ground. When I resist, a hard glint enters his eyes. “On your knees.”

  Oh God.

  I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this.

  When his hands press me lower, my knees buckle, and I drop to the thick grass. As I stare straight ahead, I realize that I’m perfectly aligned with the bulge in his shorts. I swallow thickly before raising my chin and meeting his gaze. The hot look in his eyes has my belly hollowing out.

  He lifts one hand from my shoulder and trails his knuckles along my jaw. The other one continues to hold me in place. “How many guys have you blown?”

  My tongue darts out to moisten my lips as his gaze fastens onto the movement. My brea
th stutters as his cock jerks to life inches from my face.

  He chuckles darkly at my reaction and repeats the question in a voice that has turned shades deeper. “How many?”

  “None.”

  “Hmmm.” His lips flatten. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  What does that mean?

  Is the deal off?

  “I guess I’ll just have to teach you.” With that, he places his index finger against my lips. “Open.”

  I don’t think about what he’s asking. My mouth opens enough for his finger to slip inside. My heart pounds erratically beneath my ribcage as his digit rests against the velvety softness of my tongue. It’s such a strange feeling.

  One hand lifts from my shoulder before he tunnels his fingers through my thick strands, cupping my scalp before carefully angling my chin upward. His grip tightens as he rocks my head back and forth so that my tongue can slide against the length until we fall into a natural rhythm. As I take over, his eyelids lower, becoming half-mast.

  Why does this feel so erotic?

  That shouldn’t be the case when he’s forcing me to perform this act. Although, if you want to get technical, Kingsley hasn’t forced me to do anything. He gave me a way to save my brother, and I took it. Even now, I could change my mind and leave. Confusion whirls inside me and I avert my gaze. The intimacy of the moment becomes almost too much to bear. I shouldn’t feel anything for him except loathing.

  “Eyes on me,” he grunts.

  I force my gaze to his. It only takes a moment before I’m drowning in his dark depths. Even though he keeps his fingers threaded through my hair, I’ve taken over completely. No longer does he guide my movements. My tongue curls around the blunt digit, sucking it into my mouth before releasing it.

  Is this what it would feel like to suck his cock?

  It’s not an unpleasant thought. Quite the opposite. Heat floods my panties as the image materializes in my mind. Only it would be much thicker. Longer. Without realizing it, my tempo picks up speed, and I suck with renewed energy.

  A dark chuckle falls from his lips. “Greedy for the real deal?”

  I whimper, my gaze locked on his. All I’m doing is drawing his finger into my mouth, but there’s something sensual about the act. When he attempts to withdraw, my cheeks hollow, trying to keep him in place. A wicked grin spreads across his face as if he’s pleased by my reaction.