Revenge Love

by Kata Čuić

  Kieran nods, seeming to turn this idea of full-disclosure over in his mind. “So, no exclusivity, huh? You’re both free to sleep with whomever you want?”

  My proverbial and literal hero appears, saving me from having to provide an answer. These lies are piling on faster than I can keep up.

  Jason holds out his hand to me. “She didn’t say that. As long as I’m fucking her, she’s not fucking anyone else.”

  Kieran’s eyebrows pop up. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”

  “Life’s not fair, King. You and I, of all people, understand that.”

  I accept Jason’s grasp, allowing him to pull me against his side. “It’s fine. I get to be with the most wanted man on campus. What woman in her right mind would say no to that?”

  Kieran grinds his jaw for several moments, studying us as if he can detect the ruse in our appearance. Sweat beads on my skin as I pray he doesn’t. Jason tightens his arm around my shoulders, his fingertips grazing the top of my exposed breast in a daring way.

  “Is she going to be a distraction for you?”

  “Nope.” Jason pops the last syllable, leading me to wonder if he really is wasted already. “If anything, she’s the guaranteed reward after every fight. No effort, no promises of tomorrow. Just an outlet for the rest of my energy after I win.”

  I can’t help the rise of my shoulders at his crass statement. Even Kieran was never so overt in his use of me. Only a subtle squeeze from Jason allows me to relax again. “So, who’s the opponent tonight?”

  A sort of unprecedented calm washes over Kieran’s face. “Me.”

  Jason coughs his surprise. “Excuse me?”

  Kieran stands, toe-to-toe with his slave. “You heard me. And you need to lose.”

  Lie: All the world’s a stage.

  I manage to get the key in my lock and shove the door open while Rosie bears a little more of Jason’s weight.

  “We should go to the ER. I don’t care what he says. You know how egotistical men are. They won’t even ask for directions, let alone admit when they’re really hurt!”

  “I’m fine,” Jason slurs, stumbling over his own feet even as Rosie and I hold him up with his arms draped around our shoulders. We have to maneuver sideways through the door since three bodies won’t fit at the same time otherwise. “Dr. Sunshine won’t let anything bad happen.”

  “Honestly,” I mutter, annoyed with the new nickname he invented for me. “If anything, he’s in more danger of alcohol poisoning than of the injuries he sustained from the fight.”

  Rosie peeks her head around Jason’s chest to fix me with a grimace. “Hey, if you had to purposely lose to Kieran King, you’d get wasted out of your mind, too.”

  I return her glare with one of my own. “I have lost to Kieran.”

  “Oh.” She swallows. “Right. I guess you have. In a different sort of way, of course.”

  “Typical,” Jason grumbles. “Two gorgeous, half-naked women in my arms and all they do is talk about another guy like I’m not even here.”

  Rosie glances down at her costume. “I’m not half-naked.”

  “Riiight.” He stretches out the word, his head bobbing up and down haphazardly. “Your nipples are peeking out of your breast plate and Emma’s skirt doesn’t even cover her garter straps. I can practically see her ass.”

  Rosie’s head reverses course as she glances at me around Jason’s back, then nods in agreement. “You been checkin’ us out, Gould?”

  He shrugs, which nearly causes him to fall forward on his face as he loosens himself from our hold.

  “The couch?” Rosie suggests, tilting her chin toward the living room.

  We glance at it, then at the increasingly limp man in our arms, then at each other.

  “The bed,” we agree in unison.

  I never thought my apartment was very big until now. Every step feels like a mile. With gargantuan effort, Rosie and I manage to drag him to the bedroom, then let his weight go. He falls forward onto the mattress with a dull thud.

  “Typical,” she mutters, her hands on her hips as she catches her breath. “Only a man would accuse us of wearing scantily-clad costumes and admit to noticing our body parts when his costume consists of nothing but pants, so he can show off his impressive six-pack.”

  “Think of it this way. His costume is much easier to remove than ours, which means less work for us now.” I have no idea what happened to his lab coat, but I’m grateful I purchased our costumes rather than renting them. “Help me.”

  Between the two of us, we roll him onto his back. Rosie huffs as she works his belt free while I remove his boots. It takes both of us to pull his filthy jeans off without the ability for him to even lift his hips to help us.

  Rosie gags a couple of times as blood smears on my comforter.

  Those stains will be hard enough to remove. I don’t want to add vomit into the mix. “Go get out of your costume. I’ll take it from here.”

  She sucks in air through her nose, immediately turning away. “I’ll just scrub off all this makeup, then throw on some sweats and be right back. We’ll probably have to take turns sitting up with him while he pukes all that alcohol out of his system. You want me to order some takeout to keep us awake?”

  “The sight of blood makes you sick, but you want to eat while he’s throwing up?” I wrinkle my nose in confusion.

  She shrugs, her back still to me. “Puke doesn’t bother me.”

  “That’s weird, Ro.”

  “Did you just call me Ro?”

  I pause my examination of Jason’s torso. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Her arms wrap around me from behind. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”

  “Are you ever going to lie to me or use me as a replacement again? I’m a much better model than Hayleigh, you know.”

  “I know.” She kisses my cheek. “I’m sorry I never gave you the chance to prove it.”

  Her tone is so sincere. How can I say no? She and Jason took care of me at my worst, even with all the bad blood and mistrust between us.

  “Go order us some Chinese, then. It’s going to be a long night.”

  She squeezes me, then departs, skipping as she goes.

  I exhale all my misgivings, then focus on the task at hand. Without Jason to give me verbal directives about his pain, I’m on my own to make sure he’s not worse off than he looks. And frankly, he looks like hell.

  His lip is split and already scabbed over; a fresh bruise blooms on his jaw, another tiny cut to his eyebrow still carves a red river down his face and neck. But, perhaps the saddest and most damning evidence is his hands. Not a scab or abrasion in sight. He never landed a single hit on Kieran.

  As I begin the process of wiping him down, stemming the blood flow on his face, and feeling his chest for damage, he flutters his eyes open.

  “How bad is it?”

  “Not sure yet,” I murmur as I continue to palpitate his ribs. “You’ve never taken this many hits in a fight before.”

  He grips my hand. “Not me. The fight. How bad?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re asking. You lost like you were supposed to. Go back to sleep.”

  His eyes are still glazed with alcohol, but an intensity burns through the haze as he stares at me. “Do you think that was retribution for me changing the rules at the last fight or,” he swings his finger between us, “for this?”

  I chew on my lip. He poses a valid question, one I’ve been pondering since Kieran announced he would be in the ring tonight. If anyone else had been Jason’s opponent, then I’d believe Kieran was responding to the growing disbelief Jason couldn’t be beaten by anyone else on campus. Something about tonight felt intensely more personal than simply righting a sinking ship.

  “I don’t know.” That’s the most terrifying admission of all.

  “Why?” he croaks.

  Irritation and a healthy dose of fear creeps up my spine. “Because I don’t know what’s in his mind or his heart. He admitted to using m
e for sex. You claim he’s lying about why he doesn’t want anything more. If you’re right, then he shouldn’t be jealous of us. If he was telling the truth, then it still doesn’t make any sense, especially since we haven’t given him the impression we have an actual relationship. No matter who’s right or wrong, none of this is justifiable.”

  Jason blinks a few times, seeming to try to focus his gaze. “No. Not about that. Why didn’t you just walk away from all this when you had the chance?”

  “I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt.” The truth tastes so good on my tongue.

  He reaches up, cupping my jaw with an unsteady hand. “You’re going to make one hell of a doctor someday.”

  “Because you let me practice on you?” I laugh off his compliment, even though it’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to me.

  He smiles, the movement lopsided, courtesy of his fat lip. “Your bedside manner could use some work. Take off your shirt like you did the first time and kiss me where it hurts.”

  I roll my eyes but decide to play along. I’m enjoying this new, sharing, playful side of Jason he rarely let me see before. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Everywhere.”

  I press against his side where the skin appears swollen and bruised. “Here?”

  He points to his lip. “Here.”

  “I think I’ve seen this in a movie before.”

  He chuckles and closes his eyes again. “Then, you already know how this ends.”

  “The hero gets the girl?”

  “We’ve already established I’m not the hero in this story. Neither is Kieran, so it looks like you’ll have to save yourself, after all, Dr. Sunshine.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” I sigh. “You could’ve laid him out flat tonight instead of going along with the plan. Humility is a heroic quality.”

  “My dick hurts.” His mouth ticks up on the good side. “Kiss me better there. How’s that for heroic and humble?”

  I didn’t take a single punch tonight, but my sides hurt from laughing so hard. “I can’t blow you while you’re drunk. Ever heard of this pesky little thing called consent? It works both ways.”

  He pops one eye open, raising his eyebrow. “You’d blow me if I was sober?”

  All joking vanishes with his serious tone.

  “This is the new and improved me, remember? I’m not getting on my knees for anyone. Part of saving myself means allowing the rug burn time to heal.”

  “Kieran doesn’t know what he threw away. I’d get on my knees for you. In a heartbeat.” His gaze seems so sure. He blinks and breaks the spell. His eyes are unfocused as they travel around my face.

  “You’re a charmer when you’re drunk, huh? I’ll file this under practicing how to deal with an intoxicated patient. I promise you won’t be held accountable tomorrow for anything you say.”

  “You’re one of the only people who’s ever held me accountable. Don’t stop tomorrow. I don’t want to become the villain, even though I look the part.”

  I smooth his brow with my hand. If he keeps making all these expressions, he’s going to tear open the butterflies holding his skin together. “That’s a very heroic thing to say, Villain.”

  “Shut up and kiss me better, Emma.”

  No one’s watching. There’s no act to perform, no one to fool. And yet, I don’t want to deny his request. I press my lips to the corner of his mouth, hoping for a hit of cinnamon. Disappointment never tasted so sweet.

  “What was that?” He looks more dazed than he was at the party.

  I tap the scab on his lower lip. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  He reaches up with his hand, feeling his own skin. “Huh. That’s twice now.”

  “Twice what?”

  “You didn’t turn away in disgust.”

  “Uh, guys?”

  I hop off Jason, which is stupid. My reaction makes it seem like I was straddling him for reasons other than patching him up. Which I wasn’t.

  Rosie’s suspicious gaze pinballs between me and Jason until she shakes her head and holds up her phone. “We have a serious problem.”

  “What now?” Jason groans.

  “He whom we sought to control has become the puppet master once again.”

  “Fuck. I’m too drunk for this, Ro. In English, please.”

  “Kieran’s gone rogue.”

  Truth: The expert about anything was once a beginner.

  The dining hall buzzes with conversation. The hive of Wellbridge is hungry for food and the latest gossip over last night’s revelations. The weight of their stares burdens my shoulders as I walk past. A sense of shame sweeps through me at their dumbfounded expressions, knowing I played a part in this. Their eyes hold a mixture of awe…and a little fear.

  Nothing and no one is off the table now.

  I don’t have much of an appetite, but I go through the motions of selecting my lunch choices. No one knows who I am or what my role is and anything less than acting ordinary could spell doom for more than just me. I spy a lone figure on the fringe of activity, sitting by himself as usual. His head is down just like it used to be in high school. He looks like he’s been wrung out from more than getting beat up and a massive hangover.

  I glance around the crowded cafeteria. Other than a few groups of students I don’t really know, there doesn’t seem to be anyone around who would notice my choice of company this afternoon.

  He startles, almost imperceptibly, when I set my tray on the table across from him. I take my seat, waiting for him to acknowledge me.

  He doesn’t lift his head, but the gravel in his voice signals his displeasure. “What are you doing?”

  “Eating lunch. What does it look like?” Actually, it looks like I’m pushing the food around on my plate. My actions don’t exactly back up my snarky tone.

  Finally, he drags his gaze up to meet mine. “I meant, why are you eating lunch with me?”

  “Why wouldn’t I eat lunch with you? We used to eat together all the time.”

  “You can’t be seen with me. Especially now.” His eyes are hard, but there’s an underlying sense of disappointment in them. I share that sentiment all too well.

  “The damage has already been done. You weren’t really in any shape last night to discuss whether we should continue on with our plan. Rosie and I have been texting and calling you all morning. You disappeared for work and neither of us has seen or heard from you since.”

  His icy exterior seems to build as he leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “We can discuss things later. Leave.”

  Gone are all traces of the man who asked me to kiss him better last night, who seemed pleasantly surprised I didn’t recoil from his appearance, who swore he would get on his knees for me in a heartbeat.

  I knew he was drunk, but somehow that promise burrowed deep in my chest. It felt real in that moment. He can push me away in the light of day, but his actions the past few weeks prove he meant what he said. Jason wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble to try to keep me out of this otherwise. What he’s doing now is what he’s been doing since the beginning.

  “No one’s watching us. They’re all too busy checking their phones and gossiping.”

  He glances around the sprawling space as if he doesn’t trust my judgment. His shoulders slump, and he rests his elbows on the table, holding his face in his hands once he’s satisfied no one is paying us a bit of attention. “This is a fucking mess. He was never supposed to go after the people who don’t deserve it. What the hell is he thinking?”

  “Rosie mentioned students were getting suspicious you never lose. She thought last night was a way to balance the scales.”

  He adjusts his hands enough to glare at me. “Does she think that’s why he texted the reveals he sent out last night? Because announcing someone who isn’t popular was raped is a hell of a lot different than convincing potential fighters they have a shot at beating me.”

  Another round of pain stabs my chest. “She thinks it’s
kind of an Outsiders corollary. If you win, the Socs suffer. If you lose, then the Greasers suffer.”

  “Great. No pressure. Not that he gave me much choice last night.” He leans back in his seat, then pushes his tray away. “Can’t this guy do anything original? Why does he feel the need to constantly rip off other people’s ideas? At the very least, he’s gotta know Fight Club and The Outsiders did not end well.”

  I never expected this to end well, and I’ve never seen either of those movies or read their corresponding books. Some stories are simply written on the wall, regardless of plot twists.

  “Since you and Ro obviously huddled about this new development already, what does she think we should do? She’s the psych major who formulated this whole plan to regain control.”

  “We weren’t going behind your back. You excluded yourself,” I remind him. I twirl the pasta on my plate listlessly, completely aware I’m using it as a distraction, so I won’t have to look Jason in the eyes as I relay Rosie’s thoughts on the matter. “She’s convinced we can’t control Kieran. Being an alpha is part of his core personality. She does believe we might have underestimated our ways of making him question himself, though. Instead of you trying to mimic his behavior with me, she thinks it might have more of an impact if you’re a reflection of every wrong choice he’s ever made.”

  Jason’s dark laugh forces my gaze to his smirk. “Where to start? There are so many possibilities to choose from.”

  “Oh, good,” I exhale some of the anxiety in my chest. “Do you have some ideas? I’d love to hear them.”

  “I have several. Let’s hear Rosie’s first, though.”

  Damn. I really thought I might be able to get away with not telling him directly. Maybe I should wait for Rosie to do it. They have an understanding. It would be less awkward for her to explain her reasons to him.

  “Emma?”

  “Hmm?” I’ve really never noticed before how talented the students in the art department are. The murals on the walls are quite interesting.

  “What’s Rosie’s idea?”

  “Oh, nothing too crazy,” I murmur, pondering the artist’s choice of color palette.