by Rina Kent
I opt to go upstairs to my room and grin like an idiot at the thought of rereading Akira’s letter and thinking of an equally sarcastic reply. It’s a game of ours.
“Nao, wait.”
I’m two steps in, but I turn around to face Mom. She has placed the phone in her slacks’ pocket, putting a rare premature end to her conversation with her assistant, her lawyer, her accountant. Anyone who needs the great Riko Chester’s time.
She was born in Japan as Riko Sato, but she changed her last name as soon as she got American citizenship when I was a kid.
Mom is a small woman but keeps her hair long, not short like I do, and she looks like my older sister, not the woman who gave birth to me. She has flawless skin and beautiful small features that she passed down to me. Though she’s paler and has more dark circles than usual lately.
Her eyes are brown, but nowhere as big or as dark as mine. Which I guess is a feature I got from my father, who’s sort of a taboo subject in front of her.
“How did school go?” she asks with a slight accent. Since she’s first-generation, she doesn’t really speak with an American accent as I do, but it’s not for lack of trying. I guess being born speaking in a certain way stamps you for life.
I lift a shoulder. “The usual.”
Mom reaches for her pack of cigarettes and steps back from the mannequin as she lights one, then takes a drag. “How about practice?”
“It was cool.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“As if I could. You’d call the dean and get all the deets. Or maybe the coach, since she was there.”
“Do not sass me, young lady.”
“I’m not. Just making your job easy for you since, I don’t know, you prefer asking others about me instead of actually attending any of the stupid games I bust my ass for.”
“Watch your language. And it’s not like I don’t attend them because I don’t want to. Some of us work, Naomi.”
“Get back to it then.”
“Nao-chan…”
My stomach flips whenever she calls me in that endearing way. It’s like I’m back to being a little girl, when Mom was my world.
Until the red night shattered it.
She approaches slowly, releasing a puff of nicotine into the air. “Are you mad at me?”
“I don’t know, Mom. Maybe I am.”
She strokes my arm. “I’m sorry. I know I’m barely around lately. But it’s all for you.”
“No, Mom. No. Don’t use the excuse that it’s for me. It stopped being for me after you bought this house and secured both our futures. Now, it’s just for you.”
She drops her hand, and although it’s painful and I want her to comfort me again, I’m well aware that it’s useless. Mom will always do what she thinks is best, not caring about what type of results that brings to my life.
“One day, you’ll understand it all. At least, I hope you will.” She smiles with a hint of defeat. “Go freshen up before delivery gets here. I ordered Italian.”
“What’s the occasion?” While I’m secretly glad she’s eating in tonight, I’m surprised she doesn’t have some sort of a dinner set up somewhere with all the associates and business partners she has.
“Why does there have to be an occasion for me to eat with my daughter?” She smiles again, but it’s still with that note of defeat, or is that sadness?
I don’t ponder on it long, because she kills her cigarette in an ashtray and goes back to her work.
Me, however? I can’t help the giddiness I feel at the thought of having dinner with her.
Maybe our little family isn’t beyond saving, after all.
3
Sebastian
Being brought up in a certain way puts specific expectations on me.
I can stand out, but not in a negative sense.
I can live my life, but not where it matters.
My whole existence has been mapped out ever since I was born as the senator’s grandson and have had to play the role that goes with it.
Maybe that’s why I’m often tempted to allow my rebellious side to get the better of me.
Why I sometimes let it rear its head and show the world the turbulent side of me.
You know, basic rich kid problems.
After practice, Owen drags me and a few other team members out for drinks with the cheerleaders.
I’d rather be sleeping, but Owen would probably display my head on a stick for the world to see. I kind of need my head—and everything inside it.
Besides, drinks with them is better than being trapped under the senator’s and his wife’s tenacious stares. Yes, they’re my grandparents and the people who raised me, but I don’t quite appreciate them when they barge into my apartment any chance they get, even long after I’ve moved out of their house.
Instead of drinks, Owen goes all the way for a meal at The Grill. We like this place because it belongs to Coach’s brother, Chad, and he’s a big fan of ours. Not only does he give us one of his private booths where we’re hidden from the rest of the patrons, but he also serves us his best meals.
As soon as we walk inside, accompanied by some of the cheerleaders, Chad grins and points at us. “Give it up for the Devils, ladies and gents!”
Owen and the others make a show of tapping their jackets, on which the team’s logo rests. The cheerleaders hoot and the men make howling sounds.
Most of the patrons clap, and endless praise and compliments shower us.
“Let’s win State, son!”
“Show the Knights no mercy!”
“See you in the NFL!”
“Our heroes!”
Yeah, that’s far from the truth, but this town is too obsessed with football. It’s kind of unhealthy.
And yes, my thoughts remain, even as I grin, shake their hands, and take random selfies. In the span of a few minutes, I put on the show I was taught to perform when I was a kid.
Always smile. Always be on your best behavior.
Always put on a mask.
By the time we reach the stairs, I’ve shaken hands and taken pictures with most of the people present. Let’s just say that Chad likes us as much as we like his place. Since everyone knows we hang out here, the restaurant is almost always full.
He gives me a bro hug, then clutches me by the shoulders. The smell of grease and pepper comes off him in waves. “My star quarterback.”
“Not really a star yet.”
“Oh, yes you are.”
I grin. “I guess I’ll show you this Friday.”
“That’s the spirit, son!” He gives me an encouraging slap on the back like Coach does.
People in Blackwood expect one thing from me—to be efficient. It comes with the Weaver name.
Those who belong to my family need to bring something to the table, whether it’s grades, victories, a senatorial position, or a hotshot lawyer role like my uncle.
At any rate, I need to have something to offer.
After a glittery welcoming in front of the townspeople, Chad finally points us in the direction of our private booth.
Brianna, the co-captain of the cheerleaders, slips her hand through my arm as she paints on her own plastic smile. Hers is so overdone, it’s fucking turn off.
There’s an art in faking one’s smile. A part of you needs to believe in it. A part of you needs to send signals to your brain that smiling is the best solution for people to leave you alone.
We sit around the table, the guys already mixing and matching with the cheerleaders. There are five of us and about seven cheerleaders, so Brianna and Reina sit on either side of me. But everyone knows the blonde, blue-eyed beauty captain is off the table.
She’s engaged to one of our teammates from high school, and although he chose to study international law in England and hasn’t returned in three years, she still wears his ring.
In a way, we’re only keeping an eye on her so that no one gets close. At least, Owen and the others do. I’m interested to see the stern l
ook on her face break, even if that means she finds another man.
Yes, I’m a horrible friend, but I blame it on small-town problems. As in, there’s barely anything considered fun around here.
And I’m not the type who can be allowed to have free time. If I do, my fucked-up tendencies will take reign, and that would just be…tragic.
To everyone else, not me.
Owen stands up, clearing his throat, and I groan. This is heading in a direction I can see from a mile away, but if I stop him, he’ll pout like a bitch and be a general douche. I kind of need my wide receiver on my side, at least until the critical game.
He grabs a glass of beer and holds it high as he speaks in his dramatic tone, “I want to toast our star quarterback who gets all the praise—not cool, man—and to all the beautiful ladies who make us play like beasts. To the Devils!”
“To the Devils!” everyone else echoes and I tip my glass in his direction before I take a sip.
Owen finally takes his seat, but he leans into Reina’s side. “Queen Bee, what are you gonna do for me if we win?”
She raises a brow while tracing the rim of her glass with her pink-manicured nails. “What do you want?”
“A BJ. If you give me that, I’ll win all the games.”
She smirks. “Maybe if you get drafted into the NFL, Owen.”
“You think I won’t be able to do it?”
“Show me what you got then.”
“Oh, I will, babe. In fact, you’ll love my dick so much, you might dump that loser Asher for it.”
“Maybe I will.” She smiles, and unlike Brianna, it’s not plastic, but it’s still as fake as mine.
A hypocrite does recognize a hypocrite after all.
We dig into our food—we order pasta while the cheerleaders settle for salad, as usual.
While I eat and indulge in the humor, I wait for the other shoe to drop or explode or whatever the hell Reina does in these types of situations. There’s a reason she convinced Owen to drag us all here.
“Don’t you think it’s time for another dare?” she asks nonchalantly.
There.
The reason Reina has perfected her fake smiles and facial expressions. The real Reina hides beneath the surface and subtly toys with everyone around her.
How do I know? I do the same sometimes. The difference is, she does it for ambiguous reasons that don’t usually benefit her. In fact, all the dares she’s issued so far seem cruel but actually end up helping her victims.
In my case, I participate to get them off my back, not harm them. Unless they turn out to be annoying pests, which is when interference is necessary.
“Hell to the yeah!” Josh, one of my teammates, exclaims. “Loved playing a prank on our history teacher that one time.”
“And I loved helping.” Morgan, a cheerleader, winks and he licks his lips.
“We should take it up a notch, Rei,” Brianna says in her slightly squeaky, hyperactive voice.
Prescott, the only male cheerleader present, takes a sip of his beer. “Or else, it’ll get boring.”
I can relate.
But at the same time, Reina’s childish dares were never my thing. She’s been amping them up from high school as if she’s trying to prove a point.
Still, I need to keep up appearances and pretend that I belong to their holy circle. Partly because Owen becomes really grumpy when I ruin his fun. Partly because I have no intention of being trapped in my head.
That’s not a very comfortable place, last I checked.
“I agree. We should spice things up a little.” Reina meets my gaze. “Are you up for it, Bastian?”
I leisurely finish chewing, trying to figure out why she singled me out from everyone present.
It’s a first, and I learned from the best to never ignore such deviation from the ordinary.
However, I can’t put my finger on the reason for it.
“Is that a yes?” she insists.
“Hey, Queen Bee. I thought we would be sex partners.” Owen pouts, hitting his chest. “I have a black hole right in the middle of my heart.”
“Pass,” I say. “Asher would serial kill me if I come near you. I still need my life.”
It’s not a lie. The ever-so-calm Asher Carson turns into a violent motherfucker when it comes to Reina and often beat up guys for merely looking at her the wrong way in high school. Even though he’s currently away, if he catches wind of this, he’ll barge back in as if he never left.
But I’m merely using that as an excuse.
The actual reason? There’s no way in fuck I’d let Reina or anyone else use me as a pawn in their game.
I’m a senator’s son, thank you very much. We use people, not the other way around.
“I won’t be anyone’s sexual partner,” Reina addresses Owen and me, but her attention doesn’t waver from my face. “I have a dare for you if you have the guts to take it.”
“Yes, totally take it.” Brianna strokes my arm up and down in what she believes is seductive but is actually getting on my fucking nerves.
“Of course, he’ll take it.” Owen puffs his chest.
“Our quarterback isn’t a pussy,” Josh exclaims, and everyone else from the team hoots in agreement.
That seals it from my end.
I can’t go against it now, not when all the team members have accepted Reina’s dares in the past. If anything, they thought it was a privilege to be ‘chosen.’ I glare at the Barbie who’s still smiling with hidden triumph. She plotted this whole thing so I’d have no choice but to oblige.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask in the calm tone I’ve perfected so well.
“Fuck someone.”
Owen snorts out a laugh. “What type of dare is that? Chicks drop their panties for him without him having to ask.”
“Yeah, Rei,” Josh agrees. “He gets the best pussy without even trying.”
I raise a brow at Reina. “Is that really your grand dare? Fuck someone?”
“Not just anyone.” Her smile slowly vanishes, allowing a shadow to creep in. “Naomi.”
My smile falters at the same time as hers and I hope she takes it as if I’m mirroring her, not something else.
Images of delicate skin, huge dark brown eyes, and soft full lips come to mind. Those images play the way she stared up at me as a blush crept up her pale neck and cheeks, turning them red. The way her smart mouth retorted back at every turn as if she did it for sport.
And I couldn’t help picturing stuffing those beautiful lips with my dick and watch her fucking squirm.
“Nao…who?” Owen asks. “Wait a minute. Is it that Asian chick who was making babies with Weaver on the ground today?”
“That’s the one.” Brianna gives a foxy grin. “But she doesn’t like making babies. If anything, we think she might be a virgin.”
“Holy wow.” Owen chugs the rest of his beer. “The plot fucking thickens.”
Josh waggles his brows. “Can I have her, please?”
I let my utensils rest on the table. “Why her?”
“It was random,” Reina lies through her teeth.
There’s nothing random about this. Everything Reina does is calculated and has reasons only she is privy to. Did she come up with this dare after she saw me with Naomi earlier?
“And that bitch needs to learn a lesson.” Brianna takes a slurp of her green drink. “She thinks she’s holier-than-thou when she’s just a loser.”
“And she always talks back!” Morgan says in a shrill dramatic voice. “She doesn’t respect those who are higher in rank than her.”
“I don’t see why that’s my problem.” I pick up my utensils again and pretend to be digging into my food, even though I’m barely seeing anything through my hazy vision.
No, not hazy. Red.
Like fucking blood.
“Is that a no, Bastian?” Reina asks. “Because I can dare any of the other guys to do it. Maybe Josh. He seems so into it.”
“Yes!” Josh j
umps up. “My Japanese porn fantasy will finally come true.”
I lift my head, lips thinning, but I slowly release them.
The only image that comes to mind is that of a beautiful petite woman who’ll be destroyed to pieces by the end of this bet.
And if anyone’s going to be doing the destroying, it’s only fair that it’s me.
I won’t take it far.
Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
I wipe my mouth with a napkin, meeting all their gazes. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck Naomi.”
To be continued…
Sebastian & Naomi’s story continues in Red Thorns.
Curious about Reina and her fiancé mentioned in this book? You can read their completed story in All The Lies.
What’s Next?
Thank you so much for reading Yellow Thorns! If you liked it, please leave a review.
Your support means the world to me.
If you’re thirsty for more discussions with other readers of the series, you can join the Facebook group, Rina’s Spoilers Room.
Next up is the continuation of Sebastian and Naomi’s tale in Red Thorns.
Blurb
A bet turned into a nightmare.
Sebastian Weaver is the star quarterback and the college’s heartthrob.
Rich. Handsome. Bastard.
Everyone’s attention flocked toward him and all the girls dreamed to be with him.
Not me.
At least, not until he made a move on me.
See, I thought I was stronger than Sebastian’s charms.
I thought I could survive being his target.
I thought wrong.
Little did I know that he will make my most twisted fantasies come true.
Fantasies I didn’t know existed...
Also By Rina Kent
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Steel Princess
Twisted Kingdom
Black Knight
Vicious Prince
Ruthless Empire
Royal Elite Epilogue
