by L A Cotton
“Step-brother,” I corrected her.
“Like that matters. Jason marched you out of that party like he was your dad.”
“Please don’t remind me.” I’d get him back for that.
One day.
Pushing back the covers, I climbed out of bed, listening to Flick as she told me the ins and outs of her texts back and forth with Jude. Apparently, they had shared a secret kiss at the party and if I didn’t know better, it sounded like my best friend had a serious crush.
Inside my bathroom, I listened for any signs of life from Jason’s room. When there was none, I slipped out into the hall and downstairs. I loved Sunday mornings. Kent and Mom always left the house early to go play couples golf with our neighbors; and if Jason was home, he rarely surfaced before ten and then he usually headed straight over to Asher’s house. But when I hit the bottom step and heard the low rumble of voices coming from the kitchen, I paused. Cupping my hand around my phone, I whispered, “Flick, I need to go.”
“Go? But I was just about to tell you—”
“I think Jason and the guys are here. I’ll call you later.”
“Oh, okay.”
We said goodbye and hung up, and I tiptoed down the hall. Jason was talking to Asher, but I couldn’t hear anyone else. I hovered, straining to listen.
“He could use her against you,” Asher said, and I heard Jason sneer.
“Like anything he could do to her would bother me.”
“Dude, you might hate her, but she’s still family. If your dad or her mom found out...” Asher’s voice trailed off, and my spine went rigid as it dawned on me; they were talking about last night.
About me.
Without thinking, I stormed into the kitchen, my eyes immediately landing on Jason and Asher... and Cameron, sitting at the breakfast counter. Jason groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face, while Cameron grew tense. Ignoring him to focus on my step-brother, I said, “Why would they use me against you?”
“Hailee...” It was a warning, his voice low and cold. But screw that. They played enough with my life without dragging me into their rivalry with Rixon East.
“Fuck you,” I spat, frustration and fury licking the inside of my stomach. “I didn’t ask you to turn up at that party last night and ruin everything.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Cameron’s expression harden, his fingers curl around the edge of the counter.
And then I realized I was only wearing my thin tank top and boy-short pajamas.
Great.
Just great.
“You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. Fuck, Hailee, it’s East territory. Those fuckers—”
“You think I care about that? About what team they play for? Me being there had nothing to do with you.”
“Come on, Hails, you expect us to believe—” Asher swallowed his words when I levelled him with a hard look.
I threw up my hands, bitter laughter spilling out of me. “You’re deluded, all of you.” My eyes went wide. “If you must know, me and Flick went to that party because you made damn sure we don’t get invited to any parties here. We didn’t even know it was an Eagles thing until Toby said—”
“Toby, who the fuck is Toby?” Cameron finally spoke, and my gaze slid to his.
“You’re actually going to sit there and act like you care?” I all but spat the words at him. In true asshole fashion he remained stone masked, my words rolling off his impenetrable expression.
Silence stretched out before us, the air growing dense. With an exasperated sigh, I looked to Jason again. “Why do you care so much that Lewis Thatcher knows who I am? It’s never mattered before.”
“Because they could come at me through you.”
I scoffed at that. He was talking stupid. I was nothing to him, no one. So the idea someone would hurt me to get at Jason was the most stupid thing I’d ever heard.
“If that’s the case,” I said, “Then I’m surprised you didn’t hand me over willingly.” I locked eyes with him, daring him to prove me wrong.
Jason’s jaw clenched as he curled and uncurled his fist against the counter, over and over, as if he was working the muscles in his hand as well as the problem in his head.
“Trust me, little sister,” he seethed. “You don’t want to end up in the middle of this.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I didn’t ask to end up in the middle of anything.” My voice was shrill, but I was so done with his shit. “You don’t own me, Jason. Everyone else might treat you like the prodigal son of football, but I. Don’t. Care.” My blood boiled with contempt.
Jason stood up. “Fuck this shit,” he said, storming out of the room.
“That went well.” Asher gave me a wry smile, and I rolled my eyes. But he wasn’t done. “You know, he’s right. You think we make your life hell, but if you get in the middle of things with Thatcher and Jase, things could get very messy.”
“What did he do that Thatcher would want to use me to get back at him?”
Asher went to reply, but Cameron said, “Ash, don’t,” shaking his head.
My eyes snapped over to his. “Really, you’re going to keep me in the dark?”
“It’s for your own sake.”
“Oh please, like anything you do is for my sake.”
“Aaaand, I’m out.” Asher got up and started to leave. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, bro. Although looking as good as she does,”—his eyes raked over me, eliciting a shiver up my spine, and not the good kind—“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”
“Pig.”
“Bitch.” He disappeared into the hall leaving me alone with Cameron.
The very last place I wanted to be.
Cameron
“He’s a disgusting pig,” Hailee said as the door closed behind Asher’s retreating form.
“He’s only messing with you.”
“He called me a bitch.” She gave me a pointed look, daring me to disagree.
“Yeah, but he didn’t mean it.” Asher was… complicated. He acted the spoiled football god better than most of us, but I knew him better than that. And the Asher Rixon High got wasn’t the version I knew existed underneath his mask.
“Whatever.” Hailee folded her arms over her chest, drawing attention to her soft curves.
Of course she’d had to storm into the kitchen wearing nothing but thin pajamas, her silky hair hanging over her shoulders like a huge fucking arrow saying ‘look at my tits’.
I forced myself to look away, silently commanding my dick to stand down. “You okay?” I said, breaking the deafening silence. Hailee’s eyes narrowed as they slid back to me, her expression murderous.
“I can’t believe this,” she muttered. “I went to that party to escape all your crap and now I’m in the middle of some stupid football rivalry thanks to my asshole of a brother. So, you tell me, Cameron, how the hell am I supposed to feel?”
“If it’s any consolation, I told them not to do anything reckless.”
“Oh wow, you did? Look how well that worked out.” She sneered. “God, I really want to paint the crap out of something right now.”
Silence enveloped us, the atmosphere toxic. Hailee had every right to be pissed. Hell, I was pissed too. I’d told them not to do anything stupid, warned them to stay out of Rixon East. But I should have known they wouldn’t listen. Jason did whatever he wanted, when he wanted, consequences be damned. But he’d never had to worry about anyone but himself and the team before. East knowing about Hailee changed things. And whether he’d admit it or not, it made Jase vulnerable.
“I need to go.” She started moving for the door, but I straightened off the counter.
“We should—”
“What, Cameron?” Hailee’s eyes were saucers as she cut me with a look that made me feel five inches tall. “What should we do? Pretend like we can actually stand each other? Go another round of verbal chess? Or maybe you want to shove a bag over my head and ruin another perfectly good shirt?”
I hear
d her words, felt the venom behind them, but I was too distracted by her lips to really let them settle in my bones. Too focused on the way her mouth curved with every syllable.
“Oh my god,” she shrieked. “You’re doing it again. You’re totally looking at my—”
I closed the distance between us, crowding her against the wall, snagging a wisp of her hair between my fingers. It was a bold move given the hate stare she was giving me, and the fact her step-brother was right outside, but it was a damn sight better than fisting her hair and smashing my mouth to hers, which is what I really wanted to do.
“Do you ever stop talking?” I asked.
“Do you ever consider getting professional help?” She looked away from me, her arms folded across her chest, as she fought a smirk.
“Oh, Sunshine, the only thing driving me crazy is you.”
“This isn’t a game, Cameron. This, us, it’s not attraction you feel; it’s hate. I. Hate. You.”
Leaning in, I ran my nose along her jaw, sure I felt her body shiver, her breath catch. “Keep telling yourself that, Sunshine.”
Her hands pressed against my chest as she glared up at me, but she wasn’t fooling me. Hailee was pissed, yes, but she was also turned on. Her pupils were dilated, her skin warm and flushed. And I wanted nothing more than to find out all the other ways I could make her blush.
But she ground out, “I’m not doing this again with you. I won’t be that girl.” Giving a little shove, Hailee ducked underneath my arm and slipped away from me. “Stay away from me, Cameron.”
But as she walked away from me, I knew I was screwed.
Because the rules had changed, and I knew I couldn’t stay away from her.
Even if I wanted to.
After giving myself five minutes to calm down, I found Jase outside, throwing a ball. He looked like shit: a deep purple bruise around one eye and an angry cut on his lip. Anger radiated from him like a warning sign that said, ‘stay the fuck away’, but I wasn’t anyone. And we needed to talk about this.
“I should’ve listened to you,” he ground out, hiking the ball and sending it flying through the tire.
Folding my arms, I shrugged. “I told you it was a bad idea, but you couldn’t have known she was going to be there.”
“She shouldn’t have been there, stupid fucking—”
“You know she wasn’t there to stir trouble for you.”
“Wasn’t she?” He levelled me with a hard look. “How can I know for sure this wasn’t all part of her plan to get back at me for your little stunt at the pep rally?” His brow rose. That was Jason though, so wary of everyone’s ulterior motives. I guess it came with the territory; the higher you climbed, the less you could trust the people around you. Because everyone wanted a piece of a legend in the making.
“Because, man, Hailee might get off on your games almost as much as you do, but she’s not you. Besides, she hates the limelight. Can you really imagine her going to an East party and announcing herself as Jason Ford’s step-sister?”
He mulled my words over, his eyes hard on the ground. “She’s made things real fucking difficult for me. My dad knows we butt heads, but if he found out I... fuck.” His fist clenched at his side. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”
“East know she’s family now, so you might as well start treating her like it. Rivals Week is the week after next. If they’re going to try anything you can bet your ass it’ll be then.”
Jase jammed his fingers in his hair, tugging the ends in frustration. “She’ll never go for that. And honestly, I’m not sure I can do it. I don’t like her.” He glanced up at me. “I’ll never like her.”
“You don’t have to like her.” The words stuck in my throat. “But she’s in the middle of this now, whether you like it or not.”
His grim expression told me he knew I was right. “She won’t make things easy,” he sounded defeated.
“She doesn’t need to. One semester; we only need to get through one semester and then the season is done.”
“One semester,” he echoed as if he was trying it out for size. “I swear to God, man, if she screws anything up for me—”
“She won’t.” If Hailee knew what was good for her, she’d keep her head down and her mouth shut, and this thing with Thatcher would all blow over. And if it didn’t… well, I didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Fuck.” Jase let the ball fly and it hit the outer rim of the tire. Jason didn’t miss.
He never missed.
Looking my best friend in the eye, I said, “You need to keep your head about this, okay?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I just…”
“I know.”
Football, this life, was all he knew. The air he breathed.
And for someone like Jason, losing even an ounce of control was not an option.
Monday morning in the weight room was a bitch. Coach didn’t want us to get cocky after our crushing win over Marshall Prep, and had us work extra hard which meant practice was going to be a double bitch. He’d also given Jason and Asher an earful about their appearance, but he didn’t ask questions—he didn’t want to know. As long as they were fit enough to play and stayed out of Principal Finnigan’s way, that was all that mattered.
The buzz in the locker room was infectious, everyone still riding the high of Friday night.
“So, I heard Levinson are looking good this season.” Layton, one of the new players from JV said. “My cousin goes there, and he said—”
“Levinson can eat my ass,” Asher howled. “Last season, weren’t they like six losses to four?”
“Things change, man. I’m telling you, they got this new coach, and he’s really worked them hard over the summer.”
Asher shrugged. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“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.
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—”
