by NV Roez
Fuck you, universe. Fuck. You.
"I assume this is mandatory?" This time I grab both straps of my backpack to avoid lashing out and breaking something. No need to give him a reason to really question my mental state.
He nods his head, closing the file folder as he stands up. "Yes, I'm afraid it is. Some information has been brought to my attention that cannot be overlooked, and it is my responsibility to ensure the safety of all Stratham students."
I roll my eyes and turn to leave before I say something I shouldn't, but apparently he's not done talking.
"Oh, and, Ms. Hawton, it would be in your best interest to stay away from the Knights."
I close my eyes and pause for the briefest moment, steel my back and turn around. Fucking Elijah.
"Let me guess, your new information causing the need to meet with you regularly came from them?"
"Ms. Hawton, I cannot divulge where I got the information from, but realize they are the elite of the elite and it's best that you do not interfere with them. They don't take kindly to your kind."
I stare at Dr. Weaver for all of three seconds, blood boiling.
My kind!
I nod my head and walk out of his office. Little does he know that I'd gladly do just that if I could.
The elite of the elite?
What-the-fuck-ever.
More like the alpha-assholes amongst the regular assholes, but who am I?
As soon as I walk outside, I see Caleb hanging around the hallway.
Oh, for the love of all things holy...
His hazel eyes are more green than blue today and, regrettably, catch mine. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and simply turn around to walk in the opposite direction.
I don't need this shit today, but he apparently missed the memo. I hear him mumble something under his breath and feel him following me.
I keep walking, automatically getting my keys from my pocket and slip on my kitty knuckles. Just as they slide on my fingers, Caleb reaches out and grabs my arm.
Stepping back, using his momentum, I twist around, jut my palm to his shoulder, close my other hand into a fist, and push up with the pointy steel cat ears to his throat.
For a second, there's excitement and pride in his eyes, and it's not lost on me that he's the one who taught me that move.
I almost laugh when I realize that he's also the one who bought me these kitty knuckles. I had to hide them when I got locked up, and by a small miracle, they stayed put for two years.
"Oh, come on. Is that the way you greet an old friend, babygirl?" he says with a wicked smile.
"It's Evelyn, and last time I checked, we're not friends. You made that quite clear. What do you want, Caleb?" Unlike with Micah, Caleb and I share a history that cost me physical scars, not just emotional ones, and being in his presence burns my skin as much as it burns my heart.
The amber flecks in his eyes immediately lose luster, and the humor of the moment is gone.
"It's whatever the fuck I say it is."
Ah, forever the control freak.
He steps in closer, the sharp tips of the cat ears break the skin on his muscular neck and bright red drops start to trickle down.
My eyes flicker between his bleeding neck and his eyes, not knowing which to focus on. Either way, the sight of both brings heat to my belly.
"You're going to pay for that, Evelyn. Along with every other drop of blood you've spilled that wasn't yours." His hazel eyes grow an even darker shade of green, drowning out the blue completely.
I straighten my back and tilt my head with a smirk of my own.
I just made a god bleed.
"Careful, Caleb. You forget, I scratch and bite," I quip, easing the steel ears off his neck slightly. There are far too many witnesses, and the last thing I need is to get kicked out of school on the first real day.
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes and shakes his head, "Oh, babygirl, we'll have you crawling and begging, too."
He leans his broad chest closer to mine, pressing his nose to the sensitive part of my flesh just below my ear, and inhales deeply. Kitty knuckles forgotten.
He pushes his hips into mine and I can feel his growing erection press against my stomach. He glances down, through unbelievably long, dark lashes, to my chest that's littered with goosebumps, and I can feel my nipples betray me as sinful tingles travel to my core.
He's fucking gorgeous and still smells like cloves and leather. What’s worse is that my body remembers his touch, the feel of him in forbidden places, and welcomes him with open fucking arms.
I won’t admit that seeing him, breathing him in, makes me ache for a home long gone.
He shifts his now green eyes directly onto mine, and for the briefest of moments, I swear I can see the little boy that gave his virginity to me. But he's gone before I can blink.
"It's a shame that we're in this hallway, because this kitty is in need of being punished."
His warm breath dances across my cheek while his hand hovers over the apex of my thighs. He moves his lips dangerously close to the edge of my mouth and I force myself back against the wall.
"Don't worry, babygirl. I would rather be castrated and dipped in salted lemon water before I ever stick my dick in you again."
I roll my eyes, pretending that his words didn't just nick my heart much like my knuckles did his neck.
A defeated sigh escapes me. "What do you want, Caleb? I'm sure you didn't wait around just to remind me that you're a pure, unadulterated bastard," I breathe out, much softer than I intended.
I need space before I burn in all that is Caleb. He was always my fire, as much as Elijah was my air.
"Ding, ding, ding," he says mockingly. "Smart girl. I'm here to tell you that we will be collecting on your debt. You will pay for everything you took from me, from us. This is your only warning. Leave Stratham. In fact, leave Union Point."
I don't even try to stop the snort that comes out of me, letting my long black hair shield me from his stare for a moment before I put it back behind my ear.
"I didn't take anything from you, Caleb. I only took what you gave me," I say, glaring directly into his eyes.
"Don't play dumb, babygirl, it's an insult to your IQ. And we both know how smart you are."
"Caleb, I don't know what happened to you or what you think went down when we were kids. Deep down, maybe you've always been an asshole. Don't know, don't care. Just stay the fuck out of my way and I'll stay out of yours," I say as I try, and fail, to push the wall of his chest away from me. He's just too damn big, and solid… and muscular… and hard…
Fucking Christ, Evelyn. Focus.
Instead of moving back, he moves his body even closer, his six-foot frame towering over me, consuming everything in my view.
"That's not how this is gonna work. You're already in my way." His words are harsh, his eyes a mix of desire and a hatred that I remember all too well.
Well, that makes two of us. I hate him, too.
"Back the fuck off, Caleb. No soy la niña que recuerdas. Word of advice, I'm not the little girl you once knew, cowering in the corner, and I sure as hell don't take to threats."
I push him back again and this time, he moves and walks away, but not before he says over his shoulder, "Ya veremos. You've been warned."
I head towards the dining hall to meet Celeste for lunch as dark memories replay in my mind’s eye. The internal movie reel replays memories of how all three of them once had our entire prep school’s freshman class surround me in the cafeteria, back me in a corner, and dump trash on me.
I’m so in my thoughts that I don’t notice the bottle-blonds and the tiny brunette from the other night. The tallest one steps forward with a saccharine smile on her face as she clasps her hands.
“Hi, sweetie. You must be new here,” she says. The sweetness in her voice would give anyone a cavity. “I’m Genna and this is Alexis and London. Welcome to Stratham. I saw your little interaction with Caleb and just knew that I had to ta
lk to you.”
She places her hand on my shoulder, her nails subtly pressing into my skin like she’s about to release some dire secret.
“Life at Stratham can be pretty cut-throat, and I would hate for you to have the misfortune of being blacklisted before you even got a chance to experience all the opportunities this life can bring you. Something to remember about this place—perception here is just as powerful as the truth. And whatever you two were talking about looked a little too ‘intimate’ if you know what I mean. You wouldn’t want people here to think that you’re some incoming slut out to steal other people’s boyfriends, would you?”
The other girls shake their heads, condescension in their eyes, like I’ve already made a mistake when I have yet to utter a sound, but Genna continues.
“My advice—stay away from Caleb. He’s not available. Now, the girls and I will be joining Zeta Sigma Rho this year, so if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. We’d be glad to show you the ropes.”
I remove Genna’s hand from my shoulder like she’s contagious and really look at the girls in front of me. They’re carbon copies of the girls I used to go to school with down to their Chanel bags, Prada shoes, and false smiles—vipers in designer clothes. I don’t know if it’s her forced pleasantries or the residual memories of the thoroughbred girls that dumped garbage on me in high school, but I make the mistake and snap.
“I have zero interest in Caleb fucking Astor. If you want to help, keep him on a tighter leash.” And because I’m fully aware that perception matters,” I add, “Maybe practice a little more on your knees—that could do the trick.” I wink and walk away.
Jesus, Evelyn. What the hell is wrong with you? I can hear my sister’s voice chastising me in my head, but it’s too late to take it back.
I stare out the window of the dining hall, replaying every detail of my interaction with Caleb, hating that I feel anything but anger. It's been a long time since I've felt anything.
I hold on to the double shot of espresso and frothy milk in front of me a little tighter. Celeste was gracious enough to pick up my favorite coffee on her way back to campus. She didn't have classes today, so she's been out and about while I've been dealing with shitty ass people.
"Earth to Evie. Are you even listening to me?" Celeste looks at me from across the table.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, shaking myself out of my reverie.
I can see her scrutinizing my face, but I choose to ignore it and drink my coffee.
"What do you think?" she asks, squishing her eyebrows together and continuing, "About my date with Justin tonight?"
"Justin Prescott? I thought he already had a girlfriend. Juliette Davis, or something like that," I question, half wishing I could have skipped lunch with her.
There's nothing wrong with Cele. Truth is, and much to my surprise, she is so much like Ivy that I genuinely enjoy her presence most days. I just don't want to be around people right now.
I rarely ever do.
She rolls her eyes. "Jesus, Evie. Have you heard anything I've said?"
Sigh. I'm a shitty friend.
I shake out my hands and straighten my back, giving her all my attention, and wave my hand for her to continue.
"I'll start over," she says, and this time, I'm trying to fully focus on her and not the vivid memories that won't stop playing in my head of beautiful boys shredding my heart when I needed them most.
I don't need anyone.
The rest of lunch is all about Justin. Apparently, he'd been trying to break up with Justine all summer and put his foot down at the soccer game with a very public breakup.
Celeste rages on, retelling the details of the flirting she and Justin did at the party, how he asked for her number, deciphering the text messages she's been exchanging with him, and how the Knights are okay with Justin taking her out tonight.
That last part jolts me. "I'm sorry. Say that again. Why in the hell would he need the Knights’ approval to see you?"
She looks at me, puzzled, as if I should already know this answer. Clearly, I don't.
"Evie, the Knights are part of the elite. They run everything at this school and this town. With the power and prestige that surrounds them, they have just as many enemies too. Everyone gets vetted. Everyone. Not to mention, tradition says that they date within the Greek system, meaning a sorority girl," she explains. "Since I'm not, and never plan on being one, he needed to clear that." She shrugs like it's no big deal. "Rules are rules."
This is normal?
We finish our lunch with her fantasizing about what all the interactions she's had with Justin could mean for their future, and I smile. Ivy and Celeste would've been great friends. Romantics.
But she's not here.
With my thoughts turning even darker, between missing my twin and replaying the interactions with Caleb, it's time for me to go hit the pool for some laps.
"Do you ever take a day off?" Celeste asks, eyeing me when I pick up my gym bag.
I shrug my shoulders. I can’t find the words to explain to her my needs to push my body beyond its limits. "Why?"
"Oh, I don't know. To have some fun." She snorts, rolling her eyes. If eye-rolling were an Olympic sport, she'd win hands down. "College is supposed to be fun, Evelyn."
I slam my hand to my chest, sucking in a breath, and feigning shock.
"No! That's blasphemy, Celeste. Don't let Big Brother hear you. We may never graduate."
At that, we both bust out in giggles and the weight of the day eases, if only a little.
"Whatever, asshole. When you're ready to have a life, come find me," she says, still laughing while we head out of the dining hall and go our separate ways.
9
"Going for a run, beautiful?" a somewhat familiar voice asks from behind me as I cross the track to head to the pool house.
I look over my shoulder to see Stratham's soccer coach walking behind me with a smile in his emerald green eyes and hands in his pockets.
Coach Metson is probably the youngest staff member on campus with maybe four or five years on me. And he’s hot as hell with his short blond hair, bright green eyes, and washboard abs.
"Hey, Coach Metson." I return his smile with one of my own—albeit an empty one—and slow down to face him completely. "Sorry, no run today. I'm heading to the pool." I nod in the direction of the pool house.
"What's it going to take to get you to call me Ryan? I'm not your coach, not your professor... Dare I say that I'd like to be your friend?"
There's something sly in his tone that I can't quite place and decide to just ignore it. It's been a shit day, no need to add to it. Besides, he’s a staff member here, so it could be that he’s just guilty by association. I’ve never done well with authority.
I've seen him a handful of times over the summer, at parties or random places downtown. He's funny and pretty down to earth. He didn't disclose that he worked here until the Fourth of July party, which is why I ended up with Taylor and not him that night. Pity.
"Why do you wanna be friends with me?"
"Seriously? You're exotic, smart, and enjoy running my track. Have you seen the way you run? How could I not want to get to know one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen?"
I ugly-snort, but the hurt in his eyes has me apologizing instantly. I mean, seriously, do lines like that actually work?
He smiles. "For laughing at me, I think you owe me more than a simple apology. How about you come to dinner with me tomorrow to make up for hurting my feelings?"
Thankfully, I already have plans. I'm not sure how I feel about going to dinner with a faculty member.
"Can't. I promised my roomie we'd go to the Pledge Party tomorrow. But we can meet up on Sunday morning for a run, if you're up for it."
"Only if you promise to take it easy on me," he counters, his eyes changing to a deep emerald color.
With his physique, I’m sure he can. Wait—is he trying to flirt with me?
Fine, I'll play. Wh
y not?
"Can't make that promise. If you can't keep up..." I shrug my shoulders as a slow smirk slides across my face. "Then you can't keep up."
What the fuck are you doing, Evelyn? He works here! What happened to no boys?
I ignore my internal rantings and wait for the moment he catches the meaning of what I've said. I'm rewarded when his eyes snap to mine and there's a fire burning in them. Some guys are too easy.
"Challenge accepted," he says in my ear as he opens the door to the pool house for me and walks away.
I don't know why, but the chill that goes down my back feels like a warning and I swear my sanity must be slipping. I shake off the odd sensation, change into my swimsuit, and dive into the Olympic-size pool before I start overthinking about things that aren’t there.
Swimming is a great way to clear my mind. I focus on nothing but pushing my body to its limits, enjoying the cool water gliding on my skin. I feel weightless and free, strong and limitless. Water has always given me magic to fly.
I lose track of how many laps I complete, but when I stick my head out of the water, I can hear my phone alarm going off, letting me know that it's time for me to get out. I grab my stuff and head to the locker rooms for a quick shower. That was a mistake.
I'm in the middle of rinsing the conditioner from my hair when I hear a door slam shut. I wait a few seconds, but when I hear nothing else, I turn off the shower. I can hear faint footsteps and the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Something's wrong.
If it was someone using the lockers or the showers, they wouldn't be quiet about it. Whoever came in here is trying to be quiet on purpose.
I calm my breathing, opening my senses, and wrap my towel around my body. I reach out to grab my bag from the little bench outside the shower, but there's nothing there.
I swing the shower curtain fully open, step out, and look around.
Shit.
My bag is swinging side to side from his fingertips as hazel eyes stare back at me. “Looking for this, babygirl?”
