by NV Roez
Breathe, Evelyn.
"Cute, Caleb. Give me back my shit," I say calmly, acutely aware that we are not the only two in here.
Laughter from my other side makes me shift to see six girls all dressed in plain black hoodies with the hoods covering half their faces. Three of them have their smartphones pointed in my direction, filming and waiting for further instruction.
I recognize a few of them from earlier. Standing just out of camera view is Genna with her arms folded across her chest, but she’s not the one that grabs my attention. Standing next to her is Elijah.
She tells the other girls to make sure their phones are muted and then shakes her head at me in disappointment.
"I tried to be nice to you, give you advice so you could succeed here, and what do you do? You insult me, you low bred bitch." Genna spits like there’s a foul taste in her mouth that she can’t get rid of fast enough.
I snicker with false bravado and assess the situation. Three girls with cameras, leaving three as possible physical threats. I’m in a towel which limits my movements, and Caleb has my bag, so my clothes and kitty knuckles are out.
I scrutinize Genna’s face trying to pick up any tells or flags that she might strike me, but see none, so I turn back to Caleb.
"Give me my bag, Caleb. Stop fucking around."
I step closer to reach for my bag when Elijah dashes forward, pulls my towel off, and slides next to Caleb in one smooth move. Malice and hatred burn in his eyes, making the silver grow darker.
My hands shoot up reflexively to cover my breasts, but I realize my futile attempt can’t cover all the parts of me that matter, and from the looks in their eyes, it's too late, anyway. Despite my curves and athletic tone, I can't escape my scars.
An almost inaudible gasp leaves Caleb's lips when his eyes sweep down my wet naked body to see the small burns and cuts on my lower stomach, across my pelvis, and inner thighs.
He stares at the small circular branding scar on my right hip. Sharp pain cleaves my chest, and my throat squeezes tight as a myriad of emotions dance across his face.
That was my punishment for loving you. You were never supposed to see that.
I raise my chin and square my shoulders, naked and seemingly unaffected. So what if it hurts for them to see me like this? Pain, I'm used to.
"El mundo cambió," I say, doubtful that these girls know Spanish. “And so did I. Es mejor que recuerdes eso.” The product of growing up in southern Cali, we learned the language.
I shift my stare directly into Elijah's eyes, daring him to say something, but he doesn't. He just nods his head, staring through me.
The next thing I know, my wet hair is pulled back and the side of my face is pushed into a shower wall. It doesn't hurt as much as it annoys me.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I say through gritted teeth, spinning around to see a faceless black hoodie holding onto my hair with a viselike grip. “Let me go. You don’t want to do this.”
Genna steps next to the hooded figure with an exaggerated sigh. “We don’t want to do this. I tried to help you. Now it’s time to learn your place, peasant. You are beneath us, you will respect us as such. And for the insult, you will kneel at our feet.”
She nods to the girl holding my hair and I’m forced to walk behind Genna like I’m a goddamn horse. I’m dragged to the center of the bathroom, fully naked and on display for the camera phones.
“Now, kneel.”
“Fuck you.”
Genna giggles at my response like I’m some petulant child. She looks to someone behind me and I hear a scraping sound, but before I can turn around, my lower back is hit with something hard.
I grunt in pain but refuse to fall. I’m able to tilt my head far enough to see that there’s another girl holding onto a bat.
She hit me with a fucking bat.
I’ve dealt with worse at Ventura, but the whole point of coming here was to get away from that kind of life. So if these bitches think that I’m bowing to them, they’re gravely mistaken.
"Genna, finish this. I'm bored." Caleb says. My anger turns into an inferno and spreads through my veins, and I snap.
He's BORED! Who the fuck does he think he is?
I wrestle the girl holding my hair to the floor, on the winning end of gaining leverage, when the girl bites my shoulder.
"Goddammit! What the hell is wrong with you?" I yell at her, pushing my thumb into her eye, trying to get her to release my shoulder while another girl starts kicking me and slapping my back.
I feel like I'm wrangling in a bunch of pissy toddlers. Fighting must be new for them.
"I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt any of you. Just leave me the hell alone."
I'm angry, naked on a bathroom floor, straddling a girl I don't even know. For what? At least at Ventura, there was a reason for things—albeit dumb things, but still. I give this girl one quick headbutt and she finally lets go, screaming in pain.
These girls wouldn't last a second in the real world.
I jump up, swinging, doing my best to not seriously injure them while I try to think of an exit strategy. The tall hooded girl who was holding the bat moves to swing again, but before she can, I punch her hard in the gut. The bat drops to the ground.
I spit the copper liquid that's been pooling in my mouth next to her feet and she flinches. Fucking puppet.
The other girls slowly back away from me, leaving their friend hunched over in pain. There's no more fight left in their eyes.
Thank God.
Now that they're no longer an immediate threat, I turn back to Caleb and Elijah, naked, wet, and enraged.
"Give me my bag, take your lackeys with you, and leave me the fuck alone." I breathe in deeply, trying to get my adrenaline back under control, and reach out to grab my bag.
As soon as I grab the strap, Caleb pulls, making me stumble closer to him, enveloping me in cloves and leather.
"You were warned, Evelyn. You are not welcome here. No le des la espalda. Buenas noches," he whispers.
Huh?
The last thing I remember is hearing the crack of the bat as it hits the back of my head and I pass out.
I breathe in deep, leaving my eyes closed and open my senses with immediate regret. My head is throbbing to the pace of an EDM beat right before the drop, my body is aching, and there's a metallic taste coating my tongue. Did I get run over by a truck? But then... everything comes back to me.
I was in the shower, Caleb took my clothes, Elijah left me naked to fight off their fucking servants. Assholes.
I hear a frenzy of shuffling movement.
"We should be taking her to the damn hospital. Screw this," a woman whisper-yells, panic evident in her voice. "Ryan, you lift her up, Taylor get your keys, I'll get her ID."
Celeste? How the hell did she get here?
"Evie can decide if Evie is going to the hospital," I say, slowly opening my eyes. I’m momentarily blinded by light, and it takes a few moments before I take in the familiar walls of my dorm room. "And the answer is no."
Celeste is by my side in an instant. "Jesus Christ, asshole." Her large brown eyes peer down at me, full of fear. "You were unconscious on the bathroom floor for at least twelve hours. Your ass is going to the fucking hospital."
I know she's scared, the trembling in her hands is evident, but I hate hospitals. I'm not going. I level her with a look and slowly move into a sitting position, taking in the rest of my surroundings from my seat on the couch.
Taylor and Coach Metson are in the room, watching us. Both of them are dressed in sharp pants and white button ups. I look down and see that I'm in pajama shorts and a tank. Who dressed me?
"Uhm... the janitor found you yesterday, and I was still on the soccer field," Coach Metson says sheepishly, a soft blush on his cheeks. "I called the dorm to find Celeste so she could bring you clothes, then I carried you back here," he explains, as if he can read my thoughts.
That thought does not give me comfort.
&nb
sp; When I look back at Celeste, there's sympathy in her eyes. Great, she's seen my scars, too.
And it just keeps getting better.
I roll my head from side to side, stretching out the aches in my neck, trying to keep my nightmares at bay. I just need to keep moving forward.
"Why are you guys dressed like that?" I ask, ignoring the elephant that's standing between Celeste and me.
Taylor is the one to reply. "Pledge party. Did you forget? I'm being inducted into the Knights tonight." He sits up straighter, fixing his collar. "They couldn't resist my charm and good looks."
Coach Metson chuckles while Celeste rolls her eyes.
The Knights.
Hatred spreads through my body like a cancer. Those assholes are trying to take away my shot at normal. They took my heart like it was worth nothing, took years of my life based on half-truths, and now they think they can take Stratham from me?
Jokes on them, though. I was nurtured by the devil. Hell was my home. And if they think they're gonna run off a scared little girl, they're deeply mistaken.
I won't run. Not anymore.
"Cool. I'm going with," I say, wincing a little as I stand up.
"The hell you're going with. YOU are going to the goddamn hospital, Evelyn," Celeste says in exasperation.
I smirk, going into the kitchen, grabbing a shot glass, and pouring myself some whiskey. She's cute when she's upset.
Celeste is a good person, too good. Unfortunately for her, I'm going to that party. The Knights are not going to have me hiding in my room. I deserve to be here. And I'm going to a goddamn party.
After I down the burning liquid, I steel my heart, solidifying my choice. My eyes search out hers.
"No."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You're so fucking stubborn," she says, and I shrug.
Taylor claps and then rubs his hands together. "That's our cue, dude. They need to get ready." He elbows Coach Metson and turns to Celeste. "Don't be a cock-blocker, Cele. Tonight's going to be epic."
She growls through gritted teeth, knowing she's not gonna win. She turns to Coach Metson, pleading, "Ryan, will you please talk some sense into these two. She needs to make sure she doesn't have a concussion or some shit."
Coach Metson looks at me, considers what to say, and finally asks, "Accident or on purpose?"
I pour myself another shot, contemplating my answer. I could tell them who was there, I could tell them that it was their beloved Knights that left me vulnerable and unconscious, or I could lie.
"Accident."
Right. And your bag magically disappeared?
I ignore the voices in my head and walk the boys to the door.
Taylor turns at the threshold of our front door. "Maybe you shouldn't go tonight." Concern flutters in his eyes for the briefest of moments.
"And miss the historic induction of the Knights’ most valuable inductee? Not a chance." I grin at him, shaking my head, and shove them both out the door.
Walking back towards my room, I see Celeste eyeing me. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she looks like she might kill me.
"We're gonna talk about your scars later. Right now, you wanna explain to me why you're lying and going to this party?"
Nope.
"I'm just going to support a friend on his big night."
Our eyes battle in a silent Wild West showdown, and I see the moment she comes to terms with the fact that I'm not going to elaborate.
She sighs. "Fine, asshole. But I'm going with you. Justin had to get there early to help set up, so you're stuck with me."
An hour or so later, we're both showered, dressed, and heading out the door.
What the hell am I doing?
10
We walk into Kelly house—which really should be called the Cullen's house, or maybe just Twilight, with all the glass windows and sharp lines. It blows my mind how much money these kids have access to on campus.
The floor-to-ceiling windows on the back wall showcases a well-manicured garden with a gazebo, a huge pool equipped with a waterfall and jacuzzi, and a stage. The whole place is decorated with banners from all the fraternities and sororities on campus, streamers, and even balloons.
This is insane.
As soon as we pass the foyer, I head straight to the bar, thankful that Stratham is a wet campus and no one cares about drinking ages here—because Lord knows, I'm going to need it. My body is still sore, and Celeste wouldn't let me smoke a joint in our room.
Thank God for rich bastards.
I get to the bar, ask for a chilled shot of Hennessey and a rum and Coke, and immediately down the shot before it even hits the counter, chasing it with the rum.
"Damn, girl, you only just got here. Do you really hate parties that much, or are you one of those 'get drunk as soon as possible so I can make bad decisions' kinda girls?" Justin asks, walking up behind me.
"Definitely not the latter. Just chasing away a long week." I smile as he continues his small talk and waits for his drinks.
He seems nice enough, certainly attractive with his short light brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and tanned mocha skin.
He gets his drinks, and we head out back towards the stage where the festivities look like they're about to kick off. He hands a drink to Celeste, looking at her appreciatively, and gives her a very public, slow, sensual kiss before heading to the stage. There's a noticeable blush on her cheeks. She’s clearly swooning at being claimed publicly, and it warms my heart.
Good. She deserves to be happy.
Justin climbs on stage, raises his drink, and grabs the mic along with everyone's attention.
"Welcome to the Greek Council's Pledge party. To our faculty alumni, we thank you for paving the way to enable our bright futures. To our Stratham students, we are glad you guys came out tonight to celebrate the growth of our Greek family. It took courage, stamina, and excellence to get here. Everyone who survived rush week and made it out on top should be damn proud. Now, I'd like all of our new pledges to come to the stage for the recognition you deserve."
That man oozes charisma on stage. I can see why he's frat president. He names each fraternity and sorority, names who were accepted in each, and moves on to the next. "... from Zeta Sigma Rho sisterhood, we’d like to welcome sophomore, Alexis Snyder, and sophomore, Genna Dupri. And congratulations to freshman, London Adams, for winning a freshman spot."
I roll my eyes. Of course, they would be accepted. I'm sure the Knights made sure of it.
God, I wish Genna would trip head-first off stage and accidentally break her neck to knock the smug look off her face.
Celeste and I fake-gag as the girls step up to be acknowledged. Celeste doesn't know what happened in the bathroom, but she doesn't seem to like anyone associated with Zeta Sigma Rho—because of Justin, I'm sure.
"And finally, from Psi Kappa Psi, our new Knights: sophomore, Taylor Bryant, sophomore, Micah Coleson, and sophomore, Caleb Astor. It's an extra special night for Caleb. He's also just been selected as Stratham's new football captain. The sky’s the limit, brothers. Welcome.
“Ladies and gentlemen, these are the newest faces of our Greek family. Show them the respect they deserve. And now, let's party like there's no tomorrow."
Everyone claps their applause and shouts praises to the stage. Justin hops off stage towards us, and the announcements part of the night is over, but I can't move. I'm frozen in place, just watching the Knights stand on stage in their white Psi Kappa Psi button ups and ink-blue jeans, eyes sparkling, with not a care in the world as they turn to walk offstage.
Not a single one wondering if I'm okay. They've truly written me off.
Micah's dirty blond hair is gelled back—no ball cap tonight—looking less surfer boy and every bit a grown-ass man. Elijah isn't a pledge this year, apparently winning a freshman spot last year, so he's on the side of the stage looking like sin in all black. It matches his ebony black hair, making his gray eyes glow even more silver.
Why does my heart onl
y seem to beat and break when they're near? Funny things happen deep in my core like my body is starving and doesn't care that they've burned, broken and buried my heart, not to mention left me on the bathroom floor.
I watch as Genna slips her arms around Caleb's waist, and I can't help wishing that it was me. He looks down, the smile he gives her is both heart-stopping and heartbreaking, and plants an indecent kiss on her fake-ass lips.
Jealousy flairs its ugly head, and I can feel the tension grow tight in my bones. I need another shot of Hennessey, or five... maybe ten before this night is over if I'm going to be stuck watching this bullshit.
Fuck them. I deserve to be here too.
Don't I?
"Well, hello, Evie. I have to say, you are, by far, the most beautiful woman at this party," Coach Metson whispers from behind me at the bar.
"Hey, Coach Metson. You here to chaperone or for fun?" I semi-smile, trying to salvage what I can of the night and take a shot of my chilled Hennessey from the bar, ignoring his compliment.
He places his hand over his chest. "Ouch! You wound me. First, I would never willingly chaperone college students. You know, it wasn't that long ago that I was in your shoes, and second, how about you call me Ryan and pretend that I'm some regular guy at a party?" He grins, flashing perfect teeth and a cute dimple.
I've had a few drinks and am pleasantly buzzed, so I give him a cheeky smile in return that lasts for all of thirty seconds. I glance over his shoulder and witness the Knights and their groupies make their entrance into the main hall.
My smile falls and my breath catches as my eyes move of their own volition to each of the Knights as they walk over the threshold. Gods amongst men.
Fuck this, I need another drink.
"You don't like the Knights, huh?" It's more of a statement than a question as Coach Metson catches where I was just looking.
"Not particularly, but who am I? It doesn't matter what I think." I shrug and drink another chilled shot.
"What you think matters to me, Evelyn." He steps closer to my ear. "I don't like them either. Come on, let's go."
He drinks his shot, grabs my hand, and leads me to the dance floor. I take my hand out of his as soon as he loosens his grip.
