by L. A. Fiore
My thoughts turned to the scholarship. I was going to take it; I’d known it as soon as Ms. Whitney mentioned it, but I hated that I was going to lose that time with Bastian. We had only just started dating and I wanted as much time with him as possible.
I pulled myself from my thoughts when I saw that the team was getting ready to call it quits. Bastian looked seriously overheated. I had spied the cooler earlier, had watched as the team's manager filled several coolers with icy cold water. I stood and made my way over to him.
His hair was pulled back from his face with a bandana and his muscles were all flexed and hard from the exercise. When he saw me, he separated from his team and started toward me in that most excellent swagger of his. I asked when he was just in front of me, “Thirsty?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He reached for the cooler, but I was faster. I lifted it up and dumped the entire contents over his head. I dropped the cooler and ran. I got a few seconds head start, but I could have had a few minutes head start, and it wouldn't have made a difference.
He moved with the speed of a cheetah, those strong, inked and extremely wet arms wrapping around my waist. He hauled me back to press me against his very wet body. “Brat.”
I was laughing too hard to reply until he kissed my neck, right in the spot that caused those delicious little chills. My body went boneless and his grew harder. He seemed to realize where we were and loosened his hold.
He pressed his lips to my ear. “I can't get enough of you.”
A shiver went through me that had nothing to do with being cold. “That makes two of us.”
He lowered me to my feet and I wasted no time turning to face him, because the boy was shirtless, wet and sexy as hell. I liked the bandana especially with the tats. Yeah, he was magnificent.
“What are you thinking?” He asked.
“You should dress like that more often.”
“In private, for you? Anytime.”
Well, hell, I might just swoon right here on the soccer field. I grew exceedingly hot under my suddenly constricting clothing.
“You look flustered.” He said.
“I'm suddenly very warm.”
“Really? I'd offer you some water, but...”
“I'll take being parched, because the visual of you getting doused with water is already stored in my happy place.”
“Happy place?” He asked.
“Where all my good memories go. I don't have many, but the ones I have are perfect.”
He linked our fingers and a tender smile touched his lips. “I hope I fill your happy place with memories.”
“You're doing really good so far.”
His hold on my hand tightened and though he didn't say anything, I had a feeling he was thinking a great deal. “I should get you home.” He said. “But Lark?”
I looked up into those eyes and saw mischief brewing. “What?”
“Paybacks are a bitch.”
Chapter Six
After school one day, Bastian took me to the local diner for dinner. Once we were seated across from each other, the waitress, Peggy, came over to take our order and as she walked away, I wondered if her red hair was natural.
Bastian's attention was on me when my focus turned back to him. He seemed a bit off—distracted might be a better word. “What's wrong?”
He fiddled with his fork, but when I asked this, his fingers stilled. He glanced up at me. “My birthday is coming up, which means I'm required to go to the club with my parents for dinner.” Another hesitation before he added, “I know it's sort of sudden, but any chance you'll come with me?”
“When's your birthday?”
“October 6th.”
“Good to know. What's the club?”
“Pearl River Country Club.”
Ostentatious was the word that came to mind in regards to the club and certainly not the place I would picture Bastian. “And you want me to have dinner with you and your parents there?”
He didn't answer with words, but then his direct and searching gaze was answer enough. I couldn't lie—I was thrilled that he wanted me with him. The heady sensation didn't last for long though because the thought of meeting his parents terrified me. “When?” I asked warily.
“In two weeks.” He reached across the table for my hand, “What's wrong?”
“I've never met parents before and I suspect that yours aren't going to like me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because they're pro-Kira.”
“Pro-Kira’s parents, not so much Kira.”
“Well, my aunt and uncle are middle-class. My mom was a drug-using alcoholic, so I'm guessing I'm way down on their list of eligible ladies.”
“Do you really care, Lark?”
I cared how I would become one more thing in his life that they'd find unacceptable, particularly since we were just getting to know each other. “I care how being with me will come back on you. Maybe you should take Kira.”
“I'll take you or I'll go alone.” The belligerence in his tone made me cave. He was adorable when grumpy.
“Okay, I'll go with you.”
Surprise flashed over his face in response. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
The smile that took over his entire face formed his only reply.
All through dinner, I tried not to worry about meeting his parents and failed. Bastian, sensing my mood, reached across the table for my hand again. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I tried for a smile but it wasn't a very convincing one.
Bastian knew where my thoughts were when he said, “It's just dinner. The rest doesn't matter. They don't matter.”
I wanted to believe that but I had a terrible feeling that we were going to be over before we ever really had a chance to get started.
***
Pep rally. Two small and innocuous words, but at my school, pep rallies were anything but. The coach of the football team, Coach Farlay, had taken the concept of school spirit and turned it into something very similar to the pagan rituals I imagined the gods performed in the days of old. No one died during these heathen gatherings of the student body, but someone was always sacrificed. In truth, it was the coach's wife who was behind the theatrics of the pep rally. She trained as a thespian, but when her dream of Broadway didn't pan out, she pursued her second passion, teaching. Through the years she managed to take over directing the school's musicals. Clearly it wasn't just the musicals she had an influence over.
The football team selected one unsuspecting female from the audience and she became Victory. She was dragged from the bleachers and a football jersey pulled over her head before being lifted into the air by the football team to the cheers and chants of the entire school. That wasn't all, oh no. Then a boy was selected as the Guardian of Victory. They were handcuffed together—this was really just symbolic since the handcuffs didn't require a key which made it easy for Victory and her Guardian to separate when nature called—and for the rest of the day Victory and her Guardian had to go to one another's classes. As her last act of school spirit, on the night of the game, Victory led the football team out onto the field. In all honesty, the student body loved the entire practice and most were eager to be Victory or her Guardian. I, however, was not a fan. Although I did love that it was all so left of center, and that it wasn't just the students but also the administration who ate it up.
I had somehow managed in my high school career to avoid ever being Victory—yet another benefit of blending into the woodwork. So there I sat, continuing to blend into my surroundings, sinking just a little bit lower on the bleachers to avoid eye contact with every person on the gym floor.
“This is so exciting. I hope they pick me.” Sophia was practically jumping up and down.
“Sophia, stop drawing attention.”
“It's all in good fun. It wouldn't hurt for you to be Victory just once.”
“I'd rather have back surgery.”
As I sat there wondering j
ust how painful back surgery was, I felt a warmth shimmy down my spine and looked up to see Bastian making his way up the bleachers to me. What the hell was he doing? Not that I wasn't happy to see him, especially since he was coming to sit with me, but he was drawing attention which made my attempts at invisibility moot.
“Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing?”
He only answered by grinning. Coach Farlay's voice echoed throughout the gym.
“It's time to pick Victory!”
Everyone launched to their feet, screaming like they were being murdered, while I tried to sink even lower. I felt Bastian's hand wrap around mine and at first I felt a wave of warmth over the gesture until a moment of clarity filled me. He wouldn’t. I tried to pull my hand from his, but couldn't. My gaze flew up only to see him smiling down at me like a lunatic.
“What are you doing?”
He leaned over so that our mouths were almost touching. “Payback, Victory.”
“But how? You aren't even on the football team.”
“No, but several of the guys on the team owed me a favor. I cashed in.”
“You're new. How could they possibly already owe you a favor?”
No reply, but he looked really pleased with himself.
“Not fair!” I tried to dig in my heels, but Bastian had almost a foot and a hundred pounds on me. He started dragging me down the bleachers to Coach Farlay, while I plotted his murder: something painful and bloody and slow.
There I stood, next to Coach Farlay, as the gym went berserk. I glanced at Bastian who looked downright diabolical. “I'm going to cut you up into very small pieces.”
He leaned over so our eyes met. “Do your worst.”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, a jersey was being pulled over my head seconds before I was lifted off the ground. This mortification had me rethinking Bastian's death. Death was too easy. No, I was going to chain him in a dungeon and torture him for the rest of his natural-born life. Yes, that sounded perfect.
When my feet finally hit the floor, I was ready to dart for the closest exit. I felt the handcuffs click closed over our wrists. All of a sudden, an entirely different emotion filled me at the sight of being tied to this boy. Despite the humor I saw burning in his eyes, I saw something else infinitely more exciting.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “We get to spend all day together.”
And just like that, I didn't mind at all being Victory.
After the assembly, Bastian and I were nearly the last to leave, but before we did, Brad, the captain and quarterback of the football team, joined us.
“Thanks for being Victory.”
“I didn't really have a choice, but you're welcome,” I said.
“I'd love to know what you did to him that this was your payback.”
“It was nothing as drastic as this, but I'm already planning my revenge.”
“Sweet. See you guys tonight.”
Bastian's voice grabbed my attention. “Our paybacks are like a snow boulder picking up speed downhill.” The hand that wasn't linked to mine reached out to touch my cheek. “I look forward to your next move.”
I smiled sweetly, but said nothing.
“So, Victory, whose class should we go to now?”
“Since I have gym, I'm thinking yours.”
Something hot flashed in his eyes. “The temptation of seeing all those babes changing is overwhelming for you, I’m sure,” I said. “But I don't think the females in my gym class are ready for you.”
He touched my chin to hold my gaze on his, “I don't give a damn about the other girls in your class, but I’d like to see more of you.”
As you may have guessed, my knees went weak. I held his wicked stare, though my voice trembled. “Do they teach you guys how to render females mute and overly warm? Because you've nailed that lesson.”
“No, but I like watching you get flustered and knowing that it's because of me.” It wasn't just his words, but his direct and heated stare that caused my body to react in a very pleasant way. I tingled everywhere.
“Stop looking at me like that, or I'm going to pass out right here on the gymnasium floor, and you'll have to drag my unconscious body to your next class. What is your next class?” I asked.
“AP Calculus. And I wouldn't drag your beautiful body across the floor. I'd put you over my shoulder.”
“Like a sack of potatoes.”
He winked. “The sexiest sack of potatoes I've ever seen.”
***
We spent the entire day together and he did add a few more memories to my happy place. After school I went home with Poppy. We went to her room after dinner to get ready for the football game. She couldn't help the grin which seemed to be permanently affixed to her mouth.
“I almost fell off the bleachers when I saw Bastian pulling you toward Coach Farlay. To think you avoided the hot seat all these years only to be placed on it by the boy you like.”
“I'm having a dungeon made, so it's all good. He certainly took payback to the next level.”
“It was more than that.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I was sitting in the stands, remember? He is completely head over heels for you. And you are just as taken with him.”
“I am.” I admitted.
“So it looks like operation “Win Sebastian” is a done deal. What? What's that look for?”
“Ms. Whitney applied for a scholarship for me, one that was separate from the list we had worked on together, and I won it.”
“Oh, my God! That's so wonderful, Lark.”
“It is, but there's a hitch. I have to move to Harrington, Maine, at the end of April.”
It only took Poppy a minute to realize what I was saying and then she sank back onto the bed next to me. “You'll miss prom.”
“Yep.”
“Does Bastian know?”
“I haven't told him, yet.”
“What are you waiting for?”
“He asked me to join him and his parents for his birthday dinner in two weeks.”
“That's awesome.”
“I'm not so sure it is. His parents are pushing Kira on him because they like the connections her family has to offer. When they find out about me and my background, I'm guessing they will do all they can to get him away from me.”
“It doesn't seem to me that Bastian puts a whole hell of a lot of stock in what his parents want.”
“He doesn't, but I don't want to become another source of tension between him and his family.”
“Stop.”
“Think about it. I have no idea who my dad is. My mother died in her twenties from being too much of a party girl, and my aunt would rather me somewhere else. To people like the Rosses, I'm the nightmare.”
Poppy looked positively outraged. “You're thinking there’ll be no point after the dinner, that's why you haven't told him about the scholarship.”
“Yes.”
“That's not fair to Bastian. You’re not giving him enough credit, and that's not like you.”
I stood then, because I knew she was right, but I couldn't help it. “You're right, but I can't forget where he comes from. As much as he may try to deny it, he cares what his parents think.”
“Probably, but so what?”
“I won't measure up for the Ross family, and that will cause problems between Bastian and his parents. And my fear is he'll choose them and I won't recover from it.”
“I don't think he will choose them over you.”
“A part of me hopes that too, but a bigger part of me still lives in reality.”
***
The game started at seven so Bastian would be coming for me a little after six. I didn't let Poppy dress me. In front of a stadium full of people, I needed to wear my own clothes: my own personal armor. The black cargo pants, cropped black sweater and combat boots felt very comfortable and comforting. I reached for Bastian's jacket before calling to Popp
y, “See you at the game.”
“See you there, Victory.”
Shaking my head at Poppy's silliness, I stepped outside to wait for Bastian. He was right on time. In the short period of time since we'd known each other, he also had come to be both comfortable and comforting to me. Not to mention that he was just so freaking nice to look at. To my horror, I actually spoke that last part out loud. I knew he heard me because his eyes turned all hot, but it was the light color on his cheeks that had me taking a step closer. “If I didn't know any better, I would say you were blushing.”
“I don't blush.” He pulled me up against him, but his voice was a bit off. His mouth found mine and his hands moved under my sweater to burn a trail over the naked skin of my back. His eyes darkened like sapphires when he reached for the helmet to place on my head.
“Later, I'm going to make you blush.”
And right on cue, my knees went weak.
***
I wasn't sure what to expect when we arrived at the stadium, but I didn't have time to ponder that because as Victory, I was spotted almost instantly, and a crowd formed around Bastian and me. We made our way through the stadium to where the football team waited. I felt like a turkey on Thanksgiving; all trussed up moments before being devoured.
Bastian's hand clenched mine the entire time even though the handcuffs had been removed at the end of the school day. It seemed he really liked holding my hand. When it came time for me to lead the team out onto the field, he reluctantly released his hold on me.
I didn't know what possessed me, but I gripped his sweater in my fist and pulled him to me so I could seal my lips over his. I caught him by surprise and moved away before he could take the kiss deeper, because feeling what I did for this boy, I might forget a stadium full of people watched.
He couldn’t respond—I had rendered Bastian mute and, I suspected under his lovely sweater, overly warm.
“Are you ready, Larkspur?” Brad asked from my side.
“Yeah, and call me Lark.”
He grinned. “Okay, Lark.”
