by L. J. Woods
An arm comes around my shoulder. “Oh, we’ve warmed up. Haven’t we, Ray?” Henry’s brows lower, glancing from me to him. I try to wiggle his arm off, but his weight gets heavier. “That’s why she’s tutoring me. One on one. After class.”
“Unless it’s tutoring you on how to keep your hands to yourself, I'm not.” Wiggling some more doesn’t get his thick arm off me, and the longer it’s there, the more I remember what it’s like to have his lips on mine. “Fuck off.”
Henry steps towards us. “Mister Perez, she asked you to take your arm off.”
“Why?" He pulls me closer with a hard tug and I have to grip the desk to keep from sliding off my seat. "So you can swoop in for some fresh, young pussy?”
“Okay, enough.” I try rising from my chair but Christian keeps me pinned, a strong arm holding me down. When I glance his way, he glares into Henry’s eyes with daggers that can kill.
A timer goes off on his desk, some students packing up around us. “Mister Perez, I hope I see you again with a better attitude. I know how much scores matter to your new coach.” With that, he picks up his books with a huff and leaves.
Christian doesn’t move, his eyes following Henry out the room before he finally moves his arm, turning to me. He brings a thumb under my chin, stroking my skin and it feels like he's stroking somewhere else. I’m almost lost in him again before he says, “Tutor me.”
“Bite me.” Pushing to my feet, cold washes over me before I lock my eyes with those greens. My gut twists. It's likely vomit. My boots thud against the wood as I walk towards the door.
“Tutor me and it’ll be easier on the both of us, Ray.”
I stop at the door with a laugh. “Easy? That sounds exactly like you.” Turning around, he glares at me, not putting up much of a fight and it’s kinda disappointing. “Do yourself a favour and try a little harder for once. That silver spoon won’t be in your mouth forever. Believe me. I know.”
Seven
Christian
Rayne Rose is a thorn in my side. And for some reason that makes me want her more.
Not because her lips on mine is an image I keep replaying in my head. But because Professor Henderson is right. I can use her help.
“Coach is gonna sit us out again,” Hoffman says as we rush through the large shiny halls.
“If he sees my grades, I’m already fucked,” I remind him.
After another couple of weeks of classes, I’m on thinner ice than I thought. With my dad a mess, and my mom MIA, I’m losing track of my schoolwork and practice fast. I’m never on time, and my first few tests all came back below the passing grade.
I need some backup. But texting my sister as I rush to practice proves as painful as I imagine.
Allie: YOU chose to go back, dont drag me into this
Christian: It’s dad, Al. He’s really bad.
Allie: Xactly. Hes OUR DAD, he shud take care of us, not the othr way around. I g2g. Talk latr.
She has a point. But that won’t help me. I don’t want to scare her into coming home but if that’s what I have to do…
“One fifty.” That voice sends a strike right through me when I pass an empty room. Taking a step back, I put my phone in my pocket, peeking through the crack in the door.
My eyes fall on her ass in a pair of dark jeans, chains hanging off the side. Her rack in that white tee is distracting but the baggie in her hand has more of my attention. I’ve been friends with Johnson long enough to know what that is.
“Head to practice,” I tell Hoffman. “I’ll catch up.”
He laughs. “Putting pussy before the ice will set you up for failure, my guy.” Patting me on the back, he takes off down the hall.
He’s right. But I can’t pass this up.
Pointing my phone at her, I take a snapshot of the transaction taking place in front of me. Fuck finding a tutor, this is exactly what I need.
Rayne looks back towards the door, her lips painted in red today. Hope that's not for ol’ pervy Henry. We’ve all heard the rumours, but Rayne hasn’t been around in a while.
She has no idea what she’s getting into with that guy. It’s not the first time a teacher preyed on a student in this town. With a girl like Ray wandering the halls in her preferred attire, it won’t be the last.
A girl in a pink pleated skirt leaves the room first, and I push my back against the wall, gripping my duffel so I blend in. When a leather boot sticks out next, I make my appearance. “Doing a little business on campus?”
She jumps before her brows furrow, vanilla and amber coming with her.
Ignoring her scent, I don’t give her a chance to play dumb. Holding the phone in front of her face, I swipe through the photos. She should be seeing one of her with a baggie in her hand, the other collecting money.
I smirk when her shoulders drop. “Or is this not you selling drugs to a student?"
“Get in here.” She pulls on my letterman jacket and I follow her inside before I kick the door closed.
Now it’s my turn to do business.
Crossing her arms, she looks over my shoulder, through the window in the door. “What is it? You want me to suck your dick?”
“You’re on the right track.” My cock twitches thinking about those lips wrapped around it. “But I’m gonna need more from you, Miss Rose.” She watches me as I pace in front of her, a plan in my mind that seems right out of an old friend’s handbook.
“Well?” she asks, impatience showing but I like where I have her. Caught. For myself.
Turning around, I smirk before I approach her, my hands on either side of her on the desk she’s perched on. “You and I, we’re a thing now.”
She snorts, a smile coming across her lips. But her brows furrow when I keep my eyes locked on hers. “If you haven’t noticed, girls from The Grove don’t date guys like you.”
“Well, then you better make it believable.” The wider I grin, the lower her brows go. “Unless you want me to show the dean what’s happening on his campus. Then what’ll happen?”
“Back the fuck up, Perez,” she spits, her jaw tight. When I move closer, she moves her face but I want her to know I’m not bluffing. A knife won’t save her now. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with.”
Her chin between my fingers, I pull that gaze back to mine and I almost regret it when my cock twitches again. “You don’t know who you’re fucking with.” Intimidation. I’ve seen that tactic used by the men around me for ages. Now it’s my turn. I’m not gonna be the loser this time. “You might be Queen of the slums but I’m the King in this town. I own it all. And until the end of the year, I own you too. So unless you want me to have dinner with the dean …” My eyes drop to her lips. “You might wanna seal this thing with a kiss, Baby.”
A hard sting comes to my cheek and when I look at her hand, I make sure there isn’t a knife. There isn't but her red palm tells me she slapped me good.
“Got that out of your system?” I ask. And for some reason my cock hardens against my jeans.
“If you want to fuck me, just say it.” She brings her lips closer when I don’t move. Red. Soft. Tempting. But I’m trying to make a point.
Moving past her lips, her body stiffens before I bring my voice to her ear. “If I wanted to fuck you, I'd have you spread across this desk screaming for mercy.” Now that image makes me even harder. “One thing’s for sure, Rose, that’s what you will be if you don’t play ball. Fucked.” Bringing her palm back to my face, I smirk again. “See you later, Baby.” With that, I turn to walk through the door with a boner as hard as my beating heart.
“Dude, you know what they say about the crazy girls,” Hoffman leans in as we stroll through the wide stone halls of ERU.
Our heads held high, Johnson on my other side, girls twirl their hair, swooning when we pass while guys either cower or throw us a fist to pound.
Rayne’s been my fake girlfriend for less than twenty-four hours and things already feel like they’re back to normal. The Kings in charge w
ith nothing to worry about. It doesn’t even matter that we’re rolling up to practice thirty minutes late. Not when I have what I need to show our coach that we own this school. Not him.
And now I own his daughter.
“Not to stick your dick in ‘em,” Isaac finishes with a nudge. He hides the flask he’s sipping in his turquoise blazer as we pass a small group of profs. “Her dad’s our coach. I’m all for forbidden romances but in case you didn’t notice, this girl also has friends in low places. All red flags, my dude. She’s not the same girl we used to know.”
Definitely not. Rayne is all kinds of different. From her many tattoos to her grungy attire.
“Think we knew that the minute she stole our parents’ shit in fourth grade,” Hoffman reminds us.
And then she took off. With our possessions. With my heart.
But I won’t let the latter happen again. I know better now. Like Dad says, girls will only bring me down.
Isaac complains about the new supermodel his dad is dating and I reassure him it won’t last like the rest of ‘em as we change into workout gear. When we get outside, ready for drills, Coach is quick to speak after a blow of his whistle.
“Perez, Hoffman, and Johnson. Congratulations, you manage to be late for eighty percent of practice.” He gestures to a spot on the grass next to him. “Since we’re working on the field, you can pop a squat on this lush patch of grass. Right after you tell me where the hell you were.”
I smirk, rolling up the sleeves on my long fitted shirt to my biceps. “With your daughter.” The guys doing mountain climbers look my way, my voice filled with the confidence of the team captain.
“Excuse me?” His clipboard lowers as slow as his brows.
“My girl needed an escort to her counsellor and like a gentleman, I obliged. You know how the guys on campus can be." I wink. "Animals.”
Folding his arms, Coach eyes me up. “You mean to tell me you’re dating my daughter? Rayne?” He laughs like we’re talking about aliens.
The clouds part before my eyes settle on the girl in question behind him. Headphones on her head, fishnets under another pair of cut-off shorts.
I tilt my chin towards her. “Why don’t you ask her?”
Coach turns around, Rayne’s saunter slowing when she locks eyes with her dad. She stops when he sees him next to me, her eyes dropping to my abs before I see her mouth, “Fuck."
Coach blows his whistle, telling the guys to take ten as Rayne mutters to herself, looking for an escape.
It’s kinda hard not to chuckle at how cute she is when she’s flustered.
“Ray!” Coach calls. “Can you come here for a moment?”
Her eyes settle on me again, her jaw tightening. “Yeah, babe,” I egg her on. “Join our little chat, Rayne-bow.” Nowhere to run.
Not sure if that nickname will stick when she’s looking far from sunny these days in her black clothes.
When she stomps over, her grip tight on the straps of her bag, she avoids my eyesight, locking eyes with her dad. “What’s up?”
I put my arm around her, vanilla and amber making me feel even warmer under the late-summer sun. She tries to shrug me off but I pull her closer, giving a wide grin to her dad.
“Is this true?” he asks. “Are you …” He can’t even say it, his voice trailing off, finger bouncing between us. “Are you two—”
She glances at me before she winces at her dad. “Yeah. We are.” Her chin points to the ground. She can wave a knife around but disappointing her dad is a weak spot.
The guys pretend to be stretching but they’re all watching, and if we’re making this believable she has to play along. “And where was I before practice?” Squeezing her shoulder, I hope she gets the hint.
“Uh, with me?” She’s not selling this one bit.
“You don’t know where you were?” He glances between us. “What are you? On drugs?”
Looks like Coach doesn’t soften up for his daughter either. Putting my hand to the side of my mouth, I make up for her shaky performance. “She doesn’t wanna tell you what we were doing.”
His eyes widen, so does his mouth before he takes a step closer to his daughter. “Ray? Do you have an explanation?” He waits for confirmation as I watch her jaw work. "Don't make me ask again."
“Yes,” she says, a weight lifting in my chest. Turning to me, she narrows her eyes. “It surprised me how small his dick is.”
“What can I say? I’m a grower, not a show-er.” Kissing her on her forehead sends a spark to my lips. “Said it felt like the CN Tower inside you though.”
“Christian,” Coach protests, hand in front of his face as he looks away. “You’re still late for practice and you know the rules.”
“You’re right.” Shit. Time to up the ante. “But speaking of school rules, there’s something you should know about your daughter.” My grip tightens on Rayne.
When she glances at me, her eyes wide, I shift my gaze to her dad. If she got the first hint, she’ll get this one. I tilt my chin over to Coach.
“And what’s that, Perez? Stop wasting our time.”
I give her an extra push. “Well, I’m sorry to say, but I caught her—”
“Let him play!” Rayne pipes up. “It’s my fault he’s late.”
Atta girl.
I drive this home. “You have a very ... needy daughter, Coach.”
If his nose scrunches any more, it’ll be inside his head. “Ray, we’ll talk at home.” When I glance at her, still a perfect fit under my arm, she looks like she wants to drive that knife through my chest. “Perez. Warm-up. Now.”
Nodding at Coach, I plant a good-bye kiss on his daughter’s cheek that leaves a tingle on my lips, and a thud in my chest.
Eight
Rayne
Fuck Christian Perez.
This thing with him needs to end.
Rich boys will always use rich boy tactics to get what they want and Christian is no different. They take the easy way out.
I’m an idiot for ever thinking he’d have my back in this place. He didn’t have it then and he doesn’t have it now.
My skin heats from the humiliation I endured out on that field the whole ride back to The Grove. The truth stays on the tip of my tongue but it won’t come out. Not when my dad’s babbling about how disappointed he is in August. He hasn’t exactly been a role-model brother since Mom passed, but considering everything, I can’t blame him. Not all the time.
“You're a grown woman.” Dad turns on the rugged street leading to our excuse for a home. “But you should know better than messing around with those boys.” We pull up to the garage, my brother and his friends chilling inside. They’ve taken it over, a couple more motorcycles parked on the driveway next to a torn-up leather sofa. “At least be better than this one.” Dad tilts his chin towards August with a sigh as the worse sibling wipes his tattooed hands with a dirty rag. "At least he spared your mother the embarrassment."
Double ouch.
August stares at me with a glare he gives his enemies, and to that, I give him the finger as I climb out.
“Really, Ray? The pretty rich boy?” he asks, a scowl on his face. “Again?”
I’m too annoyed to ask how he already knows. Likely Dad. He doesn’t believe in keeping secrets in our house but if he only knew the skeletons August and I had in our closets.
“Really?” I spit back, mocking him. “You’re turning the garage into some sort of base?” My eyes land on a large vase of white roses, one red. It sits on a dented red tool chest. “Didn’t take you for the roses type.”
“Your new boyfriend sent it,” he chuckles, with a shake of his head like this is all beneath us.
Christian sent those? Is that how August knows?
Reaching behind the chest, he pulls out a large glass pane. One big enough to fit the shattered window upstairs. “Sent this too. Some idiot tried to install it but I told him I’ll handle it. No way I’m letting a stranger into our home.”
“Yo
u know how to install a window?”
He looks over at his guys. They all shrug. “We’ll figure it out. The real question is what you’re doing with Prince Prick. The captain of the Rich Boy Squad? What are you? A fucking puck bunny now?”
“Coming from the wannabe gangster. What’re you guys gonna do after this? Knock over the local liquor store?”
August grabs a wrench from the chest beside him. Not that he’ll use it on me. Intimidation is his thing. “After I knock his head off for touching my little sister with his paraffin hands.” He looks all rugged but he still knows what that is.
“I won’t be the one bailing you out of jail.” My dad’s voice comes behind me, folders and gear in his hands. “Simmer down. The both of you.”
“Tell that to Gotti over here.” I gesture to my brother and his leather-clad pals. Owl leans over the handlebars of his bike, scrolling through his phone. Gull lays across the sofa, sipping a beer. Neither of them looks fazed at our family bonding.
My dad sighs, pulling me away from the guys. “We only want what’s best for you and while I don’t agree with August’s tactics, he’s only looking out for you. People like the Perez boy will only let you down, you know that. Be smart, Ray.”
Looking between the two most important men in my life, I want to tell them what happened. But I pass. “Hey, news flash guys, you don’t get a say in what makes me happy.” With that, I climb the steps up to our shitty apartment, my grip tight on the flimsy wooden rail.
Christian Perez doesn’t make me happy, but not disappointing my dad does. If I tell August, he’ll likely stand by his words and knock Christian’s head clear off.
Fine.
Christian wins this round but he’s not winning this war.
No fucking way.
Christian: Coffee @ Mocha. 6 am.
His text comes through at four in the morning.