Dear Ava,
Your eyes are the color of the Caribbean Sea… Shit. That’s stupid. What I really mean is…you look at me and I feel something REAL. And that never happens.
It’s been ten months since you were here, but I can’t forget you.
I’ve missed seeing you walk down the hall.
I’ve missed you cheering at my football games.
I’ve missed the secret smile that curls your lips.
The truth is, I wanted you back then—but you had him.
And then everything fell apart that night.
If you need anything, I want to be there for you. Text me. Please. 105-555-9201
P.S. I’m a Shark, but I’d never hurt you.
P.P.S. I’ve tried to fight it with everything I have, but I want you. Still.
My heart pounds as I read the words, and I’m vaguely aware of a bell ringing and students milling past me, getting to classes. I want to crumple the letter and set it on fire, but I hold back. Who left this? Of course, I don’t believe it for a second. First of all, it’s from one of the football players—a Shark—and they all despise me. It was their party and they were the ones the police focused their interviews on, even though in the end, no one admitted to anything. They all said the same thing: Ava Harris was drinking when she came. No one gave her a drink. No one saw her go in the woods.
The late bell rings, startling me out of the past, and I stuff the letter inside my backpack, slam my locker, and bolt for my first class.
Chapter Two
Knox
I park my Mercedes-Benz G-Class in a spot and turn the ignition off.
“Fucking hot new ride,” Chance says from the back seat as he gets out, slinging his backpack over his arm. His pale blue eyes crinkle in the corners; you can tell he’s spent months outside in the sun for football. “You always get the best toys, Knox. Wish I had your money.” He huffs out a laugh, and I shrug, knowing there’s no jealousy in the words. His family wealth doesn’t rank up there with mine and Dane’s—our dad’s a real estate billionaire—but Chance’s dad does well as a lawyer. We’ve been best friends since sixth grade when we both got selected early to play on the JV football team at Camden, and nothing’s ever come between us.
I step out of the car and hit the clicker to lock the door. “Nothing but the best for the Graysons.” There’s sarcasm in my tone, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
My brother Dane gets out of the passenger side and pats the hood of the car. “Yeah, dear old Dad was feeling guilty for leaving us home all summer to hang out in Europe. Nice way to appease us, don’t you think?” His tone is deadpan, his face expressionless, except for the lines of tension around his lips. Worry crosses my mind. He’s fine, I tell myself, my eyes following him as he walks around to join us.
Liam crawls out from the back seat. A six-four linebacker for our team, he’s our star defensive player and on his way to a big college. ESPN has him ranked higher than anyone on the team, including me. He needed a ride this morning but told me his dad is dropping something off for him later—a new, sleek black Escalade. With a wicked grin, he smiles as he straightens, stretches out his arms, and looks over at the school, taking in the stately structure, the turrets on each side, the ivy that grows from the bottom, draping the gray stones on either side of the entrance. “Are you getting chills like I am, boys? Senior year—it’s ours. Except for you, Dane. You’ve got another year of this.” He cracks his knuckles and rubs his hands together. “And I’m going to bang every girl I want. More than you assholes.”
“So you and Jolena are off again?” comes from Dane. “Guess I’m not surprised. You two are a soap opera.” He rolls his eyes.
Liam shrugs his broad shoulders, running a hand through his side-swept, white-blond bangs—old style Justin Bieber. “Too many girls in the world to be tied down to just one,” he adds, grinning.
Chance chuckles. “Careful there, Liam. I do recall you getting a rash on your dick this summer from one of those college girls you picked up at the club we snuck into. Damn, she was hot—but an STD? That doctor’s appointment had to be embarrassing.”
Liam’s face reddens. “It was curable, okay? Don’t be telling people that shit—it will kill my game.”
I slap him on the back. “I’m going to make it the morning announcement. You know I have pull in the office.”
Liam gives me a withering look. “Screw you, QB1. You try that and see what happens on the field.”
I arch a brow, feigning nonchalance, but my hackles rise. Doesn’t seem to take much these days. “It was a joke. Don’t worry, I’ll only tell Jolena and then we’ll see how she feels about it.”
His face flattens. “Still not amused, Knox.”
I laugh, satisfaction washing over me that I got to him. There’s weird competition between us. Maybe it’s an offense-versus-defense kind of thing, but mostly it stems from me being in charge of the team, coupled with the fact that I had Jolena sophomore year before him. I tapped that fast and got out, and for all his blustering about not being serious with her, he doesn’t want me anywhere near her.
Liam rolls his shoulders. “You’ve been acting weird as shit lately, Knox. Worried about winning a state championship already?” He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll win those games for us. You just throw some pretty passes and I’ll do all the hard work.”
“Fuck off,” I say softly, my eyes cold, twisting my lips into a twisted snarl that makes him give me a double take then dart his eyes away.
Dane grows still next to me and gives me a side-eye, which I refuse to acknowledge. Liam is his best friend, and he knows when my hackles are up and wants to soothe them. Funny, since I’m the one always worrying about him.
The moment passes as the four of us step onto the long sidewalk that leads to the entrance. I open the door for them and they head inside. Trailing behind, I’m about to walk in when a dark green Jeep whips into the lot and speeds past the sidewalk. I frown, my gut tensing up when I see the profile of the girl driving. Ava. A tight feeling settles in my chest, and unease mingled with…excitement washes over me as I watch her park and get out of her car. Yeah, I’m a regular split personality. Part of me never wants to see her again, but the other side of me…well, that’s the one I have to worry about.
* * *
Liam rushes off to the headmaster’s office to get his schedule figured out while Dane, Chance, and I linger close to the door, checking out the incoming freshmen and waiting for the friends we haven’t seen over the summer.
Dane leans his head against the wall and scrubs his face with hands that tremble.
“What’s up with you?” I ask.
He raises his head. “Stop hovering. I’m fine.” Gray eyes the same color as mine give me a look. His pupils are dilated.
My jaw grinds, but I keep my lips zipped. The more I ride him, the more belligerent he gets, and you can’t argue with—
Shit.
She walks in.
It’s been months since she graced the hallowed halls of Camden with her long, lean legs and big blue-green eyes…eyes that, when I ever had the chance to meet them, grabbed me for a startling moment before brushing right past.
I still remember the day she showed up freshman year, that look of hope on her face, of optimism that Camden was going to be a new beginning for her. She wasn’t my kind, a scholarship girl, but something about her…makes me feel…off.
And I don’t like off. I like complete and utter control.
“She’s back,” Dane says, straightening up from the wall, an enigmatic smile on his face. “Gotta give it to her—she’s got balls.”
“Hmmm,” I say, taking the few seconds while she isn’t looking to check her out. Gone is the long blonde hair, replaced with jet-black. She looks…harder. Her mouth is frozen in a smirk, bright red lipstick on her full lips, accentuating the sensual curves there, the paleness of her perfect skin. Small freckles dot over her nose, same as before, but it’s the tense set of her jaw that t
ells you she’s not the same. Her skirt is a hair too short by the school guidelines, the hem hitting about three inches above her knee. Her red blazer with the Camden dragon crest is draped over her arm, her white blouse snug around the fullness of her breasts. On her feet are ragged black Converse.
“Why are you staring at her like that?” Chance hisses at me, standing on the other side. “She’s the enemy.”
I take in that vulnerable bend in her shoulders, the one she keeps attempting to straighten as she walks closer to us.
I shrug, keeping the movement cool and light. “She’s definitely a spark that just might ignite and catch fire.”
“And burn us all down in the process,” Dane murmurs, giving me an arched brow.
Chance isn’t even listening to us, his jaw popping as he watches her walk closer to us. “I can’t believe she’s back!” He looks at me. “Did you know?”
“Why would you think I’d know?” I ask.
“Because you always know shit.”
“True.” But I don’t answer his question.
Chance’s chest rises. “My father took my car away—because of her. When I did nothing wrong.”
My gaze is still on her face, watching as she seems to lose some of her cool and stumbles in front of us, staring at Chance.
He stiffens and pales. Nothing ruffles him like someone bringing up Ava to him these past months, and seeing her for the first time since that night…he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. He had it bad for her last year, pursuing her, flowers delivered to school, sitting with her at lunch. He talked about her constantly, how he thought she might be the one for him.
“Don’t you ever wonder if she was telling the truth?” I say the words, knowing they’re going to push buttons, and they hang in the air between us like a dark cloud.
Chance’s face turns bright red. “There was zero proof. Her drug tests came back clean. She was drunk and she had sex, but it wasn’t with me. I left that party early with Brooklyn because Ava…” He stops, his lips thinning.
“You over her?” I stare at him hard.
“Fuck yeah.”
Hmmm. Is he? Chance doesn’t chase after girls. They come to him.
But last year, he was totally lost in Ava. I saw it when he looked at her in class. I saw it when he’d throw down his helmet after a game and dash over to pick her up and twirl her around. He doesn’t do that with Brooklyn.
I stare down at my phone. “Speaking of drugs, date rape drugs wear off pretty fast, actually. I looked it up. And she did have bruises on her legs…according to the police report.” Which my dad easily obtained for Dane and me. That was a tense few days with my dad’s scrutiny squarely on us for the first time in a while. Dane was one of the guys dancing with her in the video that circulated and Dad was pissed. And then there was my predicament after I talked to the police. Yet once the police interview was over, Dad flew us to LA for a U2 concert as if nothing had happened.
I take Dane in again. He’s still watching her, a low look in his eyes. I frown.
Is it just normal curiosity or something else?
Chance’s mouth opens. “What the hell, Knox? Are you on her side? She almost got every guy at that party expelled.”
“Maybe we should have been,” I say.
He rears his head back. “You’re crazy.”
“If you didn’t do anything, there’s nothing to worry about, right?” I study my nails, wondering why I’m goading my best friend. But I know why. It’s her. She brings out that dark well of emotion in me that makes me want to poke and prod just to get a reaction.
Brooklyn appears next to Chance, batting her lashes up at him as she curls her arm around his upper arm.
I smirk.
I had her too, under the bleachers after a big win.
And it’s just water to me, tasteless, meaningless, nothing but passing the time.
Chance barely notices she’s there. He’s still looking at me. “You’re a dick,” he finally says.
“So are you. You just hide it better.”
“What does that mean?”
I lift my shoulders. “Nothing.”
Yet I’m looking at everyone with fresh eyes since the Ava incident—even my best friend.
“We’re all dicks. We’re Sharks,” Dane says just as the bell rings.
Sharks. I don’t know where the name came from, this “club” we’re in, but it’s been around for years. Our dad was one. Chance’s too. We stick together. We run this place.
We straighten, pick up our backpacks, and head down the hall, our shoulders milling through the less fortunate, making our way to class.
Yet…
I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Ava’s back as she struggles with the combination on her lock. Her head is tilted down, the graceful arch of her neck taut with tension.
Yeah. She walked in here like she owns the place, but she doesn’t.
I do.
Still…
The very air around her seems lit with an aura of…expectancy.
Emotion, something unnamed I can’t put my finger on, rare and beautiful, brushes down my spine. The truth is…Ava is…different.
And fuck, I dig different.
But…shit.
Stay away from her, Knox.
Chapter Three
Ava
I’m so freaking late. I’m practically running when I dash into my History of Film class. The teacher, an older lady with bobbed hair who I recognize from last year as Mrs. White, lifts her head when I come to a stop, my shoes squeaking on the slick tile. Everyone already has a seat, and it’s clear from the seating chart on the whiteboard that she doesn’t have my name down. I frown. That’s what late registration gets me. It’s going to be like this all day, me showing up and not being on the roll.
She stops talking and motions me forward. Great. Everyone cranes their neck to get a look at me as I walk up to her desk, maneuvering through the small desk tables, each one seating two students each. Shit. I’m going to have to actually sit next to someone. I send a prayer up that it’s not one of the Sharks but a regular student like me. I pass by Piper, whose eyes are wide. I grimace when I see she’s been placed next to Dane. She sticks out her tongue at me and rolls her eyes, and I bite back a grin.
“Sorry I’m late, Mrs. White. It won’t happen again.”
“Snitch,” a male voice coughs out, and her gaze goes behind me, searching the class.
“That’s enough,” she says to them before looking back at me. “It’s fine, Ava. First day we give some leeway.” Her smile is small, pity on her face. She messes with some papers on her podium, shuffling them around, her finger going down a list. “I don’t have you on my roll, and honestly this class is so popular with juniors and seniors, almost every seat is filled.”
“I registered late. Sorry.” I keep my spine straight, feeling every pair of eyes in the room on me. “Just put me in a chair in the back. I don’t even need a table.” I try to smile, but I’m not feeling it. Nervously, I tug at my skirt.
A deep male voice comes from my left. “I have an empty seat, Mrs. White. Liam dropped.”
Her head lifts, and I follow her gaze, my gut churning, recognizing that voice.
My eyes find Knox Grayson’s. Again, there’s no expression on his face, just that superior, disdainful, messed-up smile he always wears.
Mrs. White’s eyebrows hit the roof, and I guess she’s just as surprised as I am that one of the Sharks has offered to let me sit with him.
I tear my eyes off Knox’s face.
“I’d prefer the seat in the back,” I tell Mrs. White quietly, leaning in, but unfortunately my words must carry because someone giggles and I hear the silky voice of Jolena.
“Wow, a girl who doesn’t want to be next to Knox—priceless.”
She puts her elbows on the podium and leans in until our faces are close and there’s no chance anyone will hear. “I’m good with whatever you want. I can put you in the back, but honestly, it’s
only going to isolate you from everyone. You could take the seat up front with Knox, and if you have any issues at any time, come to me and I’ll take care of it.” Her voice is soft, her demeanor kind. “It’s up to you though, Ava. Whichever you want.”
Sit in the back or sit next to the head Shark?
My throat grows tight as I ponder my options, but I already know what I need to do. Establish myself as fearless.
Swallowing hard, I give her a tight nod, pivot, and walk to Knox’s desk.
I can do this. I can.
Knox’s eyes are low as he sits back in his chair, never shifting his gaze as I slide into the seat next to his. He takes me in, cocking an eyebrow, as if he’s surprised.
He’s a foot away from me, but I swear I can feel the heat from his body looming close. I scoot my chair a few inches farther from his, making a horrid scraping noise on the tile. He huffs out a laugh and scoots away from me until his chair is next to the wall, putting even more distance between us. Good, it’s like that then.
Never liked you from the get-go, even before that party, my face says as I shoot him a glare.
“Ava,” he says in acknowledgment, his voice husky, laced with darkness. Since freshman year, I’ve avoided him, something about him unnerving. It’s not the scar, because things like that don’t bother me. I’ve lived with kids with scars and burns on their faces—sometimes on their entire body—from abuse. Luka, my first love and the guy I gave my virginity to, had cigarette burns up and down both forearms.
“Mr. Cold and Evil. We meet again.”
Although I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken to each other one on one. It’s weird. Even when I was cheering those first few games and was welcome in their group, he always went out of his way to avoid me.
Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology Page 77