Sparrowood Academy

by Angel Lawson

  “Do you still feel that way?”

  She tugs at the ends of her hair. “Until he came in my room that night after the fight, I didn’t really mind it. I know I should’ve, but it’s just one of the games they play here. I was caught up in it and sex is sex, there are benefits.” She smiles at me. “And if you look at it like a game, ultimately, in the end, I won.”

  “I guess you did.”

  “Did something happen? Did you hear from Luke?”

  “No,” I say, feeling sick to my stomach. “I’ve just been thinking about it and how maybe I wasn’t as supportive to you as I should have been.”

  “You were a good friend, Eden.”

  “I was judgmental. Worried, but judgmental.”

  She gives me a tight smile. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

  “Nah.” I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. “I have a few things to do before we get ready for the party tonight.”

  Rochelle leaves the suite and I stare after her, steadying my nerves. All night I went back to one thing over and over again, that Thanksgiving dinner. The way we sat around the table, sharing dinner and talking about what we were thankful for. The boys need Sparrowood, and me? I need a family. I’ve found one here by accident and I wasn’t going to lose it because of some Brat.

  The door of his room looks like all the others. Brown with a brass knob and scuffed toe-plate. After pacing for a solid five minutes and making sure no one is in the hall, I raise my fist and knock on the door. If anyone sees me…no, if they see me, this is over for all of us.

  The door opens slowly, and Trip appears, white button-down untucked. Jeans hanging on his hips. He runs a hand through his white-blond hair, blue eyes assessing me.

  “Wasn’t sure if you were coming.”

  I push past him and shut the door.

  “Good idea,” he says, striding past me, “wouldn’t want Hawkins to see you coming in here.”

  “Your face wouldn’t want Hawk to see me come in here. You saw what he did to your cousin in a fight over me.”

  “The threat of danger doesn’t make this any less appealing, Princess,” he eyes my clothes, “neither do those ratty sweat pants.”

  “Don’t call me Princess.” I swallow back my nerves. I need to be clear-headed to negotiate. “If I do this, do you promise not turn in the guys for bullshit you told me yesterday.”

  He nods.

  “Say it.”

  “I promise. I won’t tell anyone about your precious K-Boys. Fact or fiction.”

  I don’t trust him, but I add the caveat I came up with. The thing that really kept me up all night. “One more thing.”

  He tilts his head and a faint smile appears on his lips. “Making demands? How very Sparrowood of you.”

  “I want to know the truth about my sister.”

  His eyes actually soften. “Done.”

  Surprised it was that easy, I look around the room, not sure what to do next. Trip takes the lead.

  “Let’s get started, sweetheart, I have a party to host.”

  I take a deep breath and walk over to him, hands shaking with nerves. I decide to jump right in. No need to make this last longer than necessary. Trip smiles down at me as I approach. He’s tall with broad, square shoulders. Physically appealing—disturbingly so. He’s wearing a button-down, it means I have to use my fingers, which do not want to cooperate. They tremble as I attempt to unbutton the row. Impatiently, he pushes my hands aside, making quick work with his own long, soft fingers that had never seen a day of labor in his life.

  Well, not real work.

  He pulls off his shirt, dropping it on the floor, revealing slim and lean body. I’d assume he’s too lazy to go to the gym, but the swell of muscle tells me differently. He’s vain, so I shouldn’t be surprised. The hair on his arms is light, just like the trail leading from his belly button to the waist of his jeans.

  He takes my hands and brushes my fingers against his skin, forcing his belly hollows out. He drops them lower, leaving them there, hanging on his button, the intent clear.

  I manage to get this one undone, my nerves being over taken by some kind of determined resolve. I’m doing this for the K-Boys. For my sister. I have a purpose. I came here to get my hands dirty. This is my choice.

  He tugs at the hem of my shirt and I pause. “What are you doing?”

  “Shirt off,” he declares. “I want to see you.”

  “Nothing else.”

  He nods and pulls the shirt off in one move, eyes instantly moving to my chest.

  “Even hiding under that shitty bra, your tits are perfection.” The bulge in his pants grows, hard and undeniable. He grazes the side of my breast and I knock his hands away. He laughs, gleeful at my spite. It seems to fuel him.

  He yanks down his pants, his shorts coming next. He sits back on the leather chair, exhaling. I can’t take my eyes off his dick bobbing up and down. Rochelle told me the Cohen brothers are large. I don’t have much to compare it with, but it seems enormous. I’m both fascinated and repulsed as he strokes himself, making it impossibly bigger.

  “Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

  I worry my bottom lip and he lazily looks up at me and spreads his thighs. It’s where he wants me. He’s told me more than once. If I’m going to get him to hold up to his end of this deal, I have to play by his rules.

  It’s a game.

  “Do you remember what I told you?” he asks, hand still moving up and down, creating a swell of purplish-red.

  I get on my knees and he nods in approval.

  I blink, not sure where to look. His face? His dick? I lick my bottom lip and he chuckles low. “Goddam, your lips. So puffy and soft.” He leans forward and touches my chin, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip. Then he pulls me between his legs. “You’ve got this, Princ—”

  My eyes snap up at the name they’ve given me.

  “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  I take him in my hands, feeling the heat, the steel. I lean over. His hand touches my hair, and he says, “Slow. Deep.” His fingers lift my chin. “Eyes on me.”

  Pushing past the anger, the repulsion, the disgust, I do exactly what he wants, because this isn’t about me. It’s about my family. Born and created.

  It’s about sacrifices.

  It’s about winning.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  I find mouthwash in the bathroom and swish it in my mouth until it burns. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. Not because I’m upset. I’m not. I did what I had to protect my family. To find my sister.

  I can’t look at myself because I know that although I did this for them, it’s a betrayal.

  I spit the burning green liquid into the sink and force composure. I won’t give him any more satisfaction.

  Trip is in the same position as I left him, naked and sprawled on the couch, chest heaving. Limp dick lying on his lap. His eyes watch me, still hungry. He wanted more. He told me so. Begged me.

  I stand over him.

  “Where is she? Is she…” I start to ask the real question I want to know.

  “She’s alive,” he says shifting to his side. “She’s in college, living in the dorm, going to school, parties, the whole thing.”

  “How?” I ask, feeling like I just got punched. Again. “Where?”

  “She works for me, sweetheart. Has this whole time. She’s one of my best employees. Pays for her tuition, her room and board. She wanted out of Kingston and I gave her the keys.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “I am. I’m many things, Eden, but I’m not a liar. She’s at Asherville State.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe she didn’t want you to know.”

  I’m too stunned to react. I walk to the door. “And everything else? The lies about Gray cheating? The threat of supplying Theo with drugs? The video of us in the dining room?”

  “We have a clean slate. Your boys are safe.”
/>
  I twist the knob, knowing freedom is just on the other side of the door. I open and hear him add, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” before I slam it hard behind me, ready to put Trip Cohen and his disgusting self behind me for good.

  34

  Eden

  I learn the art of coping from Rochelle. I understand her better now. I understand all the girls at Sparrowood better now. Strangely, that line between the streets and snobby private school thins just a little more.

  I walk back into my room, my brain processing what’d just happened, what I’d just learned. It takes everything in me not to steal a car from the parking lot and head to Asherville. That would raise questions with Rochelle, the guys. None of them would believe for a second Trip would give me that information for free.

  We finish setting up for the party. The red and green Jell-O shots are chilling in the refrigerator. The spiked punch in a large pot one of the girls down the hall had for some reason.

  “We really need some ice,” Rochelle says, “But the kitchen is closed and I’m pretty sure walking out with a bucket load is a red flag for a party anyway.”

  “I can get some ice.”

  “Yeah?”

  I text Gray to meet me downstairs with his key. He appears with messy hair, looking like he just woke up. He leans in to kiss my cheek, but I turn quickly, terrified he’ll smell the deceit on me.

  “Rough night?” I ask.

  “Trip sent us all over the place last night. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was just trying to get us off campus. Anything happen here?”

  I think of Trip waiting for me in my room with threats and proposals.

  “Nah, I went to bed early.”

  He rakes his hand through his hair, trying to tame it. “What did you need?”

  “Ice from the kitchen?”

  He nods. “We can do that.”

  We find a bucket next to the ice maker and slowly fill it with the small silver scoop.

  “Hey,” he says after a minute, “I got a text with my final math grade.”

  I stop. “And?”

  That slow, sexy grin appears. “Seventy-six.”

  “You passed!”

  “I did.”

  “All on your own!”

  He reaches for me, tugging me close. “I had a little help.”

  He pulls me into a hug and at first, I want to resist it. I want to push him away, but I’ve never been able to resist Gray and his charms, so I sink into him, feeling the pain of everything well up inside.

  “Hey,” he says, hearing me sniff, “you okay?”

  I squeeze him tight. “It’s just been a long few months, you know?”

  I feel him nod. “Yeah, I know. But we’ve got a long break coming.”

  The break. I’d been looking forward to it. Kind of a Thanksgiving 2.0, but now the idea of staying here alone with the guys made me anxious. What if they found out? I also knew I’d want to go to Asherville.

  He squeezes me tight and kisses my neck.

  “Let’s get this finished before it all melts,” he says, reaching for the scoop.

  He carries it back upstairs to our room and pours it into the sink. Rochelle flits around the room attaching twinkling lights to everything.

  “So this is a girls-only party, huh?”

  “I’m sure we can make an exception.” I want them here with me and frankly, away from Trip.

  Rochelle shakes her head. “Nope. Girls only. Chicks before dicks.”

  “Will you go to Trip’s party?”

  “Maybe to make an appearance. You know how he is. He wants everyone to know we’re working together. I think his ego is especially bruised after the testing fiasco.”

  “About that…”

  He frowns. “Yeah?”

  “He’s smart. He may figure out you were involved.”

  “Probably. I’ll deal with it at the time.” He laughs. “I’m not afraid of Trip Cohen.”

  He kisses my cheek and heads out the door. I lean against the counter and can’t help but think that Gray may not be afraid of Trip, but he should be. We all should be.

  At eight, we’re ready.

  Christmas music is on. Drinks are chilled. The names for the tacky-gift exchange all written on tiny slips of paper in a bowl. Old-school movies play on the flat-screen. We’re both in our ridiculous sweaters. Everything is perfect.

  No one is here.

  At eight-thirty Rochelle looks at the clock, sighs, and plops on the couch. “Where is everyone?”

  My phone buzzes. I reach for it and see a message from Morgan.

  Get down to the lounge. Now.

  I almost don’t show Rochelle, because the sinking feeling in my gut tells me something is wrong. Really wrong. I hold up the phone and her look of annoyance turns to confusion.

  “Do you know what’s happening?”

  “No,” I say, hands starting to shake. I look at my friend. “But I did something. Something stupid.”

  “What?”

  I shake my head, too embarrassed to say. “Let’s get downstairs. I’ll tell you later.”

  We leave the room as is and run down the hall to the stairs. The hallway is quiet. No one is around and it’s not until we get near the lounge that it’s obvious this is where everyone is. My heart races in my chest and threatens to explode, I hear Trip’s obnoxious, smug, laugh.

  “Shut your mouth, Cohen,” Gray says, his voice lifting over the huddle of students.

  Terror grips me and I stumble, making everyone in the room turn.

  “Ah, there she is,” Trip says, “the girl with my favorite lips. And tongue. And damn, such a moaner.” He looks across the room and winks. Not at me. At the boys. “But you’d all know about that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I said, shut your goddamn mou—"

  The next moment is split in two. Confusion and understanding.

  Hawk moves like his name. Like a raptor, flying across the room about to tear his prey in two. The first blow comes to Trip’s eye. The next to his jaw. Theo and Gray blink, first at me, then at Hawk.

  “Sawyer!” I shout, pushing through the crowd. He’s in a blind rage and I turn to the boys. “Stop. Him.”

  They snap out of it and jump on their friend, dragging him off. Trip’s face is red, mangled, and he spits blood on the floor, but it doesn’t stop that cocky grin from lifting, and he says, “I wasn’t sure at first, but I think I like her on her knees better than on her back. You?”

  Theo looks around Hawk’s massive frame. “What did you just say?”

  “I said your girl is a whore. Came to my room and got on her knees. Don’t believe me?” he says, nodding at Phillip. The screen mounted to the wall flips on and an image of the two of us, of me, appears. There’s no doubt what I’m doing or that Trip is enjoying it. He opens his mouth to speak but Theo has pushed past Hawk, plowing into Trip. The chair tips and the two of them topple backwards. To his credit, Trip actually fights back this time but he’s not big enough to make a difference. Hawk lunges at Phillip, who’s an asshole but not an idiot. He drops the remote and Hawk snatches it, shutting down the show.

  Oh God.

  Hawk glances at me, gray eyes dark and pained, before turning back around to drag Theo off the pulverized body on the floor.

  “Eden?” Rochelle says, touching my shoulder. I glance over and see the hurt in her eyes. “What? What is that?”

  “Not now,” I say, embarrassed at all the eyes on us. How do I defend myself. Me? The champion of the female empowerment movement. Just another pawn in Trip’s game. I look at Gray and plead with him silently to go. To get them out of here before they got in more trouble. He looks crushed, but he does it anyway, herding both boys toward the door.

  “This isn’t over,” Gray says to the body on the floor. A moment later the three of them are gone and most of the crowd, other than his minions, have vanished as well.

  I walk over to Trip, who is groaning in pain. I bend and say in a low voice, “Y
ou promised to keep your mouth shut.”

  “I haven’t broken our deal, sweetheart. Not once did I promise to keep our activities a secret.” Blood drops from his mouth. He reaches up and grabs my wrist. “This is my school. My operation and my rules. Don’t fuck with me, Eden, or I will rain down so much terror you won’t recognize yourself when it’s over.”

  A chill runs through me and I try to yank my arm away but he holds tight.

  “One more thing,” he says in cold, calculated voice. “That information about your sister? You could have gotten it from Hawk this whole time. He saw her at the party at my house. You saw her too, you were just too stoned to realize it.”

  That information hits hard. Maybe harder than anything else tonight, which says a lot. I manage to get out of his grip and I turn and find Rochelle there, along with Morgan. My roommate places her arm around my shoulder and tells everyone left in the room to back the fuck off.

  Me? I follow aimlessly, trying to figure out how I managed to epically fuck things up.

  “He got you,” Rochelle says, handing me a glass of punch. We’re back in the room with Morgan, door locked, world left outside. “You’re not the first and definitely won’t be the last.”

  I’m on the couch in my stupid snowman sweater feeling like I’d just taken the emotional beating that Trip took physically.

  We both deserved it.

  He deserved it for being a disgusting asshole. A filthy, repulsive, horrible human being. I knew he was awful but…there’s something about seeing the true darkness in another person.

  Me?

  I deserved it for being weak, for being stupid, for trusting Trip at all. He’d been playing all of us, playing me since he got here, if not before.

  Morgan holds up her cup in a mock toast. “Welcome to the club.”

  I drop my head in my hands. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

  “Babe,” Rochelle says, sliding into the seat next to me. Her arm drapes over my shoulder. “This is what he does. He’s good at it. An expert. He’ll probably write a fucking book on it when he graduates and make a million more dollars.”