by Leila James
That entire mess has me questioning the sanity of the people who’d actually send the photos in the first place. I lock eyes with Daphne across the table we share. “Do they think if their dick measures up I’ll actually call them?”
“Ew. Knowing some of the guys around here, maybe?” She eyes my phone like it’s a venomous snake. “Some of those dicks are funky. You’d think they’d want to keep it to themselves.”
That makes me snort with laughter, and our art teacher, Ms. Simpson, wanders over to check on us. I drop my eyes to the clay sculpture I’m working on and pick up a tool to score a pattern in it.
When she walks away, I look back up, catching Daphne’s eye. “I can’t imagine they are all texting from burner phones. I could probably figure out exactly who sent them if I really wanted to—if the thought of knowing who they are and which dick belongs to whom didn’t make me want to upchuck my lunch.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t seem all that wise to me, but then again, Roses don’t have to be smart. They just have to have the money and the family ties to get them in. We’re the only ones who have to have brains around here. Kind of pathetic.” She sighs.
“So, the biggest question—who wrote my number in the bathrooms? Very few people have my number. You and Max, of course, but I trust both of you to not have handed it out.”
“Whoever stole your phone. Or whoever had enough brainpower to get past your security code.” Daphne’s eyes flick up to me from where she’s smoothing her fingers over her sculpture. “You had a passcode set, right?”
“Yeah, of course.” It’s the date my mom died—the date my life changed forever. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You sure are attracting plenty of attention around here. I’m thankful I slid in unnoticed last year.”
“Right?” I study her sculpture more carefully, then lower my voice. “Daph? Why does your sculpture look like a huge dick?”
She covers her mouth with both hands, eyes widening. Visibly trying not to lose it, she says, “Oh my God, it does, doesn’t it? Must be subconsciously channeling all of those photos on your phone.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, your dick looks better than anything that’s on my phone, that’s for damn sure.” I laugh under my breath.
Chapter 16
With the exception of the dick pics continuously coming in on my phone, things have been fairly quiet—meaning Xander has mostly left me alone. There’s been a look here and there, during and between classes, but nothing major.
And I can’t help it, but I find myself seeking him out and wondering why he’s all up in my business one minute and ignoring me the next.
I must be some kind of idiot to want his attention. Seriously stupid.
On my way in from practice, I run past the football field and the minute I’m noticed, a whoop goes up from the team. What’s going on doesn’t click until they start whistling at me, making all sorts of lewd remarks.
“I’ve got a big one for you, Scarlett!”
“Check out my beast of a cock!”
“Ten inches, right here, babe!”
My face heats as I listen to them, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice a bunch of them thrusting their pelvises and grabbing at themselves.
Oh. My. God. Where the hell is their coach?
The only thing to do is keep running. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.
Another guy shouts, “Get down on your knees for me, pretty baby! Lemme fuck that sweet mouth!”
The next thing I know, I’m airborne. I must have tripped over my own two feet and gone flying. I go down hard on my knees right in front of the whole fucking football team. I land sprawled on my stomach in the grass. After the shock subsides, I give a low moan of embarrassment.
One of the players shouts, “Well, the note in the bathroom said she gives good head, but apparently, she can’t run for shit!” There’s a good amount of howling and laughter in response to that comment. I wish the earth would open up and swallow me whole.
Fuck. My. Life.
So much for not calling attention to myself.
I drag air into my lungs and force my arms and legs to move, shifting up to my hands and knees, then back onto my feet. I’m going to be sore as hell later.
The whoops and hollers continue as I limp away, but I tune them out. Nothing but a rude bunch of assholes at this school.
When I get inside, I head straight for the athletic trainer’s office to get ice for my knees. They are already bruised and swelling.
At this point, I don’t know which hurts worse, my knees or my ego. And those guys and their filthy mouths. Jesus. What am I going to do? Tell their coach? The football team here is revered. No one else heard what they said or—I shudder—saw what they did. Classic “he said, she said,” and they have an entire team to back them up.
Not to mention, no way in hell is Aunt Liz finding out about this. No way.
“Yo, pretty girl, you okay?” Beau peeks his head through the doorway, eyeing the ice packs strapped to my knees with athletic tape. Micah’s behind him, but doesn’t say anything, just looks on curiously.
“I’m fine.” Well, isn’t this fucking weird.
They both nod. “See you later, then.”
Right. I’m so confused by their appearance, I don’t bother to respond and they don’t wait around. I shut my eyes and put my earbuds in. The trainer had encouraged me to stay here and ice my knees for twenty minutes before I go home. I’m just getting into my music, mouthing the words to a new song by Halsey when one of the buds is plucked from my ear.
Startled, my eyes pop open, only to find Xander right in front of me, one hand on either side of the table I’m sitting on, caging me in. He sure likes to do shit like this. His face is maybe six inches from mine.
My traitorous heart beats frantically in my chest at his proximity. The scent of his soap and clean skin swirls around in my head, and I blink, wondering if I’m imagining him there, but nope. He’s definitely not a figment of my imagination. I can’t decide whether I wish he were here or not.
“You should watch where you’re running, Red.” His warm breath cascades over my jaw and down my neck as he leans in. I swear, he’s close to nuzzling my neck, and I’ll be damned if that’s happening.
My brows draw together, and I lift my hands to his shoulders and shove him back a few inches. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so careful if what you wrote on the bathroom walls wasn’t giving your teammates hard-ons so that they come at me like horny, wild animals. Apparently, by the way, your team doesn’t have a single guy with a small dick. You’re all overachievers.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He ignores the last bit about his teammates and simply says, “I didn’t give your number out.” He works his jaw back and forth. “I do wonder who knows how well you suck dick, though.” He leans in again, running one hand up my bare thigh and firmly taking my chin between his fingers with the other. “Where have these lips been, sweetheart?”
I should be shocked. Offended. Something. I sure as hell won’t tell him that I’ve never done that before. But all I can think of is how he’s standing between my legs, touching my face, and I wonder what it would be like if he were to kiss me.
I swear, I’ve forgotten how to breathe. Xander lowers his head a fraction, gazing right into my eyes. The pad of his thumb drags over my lower lip before he puts the tip of it into my mouth. “Suck.”
A rush of lust strong enough to make me lose my mind hits and, heaven help me, I do exactly what he demands. I wrap my lips around this thumb and taste him, alternating sucking and swirling my tongue around.
He drops his head back and groans. “Fuck.” He breathes heavily as I continue, looking at me once again, his gaze focused on my lips. He grunts as I suck harder, then rasps out, “I want those lips, that tongue, on my cock. I want you gagging as I hit the back of your throat. I want you on your knees swallowing my cum.” His voice has gotten gritty and dark as he divulges his des
ires.
“Scarlett? How are those knees?” Ha! Speaking of my knees … The voice of Mr. Simmons, the athletic trainer, has Xander releasing his thumb from my mouth with a pop.
Xander steps back just in time for Mr. Simmons to come into view at the doorway.
I meet Mr. Simmons’s concerned gaze and stutter, “I-I’m okay, I think.”
“I’m going to help her to her car.”
Mr. Simmons nods his appreciation to Xander. “Good. How did this happen again, Scarlett? I’m required to report all injuries to the headmaster.”
“Oh.” My eyes flick to Xander’s. “I was just clumsy, I guess. Tripped over a rock or my feet or something.” I look over at Mr. Simmons and shrug.
“Okay. I’ll make a note of it. Be more careful out there, you hear me? You must be pretty talented for them to have brought on a second scholarship student.”
I blink. Well, there’s confirmation of that. I exhale an unsteady breath. My heart still flutters around inside my chest like a crazy bird, my mind whirring like a high-speed computer trying to solve a problem.
“More ice at home, young lady.” Mr. Simmons grimaces, glancing at my knees.
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Simmons’s attention shifts to Xander as he pats him on his bicep. “Xander, good game last week.”
“Thank you, sir.” Xander shoots him a cocky grin.
Mr. Simmons exits the room, leaving us alone.
“Hit the showers, Red. There’s no one left here to steal your clothes today.” He bites his lip and backs out of the room, not breaking eye contact with me until the last possible second.
Once Xander is gone from the room, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m immediately hit by a wave of profound embarrassment. I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe he just said that. He stirs up untold feelings inside me, most of which, I don’t know what to do with, nor do I understand. Beside me, my phone vibrates. The screen flashes with the notification of a message from an unknown number. Great. Probably another dick pic.
Only it’s not.
Unknown number: Curious about your scholarship? Start digging.
I frown, goose bumps rising on my skin. How—?
Me: Who is this?
Unknown Number: Someone far less clueless than you.
Chapter 17
I arrive at Rosehaven early, hoping to get to my seat in English as inconspicuously as possible before the hoard of football players arrives. Hurrying down the hallway, I note there aren’t many people here yet, so I have a good chance to slide in unnoticed.
Aunt Liz and Uncle David had fussed over me after seeing my bruised knees when I got home yesterday. When they’d asked, I’d been too humiliated by how it had really happened to tell them. Besides, what purpose would it serve?
Those douchebag boys think they can get away with whatever because they are ruled by bro code and will back each other up, no matter what.
And Xander’s comment to me before he walked out of the training room—was that an admission that he was the one outside of my shower? The blurred figure had been indistinguishable outside of the fact that they wore dark clothing and had light-colored hair. I have so many questions, but I’m too exhausted to search for answers. I’d even gone to bed early again last night, but it hadn’t helped much. I kept having nightmares that someone was chasing me through the woods, and I think I only slept about three hours total.
The best thing I can do at the moment is shove every bit of it to the back of my mind and forget all the bullshit for as long as I can.
That’ll be quite a challenge, because sitting through English today after yesterday’s events might possibly end up being the most mortifying thing I’ve ever had to do. Worse, probably, than tripping and falling in front of the football team. At least I’d been able to get away from them yesterday. Today, I’m stuck in class for the next ninety minutes surrounded by them. I wonder if any of the dicks on my phone are going to be sitting in class with me. Ugh, it’s so disgusting to think about. My only hope is they don’t have the balls to say inside the classroom what they’d yelled on the field yesterday.
None of that factors in the whole thumb-sucking incident. How am I going to deal with Xander sitting behind me for an entire class period? I have no idea what had come over me in the training room. Not at all. Classic out-of-body experience. It was almost like I’d watched myself do it. I’m going to blame the football team for that, too. I’d clearly been out of my own head after falling.
My mouth drops open ever so slightly as I walk into the classroom. Not only are the usual early birds already seated, but every single football player enrolled in the class is already here, along with a few extras who must have shown up for shits and giggles. They break out into applause as I stop, frozen in place a few paces inside the doorway.
I swallow hard, determined to show them I’m not bothered by their assholery, and quickly school my features as I give a deep bow. That makes them cheer even harder, but I hope it gives them the idea that I’m cool with everything so they’ll back off. It’s all going as planned until I have to step over Micah’s long legs to get to my seat. I don’t know how it happens, but the next thing I know, I’m facedown in Xander’s lap.
From behind me, I hear a muffled, “My bad. Me and my fucking long legs, sorry.”
“There she goes again!”
I squeeze my eyes shut. This is not happening. Xander’s big hands touch my upper arms. He rasps next to my ear, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Damn, baby, if you wanted to suck it, all you had to do was ask. I didn’t send you a dick pic, though. Just so everyone is clear on that point.”
Laughter erupts.
I’m utterly humiliated.
Slowly, I stand. With his cool gaze leveled on me, I can’t stop my voice from coming out shaky. “I hate you.”
From the other side of the classroom, some jackass snorts and then says, “You might hate him, but it sure looks like you love his junk.”
I flip that asshole off, which makes everyone laugh harder, and rush out of the room, slamming into Max’s shoulder by accident on my way out.
“S-Sorry.” I continue out even though he tries to stop me.
A boisterous shout comes from inside the room behind me, “Slow down, honey, you don’t want to fall again!”
I race down the hall to the girls’ bathroom, half-blinded by the pissed-off tears in my eyes.
Daphne’s at one of the sinks washing her hands when I burst in. Her eyes go wide. “What happened?” Her voice is stern as she grasps me by my elbows.
“Those fuckers,” I hiss. My chest squeezes so tight it hurts. I feel like my insides are folding in on themselves.
Someone pounds on the door outside. “Scarlett! Are you okay?”
It’s Max, and his voice is full of worry.
“You’re so mad you’re practically vibrating with it. What the hell happened?” Daphne asks as she guides me to the lone chair at the far end of the bathroom where some trusting girls set their purses while they pee. She forces me to sit and hurries over to the door just as Max pounds on it again. After yanking him inside, she deftly flips the janitor’s lock that’s used to keep us out while they clean.
“Tell me he didn’t say what Julia told me he did,” Max growls.
I’m so outraged, I can’t believe Xander did that to me after all the things he’d said to me yesterday in the training room—things that had made me so hot, I’d thought about getting down on my bruised knees for him. I’m so fucking stupid.
“It’s worse than you know. Yesterday at the end of practice, the whole football team was shouting at me as I passed by, finishing up my run. Nasty stuff about the dick pics and how they had one to show me, complete with grabbing and thrusting gestures. I was so mortified I actually tripped and fell.” I sniff. “So you can imagine when Micah tripped me and my face landed straight in Xander’s lap …”
Max’s jaw clenches.
“I still have no clue what
just happened,” Daphne murmurs.
I glance at her, wiping my fingers under my eyes, making sure no tears are falling. When I get angry, I cry sometimes, which just makes me more irritated. “He said something like, ‘If you want to suck it, just ask.’ There was more to it, but that’s the gist.” I swallow past the knot of shame in my throat.
Her mouth drops open, and her hands fly up to cover it for a few seconds before she mutters, “Oh my God. What a fucking asshole.”
Max grimaces. “For real.” He catches my eye. “Are you okay going back to class if we ask Mrs. Harden to let you sit with me today?”
I inhale and close my eyes for a few seconds before my words come out through clenched teeth. “I really don’t want to go back in there.” I open my eyes as a violent shudder rolls through me.
“You’ve got to show them you’re stronger than they think.” Max’s voice is low. He grips my shoulders and stares me in the eye. “You can do this. Because you’re stronger than you think, too.”
“You’re right. I am stronger than they think I am. Dickheads. All of them.”
“Hell yeah, you are. Just stay with Max.” The warning bell rings, and Daphne blows out a short breath, giving me an apologetic wince. “I should go. I have to get to the other side of the building.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Text me, and I’ll come running, okay? Don’t let them get to you.”
I nod and huff out a breath. “Thanks, Daph. Okay. I can do this.”
Max reaches for my hand, pulling me up. “Come on, Cupcake. I’ve got you.” He loops an arm around my back and guides me back to class.