Ruthless Love

by Bloom, Penelope

  Cassian’s eyebrows lowered. He smiled in a way that was objectively charming but felt completely terrifying and unnatural to see after what he’d just done. I flinched back.

  “Wheels, right?” he asked. “At least that’s what your boyfriend calls you. Maybe I need to come up with my own name for you. Whore on wheels? Nah… Can’t re-use the whole wheels thing.”

  Before Cassian could finish deciding, Tristan flashed in front of me and shoved Cassian.

  Despite how big Tristan was, he wasn’t built like Cassian. Tristan had the length and leanness of a quarterback, with defined muscles that didn’t seem to weigh his frame down. Cassian, on the other hand, was thick with muscle and maybe an inch or two shorter than Tristan. He barely moved from the shove.

  “Want to do this now?” Cassian asked. “Over her?”

  “I’ve been wanting a piece of you since practice yesterday,” Tristan growled. “It has nothing to do with her.”

  “Strange.” Cassian flashed a cocky smile. “You had plenty of shots at me today. History class. The lockers. Lunch… Yet you chose to do this when I start messing with the cripple. Very strange.”

  A small group of students was gathering. I hadn’t been at Parker long, but I’d quickly learned the reputation Tristan and his friends had. They were kings among kings. Untouchable and elite. The group of Tristan, Cassian, Logan, and Gage was apparently destined to go down in school history as some kind of mega group—like a boy band, except one where the only real talents of each member were playing football, getting girls, and general assholish behavior.

  A public fight between Tristan and Cassian would be gossip for months, I didn’t doubt.

  The two of them were just staring at each other. Tristan looked tense and ready to swing, but Cassian looked alarmingly casual.

  Without any hint of warning on his face, Cassian swung at Tristan. The blow caught Tristan on the lip. Tristan’s head popped backwards from the impact, but he managed to swipe away Cassian’s next punch and throw one of his own. It connected, glancing off Cassian’s cheek.

  Before another punch could be thrown, Cassian rammed himself into Tristan, driving his back into the tree beside me. Tristan wrapped his arms around Cassian’s neck and started squeezing while Cassian punched at Tristan’s ribs. A moment later, Gage and Logan pushed through the crowd to pull the two apart.

  “Fucker,” Cassian said, smiling with blood on his teeth at Tristan while Logan held both of his arms behind his back.

  Tristan spit blood on Cassian’s shoes, then shook Gage’s hold off. “Get off me, I’m done, anyway.”

  Logan pulled Cassian back through the crowd, which parted for them.

  Gage squinted at Tristan. “You sure you’re good?”

  “Yeah. Fuck off.”

  As much as I hated doing it, I turned my chair to face Tristan. “Thank you. I think.”

  Tristan didn’t seem to hear me. He was looking at the scattered remains of my camera like he was searching for something. Finally, he knelt down and picked up a piece, stuffing it in his pocket.

  “You probably shouldn’t take any of that.” I gestured to the debris. “They might need it to do repairs or something.”

  “It’s trashed.”

  I swallowed. People were still gathered around, watching to see if there was any more drama to unfold. I felt beyond self-conscious with so many eyes on me, especially now that I was starting to recognize some of the kids. I wondered what they thought of me now.

  As if a thought occurred to him, Tristan turned, then crouched down so we were face to face. His voice was a low whisper. “You’re mine to torment, Wheels. Not his. Not anyone else’s. Mine.”

  A shiver ran through me. I watched Tristan walk away and the crowd dispersed.

  Of course, he’d said that. People were toys to Tristan. Not living, breathing things. He used them when it suited him and tossed them aside when he was done. And even if all his twisted words were some thickly veiled form of affection—I knew the most he could ever want from me in that way would be to use me. He’d use my body, my mind, my mouth—whatever he craved at the moment, and then like everyone else in my life but my mom, he’d see I was a burden and cast me away.

  I noticed Marne still watching me from the quickly dispersing crowd.

  I smiled at her. “Does that camouflage of yours work on people?” I asked.

  She frowned. “Of course, it does. But not in a school courtyard. Have you ever hunted?”

  No, I thought. But I’m beginning to learn quite a bit about being hunted.

  12

  Tristan

  After practice, I spotted Wheels on the track with a notebook and pencil in her lap. I walked over to her, ignoring the way the guys were staring. It looked like she wanted to turn and roll away as fast as she could, but she set her jaw and stared back at me.

  Feisty, as always.

  “What’s your plan? Write me a recruitment essay?”

  “I was just making some notes. I wanted to figure out the strengths and weaknesses of your game so we could highlight them in the video.”

  “Right. Because you know shit about football?”

  “You prefer throwing to your left. You lick your fingers a million times every time it’s a passing play, and you wipe your hands on your pants when you’re going to hand it off. Oh, and you really suck at that one play where you’re supposed to throw it over the tall guys in front of you, so you have to kind of jump.”

  I stared.

  Wheels wiggled her eyebrows, then smiled to herself. “I don’t know anything about football, but patterns of behavior and the obvious stuff? That, I can figure out.”

  I’d never admit it to her, but I made a mental note of everything she just said and planned to fix it as soon as possible. “Let’s assume you’re even close to correct. How does any of that help you with a recruitment video?”

  “It doesn’t, but it was fun seeing the look on your face when you realized I was right.”

  I looked back toward my teammates, who were making no secret of watching me talk to her. Much longer, and they’d start more rumors than they already had.

  “You’ve got no camera, Wheels. Last time I checked, I had to help you with a video. No camera, no video. That means I don’t have to deal with you anymore.”

  She didn’t look so smug now. “I’m working on that.”

  I left her there and headed for the locker room. After we showered up, everyone was shoving their shit into bags for the weekend to take home and wash. Most of the guys still just wore towels wrapped around their waists as they bullshitted and stood around their lockers.

  Cassian leaned on the locker beside mine. “Nice lip.”

  “Want one just like it? Stay in my fucking face and I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

  Coach swung his flimsy office door open, making it clatter loudly when it slammed into the wall. “Hey!” He pushed his way through our teammates until he was standing between Cassian and I, who both stood a few inches above him.

  “I don’t give a flying greased pig fuck if you two like each other. But I do care about winning state.” He lowered his voice, scowling. “And I already pulled a big ass favor not getting the two of you suspended for your little scuffle in the courtyard today. So unless you want to be riding the bench for the rest of the season, I suggest you learn to get the fuck over it. Am I being clear?”

  I said nothing, but I also didn’t punch Cassian in the face. Coach’s eyes slid between us a few times, then he nodded and headed back to his office.

  Cassian’s lip curled. “Know what, QB? I think I might fuck that little crippled neighbor of yours, just to piss you off.”

  I set my jaw. His words triggered an unexpected ball of rage in my chest. “Stay away from her.”

  He titled his head. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

  I watched him go, then slammed the side of my fist into a locker once he was gone. Dammit. I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I was hold
ing. This was exactly why I didn’t help people. It was why I didn’t get close. It opened me up and made me weak—like a chink in the armor I’d been building for years.

  If I’d just left her in that fucking bush the night of my party. But I hadn’t. I’d brought her into my room and accidentally planted her firmly in my thoughts.

  And now she had me by the balls, whether she knew it or not.

  * * *

  I got a text that weekend from Cassian.

  Cassian: Your little girlfriend has a cute room. I may have a mirror installed on the ceiling so we can watch ourselves next time.

  I wasn’t proud of it, but the text had jolted me out of bed and into a fast jog toward her house. It was dark enough that I wasn’t too worried about being seen when I climbed the oak tree outside her window. When I got to the top, I saw a shadow of someone standing on her wall. My throat went tight.

  How the hell had he managed to go from breaking her camera to getting in her room in just a couple days?

  But before I could finish puzzling it out, I saw the source of the shadow. Wheels came out of the bathroom, clutching the wall and anything she could reach for support as she walked shakily toward a vanity and chair.

  She was also dressed in nothing but her underwear.

  My eyes wandered from her chest to her ass. It was my first time seeing her out of her chair, and apparently, Kennedy Stills had been hiding an absolute killer of an ass. Maybe I stayed to make sure Cassian wasn’t secretly hiding under her bed, but it was more likely for the view.

  Yeah, it was shitty to peep on her, but I’d already seen, hadn’t I? Sticking around a few more minutes wasn’t going to make it that much shittier.

  Once I was sure Cassian wasn’t in her room—and coincidentally, after she had put some clothes on—I hopped down from the tree, feeling like an idiot for believing Cassian’s text.

  I felt even dumber when I saw him crouched by the side of the house, watching me get out of the tree.

  He covered his mouth and let burst of laughter. “Shit, man. I knew you had it bad, but I didn’t think it was this bad. I timed you,” he said, not even appearing to try to keep his voice down, even though we were right below Wheels’ window. “It’s half a mile from here to your house and you got here four minutes after my text. Maybe there’s a future for you in track if football doesn’t work out.

  “Coach isn’t here to stop me,” I said quietly. “You sure you want to keep it up?”

  “Nah, I got what I needed.” Cassian took a few steps back, grinning. “And I have a feeling you’ll give me the fucking ball next time I ask.”

  I watched after him in disbelief. Was he seriously pulling all this shit because of practice the other day? I looked up toward Wheels’ window and felt a confusing rush of anger and protectiveness swirl together. I was about to head back home when I heard muffled voices.

  As quietly as I could, I headed back to the tree, then stopped at the bottom, because I could hear them clearly enough now.

  Kennedy’s mom was talking. “…better find a way.”

  “Mom, he broke it. It’s not like I lost the thing. If I don’t buy a new one, I’m going to fail the class. The project is half my grade.”

  “This is what you wanted, remember? Real school? A normal life? Well, guess what? Normal isn’t always fair. This is what I wanted to protect you from.”

  “Mom. That’s not—” Kennedy made an exasperated sound. “I could pay you back later.”

  Her mom laughed. “With what? You’d better beg your teacher to give you another way to get that grade, because I’m not buying a camera. You can forget that. And believe me, if your report card comes back with failing grades, it’s back to homeschooling.”

  The door slammed shut.

  I chewed my lip, then sighed. I knew what I had to do.

  13

  Kennedy

  I was almost finished getting ready for school before I noticed a camera sitting on my dresser. I frowned at it not sure I believed my eyes at first. I made my way across the room, leaning on the wall for balance. Sure enough, it was a camera.

  I picked it up and turned it over. It looked brand new, and like the exact same model Cassian broke.

  My eyes immediately fixed on the gate that led to Tristan’s house. I smiled to myself, biting my lip. If this was his idea of an apology, well… It was a decent start.

  I found my mind wandering to Tristan and the camera while I got breakfast ready for my mom. I was still thinking about it when I went outside to water my sad little garden.

  “If a wolf bit your leg off, but said sorry and sounded like it really meant it, would you forgive it?” I asked the little budding weeds.

  As usual, they gave no response. But that was okay, my botany teacher said there really were scientific studies proving that it helped to talk to plants. That meant I could have one-sided conversations without being crazy, as long as I was in the little garden, at least.

  “I think maybe you’d still be mad at the wolf, but you might be a little less mad,” I said a few seconds later. I didn’t have my handy broomstick slash whatever I taped to the end of it with me, so I used my shoe to break apart a small weed that was trying to grow near the edge of the dirt. “And maybe you’d see if the wolf would admit it gave you the camera, just because the idea of seeing it squirm sounds fun.”

  I grinned.

  I suffered through the first half of school that day feeling a little happier and more optimistic than usual. We were assigned an essay in English class that was due in a few weeks, and we learned how to do text effects in the video editing software in videography class.

  It wasn’t until lunch that I had a chance to talk to Tristan. He was sitting with Gage, Logan, and Cassian. I couldn’t quite understand how the four of them stayed so seemingly tight knit at school, especially Tristan and Cassian. It felt like every time I saw them they were at each other’s throats. But then I thought about my conversation with the plants back home. Maybe Tristan really was like a wolf—they all were, in their own ways. A pack of wolves could still stick together, even if the alphas were constantly challenging one another for leadership. This pack was just a group of four alphas, all content to perpetually fight for power with one another.

  Stupid, I thought.

  I considered waiting for them to split up but decided it would be even more fun to watch Tristan squirm in front of the Four Riders of the Asspocolypse. No, I noted. That might be my worst attempt at giving them a proper name to date. I’d keep working on it.

  “Hey.” I brought my chair up to the edge of the table where they were sitting. “I wanted to thank you.”

  Tristan stared back at me. A chip was between his fingertips. He looked like he wanted to strangle me. “Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, laughing softly like he didn’t know what I was talking about.

  I held back a grin. The guys were all staring at him with curiosity plain on their faces. Except Cassian—he looked more like a wolf waiting for his rival to show his jugular.

  “For the c—” I started, but Tristan stood and put his big hand over my mouth before I could finish.

  Without taking his hand away, he rolled me away from the guys until we were outside in the courtyard and alone. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  I fished the camera out of my backpack. “This was you, right?”

  He took it from my hand and put it back in my bag. “I wouldn’t flash that around. It’s stolen.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Yeah. They have extras in the IT department. I took the serial number off the one Cassian broke, though. They won’t know this is the stolen one. Hell, with how disorganized they are, they’ll probably never figure it out. At least, unless they think to look in the camera’s digital settings.”

  “Why did you say that like it was a threat?” I asked slowly.

  “Because if you get any stupid ideas, it won’t hurt to have a little leverage over you.”

  I shook my he
ad, pressing my lips tightly together. “You know, I honestly thought you did something nice for once. But somehow, you managed to even make this feel shitty.”

  He shrugged. “If you don’t finish your video, my spot on the team is on the line. That makes your problems my problems. Although I guess there’s one problem I can’t help you with.”

  “What?” I asked. “Cassian?”

  “Me.”

  * * *

  I headed out to the practice field after school. Whether Tristan wanted to be an ass or not, I still had to finish my project. That meant filming him throwing a football around at some point. But I had to stay late for a chemistry lab, so by the time I got to the field, the players were already trickling out of the locker room. I waited, hoping to catch Tristan and convince him to at least do the interview portion of the video.

  Logan came out with his hair wet and his shirt off. He walked over to me. I did my best not to stare, but it wasn’t easy. The guy was built out of muscles.

  “You’re waiting for Tristan, right?” He asked.

  I cleared my throat, nodding. “Yeah. For the project.”

  “He’s at the library. Coach makes us all do a couple community service hours every week. Tristan tutors freshmen.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “He tutors?”

  Logan shrugged. “Supposedly. You can go see for yourself. He finished showering up like ten minutes ago. He should be there by now.”

  I tried to wrap my mind around that image on my way to the library. I couldn’t picture Tristan with the patience to be a tutor. All I could picture was him degrading a sobbing group of poor freshmen, telling them they were the dumbest pieces of shit he’d ever seen, or something.

  Once I was in the library, I spotted him near the rear of the room. His back was to me, so I was able to bring my chair close enough to listen in. There was one freshman kid who looked small, even by freshmen standards. I thought he could’ve passed for a sixth grader. He was watching Tristan read what looked like an essay. Tristan had a red pen in his hand, which he occasionally used to scribble something in the margins.