Cruel Devil: A Small Town Brother's Best Friend, Enemies to Lovers Romance (Devils of Sun Valley High Book 3)

by Daniela Romero

  I keep my expression blank. Is she wanting me to apologize for something I played zero part in and had no control over? It’s not like I asked for this.

  She sighs. “But, you’re a legacy and our house takes that seriously. It also doesn’t hurt that your dad made a donation to Kappa Mu in your name.” Huh, look at that. Good ole Dad helping us out. I try not to roll my eyes. He was probably worried I’d ask to live with him full time what with mom leaving. Not that I ever would. I love my dad, but where Mom parents by trying to be my friend, Dad parents with assistants and nannies, forgetting I’m seventeen, not seven.

  “So, we’re going to make this work.” She sounds resigned. Join the club. “We don’t want to start getting a flood of running-start applicants. Hanging out with high schoolers isn’t really our thing. We also don’t want any trouble with the dean’s office for exposing you to anything you’re not ready for, so for now, keep your age to yourself.”

  “I can do that,” I tell her. It’s not like I was planning on letting everyone know how young I was. I’m not an idiot.

  “Good. Glad that’s out of the way. Like the plaque outside the door says, I’m the housemother, but I’m not going to be your mom while you’re here. If you’re upset or homesick, phone a friend. I’m not your shoulder to cry on.”

  “Noted.”

  “And I’m not your babysitter. The girls here like to have a bit of fun and we’re close with some of the campus fraternities. You’re responsible for looking after yourself. If you can’t handle your liquor, don’t drink. And if you do drink, don’t be stupid and drive yourself home. Got it?”

  I give her two thumbs up. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t cut classes. Part of eligibility requirements for being a member is maintaining a 3.0 GPA. If you fail any of your classes, you’re out. Legacy or not.”

  “Good to know.”

  She reaches behind her and grabs an envelope from her desk before handing it to me. “Inside is a map of campus, our events schedule, and your school ID. You’re required to attend all Kappa Mu functions so add these dates to your calendar. We don’t make acceptions.”

  I tuck the envelope in the back pocket of my jeans. “Okay.” Not like I have a packed social calendar or anything. I hang out with Allie and Bibiana on most weekends but we don’t generally plan anything official. It’s usually just junk food and movies while the guys lock themselves in the media room to watch videos of past football games. If I have a sorority thing, no one will care if I need to skip a night.

  “Your room is on the first floor toward the back of the house. It’s just you and Quinn, the girl you just met, on this level. Everyone else is upstairs. There's a back entrance near your room you can use if you need to and additional parking out back if you have a car.” I nod. My dad bought me a WRX like Aaron’s, only mine is candy apple red, as a ‘congrats you’re going to college’ gift, so that will be convenient. He’s supposed to have his driver deliver it sometime this week, so I’ll have to let him know they can bring it straight here. It’ll save me from needing a campus parking pass since I really only plan on driving when I need to go off campus. I walk everywhere else.

  “If you have questions, check with Quinn first. All of our new recruits are assigned a big sister. She’s yours.”

  I nod. “Okay. Cool.” Do I leave now? I’m not sure what protocol is here exactly. Should I wait to be excused?

  “That’s it,” Hilary confirms with a huff.

  “Great. Thanks.” I make a hasty retreat and wander around downstairs, ducking around the other girls in the house until I find a long hallway that leads to the back. I figure I’ll get to know everyone later. Right now I just want to track down my room and unpack.

  The first door I find is decorated with pictures and drawings. I make a wild guess that it’s Quinn’s since it’s her face in most of the pictures. Further down the hall are two more doors. One at the very end, which I confirm is the door that leads outside. I open it to find a small patch of grass and a concrete slab for parking on my right that leads to the main road.

  I close that door and turn to the last one which I’m assuming is mine. I find Aaron lounging on my bed, phone in hand, and take in the rest of the space. It’s a decent size. Double closet. I scan the room for Dominique, noting the pile of neatly stacked boxes next to the bed, half expecting him to burst from behind them just to fuck with me. “Where’s Dom?” I ask when it’s clear my brother isn’t going to volunteer the information, too distracted by whoever he’s texting with on his phone.

  “Coach called. The guys had to leave for some team thing.”

  Relief sweeps through me and my shoulders sag. I plop down on the bed beside my brother. “I see you found my room?”

  He nods, setting his phone aside. “Yeah, one of the girls told us which one was yours so we moved all your stuff in for you.”

  “Roman and Emilio didn’t wait in the car, did they?”

  He gives me a crooked grin. “Nope.”

  “Urgh,” I groan, hiding my face with my hands. “Did anyone recognize them?”

  Aaron chuckles. “Relax, sis. All they saw were some stacked guys moving boxes. No one asked if they were on the team, though Emilio definitely got his fair share of phone numbers.”

  I scowl. “He better have thrown them away.” Emilio is a notorious flirt, but also absolutely obsessed with Bibi, his girlfriend and the mother of his child. They’re doing really good, but I know Bibiana sometimes has a hard time with all the attention Emilio receives. And being a football player doesn’t help. I swear all of the guys have their own personal fan clubs.

  Aaron leans forward and tugs open the drawer of a nearby nightstand. Five small pieces of paper with girly handwriting in various colors greet me. “Nah, he left them for you so you could make friends. His words, not mine.”

  I don’t bother fighting the smile that spreads over my face. That sounds like Emilio, alright.

  Aaron leaves a few minutes later with the promise to help me find my classes on Monday when school starts. "Call me if you need me," he tells me on his way out, giving me a quick hug.

  "I will," I promise, and then settle in and unpack my things. The room is a blank canvas. White walls, hardwood floors, and a single window that gives me a glimpse of where my car will soon be parked. There's a queen bed, a single nightstand, and a tall dresser, but nothing else aside from my boxes of belongings. I unpack my clothes first, hanging up what needs to be hung and folding everything else to add to the dresser drawers.

  Mom shows up later that afternoon, her arms loaded down with shopping bags and a wide smile on her face.

  “What is all that?” I ask, eyeing the pops of pink and gold peeking out the tops of the bags. I'm not a tomboy, but I'm not really a girly girl either. I played basketball throughout high school so I generally go for comfort over style. I haven't decided if I'll play this year. Coach said I could keep my spot, but a part of me would rather move beyond all things high school. I have no intention of playing in college, so stopping now wouldn't really make much difference.

  "Pottery Barn was next to the grocery store so I thought I'd pick up a few things you might need. Wait until you see the comforter set I got you," she gushes, pulling out a white down comforter decorated with small pink tassels around the edge.

  "Pretty," I deadpan. I'm not sure what the purpose of the tassels is but it could have been worse.

  "I know, right? I wanted to make sure you were all set. I can't believe my little girl is all grown up and going to college. I know this is a big step, but I want you to know I am so proud of you."

  "Thanks, Mom."

  She beams. "Let's get you settled. I only have an hour before I need to get on the road, but that’s plenty of time for us to turn this room into your home for the next four years."

  I groan. Four years. She really expects me to be a sorority girl for all four years of college?

  Her eyes soften. "I know being an Kappa Mu might not seem exciti
ng to you right now, but honey, I made some of my very best friends in this very house when I went to college. Twenty-five years later and I'm still close with them. Sorority sisters look out for each other and you're going to meet some of the best people here. Try to be open-minded."

  I sigh. "I'll try."

  "Now, let's get this room situated."

  Chapter Four

  Roman takes off down the field and I step back with my left foot, keeping my feet staggered as I bend slightly at the knees. I raise my left arm over my shoulder, bringing the football behind my head before snapping it forward, focusing on rolling my left shoulder as I do. Fuck. It takes all my concentration to get the ball pointed where I need it to go.

  The ball whistles through the air, heading straight for Roman, but as soon as he turns to spot the football, I realize my mistake and curse. Too short.

  “Dammit.” I kick the turf and tear off my helmet, frustration coursing through me.

  Roman jerks to a stop before lunging forward to salvage the throw. He manages to catch the ball with both hands, tucking it against his chest before rolling to the ground. His momentum throws him into a complete rotation before he springs up to his feet, a bounce in his step over the save. “Fuck, yeah!” he hollers, and jogs back toward me, ball in hand.

  “Not bad, man.” He throws the football at me and I catch it, fingers gripping the laces.

  “That was a shit throw and you know it.”

  He offers a noncommittal shrug. “Progress at least. And did you see that save? Perfección.”

  “English asshole. I’m black. Not brown like you.”

  He smirks. “Perfection.”

  True enough, and with Roman as my receiver, we have a shot at pulling this off, but it won’t matter if I can’t get my left arm to go the distance.

  Coach called me in for an emergency meeting. I dropped E off on the way but Roman decided to tag along. Nosy bastard. The team doctor took it upon himself to inform our coach of a recent injury. Fucking snitch. If I wanted Coach to know about my shoulder, I would have told him myself.

  “You could always sit this next one out,” Rome offers, but I shake my head.

  “You know I can’t.” Our second string quarterback—Deacon Hunt—is a freshman without any experience playing at this level. The guy is green. He came from a small school in the middle of nowhere and while he has a great arm, he buckles under pressure. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t care. The point of bringing him on board is to train with him, get him where he needs to be so that by the time I graduate next year, he’s ready and can lead the team. He’s got potential and he needs the field time if he’s going to grow, but next week we have scouts coming and they’re expecting me to play.

  If word gets out I’m injured and won’t be on the field, there's a chance some of the scouts, maybe all, won’t show. I could care less if anyone sees me play, but the other guys on the team, they need as many opportunities as they can get to shine so they have a shot at going pro. I won’t be the reason they lose that.

  “Let’s go again,” I tell Roman and he nods, getting into position, but before he starts, a voice from the sidelines draws our attention.

  “Price!” Coach yells. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I grind my teeth together and wait as he stalks across the field like a bull. Barely six feet and thick around the middle, it’s been a hot minute since the man was in his prime, but he still has no problem going toe to toe with any one of us. When he’s within earshot without me needing to yell, I tell him, “Practicing, Coach.”

  “Practicing what, exactly? I gave you explicit orders to rest and—”

  “I’m not throwing with my right,” I tell him. “I’m using my left. I’ll be good in time for next week's game.” I have to be.

  His brows pull together and I know he wants to fight me on it, but he’s aware of the situation we’re in just as much as I am.

  “Repetitive motion tendonitis is no joke, son. If you don’t take care of that arm, you can end your career before it ever starts.”

  “And if I don’t play in next week's game, the guys on my team may find themselves in the same boat.”

  He takes off his red Suncrest U baseball cap and shakes his head. “They’re not your responsibility. There will be more scouts, more opportunities—”

  “For Davis and Elliot?” I ask, cutting him off. “They’re seniors. They won’t have many more chances like this.” I know it. He knows it. Hell, even the guys know it, which is why so much is riding on this game. Elliot’s a defensive tackle and Davis is a defensive end and they’re both good. Better than good. But that won’t matter if no one sees them play. They transferred in as seniors from smaller schools hoping to get some face time with scouts, but they’re no-name players. Scouts aren’t coming to watch them because they've never heard of them. Their best shot is to kill it on the field and have one of the already scheduled scouts recognize their potential and invite them to the NFL Scouting Combine.

  Coach mutters under his breath before rubbing his jaw. “How's your right arm feel when you throw with your left?”

  It twinges a bit, but I’m not telling him that. “No pain. It’s all good.”

  He considers me for a moment. “What’s your range?”

  “So far, fifty-two yards,” Roman answers for me.

  Coach works his jaw. “How long have you been practicing?”

  “Since we got out.” If I had to guess, that was maybe an hour ago.

  He nods to himself. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. I want you out of training and practice for the next three days to rest.”

  I open my mouth to argue. No way can I take three days off if I’m going to get where we need me to be. We’re playing Rydeville U. They’re a solid team, and while I’ve always forced myself to throw with both arms, I’m right handed. Throwing consistently with my left isn’t a cakewalk for me. I need the practice. “Coach—”

  “Three days!” He waves three fingers in my face as if I need a visual. “After that, you throw and you do cardio. That’s it. No weights and nothing that can strain your right shoulder. You practice with your left arm and only your left arm. I catch you so much as tossing a towel with your right and I’ll bench you. Understood?”

  I grit my teeth but nod. I know a losing battle when I see one. Coach is an alright guy. He puts the players' health and well-being first so I have no doubt he’ll bench me, even if it means we lose next week's game.

  “Good. If this is day one for you and you’re already at fifty-two yards, you’re ahead of Hunt. We’ll make this work. But, if you have a bad performance next week, you might screw your own chances of being drafted early and some of these guys might even decide to look you over next year when the time comes. You prepared to take that risk?”

  I nod. Football after college isn’t in the cards for me. No matter how bad I may want it. My parents would never stand for it, and despite what some might believe, my parents do in fact have both the money and the means to ensure I go down the path they’ve carved out for me. This isn’t one of those scenarios where I can call their bluff.

  Sheridan Peretti Price and Richard Price have enough clout that they’ve landed themselves on the Business Insiders top ten most influential businesses in the United States six years running. As the founders of Peretti and Price, a multi-billion dollar tech company, they rub elbows with everyone from CEOs to celebrities and grossed over one hundred and eighty-two billion dollars last year alone. Yes, billion. Not million.

  The amount of money my parents would need to throw around to ensure no team picked me up is barely a drop in the bucket to them. So no, I’m not worried about fucking up my own chance. I never had a real one to begin with. “It’s worth the risk, Coach.”

  “Have it your way. Now get your asses home and rest. Valdez, keep an eye on him, and if I get wind that you or Chavez are on the field with him these next three days, I’ll make you both run so many drills you’ll be be
gging to be benched, do I make myself clear?”

  Rome nods. “Crystal.”

  “Good. Get out of here.”

  Coach stalks off the field toward the locker room and we head the opposite direction toward the parking lot. “You good, man?” Roman asks once we reach our vehicles.

  I nod. “I’m good.”

  He hesitates, which isn’t like him, so I spit out, “What?” only to see him frown.

  “What was up this morning?”

  “What do you mean?” I open my door and lean against the frame. I have a feeling I know where this is going and I don't like it.

  “With Baby Henderson. If she’d asked us to help her move in, we would have. The girl’s one of us but …” he trails off and shakes his head, running a hand through his sweat-drenched hair.

  “You’re reading too much into it,” I tell him, hoping he drops it.

  He doesn't. “Nah. I don’t think I am. Where’s your head at these days? I know you had a thing for her back in high school, but—"

  I cut him off before he has a chance to finish. “It’s not like that. She’s Aaron’s little sister.”

  Roman snorts. “Which meant fuck all when we were in high school and you gawked at her ass every time she walked by.”

  “Like I said, you’re reading too much into it. That was three years ago. Things change.”

  “Exactly. Have you seen her lately? Kasey's is all grown up and she's filled out in all the right places. Don't pretend you haven't noticed.”

  I lift a single brow. “Allie know you’ve been checking Kasey out?”

  He chuckles. “No cabrón, because I’m not. But I’m not blind and neither are you. The girl has grown up. A lot. Tension with you two has always been thick, but lately …” He trails off, giving me a knowing look.