by Mj Fields
“Do you think I’m actually going to listen to you?” she huffs.
I turn the corner to see Miles leaning against the wall. He lifts his chin, and I walk faster now. At the last corner, I turn to see Kai standing there.
“Not afraid of you,” I hiss.
He pushes off the wall. “Not the intention.”
“Then what the fuck is?” I snap.
“Having your back until we figure out who sent the video.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh, please.”
“No one pulls that shit and gets away with it on our watch.”
I shake my head and continue to my class.
We decided to hit the fitness center with the guys during lunch. Kiki was cool with it, since she and I used to run together until she got all pregnant, happy, and then married. Apparently, newlyweds don’t require cardio. Brisa and Tris, who’ve never had to exercise a day in their lives, both follow along, knowing we won’t leave them in the cafeteria alone.
“Isn’t sweating during our lunch period illegal or something?” Tris grumbles as she looks at the elliptical, and we all laugh at her.
Brisa hits a few buttons for Tris as she asks me, “Do you believe him?”
I told them all about the bathroom incident where the horsemen seemingly had my back, as well as every time I’ve changed classes today, while she steps onto the treadmill and begins walking backward so she’s facing me. I’m on the ab machine, since I can’t run, row, or cycle because of my damn ankle.
“Why should she?” Kiki asks from the treadmill.
Brisa shrugs. “The bigger question is: why would they have sent her the ultimate golden ticket to an event, where no one else from this school was invited, and then all ban around her, make their presence known to the little ponies, if they really had anything to do with that video?”
Ignoring Brisa’s question slash insinuation, I look at Kiki. “Did you say anything to Brand?”
She taps the speed control button down to a walking pace. “He leaves tomorrow for a few days, so no, I don’t want him to stress.”
“And you can’t go, anyway.” Brisa turns around.
The look in Kiki’s eyes tells me she has different plans.
“Kiki, you can’t risk—”
“I’m aware,” she interrupts me with an annoyed tone.
“Well, I’m not staying home if Max and Amias are going,” Tris states matter-of-factly.
“Like it would be a big stretch; you hardly leave your room. You’re either Snapchatting or FaceTiming Marcello Effisto,” Brisa picks on her sister.
Tris rolls her eyes. “He can deal with a few hours without me being stuck up his ass.”
“But can you?” Brisa challenges.
“Pfft, yeah.”
Tris and Marcello have been boyfriend and girlfriend since they were like two years old. It was super cute until she admitted a few years ago in front of Bella that he’d felt her up. The male members of the crew didn’t say a damn thing, since she let that little morsel out of the proverbial bag on a mission to get Bella to stop allowing Uncle Jase’s overprotective ways set a precedence for the rest of us. However, the next day was a totally different story altogether.
We were at a family friend’s wedding, on a yacht, and the boys threatened to throw him overboard. Marcello laughed in their faces when they hung him over the railing. When he pulled free and jumped himself, everyone flipped out, terrified they would get in trouble. Then, as only a second thought, freaking out that he might get eaten by some of the sharks that we’d spotted not half an hour ago, they told the ’rents that he had fallen. His father, Sabato, dove off and into the water, and our cousin Dominic had the captain stop and turn around. The boys were about shitting their pants, while Tris was screaming, crying about how much she loved him, and if he died, she would, too, and threatening to jump, as well.
Once he was back on the yacht, safe, and the adults were otherwise occupied, he told the boys that he was going to do more to Tris than feel her up; he was going to marry her one day, so they could fuck off. Since then, everyone, including the boys, have backed off. No one wants a Montague and Capulet type ending on their conscience.
A year later, Tris finally found out what really had happened—Marcello had never told her. Her only sentence to me for a week was, “You betrayed me.”
While we all celebrated the switching of schools, she mourned silently and denied it to each of us.
Let’s be honest here, those two most definitely need the distance, or Kiki’s pregnant at eighteen won’t be the biggest upset on the Steel playing field.
“BTW, Truth, Reeves does like you,” Tris states.
“No.” I laugh.
“Let us all remember that, amongst us, I am the relationship expert,” Tris states as if it’s gospel and looks at Kiki. “Three years, Kiki, three.”
“It would also answer the question as to why he is being all protective of you,” Brisa says, eyes sparkling as she interjects her theory. “Maybe your initial attraction to him wasn’t a crush, T. Maybe it was a second chance romance in the making.”
“Whatever,” Kiki snaps. “He’s a dick. He hit on me and …” She snaps her mouth shut, and we all start laughing, including Kiki. She shrugs. “Gotta admit, he’s no Brand.”
“Possibly a more refined version though, huh?” Brisa asks sweetly.
Kiki nearly trips as she glares at her. “Are you kidding me? Brand was born fine. There was no need to ‘re’ anything about my man.”
Brisa laughs. “I’m just saying, sometimes all a person needs is a ‘re’ brand to change things up a bit.”
“Rebrand this.” Kiki flips her off, and we all start laughing even harder.
I will admit, to only myself of course, that when he put Gabrielle in her place, I expected it to be a part of some sadistic plan, and although it’s only been half a day, I can’t help but wonder if he does actually like me. Or is he trying to set me up for some horrific fall?
The door opens and in walks a beast of a boy, wearing crisp white Nike tennis shoes with a gray swoosh, dark gray sweatpants, a white Nike hoodie with a matching gray swoosh, hood up of course, airpods in his ears, scrolling through his phone and giving zero shits about his surroundings.
Christ, why does he have to be that hot? And why does every article of clothing I’ve seen him in—and let’s be honest, not seen him in—look like it’s a new layer of skin, and he has that gives a damn less attitude that all women find extremely sexy?
He is legitimately walking into a fitness center, with a total of eight people in it, and it happens to be the lion’s den of Steel crew, and he’s unaware.
He nods at his screen, and his full lips quip up with what seems to be amusement, which has thus far been like spotting a sabertooth tiger which, from an eighth-grade report I did, I distinctly remember it being on the top ten list of extinct animals. Also, of the somewhat extinct—no, scratch that—newly discovered subject is a pooling heat between the slight quivering of my thighs.
Oh, hell no! I scold my nether regions with an emphasis on the hell and the no.
“Is that Shades?” Kiki whispers from behind me.
I turn and see her looking in the mirror.
“That’s Tobias Easton,” Brisa sneers.
Barbells drop in the distance, causing Tobias to look up. His eyes meet mine in the mirror and annoyance floods his far too handsome for a douchebag face.
“So, Shades is Tobias Easton, huh?” Kiki says, turning off her machine and turning around.
Fingers pinched together, he taps them on his forehead before rubbing them down his face.
I see Justice strip off the gloves he’s been wearing to beat on the bag and walk toward us.
Fuck, I think as I try to get to Justice first, only managing to trip over my own freaking lunch pail and get righted real quick by none other than the head horseman.
“Get your hands off my sister!” Justice booms.
Tobias shakes
his head as he lets go of my hips and huffs, “Right, my bad.” He steps over my lunch pail that’s strapped around my booted foot, and heads to the treadmill farthest from us.
“You good, T?” Justice asks, squatting down and pulling the strap off my boot.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Is he gonna just act like we aren’t here?” my cousin Max says loud enough so that everyone hears him.
“Chill, Max.” Patrick chuckles as he musses up his hair. “Save it for Saturday.”
“Why don’t we just do it now?” Amias asks, wiping his hair with a towel.
“You’ll be there for support. There’s only two involved in the fight,” Justice states sternly.
“But if they all jump in, we—”
“No one’s gonna jump in,” Tobias says as he increases the speed, cutting Max off.
Amias glares at his back. “That’s too bad.”
As soon as Brisa and Tris are out of Kiki’s vehicle, I ask, “Do you really think Tobias is Shades?”
“I rarely forget a face,” she says, hitting the gas.
“Doesn’t make sense. Saturday night, it seemed like he hated Frank.”
Kiki laughs. “How is that different from the day I got the rings? He was pissed at him, remember?”
“Jesus, that’s true, isn’t it?”
She nods. “Have you looked him up at all?”
“Meaning …?”
“Oh, come on! You borderline stalked Harrison Reeves, yet you haven’t him?”
“First, stalked is a really harsh word. Second”—I throw myself back in my seat—“his IG is private.”
She laughs. “I can help investigate on Thursday after school.”
“Brand leaves Thursday morning, right?” I ask.
She nods. “Come stay with me for the weekend.”
“You should ask Tris to stay with you on Saturday night,” I suggest.
“I love my little bundle of Brand in my belly, but it sucks I can’t be there.”
“Tris could use a little Kiki time.”
“I could use a little Tris time, too, I suppose.”
Wednesday
Same soft cast boot, different day … or something like that.
The horsemen, minus Easton, seem to be around every corner, and not one person has uttered an ugly word at me all day. It’s been perfect, actually.
I am the first of my crew, at the fitness center, having snuck out of my last class in hopes of avoiding the parade of horsemen, but I’m not alone.
Today, Tobias is in black Nike tennis shoes, white Nike track pants with a black swoosh on his narrow hip. His shoulders act as a clothes hanger to a black Nike hoodie with a white swoosh. His hood is down today, and he has a backward white ball cap on. For the first time—well, except for that time I saw him stepping out of his shower, and that one time in the ring—his head is held high and his Persian blue eyes are intense, so damn intense.
Thankfully, I didn’t fall today.
Guilt riddles me at the way I get so hot for the boy that Justice will be fighting on Saturday. Thankfully, no one can see it, and even more gratefully, Justice seems actually excited about the fight and is taking my advice on footwork, as well as working with the knowledge that Patrick, Brisa, and I have from watching Tobias fight. All those things help ease the guilt I have about that, too.
Tobias is hitting the bag with a ferocity that makes me shudder.
He’s not hot today. He’s the enemy.
He stops his assault on the bag and, with his back to me, begins to pace, his chest heaving and falling as I sit down on a mat with my lunch, back to the wall.
“You should really wear a fucking bell,” he pants.
“You should know, if you hurt him, I’ll hate you with every fiber of my being.”
He snaps his head back and glares at me. “I didn’t ask for this fight. He did.”
Pissed, I hop—yes, hop—up and make my way toward him. “You’ve been begging for one of them to fight since we got here.”
“Is that the”—he air quotes my name—“ ‘Truth?’ ”
“Fuck you,” I spit at him.
“I’d rather fuck—”
“Wasn’t offering. And spare me the itty bitty visual. I know you and Double Dee have a thing. Good for you. But you hurt him, you’ll pay.”
“Don’t threaten me, Truth.”
“This is my fault. Okay, I get it. But I’d rather you punch me in the face than hurt my brother.”
“You have that little faith in him?” He shakes his head.
“No, he’s sparred with bigger than you most of his life. It’s you I have no faith in.”
He licks his lips as he steps closer and lifts his hand like he’s going to touch me. My nipples tighten in anticipation, as he looks down at them, and stops himself.
“What’s wrong Easton? You afraid you’ll pop a pup tent in your sweats if you—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “You stick to having no faith in me, or any other assholes around here. None of us want you for anything other than to stir up your boys.”
Ouch.
His eyes move from one of mine to the next, and then he looks me up and down. “That right there is your truth. Never lose focus on it.”
“What?” I ask as he walks around me.
He grabs his bag and towel off the bench by the wall then turns toward me, pinning me with an angry glare. “Any other thoughts you may have in that pre—” He stops, clenches his jaw, his nostrils flaring, before continuing, “In that pathetic head of yours, shut it down, because I would ruin you.”
Rendered speechless, angry … hurt by the word pathetic, which in and of itself is pathetic, because who the fuck is he anyway? I stand and watch him through the mirrors on the wall as he walks out of the fitness center and the girls come walking in.
Chapter Eleven
Idiom
Her feelings are all over the map.
Truth
When tits deep in them, it’s nearly impossible to be ‘all over the map’..
“Hey.”
I jump at the sound of Justice’s voice, and he chuckles. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, which is uncharacteristic of him.
“What are you grinning about?”
He scowls and points to himself. “Me?”
I put my phone on the charging pad then lean back against the headboard of my bed. “You look happy.”
His scowl deepens as he leans against the door. “I’m always happy.”
“Okay.” I roll my eyes. “So, spill it.”
He arches a brow. “Not something I care to share with my sister.”
“Tell me it’s a girl and not this fight.”
“Something like that.”
“Are you in love?” I ask, hopeful, because he deserves to be happy and not just have a happy ending.
“Fuck no,” he huffs. “Told you a long time ago that there’s a time and a place for that shit, and it’s not in high school or college.”
“So, it is the fight.” I cross my arms over my chest and scowl at him.
“T …” He rolls his eyes.
“You shouldn’t get happy about a damn fight.”
“I’ll spell it out for you once. Girls who may have once found me intimidating seem to like guys who fight. The harvest is grand, the bounty plentiful, and smell real damn good at Seashore. My cup, so to speak, runni—”
I hold up my hand to stop him. “I get it.”
He laughs, and I can’t help but do the same.
“You feeling a little better?” he asks, sitting on the edge of my bed and not flopping down on it.
I nod. “You can sleep in your own room tonight.”
“Good.” He grabs his pillow and blanket off my bed, pops a kiss to the top of my head, turns, and then walks toward my door, but then he turns back. “Heard they’re treating you like a queen now.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure they’re up to something.”
“Spoiler
alert, T: Reeves says he likes you.”
“What?” I ask, disgusted.
“I told him he looked at you wrong, I’d break his face.”
“Is that so?” I throw a pillow at him, but he easily dodges it. “You stay out of my dating life unless you want me tits-deep in yours.”
He shakes his head and walks away.
After a few messages between Patrick and me, regarding my concern that Justice is simply deflecting and Patrick telling me guys are just not that deep, I set the phone on the charging pad and snuggle up in my bed.
Thursday
“Jesus,” I grumble as I walk out of the bathroom and past Miles on my way to the fitness center.
He rolls his eyes and pushes off the wall.
Turning the corner, I see Kai leaning against the locker right next to mine.
“You’re out of order today.”
He looks up from his phone. “What?”
Shielding my lock so he doesn’t see my combination, I turn the dial and answer, “It’s been Harrison, Miles, and then you for the past few days.”
“I guess it has been.”
I toss my books in, grab my lunch and a book, shut and lock it behind me, and then start walking toward the fitness center.
The next corner I turn, I see Harrison standing in the middle of the hall, holding a dozen pink roses.
I hear whispers as I keep walking toward the fitness center. They’re far from the norm.
“Told you he liked her.”
“Gabrielle is going to lose her mind.”
“Jesus, she’s lucky.”
To that comes a response that nearly knocks me on my ass.
“Maybe it’s him who’s lucky. Look at her.”
I can’t help a smirk from tugging on my lips.
His signature pursed smirk pushes out, and his brown eyes dance in amusement as he looks me over.
When I attempt to walk past him, he steps to the side, blocking me.
“Good afternoon, Miss Steel.”
I look down at my phone. “Technically, morning, Mr. Reeves.”