Red: Fiery Finale (Spectrum Series Book 8)

by Allison White

  “Noah,” I hear her gasp and watch her shudder. Her blue eyes are wide and shining with confusion and…fear? How…how the hell is she confused or scared of me? I am acting this way because she made me change to survive what she did to me.

  I tuck my hands in my pants, cock my head, and watch tears bubble in her eyes. A part of me, the foolish part I’ve worked too hard to bury, sings alive and craves to just hold her. Wipe her tears away. Kiss her head.

  That part should shrivel up and die because of how idiotic it is. She hurt me, not the other way around. I loved this girl so much it overtook me, and she stabbed me in the back and rode off into the sunset on her bike.

  “Oh, stop crying, will you? You’re the one who ruined everything, not me. So just…just stop pretending to be this changed, softer person, because that’s not who you are. You’re a ruiner. That’s what you do, what you will always do.” I pause and find the will to say the next words I know will ward her from me, hopefully indefinitely. “I can’t believe I wasted my time on someone like you.”

  She bursts into tears, and her fingers touch her lips. She’s one head shake away from realizing that the boy she loved is long gone. But she can believe whatever the hell she wants; she just won’t get away with playing me ever again. I barely survived these past few months.

  She should have just stayed away. I don’t know why the hell she came back. Maybe, like I guessed, to finish what she started. Or worse, because she loves how I respond as she toys with me.

  She got a taste and can’t get enough.

  Her an addict, and I the drug.

  ***

  “What the hell?” I roar as I burst into my father’s office. He’s on the phone and signaling me to quiet down, but I will shout until this entire glass building shatters, if it gets his full attention.

  He hangs up his call and huffs, “What do you think you are doing?”

  “Red? Seriously?” I cut straight to the point.

  “Oh. That.” He straightens his tie and sits up in his chair, unfazed by what I just brought up.

  So he does know that he hired the girl who recently shattered my entire person in just four months? Oh, great, he really does pay attention when I come to work hungover and stare off most of the time, wondering what the hell I did wrong. He does see how much his only son has suffered.

  That’s great to know. Too bad he doesn’t give a shit and despises me enough to have her work here.

  “Why? Can you just answer me that?” I say, towering over him. My hands are in fists, but he doesn’t even appear the slightest bit intimidated.

  “Why not?” he says, and I just about blow my top.

  “How about the fact that she stole from me, broke my heart, then just vanished? Did you ever stop and think about how this would affect me? Even just a little bit?”

  “No,” he says bluntly.

  “Wow, Father.” I fall into a chair. He is unbelievable.

  “Listen.” He sits up, face stoic. “I know how much she hurt you. Ruined you, even. But that doesn’t mean you can let her control how the rest of your life pans out. You shouldn’t be stuck on her, hating her.”

  “She stole from me!” I remind him.

  “And I will gladly get you another watch.” He shrugs.

  “Why would you even give her a job here?” I ask. He’s dodging a reasonable question he can’t just ignore and tell me I need to “man up.” It’s like he’s hiding something from me…and I feel my stomach tighten, my breathing shallow. “Does she have some sort of sick thing hanging over your head? Threatening you?”

  What I’m suggesting doesn’t sound like the girl I once knew and loved, but her stealing from me also doesn’t sound like her. I guess you just never truly know anyone. You could know them for ten years and you still wouldn’t know what they are capable of doing. It makes me hesitant toward people now. Can I really trust anyone?

  Doubtful, I realize as I watch my father visibly grope for words.

  “What is it? I can go find her right now and tell her she’s fired,” I offer.

  His jaw locks, and he seems to finds the words he was searching for. “That isn’t necessary,” he adds with a sincere, pitiful expression. “Honestly, when she came here for the interview, I felt…bad for her.”

  “Bad for her?” I scoff. “She—”

  “Broke your heart. Yes, I know, son,” he squeezes through his teeth. “But she looked desperate and forgiving. I suppose she used the money to buy her grandfather a wheelchair or something.” Then he pauses and shrugs nonchalantly. “And it isn’t like I won’t be earning that same amount in the next few hours.”

  Ugh. He and my family are just swimming in money; it makes me sick. I want to donate it all to charity, get this smug, insensitive side of him to die. I want my father back, the father before his businesses skyrocketed and his head grew twice as large.

  “Right.” I stand up and fiddle with my black tie, a fallen lock of gelled hair tickling my forehead. “Because money is one hundred thousand times more important than your son.”

  “Stop being so sensitive, son, and get back to work,” Father sighs as if I’m boring him. I roll my eyes and turn my back on him, ready to storm out of his office, hell, this damn building, when he adds, “You might want to get used to her being around, especially since she’s going to be joining you and Ellis on your expedition.”

  “What else?” I spin around, hands raised. “Is she going to share my office with me, to teach me how to get over a girl that I loved and move on, like her working alongside me won’t pull me back instead of catapult me forward?”

  He doesn’t respond, and I can’t tell if it’s because he knows I’m right or thinks I’m being a drama queen. As much as it pains me to say, I know it’s the latter. It’s either I grow some balls and push forward or I’ll just be a wimpy boy not ready for the real world.

  If only he knew that I thought she was my world.

  Chapter Six

  Mondays suck, but lacrosse practice has a vendetta against me and is making this already tragic day ten times worse.

  The sun pushes through a whisper of a cloud and shines down on us poor brutes training on the field. We have a deadline to shape up for the first lacrosse game of the spring term in two weeks. Luckily, most of the guys who tried out the first go around were skilled in the sport; Ty freaking killed it since he played it all the time back in his home state, Louisiana.

  When I got the news that I made the team after trying out, I wanted to jump for joy even though I’d slowly been distancing myself from everything and everyone, but a certain someone’s sudden presence had distracted me from the joy I should have been feeling. I should also stop thinking about her and focus on running these suicides—a workout every person absolutely adores.

  I hate this but am very good at it. Coach noticed and taunted the rest of the team, teasing that they need to pick up the pace like me. It’s safe to say everyone wants to make my suicide look like a damn murder.

  “All right, ladies, take a break. And when you come back, you better be pushing to your limits like Noah here,” Coach barks, and I shake my head but keep silent. Everyone knows better than to talk back or even seem fatigued in front of him. He’s headstrong about whipping us into shape for games…I have to give him that.

  “Look at you, being the muse for the team,” Rachel teases, beaming. She’s standing up and leaning over the fence, staring down at me. I’m taken aback for a moment; it’s been a while since I last saw her. She looks different. Her normally pin-straight hair is curled against her chubby cheeks, black-rimmed glasses perched on them.

  “More like goal they should all strive for,” I say loudly enough to receive some “fuck off’s” and eye rolls. She chuckles, and I smile. I grab the top of the five feet high wall separating the field from the stands. I pull myself up with ease and hop over the fence. “See that, boys? This is what you should achieve!” I flex my muscles playfully.

  “There were stairs right besid
e you. Stop being cocky, Wells, or your head’ll be too big to pull your shirts over,” Mike says as he jogs up the steps to join Rachel and me in the first row.

  “Shoot, I guess I’d just have to be shirtless all the time, then…” I pull off my gray sweat-stained tank top, and he rolls his eyes. I laugh and plop onto the metal bleacher seat beside Rachel, who’s shaking her head at me, amused.

  “Remind me to never let you be by yourself for so long again. You get all macho and vain.” She pinches my side, and I scrunch my nose, making her burst into laughter. She glances up behind us and then back at me with wide eyes, well, wider eyes. “Unless you were flexing for those girls up there.”

  I look over my shoulder and smile at the group of girls shamelessly checking me out. I wave at them with my fingers, and they giggle and turn from me like little school girls. I should feel high on life that I can have a cluster of girls gawk at me, watch me practice, but I just feel…nothing. Still, that doesn’t mean I have to stop pretending like I have for the past few months. So I blow them a huge kiss, gauge their smitten expressions, then turn back to my amused friends.

  “You are something else, Noah Wells.” Rachel shakes her head at me.

  I tap her nose, smiling. “Don’t you know it, Rachel Jones.”

  “You’ve become so insatiable since…” Her smile fades as she realizes what, or who, she was about to bring up. She flushes and waves a hand through a curly lock of hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” she starts to apologize, even though she doesn’t really need to.

  “Hey, ladies!” We both glance down to find Ty staring up at the girls behind us, smirking and kind of…posing? “I see y’all checking me out. Ty’s coming up to say hi!” he shouts and starts for the stairs. I burst out into laughter as he completely busts his ass.

  “Great. I have two idiotic, horny friends,” Mike mutters before getting up to help out a whining Ty who swears that he somehow broke his ear, of all places.

  How could I have deprived myself of this guy? Honestly, it’s a wonder how I survived without ’em.

  Rachel’s hand lightly touching my arm brings my attention to her pursed lips and furrowed brows. “I’m sorry about what I was saying earlier,” she says, voice low like she’s afraid she hurt me.

  I place a hand over hers. “You don’t have to be…” I break out into a grin to assure her even more. “I’m over her.”

  She lifts a questioning brow. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yup. I, Noah Wells, am completely and utterly over Red Sylvetti,” I proclaim. Maybe if I declare it out in the world, it will become true. No, I think, I still feel that pinging going on in my stomach whenever I think of her. Oh well, a few more proclamations and I’ll be clean as a whistle, or so I hope…

  “What was that now?” Ty leans against the railing behind him, eyebrows raised and mouth smiling. “You’re finally over the Red Devil?”

  “Ty,” Mike sighs.

  “No, it’s okay,” I tell him, and he looks confused. “Seriously. Sure, she’s back for some strange reason. But that doesn’t mean anything. I’m not going to forget all she’s put me through and forgive her like that. This isn’t one of those goddamn movies you like to watch.” I nod to Rachel, and she blushes.

  “So you wouldn’t have any problem with me screwing her brains out?” Ty asks with a sheepish smile.

  “Nope,” I say, but my mind is whirling at the thought of them together.

  “Awesome,” he croons with a sly smirk. “Not gonna lie, I kinda always dug her. And that bike of hers—oh, fuck me!” He sounds like he’s having a damn orgasm. I never knew he liked her bike. Or, you know, her. But he and every other freaking guy on the planet can date her; I don’t care about her anymore…at least I shouldn’t feel like throwing up at the thought of her and someone else.

  Fuck. How can someone I loved so much hurt me this badly?

  I guess the saying sometimes those you love hurt you the most is true.

  “Back on the field, ladies!” Coach yells, and everyone groans. “What was that? Just for that BS, you all have the rest of the day running me some suicides. Come and show ’em how it’s done, Wells!”

  As Mike and Ty drag themselves down the stairs, I run past them and onto the field. “You heard ’em, ladies. Pick up the pace!” I tease and receive more eye rolls from my own friends than everyone else. I just laugh and run back and forth at hyper speed, barely breaking a sweat.

  After practice is over, I rush straight to the showers. Despite my showing off, I am beyond exhausted and made of more sweat and aching limbs than a human soul. I groan, thinking of my classes. This semester I chose later classes since I have work from seven to twelve and I didn’t feel like waking up at the crack of dawn to go to class. I have them from one to five, then lacrosse right after at six.

  I briefly regret taking on lacrosse too, but it fades as Ty and Mike pass by with Ty hitting Mike on the ass, who is swearing his revenge. I laugh and hang my head under the rushing water. I don’t regret joining the team. I missed my friends, and to pull out of this trance she put me under, I’ll take all the help I can get.

  Speaking of which, why is she back? She just left after stealing from me. She must have seen the security safe under the bed when we were painting in my room. I don’t know why she would want money over what we had, but she must have made a plan that day to get the code, make me spill my guts when I was my most vulnerable, when I trusted her. And she—she had to have hired some shifty guys she knew to break in the house and get it for her.

  After all of that, she thinks she can just waltz back in my life and I would forgive her?

  Uh-uh, I don’t think so. I may have been naïve before, but I learned my lesson, and I am staying far, far away from her.

  I step out of the shower when the water gets cold and get dressed: a red string-hoodie, jeans, and a red beanie. Mike and Ty make plans to go bowling tonight and invite me. I say I’ll go because, like I admitted to myself earlier, I need my friends back in my life. I shouldn’t be hiding from them, wallowing over someone like Red. She’s cruel and manipulative and just not who I painted her out to be.

  “See you guys later,” I call out to them, and they wave as I leave the locker room. I bypass a few guys on the team and nod to them with a small smile. I check my phone for the time. I have about ten minutes before my first class starts. But I’m really considering skipping for the whole day to sleep.

  Again, I regret staying in college. I promised my parents one semester before everything happened, and I completed it, begrudgingly so since Red left right before finals, which only added to the stress of everything. But I stayed for the second semester because…because I don’t know—I’d already befriended so many people, and I sort of liked it. Don’t tell my parents that; they’d gloat for days. But it’s true. And I needed to focus on something to not end up a lonely prick.

  But I promised myself to resume my traveling the second this school year is through. I need that life back in mine ASAP. As for continuing college…I’ll just have to see about that. But there’s a good chance I’ll stick around, though my friends would graduate a year before me, which sucks, but I’m a big boy—I’m sure I can handle a year by myself.

  I think that’s what I need now more than ever, actually. Being alone. I need to heal, slow down. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Neither will I be.

  I’m turning down a corner in the sports center when a girl rushes into my chest. I stumble back and hold my hands out. They connect with small shoulders, and I look into familiar, warm brown eyes, and I put my hands to my sides and smile.

  “Rachel? What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I have yoga for PE,” she says. “It was either that or track, and my short legs won’t let me get anywhere fast enough.”

  I laugh. “Smart move. Makes me glad I’m on the lacrosse team so I don’t have to listen to some hippie girl tell me to put my leg over my head.”

  “I don’t even think you c
an do that. You’re too…” She makes a disapproving grunt, playfully looking me up and down with a shake of her hair.

  “Thanks, Little-Miss-Flexible.” I reach out and ruffle her curly hair.

  “Hey!” she shouts but laughs, pushing my hand away. “Anyway, I should go before the hippie gives my mat away.” Her eyes twinkle with wry humor that makes me chuckle.

  “Wait,” I say as she’s walking away.

  “Yeah?” She turns around.

  “I don’t know if the guys told you, but we’re going bowling tonight. I was wondering if you wanna tag along? Unless you have something to do or…” I offer. I want all of my friends there, which means I have a few more invites to hand out.

  She makes a show of tapping her chin and humming. “Do I have anything planned tonight…?”

  “Rachel,” I mock-groan, and she chuckles.

  “Text me when and where, and I’m there,” she assures.

  “Great. Mike brought it up, though, so I’ll tell him to send you the info…” I begin to tell her when my eyes land on something—more like someone—behind her lugging a large duffel bag on her shoulder, blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. “Red?” I say aloud, totally on accident, and she stops and looks straight at me even though we’re like teen feet away.

  I shouldn’t be freaking out on the inside as she begins to walk over to us, but I am. I am, a lot.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hey,” she says sort of breathlessly when she reaches us. Her eyes are intense as they bore into me, but I move them to Rachel and focus on her shifting on her tennis shoes, obviously as confused and uncomfortable as me.

  Why is she here, talking to me?

  Is she seriously that thirsty for my pain? Didn’t she get enough when she hung up on me when she double-crossed me?