by R. A. Smyth
Once I’m satisfied that he’s done paying me any attention, fully focused on his workout, I get back to mine. Now that I’m no longer in the zone, I can feel the ache in my fingers and the stiffness in my hands from taking out all of my pent up anger on the punching bag.
Despite how hard I’ve been going at it, I can still feel that restless energy inside me, itching for more. Checking the time on my phone, it’s still early. Class isn’t for another few hours, and I’m still too worked up to go back to my room. Besides, I can’t let this fucker think his presence here is enough to send me running.
Downing half my bottle of water and wiping the sweat off my forehead, I move over to the treadmills, carefully selecting one that doesn’t give me a direct line of sight to Mason—I don’t want him to think I’m fucking watching him—but also enables me to keep an eye on him out of the corner of my eye. Most likely, he’s just here to work out. He seemed surprised to find me here, but the four of them are a conundrum I don’t understand, and I can't afford to risk turning my back on any of them.
Setting a fast pace for myself, I sprint along on the machine and it doesn’t take long for a new layer of sweat to coat my skin, my breaths becoming labored as I push myself harder than I probably should, considering I’ve neglected my regular running routine for the last few weeks. I’m a panting, sweaty mess when I climb off the machine an hour later, my legs like jelly as I slowly make my way over to where I left my towel and water. I’ve been slyly watching Mason out of the corner of my eye, but he hasn’t done anything other than cycle through various weight-based exercises, occasionally pausing between reps to stare at me, with that same strange expression on his face that he had when he walked in. I don’t know him well enough to understand what he’s thinking. Hell, I don’t know the guy at all. He could be picturing me naked or imagining the thousand different ways he could kill me and dispose of my body before anyone would even know I was missing. Choosing to put him out of my mind and in desperate need of a shower, I grab my stuff and head out of the gym, not looking back at him as I leave.
Chapter 10
She’s fucking everywhere I go. Everywhere, even the fucking gym! The one place that gives me some peace, and she’s fucking there, ruining it. What the hell is she even doing here so early?!
I’m stuck, frozen in the doorway, watching her pummel the shit out of the heavy bag. I can feel the rage coursing through her from here, every move carried out with perfect precision as she throws her entire weight into each punch. Taking in her form, her straight back and wide stance, the accuracy of her hits and the sound the bag makes when you hit it just right, it’s obvious she’s had training. I had no idea she was a fighter, not in the physical sense. She’s shown she can fight back with words, but she never resorts to physical violence.
As my eyes roam over her lithe body, taking in her sweat soaked skin and heaving chest, I can feel my traitorous dick hardening in my shorts, not giving a single shit that this girl is off-limits.
The black marks of a tattoo curl around her hip, dipping beneath her shorts. Black lines that swirl up her side until they form an abstract image, some sort of a bird, over her ribs.
Her tits look fucking incredible in that little bra thing she’s wearing, rapidly rising and falling from the exertion of her workout. I’ve never really paid much attention to her tits before. Don’t get me wrong, I noticed she had them. They’re large and perky, and would look fucking perfect with my dick shoved between them as I come all over her face. Sadly, she usually has them hidden under her uniform, or the unflattering tops she wears, that have apparently been hiding her hot-as-fuck body from the world. Such a fucking travesty. Someone with a body like hers should walk around naked all the time. It’s a work of fucking art. She’s skinny, but not the same kind of skinny as the other girls at Pac. It’s got nothing to do with not eating and everything to do with how she’s honed her body into a weapon. She’s pure strength and muscle with her taut abdomen and powerful thighs. She’s an athletic missile ready to rain down shit on whoever crosses her.
Her sharp words snap me out of my trance, pulling my gaze from her limber body up to her glowering eyes. The icy glare she’s throwing my way reminds me that, although she may look like every one of my dirty fantasies, she’s untouchable. Hawk has got a fucking bug up his ass about her; besides, I’m pretty sure she can’t stand any of us. She certainly doesn’t have the same level of respect and fear for us that everyone else around here has. Although the way she looks at Cam sometimes, it’s clear she’s attracted to him, and I definitely caught her checking me out this morning. She might not like us, but she fucking wants us.
Regardless, she might be a hot piece of ass, but she’s a distraction none of us can afford right now. Between school and our fucked-up families, we have enough shit going on. Hawk’s right, we can’t have a girl coming in and disrupting the balance, messing with our heads when we need our focus now more than ever. Guess I’m just going to have to continue getting my jollies from whatever mediocre girl of the month. It’s bad enough that Cam has his sights on her. If she would just give in and fuck him, like I know she wants to, he’d get over her, like he has with every other girl. This back and forth she’s got going with him is only creating more problems. He’s fucking infatuated, and that’s something we sure as hell don’t need right now.
With that reminder, I wipe all traces of emotion from my face, not bothering to answer her as I quickly turn away before she can see the hard-on I’m sporting, and make my way over to my usual spot, pushing myself harder than normal, not leaving the gym until my arms and legs feel like wet noodles.
“Damn, man, isn't the gym supposed to make you all zen or some shit?” Cam chuckles as I blow back into our apartment, somehow more worked up than I was before I left this morning. All four of us have the top floor of the boys’ dorms. We had the whole place renovated the summer before freshman year, so it has an open-plan kitchen and living space, four large bedrooms, and we updated the shower room.
It might sound crazy for four fifteen-year-olds to be able to do all that, but we were Princes the second we arrived on campus. A stupid-ass title, but whatever. We trumped every senior student. Of course, not everyone just rolled over and accepted that. It wasn’t easy for the previous reigning seniors to give up their crowns, so to speak. But they were rulers because of their popularity. We rule by blood, by title. Our families are the founding families of Pac Prep. Every Hayes, Davenport, Rutherford, and Warren before us has ruled this school.
We had to stand up for ourselves, fight for our place, but one thing our families taught us is how to be ruthless, to take what’s ours. People quickly learned not to mess with us and since then we’ve been both revered and feared, a healthy combination.
Things have been pretty smooth sailing for the last four years. We can do what we want, fuck who we want, have whatever we want. But now that senior year is here, we’re all starting to feel the tension. Where every other student is filling out college applications and preparing for the time of their lives, we are preparing to be inducted into the family business. There’s no college education for us, no fraternities or keg parties. Only a boring pre-planned future at our parents’ company.
Where our futures should be a vast expanse of the unknown spread out before us, we each feel like all the doors are slamming shut in our face, and our world is closing in around us. The fear that, someday soon, we will be just like our parents, is riding us hard.
It wasn’t always this way. Sure, we’ve never wanted to be like our parents, but until last summer we were content with our lot in life. We accepted the future our parents had laid out for us.
But, fuck, everything changed this summer. Everything we thought we ever knew went up in smoke. The carefree life we’ve lived so blindly in came crashing down around us. Learning your parents aren’t who you thought they were is always a bitter pill to swallow. Hawk took the news the hardest, and has been burying his anger in fights and pussy. Out of all of us, he thought
he had relatively decent parents. The rest of us learned early on what assholes our parents were, so while still a shock, it wasn’t a complete surprise.
Ignoring Cam, I storm into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. Despite the fact I put myself through a vigorous workout this morning, I can still feel all this pent up energy thrumming through me. I couldn’t fucking concentrate with her so close. Even after she left, I could still fucking smell her in the room.
I don’t fucking understand it. Ever since that day in class, when I first saw her, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. I don’t even know what it is about her that has caught my attention. She has this prickly attitude that’s designed to keep people at arm’s length—anyone who’s paying any attention can see that—yet, underneath it all, I can sense there’s something more. There’s something that resonates with me on a primitive level, not that that makes any fucking sense. It’s kind of like my soul recognizes hers? I don’t fucking know. It’s confusing as hell.
I don’t usually like other people. I have my boys, sure. We grew up together. We know everything there is to know about one another. But other people? Not my thing; and they don’t understand me either. Neither do girls. They assume I’m not interested because I don’t talk much, and my size tends to send most of them running for the hills. But something about her is different. I haven’t been able to take my eyes off her. Not that I mean to, my eyes seem to gravitate in her direction whenever she's around. I don’t have any fucking say in it. I’ll be working away, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’ve been staring at her for god knows how long, my work long forgotten.
Sometimes, when I’m watching, it’s like her mind is off somewhere else. There’s a vacancy in her eyes. It’s in those moments that my connection with her is the strongest. It’s almost like I can sense her pain or some shit, like it’s similar to my own.
A harsh bang on the door snaps me out of my funk. “What?” I growl.
“We’ve gotta go,” Cam calls out, pausing a moment on the other side before I hear his footsteps as he walks away.
Fuck, I’m still far too worked up to make it through the day like this. I’ll kill the first asshole that so much as looks at me wrong. Grabbing my bag, I head out the door, the four of us making our way toward the dining hall.
“I’ll meet you inside,” I call out, walking past the entrance, toward the girls’ dorm.
“What the hell, man?!” Hawk shouts after me. “It’s changeover day!”
“I’ll be there, I just need to sort something out first.”
I hear him grumbling behind me, but I don’t slow down or turn around. I need to release this feeling inside of me. Now. If I go into that hall, with all those insipid fucking assholes watching my every move, I’m going to do something I regret.
Throwing open the door to the girls’ dormitory, it bangs off the wall. The few girls in the foyer jump, looking at me with wide eyes, but I ignore them all as I take the stairs two at a time, making my way to the fourth floor.
Girls flatten themselves against the wall as I stride past, stopping outside a now familiar door and banging on the wood.
“What the...What are you doing here?” Vivian gasps. I don’t know why she bothers, though. She knows the routine by now. I’ve never shown up looking as enraged as I feel right now, but even so, if I’m here, she knows why.
Pushing past her, I barge into her room as she closes the door. “Desk,” I bark out, unbuckling my belt and popping the top button of my slacks. Moving past me, she perches on the edge of the desk, her ridiculously short skirt giving me a flash of her bright pink thong. “Turn around.”
“Can’t we do it my way this once?” She might think her pout is cute, but it makes her look like a child—a creepy as fuck one with all that makeup gunk on her face.
“No,” I snarl, getting impatient.
Huffing, she finally does as she’s told, bending over the desk as I dig a condom out of my pocket, rolling it over my hard dick. Pushing into her, I feel absolutely nothing. She used to at least feel good, but now she does nothing for me, and her fake pornstar moans only aggravate me further as I pound into her hard enough to hurt.
“Oh yeah, baby, give it to me,” she moans in a breathy voice, her grating tone doing nothing but making it harder for me to pretend it’s someone else I’m fucking.
“Shut. Up,” I hiss through gritted teeth. Instead of the anorexic-looking brunette bent over the table, I picture an athletic blonde, authentic wanton moans escaping her plump lips as I hammer into her tight cunt. I only have to imagine myself fucking Hadley for a few seconds before that tingling feeling at the bottom of my spine ratchets up and I finally explode into the condom.
For the first time since seeing her this morning, I finally feel at ease, my whole body relaxing as I pull out, throwing the condom in the trash can and tucking myself away.
“Mmm, that was so good, baby.” I don’t even know if she came, nor do I give a shit.
I’ve just reached the door when she calls out, “Wait, are you at least going to pick me again?” The hopeful tone in her voice is fucking pathetic. Does she seriously think this means anything more than exactly what it is—a month long fuck buddy?
With my hand resting on the doorknob, I snap out, “No,” not bothering to turn around before opening the door and leaving her behind, finally feeling like myself again.
Breakfast is well underway when I arrive in the dining hall, ignoring Hawk’s scowl. He’s always been a grumpy bastard, but it’s gotten so much worse since the summer. He’s always loved the control he has over the school, the way the other students cower to him, but it’s become something he craves. The slightest hint of defiance and he’ll ensure he squashes it, likely leaving whoever pissed him off fearing for their life. Not that he’s ever had much control over his anger. Even as a kid, he would throw a motherfucker of a tantrum over the slightest thing.
Of course, Hadley is the one person in this place who doesn’t flinch in the face of his rage. Instead of taking his anger as a warning, she seems to see it as a challenge, something to fight back against. Needless to say, her unwillingness to submit has only infuriated him more, and it’s only made worse by whatever is going on between her and Cam. He thinks we don’t know he’s been sneaking out at night to meet her, but we all know. Fuck, I had to talk Hawk down from storming in there and tearing her fucking head off. Seriously, if she doesn’t sleep with him soon so he can get over her, I don’t know what the hell is going to happen.
Just like last time, Hawk gives us the look and we get to our feet, the room dropping silent in an instant. The buzz of excitement is suffocating as the girls all touch up their makeup and make sure their hair is sitting perfectly. The only girls who aren’t preening are the scholarship ones. In fact, I’m pretty sure I catch Hadley rolling her eyes, sharing a comical look with the girl beside her. Sure, she’s a scholarship student, and she knows she can’t be chosen, but it’s interesting to see how unimpressed she is by this whole farce. While the other girls at her table might not show the same level of excitement as the rest of the senior girls, I’d have to be blind to miss the wanting glint in their eyes. Despite knowing they can’t be chosen, they still want to be. But not Hadley. She looks like she couldn’t imagine anything worse.
When it’s my turn to step forward and select a girl, my eyes run over the sea of batting eyelashes and coy smiles until I find someone suitable. Cora Farber. She’s got medium length, blonde, curly hair, and a bit more meat on her bones than Vivian had. She’s not quite right, but she’ll do. I make sure to keep a table between us when I point to her so she can’t get any ideas about jumping all over me, and thankfully she stays seated as she squeals in excitement. I struggle not to roll my eyes at the whole scene as I stomp back to my seat and sit down, glad to be done with my bit as Cam steps forward to put on his usual performance. He does the same song and dance as last time, but I notice he doesn’t have the same enthusiasm as before,
and I don’t miss his less than subtle glance toward the scholarship table before he finally points to Missy Barton. It doesn’t take West long to pick someone and the four of us make our exit, leaving the hall in an uproar of excited squeals and murmurs.
The week drags by the same as every other week, except Friday is Cam’s first swim meet of the year. He’s determined he’s going all the way to the State Championships this year, and anyone who's seen him in the water knows without a doubt he will. Not only does he love the sport, but he’s fucking incredible at it. He would have an impressive future on the Olympic team if it wasn’t for our shithead parents and the legacy we have to maintain by following in their footsteps.
He’s completely focused as he stands at the edge of the pool alongside the other swimmers—waiting for the whistle to blow—and when the race begins, he’s the first one to hit the water, quickly getting out ahead of everyone else, a distance he easily maintains as he reaches the far side and swims back to the start. He wins the race by a landslide, a huge goofy grin on his face as he seeks us out in the crowd, lifting his arms in the air.
Swimming is one of the few times he lets his true self shine through. He loves the sport; the competitive nature, the energy that comes with winning. The smile only drops from his face as his father moves toward him. Of course he’s here. He never misses a race, but we’d hoped since it was only a district meet, he wouldn’t bother showing his face. The two of them exchange words—well, from the looks of it, Mr. Rutherford does most of the talking, Cam occasionally nodding his head, his face pinched in annoyance. After a few moments, his father gives a final nod, storming out the door, leaving Cam glowering behind him. I’d be surprised if he can’t feel the heat from Cam’s hatred burning holes in his back as he leaves.
We quickly scramble from our seats, making our way down to the pool, all three of us with grins on our faces, offering our congratulations in an effort to put that smile back on his face.