Treacherous by Alex Grayson & Melissa Toppen

by Alex Grayson

  With the crowd becoming frantic and the shouting getting louder by the second, I hold her gaze as I reach over my shoulder, grip the back of my shirt, and pull it over my head.

  Her mouth parts open and her tongue darts out to lick along the bottom lip. Her eyes roam over the dips and valleys of the muscles on my torso. Her slim shoulders rise and fall faster than normal. I’m sure if I had a closer view, her pupils would be dilated, too.

  She’s fucking turned on by looking at me. I smirk, and her blush is back in full force.

  Hart steps into the makeshift ring and begins to announce Luis and me, before doing a quick review of the rules. I don’t pay attention—I’ve heard it all before. Instead I keep my eyes planted firmly on Rylee. Oliver claps me on the back and says something in my ear that I don’t hear before going to one of the corners. I sense Luis approaching me, but I still keep looking at the girl who’s taking up entirely way too much of my attention. She doesn’t look away either. We’re both ensnared by whatever fucking spell that has us captivated.

  I don’t know what it is, but something shifted inside us both when I held her wrist in that darkened hallway.

  Her eyes turn into saucers a split second before I feel the wind of Luis’ approaching fist. I duck just in time to miss his punch. He staggers from the momentum, surprise evident in his eyes when he misses. He doesn’t realize that just because my attention may have been on someone other than him, I still tracked his every movement.

  Jerking my gaze away from Rylee, I spin around and land an uppercut to the bottom of Luis’ chin.

  RYLEE

  WHAT THE HELL?

  What the actual hell?

  I watch Zayden go blow for blow with a man nearly double his size—though he delivers a lot more blows than he receives. I’m entranced by his every move—enthralled by his brute strength and speed.

  Suddenly it all makes sense.

  Why he has this untouchable persona.

  Why people follow him like he’s some sort of God.

  Why everyone is afraid of him—even the jocks.

  As Zayden’s competitor crumbles to the floor, he climbs on top of him and continues to land punch after punch to the man’s face. His nose splits and blood pours down his cheek, onto the floor below.

  Seeing him like this, watching him unleash his rage on another person shouldn’t impress me. Hell, it should probably scare me. But it doesn’t. I’m in awe. I’ve never been one to like violence, but when I was little my dad would always watch MMA fighting, and I kind of fell in love with the sport, which is why I was so excited when Pierce told me about the underground fighting ring. Granted, this is definitely more like two people fighting in the street than the fights I’m used to watching, but it’s still cool.

  The crowd roars, feeding off the energy. It’s so loud that Hart blows the horn three times before Zayden hears it and halts his assault on the man who is now nearly unconscious on the floor.

  Coming here tonight, I didn’t know Zayden would be one of the fighters—a little detail I think Pierce intentionally left out. When I watched him step into that ring, I think my heart stopped for a moment. I don’t know if I was more nervous or scared. Now I see that my concern was misplaced. It should have been the other guy I was worried about, not Zayden.

  Sweat trickles down his muscular torso as he stands, shoving a hand through his hair to push the messy locks out of his face. I can’t look away. If I thought he was gorgeous with his clothes on, it’s nothing compared to how he looks with them off. His body is absolutely insane.

  “Come on.” Pierce tugs on my arm. Reluctantly looking away from Zayden, I peer up at my friend. “We need to bounce.”

  “Why?”

  He leans down and speaks directly into my ear—the noise of the crowd making it hard to hear anything beyond their cheers. “Because I told Zayden I’d get you out of here directly after the fight.”

  “Since when do you do Zayden’s bidding?” I draw back, not trying to hide my frustration.

  “I don’t. But when I feel like he’s actually looking out for you, I’m going to listen. You heard what he said about the cops.”

  I groan, tempted to stomp my feet like a spoiled child trying to get my way.

  “Fine,” I cave, knowing my mom would kill me if she found out I came here tonight—a trip to the police station in the back of a cop car might tip her off. Taking Pierce’s hand, he turns and pulls me through the crowd. I try to catch one more glimpse of Zayden, but the amount of people packed inside the small space makes it difficult to see anything once we’ve started moving.

  Pierce waits until we step out into the cold night air before speaking again. “I know what you’re thinking. You don’t want anything to do with that. I promise.”

  “Anything to do with what?” I don’t have to play oblivious; I really don’t know what he’s talking about.

  I pick up speed, having trouble keeping up with his long strides as we make our way away from Hart’s. There are several people hanging out outside, despite the fact that it’s January. I guess they figured if they couldn’t get in they’d wait outside to find out the outcome.

  “Zayden.” His eyes slide to me. “You don’t want anything to do with him. I know the kind of girls he goes for. Trust me when I say you’re not that kind of girl.”

  “Is that your way of telling me I’m not pretty enough?” I find myself becoming mildly offended.

  “Yeah, right.” He snorts. “You’re an easy ten out of ten.” His eyes do a quick side sweep of me to get his point across. “What you look like is not the hiccup.”

  “Then what is?”

  I don’t even know why I care. It’s not like I plan on making a play for Zayden. Why would I? The man has made my life a living hell this past week.

  “Let’s just say that Zayden tends to like girls with a little more experience.” He puts the words in air quotes.

  “Huh?”

  “You know.” He gives me a look that says I can’t be that dense. “As in sexually. Guys like Zayden have certain expectations from the girls they spend time with. And more often than not, that’s all they’re interested in.”

  “How do you know I’m not that kind of girl?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of my chest in an effort to warm myself. We’d decided to leave our jackets in the car so we wouldn’t have to hold them. At the moment, I’m regretting that decision.

  “Because I have eyes,” he tells me knowingly, dropping an arm over my shoulder and pulling me against his side when he notices me shivering.

  The warmth of his body is enough to take the edge off, and I welcome it whole heartedly.

  “I’ve messed around with guys before,” I say grumpily.

  “Messed around how? Because if you haven’t taken it in every hole at least once, refer to my previous statement—you don’t want anything to do with that.”

  “Okay well, I haven’t—but I’ve done other things. And who said I want anything to do with that to begin with?”

  “Like what?” he questions, snagging his keys out of his pocket as we get close to his car.

  “Huh?” I’m not sure which part of my statement he’s referring to.

  “What kind of things have you done?”

  “I don’t know.” Heat flood my cheeks. I’ve never been one to talk to guys about this kind of stuff—no matter who that guy is.

  “You don’t know?” He quirks a brow as he unlocks the car and pulls open the passenger door for me.

  “I mean, me and my ex-boyfriend participated in some pretty heavy petting,” I admit, not really sure how else to describe it.

  “Heavy petting?” Laughter bubbles from his throat as he shuts the door and crosses to the driver’s side. Sliding inside, he’s still chuckling as he jams the key into the ignition and turns it over—immediately flipping on the heat. “Heavy petting,” he repeats. “It’s even worse than I thought. Have you even had an orgasm before?”
/>
  “Were you not at the party last night? I’m pretty sure you already know the answer to that,” I say, sliding on my jacket before latching my seatbelt.

  “Wait.” He does a double take. “The shower thing was true?”

  “Well, what do you expect? I’m eighteen and have never had sex. I have to get relief somehow.”

  “Good point.” He chuckles. “I knew you weren’t a girl who sleeps around, but I figured you had at least had sex before. A girl who looks like you—I’m sure there’s never been a shortage of options. So what’s the hold up?”

  “There’s no hold up. It’s not like I haven’t wanted to. It’s just never felt right, ya know?” I blow out a breath.

  “I get it. There’s no shame in holding onto your virtue for as long as you can. I know I wish I had.”

  “How many people have you slept with?” I ask.

  I’m curious about Pierce’s lifestyle but didn’t want to come right out and ask unprompted. This seems like a pretty good time to ask.

  “Guys or girls?” He smirks, pulling his car onto the road.

  “Shut up!” I smack his arm playfully. “You’ve been with both?”

  “Um, how else would I know that I like both?” He chuckles.

  “Good point, I guess.” I relax back into the seat. “So, how many of each then?”

  “Two guys, six girls.”

  “Eight people?” I gape at him.

  “Don’t look at me like that. Eight people isn’t that many. Especially considering on two occasions they were threesomes.”

  “Two people at once.” I choke on the words.

  “Lord, you really are innocent. From that mouth of yours I never would have guessed.”

  “What’s wrong with my mouth?” I ask. “Wait a minute. Don’t you dare change the subject. I need more information, like right now.”

  “Pretty sure it will take me longer than the car ride to your house to give you all the details.” He smiles at me. “How about I fill you in another time?”

  “Seriously? You’re going to leave me hanging like that?”

  “I think you should try making it past second base before I share. I might traumatize you or something.”

  “Now I’m even more curious,” I whine.

  “Maybe that’s my goal.” He wrinkles his nose playfully.

  “You’re mean.” I huff, crossing my arms in front of myself.

  “I know someone else who’s mean, yet you still spent the last several minutes drooling over him.”

  “Drooling? I was not drooling.”

  “Sure you weren’t,” he says sarcastically. “Look, I’m not judging. I was drooling a little, too.”

  “He’s good looking, I’ll give him that. But he’s also mean, and bossy and, and, and, an asshole.” I push the last part out, not able to think of the word I was trying to say.

  “Let me ask you something—the guys you’ve dated before, how would you describe them?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Like, were they nice guys? Pretty boys?”

  “Well, I’ve only ever had one serious boyfriend, but yes, I’d say he was a nice guy.”

  “And yet you didn’t want to sleep with him?”

  “I wanted to.”

  “But you said it never felt right. Did you ever think of why that is?”

  “What are you getting at?” I ask, not really following.

  “Maybe you have a thing for guys that are assholes. Hence, the drooling.”

  “I was not drooling.” I land a playful punch to his bicep.

  “It also doesn’t hurt that Zayden seems to have a sweet spot for you.”

  “What?” I practically spring out of my seat.

  “You heard me. Don’t think I missed the way he was looking at you earlier. Or the way you were looking at him, for that matter. Not to mention the fact that Zayden is not the type of guy that apologizes. Ever.”

  “Well he needed to apologize. Look what he did to me!” I hold up my hand, gesturing to the bruises that wrap around my lower forearm that are hidden beneath my jacket sleeve.

  “That’s not the point. I’ve gone to school with Zayden since kindergarten, and I’ve seen him do some pretty messed up crap, but what I’ve never seen him do is apologize for it afterward.”

  I ponder this for a moment, my earlier exchange with Zayden coming to the forefront of my mind. The way he looked at me when he examined my arm—his expression a mix of anger and regret. It really did seem like he felt bad, which was a complete contradiction to how he’s treated me thus far.

  “He’s weirdly protective of you, too,” he continues. “First, he got angry with you for drinking at the party last night when you didn’t know who made the drink. Then he was pissed you were at the fight, because he said it wasn’t safe. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered that side of Zayden before.”

  “But then he purposely screws with me at school. He’s protective when it’s convenient for him, but he sure has no problem hurting me either. There’s plenty of proof in his actions this past week.”

  “You’re not wrong there.” He slows to a stop outside of my house and kills the engine. “But maybe he’s doing that to keep you at bay.”

  “Why would he want to keep me at bay?” I ask before we both answer in unison. “Oliver.”

  I drop my head back on the headrest and blow out a puff of air.

  “I really have no idea why my stepbrother hates me so much.”

  “Maybe you should ask him.”

  “I’ve tried. Well, sort of. He has no interest in having an actual conversation with me.”

  “Then maybe you should make him.”

  “Not sure I could even if I tried. And honestly, at this point, I’m not sure I want to know. I just need to get through the rest of the school year, and then I’m gone. Bye, bye Oliver and all his bullshit.”

  “There, see, just focus on the end goal.”

  “I’m trying, but when you’re forced to live with a person who torments you daily, the end goal seems like a lifetime away.”

  “I get that. But hey, at least you have me.” He grins.

  “This is true,” I agree, glancing at the clock on my phone. “It’s still early. Do you want to come in and hang out?” I gesture to the large, brick house set back several feet from the road.

  “Your parents won’t care?”

  “My mom is at the hospital. She got called into an emergency surgery shortly before you picked me up. She won’t be home until really late. And Paul doesn’t care. Oliver has a different girl over every other day and he never says a word. I dare him to say something to me for having a friend over. Even if that friend is a very handsome guy.” I wink at him.

  “Careful now. You know I’m not gay, right? And I’ve already told you that you’re an easy ten out of ten. Keep paying me compliments, and I might get the wrong impression.” He smiles and from the playfulness of his expression I know he’s just messing with me.

  From the first moment Pierce sat down at my lunch table there was this unspoken, mutual thing between us. It’s like we both knew that we were destined to be just friends.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I tell him, throwing the door open. “Are you coming or not?” I ask as I get out of the car.

  “Fine, but if you suggest braiding each other’s hair or painting nails, I’m out. I may like boys but that doesn’t mean I’m a girl.”

  “Noted.” I laugh, shutting the door as Pierce climbs out of the car.

  He’s still standing in the open car door when a black truck comes barreling down the road, whipping into the driveway seconds later.

  “On second thought.” Pierce throws me a sideways glance. “Maybe I’ll take a raincheck,” he says, looking toward the truck.

  “You can’t leave me here with him. Oliver’s not even here,” I hiss over the top of the car.

  “No, but he will be. If Zayden is here, Olive
r will be right behind him. I love you, but I’m not trying to paint a massive target on my back.”

  “Fine,” I huff. “Wimp.”

  “Just go lock yourself in your room. You’ll be safe in there.” He laughs.

  “How do you know? Maybe they’ll break in and suffocate me while I sleep.”

  “Really?” He snorts. “I never took you for the dramatic type.”

  “Dramatic? You’re the one running away.”

  “Touché.” He laughs. “But I’m still leaving.”

  “I hate you,” I spit good-naturedly, giving him the best evil glare I can muster.

  “Shut up. You love me. Now get your ass inside before Oliver gets here. The last thing you want is to be caught outside in the dark with the two of them.”

  “Gee, thanks for the warning.” I tighten my jacket around myself and take a step back.

  “Text me in the morning and let me know you’re still alive,” he jokes.

  “Nope, I’m gonna make you sweat it out until Monday,” I fire back.

  “That’s the mouth I was talking about.” He points at me, reminding me of his comment earlier. “You just can’t help yourself.”

  I stick my tongue out and flip him the middle finger, his laughter dancing through the cool night air as he slips back inside the car. Not waiting to watch him leave, I turn and make a beeline for the front door.

  Unfortunately, I don’t make it there fast enough. Zayden intercepts me on the front porch.

  I’m momentarily frozen by the sight of him. He has the gym shorts on that he was wearing during the fight, but his torso is covered by a black hoodie. His hair is disheveled and still appears to be slightly damp with sweat. In the dim porch lighting, I can see a bruise that’s formed just below his left eye.

  “Oliver isn’t here,” I blurt before he can say anything.

  “Yeah, I know.” He blows out a breath. “I actually came to see you.” He shoves his hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.

  “Me?” I croak, my voice suddenly hoarse.