“Don’t be an idiot.” Leon sighs as though being my friend takes incredible effort. “He’ll kill you.”
“Like my beloved would ever allow that?” I waggle my brows at him, flashing him a grin that’s been pretty successful in me getting my dick sucked whenever I want it.
All it does is have Leon turning bright red with embarrassment. Where my relentless flirting started as hope that I’d turn a straight man gay, it’s evolved into purely for entertainment two years later. He’ll never give in, but I give him shit like I can convince him.
“I should let you get your ass kicked,” Leon warns, shooting me a dark look. “You kind of deserve it for being such a shithead.”
“You’re the only one who gets to see the real shithead. Consider it an honor.”
We rib each other back and forth as we eat our lunch. I’m finishing off my grilled chicken wrap when I feel someone’s attention on me.
Canyon Voss.
From two tables over, his blue eyes pin me like I’m an opponent on the damn football field he can easily tackle.
I flip him off because I don’t play his stupid games.
I’m certainly not intimidated by him.
His friend Damon howls in laughter, pointing my way. When Naomi’s dark eyes find what he’s entertained by, she frowns. Leon elbows me hard enough to have me rubbing the side of my arm, no longer interested in antagonizing Voss.
“What the fuck, man?” I growl, shooting Leon a death glare.
“Don’t.”
“You’re joining the Canyon Cult now?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
I clench my jaw, keeping cruel words locked inside my mouth. Leon’s so obsessed with Naomi that he doesn’t always think straight. Letting our argument fade because it’s pointless when she somehow threads herself into it, I rise to my feet and pat Leon on the top of his head.
“See you in class, honey.”
“Fuck off, Sommers.”
“Only if we do it together,” I taunt, grinning at my friend. “Naked.”
His once again bright red face is enough retribution for the elbow to my arm.
I grab my violin case and bag, heading out of the lunchroom. As I pass by Voss’s table, I swing my case up and lift a brow in question at him.
Round two?
This time I won’t miss that big-ass head of yours.
Canyon
The surprise written on Alis’s face was worth all the effort to get my schedule changed to match his. Even though I’m on the outs with my dad, it doesn’t stop me from using his connections to get what I want. The school counselor, Mrs. Rawlins, is married to one of Dad’s colleagues. All it took was some name-dropping and a little begging over the phone this morning before I left to pick up Naomi and Paige to get what I wanted.
It’s not that I can’t handle all the AP classes. Normally, my schedule is overloaded by football, and Coach has hinted that we should take the easiest load possible. Go Blood Gators. All brawn and no brains if Coach has his way. If we aren’t killing ourselves with homework, it leaves more time to practice.
This summer, everything changed.
Football is no longer something I live and breathe for. When Dad and I were close, it was our thing. Now that he betrayed our family, I loathe the sport. Getting revenge through whatever means necessary is my new sport.
Seeing the shocked expression on Alis’s face in first hour was enough to make it all worth it. The surprise then transformed into irritation and finally anger once he realized we share five classes and lunch together. The only escape he got from me was orchestra since I can’t play an instrument to save my life, and the last hour of the day, which is reserved for sports.
I text my sister on the way to the locker room to change out for football practice.
Me: Was Sommers pissed?
Carrie: Enough to give up first chair violin? No.
I smirk at the thought of Carrie pouting. She’s really good at the violin, but of course, she’s nowhere near Alister’s senior-level, given that she’s only a sophomore. It gives me satisfaction, though, that he’ll have to stay on his toes to be the best because she practices endlessly and aspires to crush him when it comes to that dumb instrument.
Me: Give me a week. He’ll be so distracted, he’ll fuck up. First chair will be yours.
Carrie: You’re evil. He’s going to be our brother soon. Probably not smart to terrorize the poor guy.
I roll my eyes as I set my bag down.
Me: He’ll never be our brother. He’s just the kid of the guy Dad’s been dicking down for fuck knows how long.
She sends me a bunch of vomit emojis. I toss my phone into my bag and then proceed to change into my gear.
For the next hour, Coach runs our asses ragged on the field. I go through the motions, no longer burning with the desire to be the best in this sport. When I fumble on one of Damon’s passes, I get reamed by Coach and half the team.