My week more or less dragged on. Thanks to the janitorial staff, my locker had been scrubbed clean and painted. The murmurs and musings over the pictures died down, replaced by the excitement for this year’s first football game against none other than Elmwood Public. It was a welcome distraction, mostly because it took the spotlight off me and put it on the football players.
They could keep it.
In true Academy fashion, there was always a party after the game to celebrate the school's victory, assuming they won. Their record spoke for itself. All one had to do was look at the multiple cabinets of trophies that lined the walls outside of the main office. The players were confident in a win for a reason. They didn’t lose.
What a bunch of pompous assholes.
No, I wasn’t attending the game, no matter how much Mads pleaded. The fact that she wanted to go at all shocked me. She didn’t strike me as a girl who sat in the stands, face painted, screaming “go team.” But she argued it was a perfect opportunity to implant myself into the Elite’s world, which prompted me to tell her we needed to talk.
Mads and Ainsley were coming over after the game for a debriefing. I had just finished texting them both and was lounging by the pool when I heard a voice that made me cringe. My asshole stepbrother wheeled a keg into the backyard, dropping it off near the outside bar area. We hadn’t talked much since our run-in Monday morning. I’d been avoiding him.
He was dressed in basketball shorts and a tee, his sandy hair blown messily to one side. “Don’t tell me you’re going to the game dressed like that,” he sneered, giving me a once-over that lasted too long. Sometimes, I swore he looked at me like he was seeing a dead girlfriend. It gave me the creeps, which when I thought about it, kind of made sense since Carter was creepy as fuck.
I clicked off my phone screen and glared up at him. “Please. Like I’d ever lower myself to rooting for the enemy.” My fingers clutched my phone. I was about two seconds away from hurling it at his head, but then I’d need a new phone.
He sauntered over and sat down at the end of my wooden recliner. I quickly pulled my feet out of the way before they were crushed by his hundred and eighty pounds. “I thought you’d want to support your boys,” he sneered, forking a hand through his windblown locks.
“They are notmy boys,” I said dryly, contemplating kicking him.
“Then why do they follow you around at school like your pussy is a drug?”
I choked at the idea of Brock, Fynn, Micah, and Grayson being addicted to my vagina. “I’d like to see you say that to their faces.”
The smug smile vanished from his lips, and I knew I hit a sore spot. Carter might be teammates with the Elite, but he was not part of their inner circle. That burned his ass.
“What’s the keg for?” I asked, diverting the conversation.
His frowned morphed back into a grin, an evil grin. Carter was basically a walking, talking horror movie villain. “Haven’t you heard? We’re having a party tonight.”
I groaned internally. “The party is here?” Of course, the after-game party would be here. Angie and Steven were out of town today and through the weekend, which left me alone with dickhead. Thank God, Ainsley and Mads were coming over.
Carter nodded, tiptoeing his fingers up my bare leg. “If you knew what was best, you’d stay out of my way tonight.”
I gave in to the urge and kicked his arm. “Don’t touch me, you creep.”
His hand lashed out, wrapping around my ankle, and with one swift tug, he pulled me toward him at the end of the lounger. “Don’t pretend like you’re an innocent virgin, sis. You can spread your legs for them.” His hand went to my inner thigh and squeezed roughly. “It’s not like we're blood-related.”
Still. Ew. The idea had my stomach recoiling. I reacted, grabbing his balls and squeezing, making sure he felt the imprint of my nails. “Touch me again and I’ll rip these off. Got it?”
Carter made a squealing sound like a pig. I released his balls and jumped off the recliner. “You crazy bitch,” he hissed.
I turned around, walking backward as I threw him a not-so-nice smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Don’t forget it. Oh, and Carter. I thought they’d be bigger than that. I barely felt anything at all.”
“Wrong move, bitch,” he seethed, still clutching his junk on the chair.
I flipped him off, hightailing it back into the house.
* * *
Carter left shortly after our incident, slamming all the doors on his way out to the football game. It was a home game. So far all I’ve learned about this side of Elmwood was the people were jackasses and they liked to party.
Despite refusing to go to the game, a part of me couldn’t help but be curious about the Elite. When I was at Public, I never went to any games, because football meant nothing to me then. And now… I still didn’t like football, but I was starting to like the Elite. God help me. If I were smart, I’d give up this plan and do as Brock suggested. Stay far away from them.
But… I couldn’t.
Regardless of what happened, of what part they might have played in harassing me, I found I was drawn to them and curious. Not just Brock, but all four of the guys. I didn’t know what that said about me, but I probably needed a shrink on speed dial for times like this.
I waited for Mads and Ainsley to show up, pacing up and down the entryway and biting on my chipped pink nails. The doorbell rang, chiming a melody throughout the house, and I jumped. Two seconds later, I threw open the door. “About time, bishes. Get in here. We need to talk.” I dragged them both through the front door and up to my bedroom.