Brock glowered. “It’s time you understand how things operate in this part of town. Nothing happens without us knowing, including behind closed doors.”
Oh shit. He just hit Angie’s sore spot.
Grayson eyed her up and down, scorn dripping from his glare. “Go back to your rich husband. We’ll take care of your daughter.”
Her shoulders dropped an inch, and yet she spoke my name firmly. “Josephine.”
Refusing to meet her gaze at her, I said nothing. Truth was, I didn’t want to go home, and if the Elite had the power to make that happen, so be it. I moved closer to Brock, making my intention clear. “I’m not coming home.”
A soft bitter laugh escaped as he turned her shrewd gaze to Brock. “Do you know it is illegal to harbor a runaway. You’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”
Brock grinned mockingly. “I sincerely hope so.”
Angie's grip tightened on the side of her purse. “This isn’t over,” she promised.
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Brock replied tartly.
She spun on her heels before he finished delivering the parting statement.
Great. Now Angie and my stepbrother had declared themselves Elite enemies. My eighteenth birthday never seemed so far away.
What had I done? And why didn’t I feel bad about it? No regret. No sadness. Just peace.
* * *
Brock gave me one of his spare football shirts he kept in his locker to change into. And somehow, strolling down the halls with his football number plastered to my back was sweet revenge. For once, I didn’t care about the attention or the whispers. It was exactly what I wanted, for the gossip mill to do its thing. By the end of the day, Ava would know whose shirt I wore thanks to her childish tactics.
Take that, bitches.
“You’re loving this,” Grayson said as he walked me to the football field. His helmet hung in his hand.
I grinned at him. “So what if I am? I think it’s time someone showed Ava she isn’t as important as she’d like to believe.” I doubled my steps to keep up with his long strides. It still seemed unreal that he was my brother.
His cleats sank into the grass, kicking up little divots. “I’m so glad you’re taking the initiative. Just be careful. Don’t underestimate her. To girls like Ava, high school status is everything. And being the girl on Brock’s arm is the highest position for a chick at this school.”
He didn’t have to tell me. “I won’t let her intimidate me. I’m fucking sick of girls like her.”
“Good. So am I,” he muttered right before he jogged onto the field, joining Brock, Micah, and Fynn, who were already huddled up with their teammates, including Carter fucking Patterson.
Having to hang around after school to watch the Elite practice was the last thing I wanted to be doing. Yet here I was. The only positive outcome was seeing Brock’s ass in his tight football uniform. God, what a glorious tush. But sitting in the bleachers also meant I had to watch Carter and his loser friends.
It was a double-edged sword. The Elite wouldn’t let me out of their sight and yet, the person they were shielding me from was always around.
Whack.The sounds of bodies hitting bodies echoed throughout the outdoor stadium as the first scrimmage got underway. Things got heated on the field as Micah slammed Carter to the ground for the fourth time during their practice.
I sat in the first row of bleachers, not far from where Micah and Carter crashed into the turf. Micah rolled off Carter, but not before giving him an extra shove as he got up. He readjusted the strap on his helmet, sporting his wicked grin. Catching my eye, Micah winked at me. A second later, Carter was on his feet, pushing Micah in the chest.
“What the hell is going on?” Coach yelled from the sidelines, tossing his ball cap onto the ground in frustration. Poor Coach Q. He had no idea what was really going on during his practice. It had become a battleground between the Elite and Carter.
A definite division had been declared in the team, which would only hurt the Academy’s chance at the playoffs this year. Not that I gave a shit about football, but the school prided itself on winning, and many of the players needed the games to be scouted for college ball.
Carter included.
Yet, since Friday night, they’d been at each other since practice started. None of them needed to play football, not with the amount of wealth the Elite and Carter would inherit, but for Carter, it wasn’t about the money. It was expected of him.
Ava and her cheer whores glared over at me from the sidelines like this was my fault.
In truth, I was partially responsible, and since that seemed to bother Elmwood’s queen mean girl, a petty beam of satisfaction swirled inside me. Unable to help myself, I smirked and flipped her off. She returned the gesture before flashing her ass in my direction, the ruffled skirt hardly covering half her butt. Just the way she liked it.