“You’re all I got so don’t go all emo on me.” Dan fist-bumps me and we release on a sound that resembles the ‘Big Bang.’ “Stay strong, bugger.”
“Strong is all I got, mate.” I nudge him with a shoulder. “I wasn’t always all rich and preppy like you.”
“Yes, miss East London.” He grins, saluting as he motions at the football team’s lockers direction. “I’m over here. See you in class.”
I wave at him with two fingers and continue down the hall. Energy pumps through my veins at the idea that all this will be over soon.
One more year.
I make my way towards the classroom when a hand slams on the doorframe right next to the side of my head. A tall frame blocks my entrance.
My vision snaps to the source and I freeze. Everyone in the hall seems to stop walking and talking altogether, too.
Levi King.
The same hypnotic eyes that pushed me to the brink of death stare down at me with a strange gleam. The other time, I saw interest mixed with menace, but now, it’s complete calculation.
“What do you want?” I snap, and I hear a few gasps around me.
No one snaps at Levi King. Kids here trip over themselves to keep him happy and comfy on his stupid throne.
I’m thankful my voice contains all the venom I feel for this bastard.
He knew I was drugged and still threw me out to be hunted down and left for dead.
Well, he only knew I was drugged. He couldn’t possibly have known someone drugged me unless he was the same arsehole did it.
But that’s the part that’s still fuzzy. If Levi drugged me, why didn’t he carry on with his plan and kick me out instead?
A change of mind, perhaps.
But why would he drug me anyway? He and I don’t cross paths. Ever.
He lives on the highest position of the food chain and I chose the low comfortable — and very invisible end — on purpose.
What made me visible to him?
That’s the only reason why I’m not going on full offence on him. That doesn’t mean I’ll take his entitled shit around me, though.
The accident taught me something valuable. I’ll not be a secondary character in my own life.
Not anymore.
Levi tilts his head to the side. “Is that a way to greet me after the entire summer, princess?”
“What do you expect? A chanting of ‘Long Live the King?’ Sorry, the choir is still on holidays.”
His lips twitch in amusement. Even when I’m sober, he’s still attractive as shit. His shoulders broadened over the summer — due to football training, no doubt — and I swear he became even taller.
“And here I thought you were still interested.”
“Interested?” I repeat, dumbfounded.
“Did you forget?” his voice drops to a shiver-inducing range. “You begged me for more the last time we were together.”
My cheeks heat until I feel like I’m thrown into a pit of flames. He had to bring out the most embarrassing moment of my life.
“Lapse of judgement.” I lift my chin. “Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
His fingers clasp around my wrist and he strings me along towards him. I try to twist and pull, but that only makes his grip harsher.
“Let me go,” I grit out, hating all the audience that has stopped to see the show.
My cheeks flame with hot, flashing anger at being manhandled in public. Way to ruin my top-notch invisible reputation.
“Meet me after school,” he whispers in that deep, slightly husky voice.
It’s not a request, it’s a flat out order. He must be so used to people falling at his feet.
“Why would I want to do that?” I give up trying to remove my wrist and glare up at him.
He taps my nose twice. “Wait for me at the car park after practice.”
“No.”
“Be there, princess.”
He must still see defiance written all over my face. Instead of cowering away, his eyes shine with mischievousness and something so similar to ‘Challenge accepted’.
When he speaks this time, it’s loud enough for everyone surrounding us to hear.
“Don’t worry. This time I won’t make you beg for it.” He smirks. “For long.”
Scorching heat climbs up my neck and to my face, bathing me in red hot embarrassment mixed with blinding anger.
He offers a smug grin that says, ‘I always win’ before he taps my nose again and walks in the opposite direction. Everyone goes out of their way to let him go through as if they actually believe he’s the king or some shit.
I stand like a red ball, watching his retreating back with stupefaction as one of the other seniors joins him and soon enough, half of the football team are waltzing alongside him toward the locker room.
Everyone continue gawking at me as if I’m a world wonder — or a mass murderer, I can’t be so sure with some of the girls’ glares.
“Slut,” one of them hisses as she brushes past me.
The anger that should be directed at her or her minions that said similar insults is burning in the opposite direction.
The locker room and the wanker in it.
King wants me to meet him after school?
I’ll be meeting him after school, all right, but he’ll be wishing he never issued his royal decree.
6
Levi
You could’ve escaped the battle, but you asked for a bloody war.
* * *
Coach yells at the front lines, his voice reverberating over the pitch like he’s a general at war. Or maybe he’s the strategist.
The royal blue baseball cap with RES’s golden crown covers his bald head.
He rolls his notes into what resembles a bat that he doesn’t hesitate to strike the slacking players with.
We just finished our first practice game for the season. The main team lost against the second-year team. Two to nill.
Two to fucking nill.
The negative energy radiating off Coach Larson is like a black halo over my mood.
The two teams stand in straight lines opposite one another as Coach paces between us.
The second team wear neon yellow over the team’s jersey while my team have the official royal blue jerseys and white shorts.
“Ladies,” Larson snarls, his small eyes and bushy brows give him a meaner, harsher look. “Is this how we’re starting the season after last year’s defeat?”
“No, Sir,” all of us yell.
“I didn’t hear you, girls.”
“No, Sir!” we bellow.
He nods as he continues his back and forth with his hands crossed behind his back. The paper bat hits his spine with every move. “The school might put you on a pedestal, but that’s only because you’re getting Royal Elite’s name out there. The moment you stop benefitting the board, the team is gone.”
A few murmurs break amongst the players, but they know better than to interrupt Coach.
“What did you think? Your parents pay for your education, not sports. Royal Elite is all about academics. The only reason they indulge with a few sports teams is because they want to promote that the school isn’t all about nerdy, snobbish teenagers. Are we or are we not going to prove to them that we breathe football?”