Chapter 2: Dangerous Games
1664 Words
LEAH
The door swings open before my brain can catch up to what a terrible idea this is.
Holy Mother of…… My jaw drops open like a broken doll because of what I just witnessed.
They're tangled in Raya's Egyptian cotton sheets, all sweaty limbs and heavy breathing. Ron, her freaking cousin, has her bent over, his hands gripping her hips like he's trying to leave evidence. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in my ears.
My jaw still hangs open. I can't... I can't process... What the actual..
"Like the view, Patterson?" Ron's voice drips with arrogance as he slowly pulls away from Raya. He doesn't even try to cover himself, just stands there in all his naked glory, smirking like this is some kind of crazy show.
Raya scrambles for the sheets, wrapping them around herself. Her perfect hair is a mess, makeup smeared, lips swollen. She couldn't even meet my eyes.
Ron stalks toward me, with a confidence that someone in his position shouldn't even dare to have. Grabbing his jeans from the floor and bit out.
"What's wrong? Never seen people f**k before?" He crowds my space, reeking of s*x and betrayal.
"Or maybe you want to join? Is that it?"
I tried to step back, but my legs wouldn't work. My brain keeps screaming, Raya and Ron. Raya and her COUSIN. Raya, who's dating MAXON.
"I..." My voice comes out like a duck squeak.
"Listen carefully." Ron sneered while leaning close, his breath hot against my ear. "You tell anyone what you saw here, anyone at all, and I'll make sure the whole campus knows every-dirty-little-secret you're hiding. Including how you stare at Maxon when you think no one's looking."
I gulped, which felt like swallowing hot oven, while Raya still hadn't said a word. She just sits there, clutching her sheets to her chest, lips pressed together in uncertainty.
"Now get the f**k out," Ron growls, "unless you're planning to join us."
I practically ran, my feet catching on the plush carpet, while someone snickered as I stumbled down the stairs, gripping the banister like it's my way to salvation. My cheeks burn with fear, pain and worry.
I push through the crowd, past people that don't even give a f**k about what's going on in their surroundings. All they’re there to do is to party, get drunk and be lost in bliss.
The night air hits my face like a chastising slap, accusing me silently.
God! How do I unsee this? How do I face Maxon knowing what I know?
*****
My closet's seriously eyeing me with disdain this morning. It's been three days of hiding in my dorm room, surviving on protein bars, and guilt. I decided to shut Raya out. I can’t deal with her right now.
The green sweater Dad got me for Christmas screams "I memorize Bible verses for fun." The pink one... Nope. Always makes me feel fat enough without looking like an overstuffed sausage.
Already looked at my phone for the tenth time this morning and saw seventeen texts from Raya. Seventeen. Like if she just keeps acting normal, I'll forget what I saw. What I heard. God, those sounds are still stuck in my head like glue.
Hey bestie, missed you in Bio! Brunch? That test was brutal, right?
My phone buzzes again, and I nearly jump out of my skin. Just Mom, reminding me about Sunday's choir practice. Sorry Mom, might skip. Pretty sure "Thou shalt not keep your best friend's s*x secrets" isn't covered in the hymnal.
Ugh! Screw it. The pink sweater wins. Can’t keep wasting time, else I’ll be late for class.
My stomach growls loud enough to wake my roommate….only if I had one. Perks of being the scholarship charity case? I get to enjoy my own personal space, though right now it feels more like solitary confinement.
I thought about breakfast and realized I needed caffeine. And maybe something with chocolate. Or butter. Or both. The campus coffee shop's usually safe this time of morning.
I just grab a coffee. Maybe one of those chocolate croissants that cost too much. Then straight to English Lit where I can hide behind my textbook and pretend that all is well.
My phone buzzes again. Seeing its Raya, I ignored it and muttered "Jesus, give me strength.” Shoving my feet into my worn brown boots, and applying just a little make-up to compliment my pink sweater.
I went to the mirror and stared at my reflection and saw curves that won't behave and a body that refuses to follow fashion rules.
My dark hair tumbles down to my waist, the one feature I actually like when it's not being stubborn. Today it falls in waves that somehow make my face look rounder.
Great. The pink sweater clings to my chest a 34D, cup size, thanks for nothing, genetics and hips that definitely weren't made for skinny jeans.
At least my waist dips in enough to give me some kind of shape, even if it's more hourglass-that-ate-too-many-cookies than an i********: model.
I tug the sweater down over my hips again. No matter what I wear, everything looks like it's trying too hard to contain me. Like my body's one deep breath away from bursting free of whatever social constraints I'm trying to squeeze it into.
The morning air hits my face as I step outside. Okay. Quick coffee run. No drama. No Raya. No—
Holy crap.
The coffee shop's packed. Because of course it is. Half the hockey team's crowded around the corner tables, all broad shoulders and early morning swagger. My steps falter. Maybe protein bars aren't so bad. Maybe—
"Patterson!"
My heart stops dead. That voice. Deep, amused, and way too confident.
Maxon freaking Shivanski is sprawled in a leather armchair like it's his throne, one ankle resting on his knee, wearing a shirt that should be illegal before noon.
His hair's still damp from morning practice, curling slightly at his neck, and I'm definitely not noticing how it makes him look like some kind of fallen angel.
Raya's perched on his armrest, perfect as always in some designer outfit that probably costs more than my tuition. Her eyes lock onto me like a predator spotting its prey.
Run. Hide. Fake a seizure. Anything.
But my stupid feet are already moving forward because apparently my body's a traitor that doesn't care about self-preservation. Or dignity. Or the fact that I saw his girlfriend naked with his teammate who happens to be her cousin and…. Get a hold of yourself, Leah.
"Grab a chair," Raya chirps, patting the empty seat next to them. "We were just talking about you."
Oh God. What fresh hell is this again?
My palms are sweating. Actually sweating. "I'm just grabbing coffee—"
“Why”
"Sit." Maxon's voice wraps around the word like silk over steel. His eyes are doing this intense thing that makes my n*****s stand at attention. When did he start looking at me like that?
I sink into the chair because apparently I've lost control of my basic motor functions. My hips barely fit between the arms, another fun reminder that I'm not built for delicate furniture or delicate anything.
"Caramel latte with extra whip, right?" Raya waves at a barista who materializes with my usual order. Of course she remembers my coffee order but conveniently forgets she has a boyfriend when her cousin's around.
"Thanks, but I really can't—"
"So," Maxon cuts in, leaning forward. His knee brushes mine and neither of us moves away. "Raya tells me you're some kind of literary genius."
Wait, what?
"I'm not—"
"He's failing Literature," Raya announces, running her fingers through Maxon's damp hair. While my stomach bottomed out. "Isn't that hilarious? Mr. Perfect, failing something."
His jaw tightens. "I wouldn't say failing—"
"You got a D minus, baby. That's failing."
I take a huge gulp of coffee to avoid looking at either of them. Bad idea. The whipped cream goes straight up my nose and I almost made a mess of myself in front of the whole student dining there.
"You should tutor him," Raya declares while I'm still coughing.
Coffee burns in my sinuses. "What? No!"
"Why not?" Maxon's staring at me again with this look I can't read. Like he's trying to solve a puzzle. Like I'm the puzzle he really needs to get right.
Because your girlfriend is screwing your teammate? Because every time you look at me my brain stops working? Because I've been half in love with you since freshman year and the list goes on and on.
"I don't have time," I manage. "Between choir and—"
"Please?" Raya's giving me her puppy eyes. The same ones she used every time she realizes how uncomfortable her requests are.
Maxon shifts closer. He smells like mint with something dark and expensive . "Scared of me, Patterson?"
Yes. No. Maybe. But not for the reasons you think.
"I..." My voice trails off as his knee presses more firmly against mine. Is he doing this on purpose?
"Perfect!" Raya claps her hands. "You can start tomorrow."
"I didn't"
"Text her your schedule," she tells Maxon, then turns to me with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "You're a lifesaver, bestie." She leaned close to my ear and gave me a quick peck, whispering “We need to talk Leah.”
Feeling overwhelmed, I practically knocked over my chair getting up. The coffee shop suddenly feels too small, too hot, too everything.
"Tomorrow then," Maxon calls after me. His voice follows me out the door already, making me regret stepping into that diner.
Outside, I gulp down air like a staved puppy. What just happened? What did I just agree to?
Maxon's knee against mine. His eyes were watching me. Raya's calculated smile.
Oh God.
I have a feeling this won’t end well.
- Writer
