The Gang Leader's Impostor

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RADLEY CARSON’S POV

I was doing pull-ups in his room. I had this routine down: a set number of pull-ups, then some push-ups, and finally a run around the neighborhood. It was my way of staying in shape, of keeping my mind clear.

As I completed my last pull-up, I glanced out the window and saw Alex open up his bedroom window from across the street. A grin instantly formed on my lips, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. I called out, "Hey, Alex!" but he didn’t seem to hear a single thing. The music from his headphones was probably drowning out everything else.

I watched him for a moment, curiosity piqued. Alex was absorbed in whatever he was doing, completely oblivious to the world outside. I chuckled to myself, deciding that yelling wasn't going to work. I figured I’d just go over and see what was up.

I quickly grabbed a towel, wiped off the sweat, and threw on a hoodie. As I made my way down the stairs, I called out to my mom who was too busy baking a pie for the pie-baking contest this afternoon, "I'm heading over to Alex's!"

"Okay, be back before dinner!" she responded from the kitchen, too preoccupied with sifting the flour just right.

I jogged across the street, my breath visible in the cool morning air. The sky was a mix of oranges and blues as the sun started to rise, casting a serene glow over the neighborhood. I reached Alex's front door and knocked a couple of times, but there was no response.

Knowing Alex wouldn’t hear me, I just decided to take the familiar route. I walked around the side of the house to the backyard, where the fence was low enough to hop over. I landed softly on the grass and ran up the staircase, rounding up to approach Alex’s open window, calling out once more, "Alex!"

Still no response. I laughed to myself, shaking my head at how deeply engrossed he was with whatever it was that he was doing. I peeked inside. He was at his desk, surrounded by scattered papers, a notebook open in front of him. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the desk, his head bobbing slightly to the music.

I climbed onto the windowsill and tapped the glass lightly, but still nothing. I sighed, and with a grin, leaned in and waved my hand in front of his face.

Alex jumped, nearly knocking over a cup of pens. He yanked off his headphones, eyes wide. "Radley! You scared the hell out of me!"

I laughed, swinging my legs over and dropping into the room. "Sorry, man. I called you a couple of times, but you seemed to be in the zone."

Alex shook his head, laughing as well.

“So, what are you doing?” I peered down his notebook and squinted at the Math equations written haphazardly down one edge of the paper, my eyes going in zigzags as I tried locating which ones come first and which ones come second.

“Homework,” he replied casually, not bothering to look up, and flipped it over to the next side so he could start writing even more of those strange symbols that I swore I had never seen my entire life.

“We have homework?”

“You probably don’t, but I do.”

I just wrinkled my nose at him, looking back down at his work with a questioning gaze. “Oh, yeah? What’s that? Gibberish?”

“No, it’s Math.”

“So, gibberish, then?”

Alex tore his attention away from the problem he was solving and smiled forcibly at me, his patience slowly running thin at the mention of so much ‘gibberish’. “It’s not gibberish, Radley. Math is the language of the universe.”

“Well, apparently, the universe had a stroke because this is nonsense.” I laughed at my joke but stopped halfway when I noticed how he looked at me with utter disbelief—jaws slacked, eyebrows furrowed, and his posture leaning forward as if ready to pounce at me. “I mean, just look at it. It looks like hieroglyphics. If I knew we were gonna learn sorcery, I should’ve just gone to Hogwarts.”

“Radley, this isn’t hieroglyphics and neither is it sorcery. This is calculus. You have that subject, too, don’t you?” Alex’s voice was laced with exasperation as he looked over his notes scattered across his desk.

“Yeah, and I can confidently say that it makes no sense.”

“It would if you were any smarter.”

I glared at the back of his head before deciding to steal his pen from him and throw it out the window. He snapped around to face me and I just shrugged, ready to throw the next pen he’ll pick up from the collection that he had on his desk.

He frowned at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Seriously?”

I shrugged, already eyeing the next pen in his collection. “Ready to lose another one?”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “Why do I even bother with you?”

"That, I don’t know the answer to. Anyway, do you wanna go to a party tonight?" I asked, changing the topic, and Alex furrowed his eyebrows in response.

"I'll think about it."

"Dude. It's a Saturday, and you're doing homework. What do you think the other students would say if they found out you're such a nerd?"

"I don't care what they think."

"No, I think you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be out there spreading rumors about yourself, now, would you?"

Alex noticeably paused, his hand hovering over his notes. I watched as the realization of my words sank in, and a smile started to slowly creep across my lips.

"Come to the party with me, or I'll tell everyone about your secret. I'll text you the address."

He stared at me, a mixture of frustration and resignation in his eyes. "Fine, I'll go. But this is the last time you use that against me."

I laughed, patting him on the back. "Sure, sure. Now, I’ll leave you to it. Meet you there at seven.”

...

ALEXANDER CALLAGHAN’S POV

I was thirty minutes late. When Radley had texted the address to the party—which, by the way, was being held in the fanciest condominium tower in the city—I had been busy with other things, and it took me forty minutes before I could even view it. Now, I was late, and he was probably pissed off of his ass while waiting for me.

As I got out of the taxi, I sprinted inside the building, my heart pounding from both the run and the anxiety of facing Radley’s stupid temper. The lobby was as lavish as I had imagined: marble floors, a grand chandelier, and a concierge who barely glanced up as I rushed past. I saw an elevator that was just starting to close with someone inside. Desperate, I yelled for the guy to hold the door, but by the time I reached it, the doors had already closed.

"Asshole!" I yelled in frustration, my voice echoing in the pristine lobby. But then, to my surprise, the elevator doors opened again, revealing the guy inside glaring at me. He was about six feet tall, with a dark aura that screamed danger. His eyes narrowed, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

"Aren't you getting in?" he asked, his voice low and menacing that it actually made me swallow hard.

I blinked, momentarily frozen. "Y-Yeah. Yeah, I am," I managed to say, stepping into the elevator. The doors closed behind me, sealing us into the small, enclosed space.

The man pressed a button, and the elevator began to ascend smoothly. I could feel his eyes on me, and I tried to avoid making eye contact. Instead, I focused on the numbers lighting up above the door, willing the elevator to move faster.

"So, you here for the party?" he asked, breaking the silence.

I nodded. "Yeah, a friend of mine invited me."

He grunted, a sound that could have meant anything. "Cool.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. Thankfully, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. But before I could even escape, he turned to me, blocking my path out of the elevator, and tilted his head to the side, his eyes sharp.

“You seem smart,” he started to say, and I could feel my knees tremble underneath me. “So, surely, if you’re smart enough, you’d know never to call me asshole again. Got that?”

I don’t know what happened, but it was almost instinct. I nodded like a puppy, and a small smirk escaped his lips, tapping me on the cheek with a hand.

“Good.”