But I do sympathize with the guy. I sincerely do. I know exactly how it feels to be born under a bad moon. No amount of prayer or rock salt can change your bad juju. But unlike Lincoln, I’m going to break the cursed cycle I was born into. I’ll get from under this rock and breathe fresh air far away from Asheville soon enough. I’ve worked too hard to stop now. Distractions like Finn Walker and his buddies aren’t going to help get me there, either.
So they came to my neck of the woods tonight. Who fucking cares? Not my problem and not my concern. I’ll archive that sexy kiss the quarterback landed on me into the filing cabinet in my head under the label of ‘things best forgotten’.
I trace my thumb over my lips for just a measly second, recalling pretty boy’s kiss one last time. Sure it was possessive and dominating, but it was also sweet and tender. And I don’t do sweet. Sweet leads to feelings, and I definitely don’t do those.
So, I guess that’s that.
Finn got his jollies kissing a Southie, and I got what will most likely be my last kiss for the rest of my senior year. With school starting tomorrow, all I want to think about is acing every class, instead of hot-as-fuck quarterbacks who can kiss the panties off a nun. Let him have fun with the pretty Barbie doll look-alikes that drool all over him because of his games. If he thinks he’ll be able to play with me or my time as easily as he does with those football groupies, he’s sorely mistaken.
I’m no man’s toy.
I shouldn’t worry too much about it, though.
I doubt I’ll ever see Finn Walker again.
Chapter 5
Finn
I wait patiently by the stairs, knowing Stone will have to come this way sooner or later to get to her next class. It’s been five days since East and I went to that shitty bar she works at, and I was really starting to think the only way I could see her again was if I went back there. Although we’re being blackmailed—and all that nonsense—I’d really rather not step foot in that dump again if I can help it.
Thankfully, one of Easton’s so-called buddies came through and got her schedule for me. I have to say, it was fucking impressive. It wasn’t the fact that Easton’s guy was able to get hold of a student’s personal info that fascinated me. I know damn well you can get anything if you’re willing to pay the right price. No, that wasn’t what grabbed my attention.
What impressed me was Stone’s college courses. Being a scholarship kid, I knew the girl had to have some serious brains on her, but I never expected to such an extent. Stone has some heavy workload on her hands with two majors—one in pre-law and the other in political science. And if Easton’s intel is on point, she has been kicking ass and taking names in all her classes since her freshman year.
Even though I know nothing about Stone, the piece of paper holding her daily hustle tells me that not only is she as smart as a whip, but she also has the fierce drive and discipline to work her butt off, striving to be the best in everything.
Stone’s ambition and commitment is something I understand wholeheartedly, so I can’t help but respect the smart-mouthed girl for her take-no-prisoners attitude. Even though our backgrounds are as far from each other as two could possibly be, I guess the hunger to be the best is one thing we have in common.
On and off the field, I give my very all in everything I do. Sure, my heart might not be in playing ball anymore, but that doesn’t mean I have the luxury to half-ass it. Not only does my team depend on me to get us into the national playoffs, but so do all the fans that come out every weekend to cheer us on, screaming from the top of their lungs in elation every time I score a touchdown.
For me, being second best is the same thing as losing. One thing that being Hank Walker’s son has taught me is that losing is never an option. Even if I were at the Olympics playing any sport other than football and only brought home the silver medal, I’m sure my father would throw it in the trash and bitch-slap me so fast it would make my head spin.
Second place doesn’t cut it in our family, and neither do slackers. Your disgraces are a direct reflection of the Walker name. If you suck, so do the people around you who enabled that defeated mentality. I guess when you hear that type of talk all your life, you do everything in your power not to bring your family dishonor or lose the faith your fans and teammates have put on your shoulders.
It’s a fucking burden, but it’s my reality just the same. My type of desperate drive comes from some pretty dark places sometimes. Places that will have you doing whatever is necessary so as not to visit often.
I know by heart what my motivations are. I just don’t know Stone’s. However, I hardly think you have to be a rocket scientist to figure them out. The shithole she works at and the part of town she lives in is kind of a dead giveaway as to what her reasons are behind her fearless gumption. The girl wants out of the hellhole she was born into and will claw her way out with gritted teeth and sharp nails if she needs to. You have to admire that. But somewhere along the way, Stone must have pissed off the wrong fucking people.
If she hadn’t, then she wouldn’t be on The Society’s radar.
They haven’t made any further contact after their first letters to Lincoln and me, so I’m still not sure exactly what they want with Stone. However, it’s clear she’s persona non grata, enough for them to put me on her scent. If they are as organized and ruthless as legend claims, then they’ve done their due diligence and know damn well I won’t quit until the job is done, whatever that may be. That’s just who I am, whether I’m comfortable with it or not.
Whatever I have to do, I just hope it doesn’t have too much of a blowback on Stone. Not that I care about the girl, mind you. I mean, how could I when I don’t even know her? It’s just, after I’ve had a few days to think about it, I can’t say it sits well with me to intentionally mess with a girl who has her shit together and wants a better life than the one afforded her.
Yep. The girl definitely made an impression.
Can’t say I did the same for her, though, since she had no qualms in demonstrating exactly what she thought of me—or as she so eloquently put it, my kind. To Stone, I’m nothing but another spoiled, rich asshole from the north end of Asheville, who has nothing better to offer the world than to throw a fucking ball.
I guess we all have our prejudices and misconceptions of people just from which side of the fence they’re born on. I have to admit, I’ve been guilty of being just as judgmental as she was. However, the minute I took one look at her schedule and realized I’m probably going to fuck up this girl’s life somehow, the idea of it made me a little nauseous.
But a sick stomach can’t compare with living behind iron bars for the rest of my life.
So there’s that. No matter how shitty this situation is, it can get a whole lot worse. If I have to protect myself and my friends, and ensure our freedom by doing some shady shit to the Southie, then so be it.
Sorry, Stone. Guess you’re on the losing team.
I’m still deep in my own twisted reverie when I catch a raven ponytail with bluish tips bouncing off in the distance across the courtyard. But she turns a corner, heading in a completely different direction than what I was expecting.