Linc wraps his arm over my shoulder and tilts his head next to mine.
“Finn Walker, you might not know this about yourself, but you are a fucking catch. If this Stone girl doesn’t see it, then fuck it. No skin off your back. But we still need her, brother. Whatever harebrained scheme The Society has in mind, Stone is at the very center of it. You think you’re cool with giving it another go?”
Do I even have a choice?
“Of course he is,” East replies on my behalf. “His cock is ecstatic at the idea of getting near that Southie hotness again. I mean, you have got to see this girl, Linc. So damn hot, your cock would be weeping for weeks,” East jokes, but I feel my features grow somber, not one bit happy with his remark about Stone.
“Don’t talk about her that way. She isn’t like the girls you’re used to.”
“Oh, no? Yeah, I’m sure she’s a goddamn peach. The Southie looks like she can handle her own shit, Finn. No need for you to be playing the knight in shining armor to defend her honor. I wouldn’t dare to say half the shit I am in front of her. Something tells me she’d cut my balls off and make them earrings. Parade them all around the quad, too, like trophies.”
“That’s true. She is a tiny badass, isn’t she?” I ask, somewhat proudly.
“Please don’t make me barf up my muffin,” he quips, looking nauseated. “And take that stupid-ass grin off your face. Seriously, it’s giving me the creeps,” he adds, shivering his body like a cold gust of wind just went through it.
Linc’s phone starts to vibrate, and I can see him receiving another picture from Colt. Only this one differs significantly from the last. His arms are around two freshmen’s shoulders, giving us the thumbs-up as they head into the dead languages’ section of the library. In other words, he’s about to fuck them both, instead of continuing with the research on The Society as he was supposed to.
“I have to get back to school. Colt gets easily distracted with shiny new things,” Linc jokes, finishing up his coffee.
“Yeah, we should get back, too,” I add as I’m about to move my ass out of the booth, but stop when Linc grabs my forearm, giving it a light squeeze.
“Thank you, Finn. For everything,” he hushes out genuinely.
I know his words are sincere, and I wish there wasn’t this small part of me—hidden away in the confines of my hectic being—holding a little bit of resentment for the reason behind his genuine gratitude.
I shrug the hateful sentiment off, not wanting to give it any credence, and throw him a half-assed smile instead of uttering a word.
I mean, what’s the point?
We are all in this boat together. It’s not only Lincoln’s fault we have fallen prey to The Society’s demands. We all played our part that night, and as much as I try to push it to the back of my mind, my hands are just as bloody as his.
On the ride back to campus, I try to think of how I’m going to deal with the whole Stone situation, instead of focusing on past fuck-ups. Maybe I should give her some space to breathe. Give her enough time to miss my stalking ways. Isn’t that how the old proverb goes? Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or some nonsense like that? Couldn’t hurt to try and see if it will work. It sure as hell beats the alternative—me groveling for her attention. Unless, of course, backing off is exactly what she wants from me.
Fuck.
This shit is hard. Do all guys go through this when they want to win a girl over? Because if they do, then I wasn’t missing much.
By the time we get to Richfield, I’ve decided to give Stone a few days for her to get in touch with me. A week should suffice. Okay, maybe less than a week. Three days tops. But do I count Saturday and Sunday, or do I give her three days starting from today? Hmm. Isn’t there some sort of manual on how to deal in these types of situations?
I’m about to google it when Easton parks the car. Since I don’t want his ass to tease me any further for my lack of experience, I stash my phone away, making a mental note to check later for the correct protocol on how to deal with chicks.
However, when we both get out of the car, our attention is quickly grabbed by a herd of college kids in the parking lot, all excitedly on their phones, taking pictures of something I can’t quite make out.
“Wonder what that’s all about?” Easton queries next to me, as we walk closer to the gawking crowd.
With each step I take, there is a twisted feeling in my gut, telling me I’m not going to like it one bit.
“Finn, don’t you usually park your Porsche on this side of the lot?”
I just nod because words fail me as soon as I set my eyes on what everyone is gaping at. My silver Porsche, drenched from hood to tires in pig’s blood, with one single word fingered on the windshield for the whole world to witness—KILLER.
I swallow dryly as the kids around me slap my back in approval. From the strands of endless gibberish coming from the crowd, I realize they are all thinking that this is just some fucked-up hazing from a rival team, wanting to mess with my head before a big game. Thing is, there is no big game this weekend, and if these kids used the same brain cells they are wasting to upload pictures of my wrecked car on every social media platform there is, they would also put two and two together.
“Remember when I said that I would take The Society’s hoopla seriously when shit hit the fan?” Easton asks beside me, nodding at the student body around us as if joining in on the joke. “Well, this is our motherfucking wakeup call that these cunts mean business.”
I crack my knuckles, trying to keep my fake, standoffish grin on my lips, rather than letting the dread set in.
“What do we do now?” I mutter under my breath, not wanting anyone to pick up on my panicked question.
“We don’t do shit. You are the one who has to step up their game.”
“And how exactly do I do that?”
“You know what you have to do, Finn. Go see Stone, man. It’s her they want.”
Chapter 13
Stone
“You look like shit,” Janet laughs, eyeing me up and down after giving me her table’s order.
“Geez, thanks, bitch. Don’t hold back or anything,” I grumble sarcastically as I pour three shots of Jack for her.
She slants her eyes and leans closer to the bar counter, making sure tonight’s clientele get a good eyeful of her ass in that wide belt she insists on calling a skirt. It’s pathetic the lengths my colleague will go to get these rejects grabbing their balls and drooling at the corner of their mouths for an ass that can be bought with a few dollar bills or a line of coke.
I’ve seen Janet too many times on her knees in the storage room, working on her ‘extra income’. If she was trying to earn money to keep her lights on or her fridge stocked up, I’d think it as a sad situation. Still, since it’s just for her to snort up her nose or shoot down her vein, I couldn’t be more repulsed about how she comes by the extra cash.
The problem with Janet giving her hoochie away like it’s Christmas morning is that some of these losers think I’m just as skanky and easily bought. Though they quickly learn how that isn’t the case when they try to put their hands on me. I don’t fall to my knees unless I’m in the mood, and only in front of who I damn well please—the losers that come every night to Big Jim’s don’t make the cut.