Chapter 5 Cross
CROSS
My phone chirps. The incoming alert is from the security system that Wallace–my mom’s new husband, not the demon living across the hall from me–forced on us. I was around when they showed up and installed it, and Scarlett was nowhere to be found.
It’s not my fault she missed the instructions on how to shut off the alarm system.
That’s what the text is: an automated message that the silent alarm has been triggered. Wonder how many family codes she tried to type in?
And how long is it going to take her to give up and call me?
The text has asked if it was a mistake or if emergency services should be dispatched. Another minute, and I think I’ll get a call.
Bzzzz.
Yep.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Mr. Lopez? This is Nick with Wallace Security. The silent alarm is currently going off at your residence. Do you require assistance?”
I sigh. “No, Nick, it’s just my bumbling idiot of a stepsister. You can kill it.”
“Kill–”
“The alarm, Nick. Thanks, buddy.” I hang up on him and finish stapling the last flyer up in the library announcement section. The dining hall ones disappeared, but this is just phase one of my mission to make Scarlett’s life hell.
Honestly? I don’t give a fuck if she receives a single email–although, I do rip some of the tags off, just to give people the idea that someone’s interested. I just live for her embarrassment and suffering.
Once my handiwork is done, I head downstairs and check in for my first tutoring session. It’s a grudging act, but I’d rather not dig myself into a deeper hole.
In a way, it’s good that the security system works. With twenty grand hidden in my closet, it’s nice to know who’s coming and going. Plus, there are little sensors on all the first-floor windows too.
Scarlett won’t be able to so much as crack a window without me knowing.
I smirk. The control of it all is going straight to my head. And I haven’t even seen her reaction yet.
“Your tutor isn’t here yet,” the girl at the desk says. “Take a seat, okay?”
I grimace. “How long do I have to wait to get credit for showing up? Like, if they don’t?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
I start the stopwatch on my phone and flash it at her. “Great. Thanks.”
She sighs and motions me into the room. I saunter past her and scan my options. There are five round tables, all covered in gaudy, overly colorful plastic tablecloths. Each one has six chairs. This room must double as something else…
Two of the five have students seated at them, their heads bent together over textbooks.
Gross.
I drag out a chair at the farthest table and drop into it. My back to the wall, I have a clear view of everyone coming in and out. I drop my phone on the table and lean back, crossing my ankles. The stopwatch ticks onward, first one minute then six. Only nine more and I’m free.
What I should be doing is focusing on my upcoming fight. It’s tonight, but the location is still undetermined. I’ll get a text an hour prior, along with everyone else on the list. From there, it spreads by word-of-mouth. Invite only.
Of course, tons of extras usually show up. Half the students at SVU end up in the crowd. That’ll be fun, letting them all see me lose…
As it has every time I’ve thought about it since that meeting, my stomach cramps.
I can’t believe I’m willingly doing this.
In my spare time, I’ve been apartment shopping.
But part of me likes the idea of making Wallace uncomfortable, and how am I to do that from somewhere else? Giving up the house is like giving in.
The memory of coming downstairs and finding her sitting next to my mother on the couch, watching a movie, rears its ugly head. The hatred that rushed through me in that moment was hard to control. I had to leave the house before I exploded.
In that regard, she’s already taking pieces of my family that she doesn’t deserve.
I drum my fingers on my thighs. My phone shows twelve minutes when someone rushes into the room.
My lip curls.
“Sorry, sorry,” Scarlett apologizes to the girl at the desk. “Who am I tutoring?”
She turns around, and I grimace.
“You’re kidding me…”
My thoughts exactly. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud.
I watch Scarlett visibly shut off her disdain for me. She puts her shoulders back, stands up straighter, and marches across the room. She stops across the table from me, her expression carefully blank.
Her honey-blonde hair is caught up in a messy pile on top of her head.
She’s wearing glasses, which I haven’t seen on her before.
It, plus the dark eye makeup, makes her green eyes pop.
Unfortunately. Paired with the oversized hoodie, sweats, and sneakers she’s got on, I’d say she’s really trying to not impress whomever she thought she’d be tutoring.
I file that information away, only because I suspect she had no idea her tutoring session was with me. Hell, I’m still a bit in disbelief that the universe conspired so hard to force us together again.
“Cross, what a lovely surprise.”
My eyebrow leaps up of its own accord. “Careful, Wallace, or else I’d think you arranged this.”
Anger flashes across her face. “Trust me, I’d never.”
“Of course.” I hit end on my stopwatch and show it to her. “But unfortunately, you’re more than fifteen minutes late. So, I’ll be going.”
I grab my bag and stand. She moves to block me, and I look down at her. She’s average height for a girl, but I can still easily see the top of her head—and down her blouse. Her tits are pressed together in her bra, and I catch a glimpse of black lace before she drills her finger into my chest.
“You want to touch me, Wallace?” I lean in. “Start lower.”
She jerks back.
“Or at least flash your tits and make it worth it.”
“Ew, you pig.” She crosses her arms, but all it does is lift the only promising asset she has. “You’re my stepbrother.”
“Emphasis on step, if you want to go there.” I grin. “If you’re shy, we can always role reverse. I can tutor you on how to give the perfect blowjob.”
Her jaw drops. “This conversation is only getting worse.”
I shrug. “I’m trying to leave, Wallace. You’re the one standing in my way.”
“Because–” She grimaces. “I was within my fifteen-minute window. You’re the one who made me late, anyway.”
“How’s that?” I make a show of looking around. “I was here the whole time, waiting on you.”
“The stupid security system,” she hisses. “It wouldn’t stop beeping and declaring me an intruder.”
“You kind of are.” I tilt my head. “Any thoughts about going back to your Ivy League?”
Her expression goes cold. “No.”
“Shame. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I brush past her. I show the desk girl my stopwatch, frozen just past fifteen, and make a face at her. Then I keep moving, lest the demon behind me decides to give chase or something.
Damn.
I was hoping for a chill tutor that would kind of do a whole bunch of my work for me.
I stop in my tracks.
That’s it.
Scarlett is the perfect person to do just that.
No, no, I don’t think she’d actually do my work out of the goodness of her heart. But she probably would do it if I blackmailed her into it…which means my mission to move out, which was already paused, is now on hold indefinitely.
As is my avoiding her.
I glance over my shoulder, but she hasn’t reappeared. No doubt she’s trying to get this to be my fault, like some last-ditch effort to keep a spotless record. Too bad it’s been tarnished before she’s even begun.
I pause and glance at the bulletin board. The flyers are still in place, which means she probably rushed by and missed them. There are a few of the tear-away pieces gone. I type in her email and send her the security system alarm code. With any luck, it’ll get lost amongst the spam.
Step one: find one of Scarlett’s deep, dark secrets. A girl like her has to have a few skeletons in her closet.
Step two: use it against her. Mercilessly. And get some decent grades while I’m at it.
My phone pings as I’m walking out. Anticipation and nerves burst to life inside me when I see who’s messaging.
Stanley: Got early word on the fight location. Be there at 10PM sharp.
Another text immediately follows with a map pin.
I click it and zoom in, nodding to myself. The fight is at an abandoned factory I’ve been to before. It’s on the other side of town, sandwiched between businesses that haven’t been so unlucky as to go bankrupt in this economy. By ten, though, it should be all cleared out.
Me: Got it.
I switch over to my text thread with Tyler.
Me: Need some last-minute prep before my fight tonight. You around?
Tyler: Yeah, just leaving my ma’s
Me: Race you to the gym
Tyler: You’re on
Running drills and hitting something will help me feel better—especially since I’m going to be taking a beating later tonight.