Chapter 9
CROSS
“I’ll deal with you in a minute,” I grit out to Tyler then scoot in behind Scarlett into the bathroom. I close and lock the door behind my back then lean on it for good measure. God only knows why my best friend was escorting my stepsister to the bathroom, but I’m about to find out.
She spins, her long hair fanning out with the movement. It carries a strong whiff of beer.
“Jesus, you smell like a brewery.” I raise my eyebrow. “How long have you been here?”
“Like five minutes,” she says under her breath. “And I’ll be leaving as soon as you give me a minute of privacy.”
I scoff. “Yeah, right. I give an inch, and you take a mile.”
Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding? You’ve made my life impossible.”
“I haven’t even gotten warmed up, princess.”
Ooh, she doesn’t like that pet name. Her face pinches, and she abruptly turns away from me. Still, she can’t hide her anger. Her reflection in the wide mirror over the counter gives her away.
Someone bangs on the door. “Come on! There’s a line!”
I motion for her to get going with whatever she needs to do. It was important enough for Tyler to walk her over here…and no one would mess with him cutting the line.
“Get out,” she hisses.
I roll my eyes. “Do you not know the meaning of the word no?”
She pales but tries to cover up her unease with a roll of those annoyingly pretty eyes.
I settle against the door and cross my arms. After a long pause, she shrugs out of her sweater and turns on the tap.
My eyebrows nearly rise into my hair at the sight.
Her smooth, pale skin… She’s wearing a bralette that extends halfway down her stomach.
It covers more of her than a bikini top would.
But she still turns away from me slightly as she cups water in her hand and rinses off her arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Some girl spilled beer on me,” she says hotly.
“And here I thought you just had a drinking problem.” I cock my head. “Why wear a sweater to a party, anyway?”
“I didn’t know I was coming here, genius. And I’ll be leaving immediately after this.”
“Right.”
She’s intriguing. I hate to admit it, but I can’t tear my attention away from her. And she took her shirt off with barely a push of peer pressure. What else could I get her to do?
“You don’t believe me?” Her eyes narrow briefly, meeting mine in the mirror. Before we can lock in, she crouches and opens the cabinet doors, digging through some stranger’s shit until she emerges with a dingy washcloth.
My eyebrows rise higher, but I don’t comment when she uses it to pat dry her skin. It’s probably cleaner than the damp hand towel everyone else has been using tonight.
“Okay.” She tosses the washcloth on the counter. “Let me out.”
“Out.” I consider it. “Tempting, but no.”
“No?”
I smirk. “You haven’t paid the toll, princess.”
She grabs her sweater, but I snatch it from her grasp.
“No, no, we’re not doing that,” I chide. “We haven’t even begun to discuss your latest transgressions. They’re stacking up.”
“With you, every glance is a slight.”
“That’s true. Better only look at my feet, then.”
When her gaze doesn’t drop, I smile wider. Why is riling her up so much fun?
But then, all at once, I remember the topic at hand: the fucking embarrassment from this afternoon.
Did that hit suck? Absolutely.
Did Scarlett Wallace running out on the field like I’d been shot make it any better? Hell no. In fact, it opened a can of worms—questions from my teammates about the hot new girl fawning over me. I can only praise some higher entity that no one but Tyler knows she’s my stepsister.
I have a reputation to uphold. Also, my coach doesn’t exactly know about my fighting, and I worked damn hard to hide my injuries. So it took me a bit longer to get up today… I’m fine. Stanley got me some hardcore painkillers a while ago, and I’ll be leaning on those for the next few days.
None of that matters, however, if Scarlett reveals my secrets—even ones she unwittingly holds.
And coddling me like a baby.
No, thanks.
Hard pass.
Plus, the audacity. In what world does Scarlett care about me?
I consider that–and then her angle. She was snooping in my room and discovered my cash, although she hasn’t figured out why I have it. She won’t get that from me. But perhaps that’s her angle? She wants the money…or she wants me to go easy on her.
Two things that are laughable at best and infuriating at worst.
My original mission–to make her life hell–stands, no matter how worried she seemed on the field.
I lift my shirt, exposing my bruised torso. “This, Scarlett, is none of your fucking business.”
She gasps.
Yes, the colors are a bit more, uh…vibrant than they were yesterday, no thanks to that hit today. But Coach was none the wiser, and I blamed my few mistakes on lack of sleep. Luckily, he didn’t ask too many questions. Tyler did a great job of distracting him.
Tomorrow might be a different story.
I drop her shirt. It slips through my fingers, landing at my feet.
“Oops.” I go to grab it and let out a pained groan.
“Oh, god. No, I’ve got it.” She immediately goes to her knees in front of me.
She reaches for it without thinking, leaning forward, and I get a great look at her tits. But just for a moment. Then, I unlock the door and twist the knob, stepping aside to allow it to swing inward. It just misses her–and she just misses it.
“God, Scarlett, you’d do anything to suck my dick.”
I project my voice, and the loudness of it startles her.
“Why are you so desperate? I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
She flinches.
I spin on my heel and leave her there. To my satisfaction, I caught more than a few people’s attention. Some even have their phones out. I hide my smirk behind a stoic expression and push through the crowd.
Tyler catches my eye, but I shake my head and keep moving.
Best not to witness Scarlett’s crocodile tears and her attempts to get out of this one.
I get home in record time. My carefully curated buzz has worn off, along with the remnants of the painkiller I popped this afternoon. Scarlett is most likely still at the party, battling embarrassment. She seems like the type to try to put on a brave face. She’ll ignore the stares because of pride.
Which puts time on my side.
Once inside, I type in the code on the security panel on the wall in the entryway. It’ll reactivate in a minute, and the screen flashes red twice before going back to its normal blue to confirm.
I grab a glass of water and carry it upstairs then pause in the hallway.
My gaze goes to Scarlett’s closed door.
I shouldn’t…
But I could.
And fuck that I shouldn’t. She did it to me first.
Jesus, I sound like a child with that attitude. But if I go back to my mission of blackmailing her into doing my schoolwork, I’d probably have better luck finding something in her room.
Well, it’s decided.
I slip into her room and flick on the light. I’m sure I’ll get a little warning with her fumbling on the keypad downstairs, at any rate—if she decides to come home.
But also, her finding me snooping would only even the score, right?
Her room is not what I expected. It’s not neat–not like how I keep mine–but it’s not messy, either. There are clothes draped over a chair in the corner, and the comforter on the bed is lumpy and half-heartedly covering the bed.
I take it all in and focus on the closet.
Everything in it is organized–boxes along the top and some tucked away, clothes on hangers.
Normal shit. I give the boxes some attention, but there isn’t much of note.
Old notebooks and textbooks, presumably from her fancy Ivy League, photos of her posing with strangers.
I flip through a stack of pictures. The girl in these is drastically different to the one who’s been living in this house.
This one is more like the version of Scarlett I witnessed at the wedding.
Even though her glare cut during the ceremony, she was quick to smile and laugh with her family. She danced.
Call me crazy, but I cannot picture the Scarlett I know now to dance. And she probably hasn’t had any reason to smile lately.
Anyway.
I drop them back in and pick up a calculus textbook, just out of curiosity. I couldn’t give a shit about differential equations, but does she write in her textbooks?
Perhaps not.
I leaf through it, and suddenly, a folded paper slips free.
It falls and glides away. I grab it and unfold it then freeze. I have to reread it three times to understand the paper prescription, then I give up and search the long medication name on my phone.
Emergency contraceptive.
Oh, shit.
I let out a low whistle.
Scarlett has some secrets, all right.
She went out and had unprotected sex…and thought she might be pregnant?
I take a picture and put it back in the calculus textbook, smiling to myself. I make sure everything is just as it was, the closet closed, the lights off, and head back to my room.
Not sure when I’ll use this information against her, because it feels almost too good to be true. And too big to use on a whim. No, this will take careful planning. And when it does come out?
Checkmate.
She better start packing early. I have a feeling she’ll be sprinting back to Yale by the time I’m through with her.