Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
HANNAH
“Ready?”
“Ready.” Krystal stands next to me, both of us staring down the quad. "You sure we won’t get kicked out for this?”
“No,” I reassure her, taking her hand in mine. “I’m Hannah Alfonso, and you’re Krystal Rowen. And we’re going to act like it.”
With one step forward in my platforms, Krystal follows with our heads held high and strides fit for a runway. With Michelle Nam as her mother, Krystal is no newbie to walking with attitude. She's taller, so I make sure my walk keeps up.
The last few weeks, we’ve kept our heads down.
Classes, then studio, rinse and repeat. Take out.
The studio scattered with lace, silk and leather.
The whirr of the machine steady in my head.
I’d be up til the wee hours some nights, only stopping when Rye brings me food.
Or breaking long enough for him to fuck me against the fabric-scattered floor.
“Is that Hannah and Krystal?”
“Oh my god, what are they wearing?”
“This is about to be iconic.”
Oh, and what we’re wearing? Two corset dresses laced with silk ribbon all the way through the back. Krystal’s in black while I’m in crimson red. It’s the rejects from our show, too tame for our vision. But that doesn’t mean they’re not show-stopping. Ask our audience.
Jaws drop as we make our way through the quad.
Then, when I know I have the attention of our fellow students, I reach into my large black velvet bag and toss out red rose petals.
Krystal follows when I do, throwing down silver foil cards that glimmer under the sun.
Eye-catching. Just like us. Students scramble for what falls out of our bags.
If they know me and the Rowens, they know the fight for a card is worth it.
The quad becomes covered in roses and cards in no time, students looking at those cards in awe. Chatter erupts, but students don’t dare approach us with questions. Without a word, we continue through the skating rink doors, locking them behind us so no one follows.
“That was smooth,” Krystal says, peeking through the glass window.
Joining her, both of us watch as students continue to scramble for the remaining cards. On them are QR codes with the name and time of the event. And each card only admits one.
“Still a good team,” I remind her. “I’m happy they can see us working together.”
Krystal adjusts her beret as I adjust the black butterfly clips in my hair. We smile, a friendship I never saw happening growing, and not just because I’m fucking her brother. I’ve found something genuine in her, too.
Who knew the Rowens had so much heart?”
“And if they see you and Ryung working together?” Krystal’s smile tells me she knows she’s poking.
“The locker room is that way,” I instruct, ignoring her question. “I’ll meet you back here.”
Krystal takes my hand, stopping me. “You sure you’ll be okay?” Her eyes search my face. “With whatever it is you're doing?” She squints her eyes like she’s trying to read my master plan.
“Don’t worry, this is still my domain.” I push my velvet bag to her chest. “I’ve got this.”
Leaving Krystal behind, I move down the hallway towards the men's locker room. Glass cases with trophies and plaques line the wooden and quartz wall as I pass, but it’s all a blur.
Heat comes to my skin when I’m reminded of what happened here last time, Rye and I in a position I never thought we’d be in.
A position I now crave. It also reminds me why I’m doing this.
I hope I don’t fuck it up. If my profs get wind of this, it’s game over, and I’m already on thin ice.
“Looking good, Hannah,” Vince calls, leaving Coach Winslow’s office in his hockey gear. Scratches and cuts still remain on his face, a reminder of what Rye did to stand up for me.
I don’t look at him when I respond. “If you’re too stupid to remember what happens when you make a pass at a Crown’s girl, that’s on you, Vince.”
He stalls, piecing it together. “So you are with Rowen.”
“That shouldn’t scare you.” My heels clack towards him, my eyes narrowing into his lizard greens.
“Committing assault should scare you so much more. But I dare you to try what you did at the party again because this time, I’ll be the first to hit you.
Rye will be the last.” His mouth opens and closes like he’s looking for an answer.
Like he’s trying to weigh the pros and cons of what he wants to do.
But instead of waiting, I move towards the office.
“He’ll disappoint you,” Vince calls.
“You’re the last person who should warn me about a man.” He’s not worth looking over my shoulder. “He’s everything you could never be.” With my chin pointed to the ceiling, I make my way into Coach’s office.
Coach sighs the minute I’m through the door. “Mister Rowen isn’t here.”
“I’m not here for him.” And with that, I close the door behind me. “Put him back on the team. You know he’s one of the best.”
“He slept with my wife,” Coach Winslow states like he's bored. He doesn't lift his head from what he’s writing, ignoring my presence.
“Oh, I know.” Reaching into my leather tote, I pull out a folder I know will put this conversation to rest. “I have your texts asking him to.” Placing the folder on the table, I show my cards, opening it to reveal large copies of their texts.
“You told him to play the games, keep your wife smiling, and he gets ice time. Isn’t that true?
” Now, Coach is quiet, his plump cheeks red.
“What’ll happen when the board finds out about this?
” I lean in, showing off what the Coach can’t have.
“But I’ll keep this our little secret when you put Rye back on the team. ”
“And what will you do if I show the dean you and lover-boy’s filthy romp in my office?”
Ew, he watched that?
Straightening up, I know this game. I play it well. “That’s nothing compared to what you’ve been complicit in. How much more embarrassing would that be for the school? You’ve seen his headlines. You know the power the press has.”
“Listen, I do what I have to do to keep everyone in my life happy.” He leans back in his chair as if he’s proud of his choices.
“No matter what. And these papers don’t prove a thing.
” He throws them back at me. “They’re just papers.
Anyone can fabricate texts. What’s wrong?
Are you jealous, sweetie?” He laughs. “You need to let this go.”
A smile spreads across my face before I pull my phone from between my tits. “Good thing I have this on video.” His entire demeanour changes, sitting up in his seat. He swipes for the phone, but even in heels, I’m quicker, taking a large step back.
“So, what’ll it be, Coach?” His eyes move between me and the phone, inspired by Krystal's classic tactics.
Sometimes winning is simple.
“Turn it off!” he demands.
I shrug before doing as he says. “Sure, I already have everything I need."
“What’s in it for you, Alfonso?”
“Nothing,” I say, and for the first time, it’s true. “I just owe it to him.”
The room goes silent, like he’s running options through his head before his head hangs. Then he folds. “Tell him to join practice on Sunday. If he’s late, he’s out."
Rye
“You win.”
Hannah turns around in an outfit worthy of my attention. The delicate red lace clings to her skin, looking extra soft under the lights.
“I always win,” she says, twirling as the skinny gold chains attached to her lingerie sparkle in her eyes. “I knew you’d like it.”
The crystals attached to her harness lead to the cuffs on her wrist. They shimmer with her as she approaches me, and I can’t take my eyes off one bit.
My crimson and gold shirt over my leather slacks is nothing in comparison.
I'm covered up tonight. I don't have the patience if any other girl gets the wrong idea.
I'm here for her. Her only.
Jesus, who the fuck am I?
“I adore it.” Taking her hand, I pull her against me, the warmth of her skin permeating the silk on mine. Brushing her hair off her shoulder gives me access to her ear. “But I want it and you on the floor.”
Her cheeks turn that hint of red, and I want to bite into them. “Tonight’s big, Rye. Real big. And you’re distracting me.”
A growl escapes me anyway. “I’ll show you something real big.”
“Ew,” Krystal’s voice distracts me as she walks into the pool house. “Stop it and stare.” She places her hands on her hips. “How do I look?”
“No.” I’m quick to respond, her outfit stifling the desire in me.
“Don’t do that,” Krystal groans, giving me the look she gives our parents when they’re being unfair. She’s the one waltzing in here in a red velvet corset and lace suspenders. Sure, she has a long robe on, but it’s open, revealing way too much.
“No,” I repeat.
“She’s beautiful.” Hannah walks over to her, straightening something on her dress. She fixes her hair, smiling at her in a way my mother never would.
“Give her something else,” I say.
“It’s my collection,” Hannah says. “She wears it.”
I’ll admit the outfit looks incredible, something you’d see in a Parisian lingerie store. But still. “Remember what I did to Vince?”
“Well, I doubt Vince is here,” Hannah says. She turns to the row of chairs and mirrors set up to the side. Her posse sits in each one, getting their hair and makeup done to perfection.
The entire pool house is a backstage fashion show cliche with scattered racks of fabric, boxes of shoes, makeup and hair supplies. Hairspray combines with the pungent smell of nail polish and burnt hair, but all I want to smell is her.
“I wouldn't be surprised," Krystal says. ‘Have you seen the place? The garden’s never been this full.”
Hannah's eyes widen. “And I’m so behind.” She turns away from Krystal, grabbing a pair of scissors before rushing towards Zurie. She’s in a playsuit Hannah designed, a sinful combination of dark red leather and lace. “Ten minutes!”
It's hard to take my eyes off her, in her element like she’s done this a thousand times. She keeps her poise, but I see a falter in her facade when she whips her head back to Krystal.
“Did you just say full?” Hannah rushes to the curtain-covered sliding doors where I stand. "Holy shit," she mutters. Glancing back, she calls to the room. “Nine minutes!”
Taking a look behind the curtain with her, the place is even fuller than when I slipped in.
I recognize faces from campus, bodies dressed in their own interpretations of hedonistic attire.
All crimson. They crowd the stage we set over the pool, and I can feel the anticipation, the buzz stretching across the yard.
We covered the pool in plexiglass, making it a stable runway.
Then we decorated the area with dark red roses and candles.
It looks stunning as the sun starts to set.
“Krystal’s right," she whispers. Hannah’s body stiffens, and I can tell something’s up, even if she won’t admit it. “It’s really packed.”
“Oh, Kitten.” My hand wraps around her. Pulling her close, I can feel her heartbeat against my chest. “You already have them. Save those nerves for when you need them.”
“Places!” Someone calls from inside the room. Everything shuffles, Hannah’s models moving towards the door in their delicate outfits.
“You got this, Hannah!"
“This is going to be great!”
“I’m so excited!”
The girls all give her words of encouragement as they file out of the pool house and take their places behind a velvet curtain in front of the stage. The makeup artists and other helpers follow behind them, wishing Hannah the best.
“This is really happening,” Hannah whispers, her focus still on the crowd.
“Look at them wearing you, walking for you.” Taking the scissors out of her hand, I press the blades against her skin. I feel her breath stop. “Relax. There’s nothing to worry about except what I’m about to do to you.”