Chapter 11
Creed
“Picked a target yet?” Noah asks, settling down in my dorm room, beer in hand.
We’ve been back at Gravemont for a few days. The first fight is next week, and as the reigning champion, I get to challenge my opponent, but so far, I’ve got nothing.
I’ve been too busy pulling my thoughts away from Millie to wonder whose face I want to redecorate with my fists. She’s still not talking to me. Always zips her lips whenever I’m around. What’s more, she’s been avoiding me, rushing away whenever I’m in her sightline.
It’s starting to really piss me off.
Her silence feels like judgment. Like fucking punishment, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it or what she sees when she looks at me. A simple hi would be enough. It’d hold me over for a while if she gave me one word like she gives Noah and Dash. I want to know the sound of her voice.
I’ve been obsessing over it long enough.
“Not yet,” I answer Noah’s question, peeling the label off my beer bottle. “Who do you think I should mark?”
We don’t usually spend time in my room. I like my space clean, private, and empty, but Noah dragged Hyde over, the latter ticking like a bomb because he spotted a bottle of sleeping pills in Millie’s bag at dinner. Noah stopped him before he demanded an explanation.
He always knows what to do...
Him and Dash dragged Hyde in here and my best friend was beside himself, which is understandable, given Millie’s history with pills. Still, getting in her face wouldn’t do either of them any good, which is what Noah and I have been drilling into his head for the last forty minutes.
“Talk to her when you’re not fucking fuming,” Noah clipped. “You go back there now and all you’ll accomplish is another argument.”
I’d be lying if Millie walking around campus with sleeping pills isn’t concerning, but Hyde mentioned that the label read Trazodone and we dove into research. It’s primarily an antidepressant, prescription only, and the overdose threshold is very high.
Thankfully, that convinced Hyde to sit his ass down in my armchair. He hasn’t moved since, shoulders as tense as his jaw.
“I hear Felix is looking for a way to provoke you into a rematch,” Dash pipes in. “Why don’t you just kick his ass again? It’s not like he has a fucking chance.”
“I go into that cage looking for the challenge. Going against the guy I knocked out in record time won’t be that.”
A knock on the door makes my eyebrows pinch. Everyone who’s supposed to be here is here. I don’t think Millie knows which room is mine.
“Who’s that?” I ask when Dash springs up, grinning from ear to ear.
“I invited Millie’s roommate. She’s a real doll.”
“Aren’t all the girls you fuck real dolls?” Noah mutters, taking a long swig of his whiskey.
Fuck, I want a drink, too.
The bottle stands on my coffee table, half-empty, and I keep stealing glances at the cool, amber liquid and the crystal glass beside it. I could have one. Maybe two. Just enough to stop the obsessive thoughts and the buzzing inside my skull.
Noah moves his bishop, lifting his eyes to mine.
There’s been this unspoken tension brewing between us since my father’s funeral. I know it’s about Millie, but neither of us is willing to broach the subject.
It’s not like I made a move... but it’s also not like I haven’t been thinking about this girl for a year. Meeting her has only made things worse. She’s gorgeous, fascinating, and I’m struggling to find reasons to stay the fuck away from her.
I know Noah met her before me. I know he’s better for her than I’ll ever be, but that doesn’t stop me imagining an alternate reality, so... we might have a fucking problem.
“Your turn,” he prompts.
I push my queen across the board, blocking his next move.
“Hello!” a thin, female voice splits my ears.
Abby enters the room, her dark ponytail draped over one shoulder, Dash and his shit-eating grin hot on her tail.
“I’m Abby String.” She points her manicured finger at me. “And you’re Elias Creed.”
“Guilty.”
She beams, pointing out my opponent. “Noah Fairmont, and... my roomie’s big bro, Hyde Ward.”
“Since that’s out of the way...” Dash Ryker points at the couch, urging her to sit. “Do you want a beer?”
“Wine would be better, but beer’s fine.”
“Beer it is.” Hyde pulls a bottle from a crate beside his armchair, handing it to Dash.
I open my water bottle, watching Abby’s molten gaze trace Dash’s every move as he sits, his hand landing on her thigh. “Is Millie not coming over?”
“Oh, no idea. She’s not back yet.”
Hyde’s ears perk up. “Where is she?”
“Said she was going to the library.”
“What time was that?”
“I don’t know, three, maybe four hours ago?”
He looks out the window, eyebrows pulling together. “It’s fucking dark outside. What’s she doing there?”
It takes effort not to roll my eyes. “And is she six? No.”
He grinds his teeth, agitation rolling off him in waves. He lasts a whole seven seconds before he’s up, adjusting his hoodie.
“I’ll go check on her.”
“No, you won’t,” Noah clips, not even looking at him, the authority in his voice ringing loud and clear. “You’ll just confront her about...” He glances briefly at Abby, mincing his words. “Her sleep patterns. Sit your ass down.”
“But—”
“Sit down,” he repeats, checking my king. “I’ll go.”
Fuck. My jaw works, but I don’t have the right to stop him. Hyde does. Too bad he doesn’t, either oblivious to Noah’s cunning, or turning a blind eye.
I don’t fucking like this.
An enticing, completely wrong image pops into my head: Noah, bloodied and bruised, fists wrapped and raised, eyeing me from the other side of the makeshift cage in the abandoned theater basement.
We should settle this Millie problem like adults. Knowing Noah, he’d step aside if I asked, but I’m too proud to ask, so we should set boundaries instead of letting this fester into a backstabbing, dick-measuring contest, but...
Fuck conversations.
My dick’s bigger.
Too bad that doesn’t mean shit and she’ll still choose him. As she should. He’s the better man.