Chapter 4
Sev
I sleep like the dead after the night with Weston.
I’d gone to the Zenith night to fight—really fight, after feeling like a caged animal for months in my room. But it didn’t happen, at either of the last two Zenith parties.
Yesterday I got one bitter prize, at least. A trophy I’ll have in my arsenal for the rest of my time at this school.
Weston Knox, giving himself to me. A prize I didn’t know I wanted.
And God, how fucking perfect he was on his knees.
I wake up Sunday morning after the best sleep I’ve had in months. I’m outside in the thaw of spring minutes later, on my way to solidifying the routine I’ve missed so badly while healing from my injury.
I go the gym first.
I work out hard, pushing it to nearly two hours.
I call and check in on Mom, who’s still sorting through the ashes of her latest painful divorce, the fourth marriage she’s suffered through.
And I remind her of all the shit I already know like it’s tattooed onto my soul instead of my skin:
Relationships are bullshit.
You deserved so much more.
You’re better off alone.
I’m living proof that being alone is better.
And sometimes I’m rewarded in the best ways for it, like on Saturday night, getting an infuriating frat boy eating right out of the palm of my hand.
If only everything were as easy as Weston Knox was.
“Yo,” my cousin Niko says as he swings open the front door to Onyx House the next morning, stepping out onto the street.
“Where’s your boy?” I ask.
“Sleeping in. I had him up late again last night, because he walked in wearing this stupidly fucking hot tight sweater—”
“I don’t need the details, Niko.”
Niko’s dating one of his society frat brothers, Oliver, and they’ve been attached at the hip and mouth like they’re trying to win an award for public displays of affection.
“Anyway,” Niko says. “How are you?”
“Very good, after this weekend.”
“I assume you did something totally depraved, but you’re not going to give me the details on that?”
“You assume correctly.”
“Got it,” he says. “Not even going to ask.”
Fucked your frat bro’s throat.
But that’s my little secret.
We take off down the street toward main campus. Crimson College is at its best when the seasons change. Spring is just starting to peek out from the end of winter, with tiny buds forming on a few of the trees and fresh green grass appearing where there used to be piles of snow.
Campus is bustling when we get to the quad. A new quarter just began, and most of the students look a little peppier than a couple of weeks ago, when they were swamped with midterm exams.
“You’re TAing for Sellwood’s class now?” Niko asks me as we walk down one of the tree-lined paths of the quad.
“Starting today, and I don’t know what the fuck she’s going to expect of me,” I tell him. “I did well in the class last year, but I didn’t think she’d actually accept me as a class assistant now.”
“You’re smart as fuck, Sev.”
“When I’m doing my own work, yes. Fixing up a classic car, sure. But I’m not a history major. Helping underclassmen with their history homework is going to be the death of me.”
“God, you might be the worst class assistant ever, come to think of it. You do know you can’t punch the students when they get the answer wrong?”
I look at him with mock disgust. “You think so low of me, Niko. I can restrain myself from punching people. Unless they piss me off, obviously.”
He snorts. “Anyway. It’ll be good for your resume. End of story.”
“I know.”
Niko gives me a little shove. “And the prof probably wants to fuck you. I saw how she looked at you last week.”
I made the mistake of dropping by Prof Sellwood’s office last week when I was walking home with Niko, and ever since, he’s been convinced she wants my ass.
“Dr. Sellwood wouldn’t fuck up her career by flirting with a class assistant, whether she wants my dick or not.”
“Which she does.”
“Not interested.”
Niko sighs. “Well, then, I’ll keep trying to find someone to help you break your dry spell.”
Our shoes crunch on the gravel as we cross over toward the history building.
“No need.”
“Oh, shit,” he says. “Did you break it this weekend? That’s part of the juicy details you weren’t going to tell me? Fuck yes, Sev.”
I pull in a long breath. “I love you, but I will kill you, Niko.”
“You got fuckin’ laid this weekend. Proud of you.”
The memory of Weston’s mouth on my cock hits me.
I didn’t get laid, exactly.
I gave Weston Knox the punishment he deserved, and it happened to get me off.
I’m not going to say shit about that to Niko, though. Weston is Niko’s half-brother, and there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let slip what happened. The two of them only first met a few months ago, after not knowing each other their entire lives.
I also never knew about Niko’s half-brothers, Wes and Hunter. They’re from the opposite side of Niko’s family, unrelated to me. And that side of his family is wrapped up in drama I want zero part of.
I don’t know all that much about Weston Knox, and I don’t care to.
I fist-bump Niko goodbye before I head into Dr. Sellwood’s classroom.
She’s there at the edge of the room opening her laptop and getting prepped for class to begin. I’m here early, before the students arrive.
“Morning,” I tell her, giving her an upward nod as I slide off my backpack.
“You made it,” she says brightly, reaching up to adjust her long, dirty-blonde ponytail. “We need to organize the hand-outs before the students are here. How was your weekend, Sevan?”
Filthy.
Fucked up.
Just how I like it.
“Satisfying,” I tell her.
It’s only a few minutes before the first students start to file into the classroom. Dr. Sellwood and I have the handouts about the French Revolution ready to pass out, and I walk around the classroom, placing a handout on each desk before heading back to the front.
I see a fuzzy hoodie from my peripheral vision before I hear his voice.
That voice.
Acid pools in my stomach, and suddenly I’m wishing the paper in my hand was a brick, instead.
Weston just walked into the classroom, side-by-side with his Onyx Society buddy Noah. Next to one another, they look like day and night: Wes with his golden hair and hoodie, and Noah looking like a young blue-eyed Keanu Reeves, with black hair and a sleepy vibe.
They walk around like they know they’re hot, rich as sin, and untouchable.
Well, Noah, at least.
Wes is bashful and desperate under that stony, serious exterior, it turns out.
“Daggers guys are going to flip,” I overhear Wes saying to Noah.
My ears perk up.
He’s saying something about Double Daggers, but I can’t figure out what.
Weston walks into the classroom without looking toward me and the professor at the front. He takes one of the seats near the middle next to Noah, and the two of them chat under their breath about society shit.
Wes looks nothing like he did Saturday night.
His hair is fresh and pushed back like normal instead of falling over at one side of his head.
I can still remember what his cheeks looked like, flushed and hot for me. What his cock looked like, fucking dripping with precum after I touched him.
You wanted it so bad, Knox.
Dr. Sellwood finally closes the door and begins class, stepping toward the desk at the center and getting everyone to shut up.
Weston finally looks up and meets my eyes, and he freezes.
Just like he froze the other night. It’s that same deer-in-headlights look, right when he sees me.
My cock responds, hardening under my pants.
“Welcome in,” Dr. Sellwood’s saying now, saying she was happy with everyone’s midterm exam scores.
“And since we’re in the second quarter of the semester now, we’re welcoming our new TA.
Sevan is here to assist me in class and run discussions when we break off into groups.
The French Revolution is a little messy, and the coursework will be challenging. ”
Wes is looking at me like he’s got me in crosshairs, and for some reason it’s going straight to my dick.
He watches me like he wants to start a war.
Does he really think he can play with me like that? A big, muscular fucking thorn in my side, sitting there in a fuzzy Crimson College sweater?
You have no idea what you are doing, Weston.
I watch his hand go up in the air, and when Dr. Sellwood nods at him to ask his question, I’m tempted to stride over and shut him up by pushing my fingers in his mouth again.
“Is it possible to schedule private office hours with the TA?” he asks. “If I need extra help?”
Fucking with me.
Like you actually can’t help yourself.
“He will always be available to you after class,” Dr. Sellwood tells him. “You’ll need to work it out one-on-one if you feel you need deeper instruction.”
Wes nods. “Thank you.”
He said thank you to me Saturday night, too, in a very different way. He gives me a pointed look, not smiling, staring me right in the eyes as the professor gets started with class.
What exactly do you want with me, Knox?
I’m three whiskeys deep later that night as I lean deep under the hood of my Mustang.
The smell of oil fills the tight space around me, a comforting smell that should be calming me down but isn’t.
The Double Daggers parking lot was calm earlier, but now it’s evening, and moths are starting to beeline to my small light over the engine.
I was also sober when I got started on replacing the heater box, but now I’m paying for the decision to sip whiskey while doing auto repair, screwing up simple things when I should know better.
The heater box reassembly was a bitch. Getting the fucker back under the hood should be simple, but it isn’t.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath, leaning back out of the hood and straightening my spine. I wipe at my forehead with my arm.
The air outside is in the humid in-between state that happens a lot in spring, where I’m somehow chilly but still sweating from the physical exertion of repair work.