13. Asch
ASCH
Blaze stops walking right in the middle of the sidewalk and stares down at his phone, scowling. “Ugh.”
A student behind us almost bumps into us, and he flips us off as he walks around Blaze.
“What’s up?” I ask. I’m tempted to peer at his phone, but I hate when he does it to me.
“Just some stuff with…” Blaze trails off. “Never mind. Go eat without me, I have to take care of this.”
I resist the urge to ask him what it has to do with, but if he’s not telling me, he has a good reason.
Probably.
“Yeah,” I say. “Good luck.”
He heads off in the opposite direction, and I continue toward the cafeteria. Thankfully, I still have one meal left for the day and won’t have to bail for the library instead of grabbing something.
Blaze would prefer it if I asked for money when things like this happen, but I have a hard enough time accepting his generosity as it is.
In the middle of the day, it’s busy, and I stop at the counter where they customize pasta to order. I should skip the carbs, but it’s been a long few days, and I don’t feel like going for something better.
When I go to scan my card to pay, I find myself face to face with River.
He looks tired, but that’s no surprise.
“Hey,” I greet him. “I texted you this morning.”
I’m trying to be a proper “Big Brother” to him, but he’s been making himself scarce when he doesn’t have to be at the frat house. It’s hard to be supportive when he’s not even there.
“I ignored it,” he says bluntly, scanning his own card.
“Awesome,” I say as we step out of the line. “That’s gonna look great on both of us. Come sit with me.”
River gives me a look, but he replies, “Sure, why not?”
“Contain your enthusiasm before you hurt yourself,” I tell him, my voice dry.
That, at least, gets a smirk from him. “Lead on, big bro.”
I wrinkle my nose at that, but I lead him in the direction of one of the few empty booths at the edge of the caf. I sit down, and he takes the seat opposite me.
Unlike me, he’s opted for a more sensible salad. I hadn’t been able to stop myself from eyeing his muscle. We’re built differently, but it’s clear he takes care of himself. I don’t comment on his comparatively healthier choice of food, instead taking a bite of my pasta.
“How are you doing?” I finally ask when several seconds tick by without either of us speaking.
I wish my Big Brother had bothered to seek me out and ask me how I was doing, but no. The scholarship student hadn’t been worth his time. I’d had Blaze, but he’d been high on life, barely bothered by each and every grueling stage of pledging.
“You mean around your friendly pledging process?” he retorts. “Great. Can’t wait to be a Chaos brother and share the fun next year.”
“Kappa Alpha,” I correct him. “If Zayden hears you call it Chaos, he’ll flip his shit.” He looks like he’s about to make a retort, and I interrupt, “If you want to join, that’s not the best idea.”
It had been a hard lesson for me to learn. It’s one thing to capitulate to Blaze, but it’s another entirely to grovel for Zayden’s attention. I’ve never liked it, but I don’t have the weight of a strong family name to back me. Blaze can only do so much.
“At least I’m not calling it the Kappa whatevers like Pandora would do,” he replies around bites of his salad.
My mood darkens. “Whatever she would do, I suggest doing the opposite,” I say, my voice tight as I reply to him.
I don’t want to think about her right now.
I’ve done enough of that over the past few days since she’d shown up at the frat house, replaying the feeling of her lips on mine and her hand on my dick.
Wondering what it might’ve felt like to be inside her, too.
But I don’t trust her. The fact that she’s close to River means I can’t trust him either.
My eyes flick to the hand with the missing finger. Pandora seems to know all about his affiliation with the mob, and I have to wonder what her association with them is. She’s so blasé about it.
River smirks at me. “You’re probably right, but you have to admit that she at least keeps things interesting.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I say. “I?—”
“Rivera,” a familiar aggressive voice interrupts.
I glance up to see a tall guy with short, bleached blond hair and light blue eyes. His ears are pierced in multiple spots, with a large gauge piercing in the lobes and smaller studs along the cartilage. His neck has a large tattoo in the shape of a wolf with its fangs bared.
He’s also wearing a thin tank top, showing off his large biceps even though the weather’s been cooling.
It’s Fenrir Winters, one of the members of Eta Epsilon Lambda—or Hell, as the rest of us call their fraternity.
Annoyance flickers through me. I’m not in the mood to deal with him and his beef with the whole of Kappa Alpha right now .
Fenrir seems to notice me, because his eyes narrow. “What’re you doing with one of the Chaos losers, Rivera?”
“Pledging,” River says, shrugging. He checks his phone. “It won’t stop me from being at practice on time.”
“Practice?” I ask, confused.
Fenrir ignores my question. “I told you to pledge with Eta Epsilon. I would have vouched for you.”
“I’m sure he’s flattered, but he has better taste than that,” I retort.
I have a feeling that it wouldn’t have mattered what River actually wanted. Pandora has a hard-on for Kappa Alpha for some reason, and it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d pushed him to pledge.
River glances at me. I can’t read his expression, which annoys me even more. “Yeah, I’ve dreamed of being a Chaos loser since I was a child,” he drawls.
“It’s Kappa—” I begin, only to cut myself off.
Fenrir places his hand on the table and leans in closer to River. “Chaos is where they send the soft boys. You’re better than that, Rivera.”
“Wow,” I say. “That’s a scathing insult.”
River doesn’t bother to hide a snort. “My family always does Kappa Alpha,” he says.
He’s lying. If his family had a long history with Kappa Alpha, I’d know about it through Blaze.
Fenrir doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he turns to face me. “You. You’re Bouchard’s bitch boy. Get up.”
Anger makes my cheeks flush, and my hands ball into fists at my sides. “I’m no one’s bitch boy.”
Fenrir’s expression remains blank. “Sure you’re not. That’s why you’re leeching off him.”
I have to pause to take a deep breath. “I’m not leeching off of anyone.” I get up, and to my surprise, River does as well. “Don’t,” I tell him. “I can fight my own battles.”
As I stand, Fenrir backs up a few steps. He sets his backpack down on a chair and stretches his neck from side to side .
I know not to underestimate him. He’s one of Dyschord U’s top boxers—and if he’s been training with River, that means River boxes as well. I think Pandora mentioned something to that effect.
I take my blazer off and set it on my vacated chair. “What are you trying to prove, Fenrir?”
Fenrir shrugs. “Nothing. Just wanna beat up one of the Chaos losers who dragged Rivera into the mud.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t think I’m in for a real beatdown, but I have to admit it could be embarrassing if I lost this particular fight. Mixed martial arts is completely different from boxing, though, and it’s possible he’ll get the best of me.
We’ll see.
When I glance at him, I see that River is amused. “I feel like my honor is being fought over or some shit,” he remarks. “Oh, keep going. I’m invested in this now.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t feel like dealing with this bullshit right now, but I’m so pissed at being accused of being Blaze’s bitch boy — and being reminded that I’m essentially mooching off of him, whether I want to or not — that I can’t let it go without responding somehow.
The other students in the caf have noticed that something is happening, because several of them get closer, creating a semi-circle around us.
“No rules,” Fenrir says, right as he punches me in the face.
Fuck, that hurts. I stumble back, but I recover fast enough that I can block Fenrir’s next punch. Before he can put distance between us again, I knee him in the gut.
Our styles of fighting are completely different, but neither of us can get much of an edge over the other. I’d hoped to end this quickly, but as we trade blows, I realize it’s going to be a matter of who slips up first.
My jaw sets.
It’s not going to be me.
I pretend to punch Fenrir, and he immediately raises his arms, like the boxer he is. I use that distraction to kick him in the side. His muscles are like steel, and I barely budge him.
He grins and grabs my calf.
I brace myself as he throws me into the nearby table. Some students scream, and I hear something fall to the floor and shatter.
Keep going. I’m not backing down, I’m not losing.
I lunge forward again, and this time I manage to land a blow to his jaw. My hand aches already, but I feel accomplished when Fenrir’s head snaps to the side.
“Not bad,” Fenrir says, getting back into a defensive stance. “If you lift more, you might even manage to hurt me one day.”
It’s not the insult he probably hopes it is. I know I should lift more and put on more muscle myself. But I don’t have to hurt him to take him down, which is the new goal. If I can lay him out, that’ll end this, and I won’t be completely humiliated in front of the entire caf.
“I can step in,” River offers from his seat.
If they already think I’m someone’s bitch, that’s the last thing I need. “I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. Never mind that he still has to be feeling the paddling, even if he’s not showing it. If he came to my defense, it would be even worse if he was the one to put Fenrir in his place.
Pass.
“Just thought I’d offer,” River replies lazily.
He’s enjoying this.
Fucker.
Fenrir circles closer and jabs at me again. I’m ready for it, deflecting his arm and counterpunching. Fenrir takes the blow, but he immediately strikes back, getting me on the side of my head.
Something wet trickles down my face, and I don’t care if it’s sweat or blood.
I’m. Not. Losing.