Chapter 4
FOUR
FRANKIE
The best way to vent my frustration is in the gym and I spend the entire afternoon using the state-of-the-art one at the academy. We have our own in the house, but there is way more equipment here and I can take a dip in the pool afterwards.
Jesse is lifting weights beside me and as the music blares from the speakers, I relax my mind.
I’m not certain why I’m so restless.
As I said to the guys, life here is getting old already. Pussy is on tap and not desirable anymore and I never thought I’d see the day when I wasn’t interested in acquiring any of it.
The trouble is, I love a challenge. It calls to the depravity in my soul that is fed when I head home. My nights are spent very differently there as I prowl the bars, searching for the innocent.
Girls who would be horrified by my standards and unaccustomed to my world. Not ones who have been around the block several times already and consider they hold all the answers.
“Hey man, I’m beat. Fancy a dip?”
Jesse heaves a breath and wipes the sweat from his body with a towel and I nod, replacing the weights and chugging down the bottle of water by my side.
“Sure.”
“What’s up, Frankie? You’re brooding again, which isn’t a good sign.”
Jesse is the only guy who calls me out on my moods—the others are too afraid to challenge me and I shrug.
“I’m unsettled. Perhaps it’s this place.”
“You sensing trouble?”
“Possibly.”
“At Rockwell?” Jesse’s tone is incredulous because it’s well known not to mess with us on campus. We are The Elusives. The untouchables, if you like, and there isn’t a fraternity here who would win against us. Not that fraternities are a thing anymore. The principal abolished those, along with most of the rules, preferring a more inclusive approach.
But everyone knows the unofficial versions run in a strict order with The Elusives leading the way.
The Jocks have their own clique that not many penetrate and, if anything, I admire them. They are focused and keep themselves away from the rest of us. The study geeks do the same, mainly afraid of their own shadow and then there are the wannabes. The group dancing between them all, unsure where to fit in.
I’m never sure why our particular group is so desirable. We make no secret of the fact we’re bastards and yet that appears to be the attraction.
As we head to the pool, Jesse chuckles. “It appears we have a full house tonight. Ali reported back there is huge interest in the first party of the season, so I’m anticipating a busy one.”
“Do you have someone specific in mind?”
I already know the answer because Jesse is interested in anyone that breathes mainly and he shrugs. “A few but mostly I’m searching for uncharted territory.”
“A virgin?”
“As if I’d get so lucky.”
Jesse scoffs. “Even the new recruits have probably put it about in high school. The ones who head through our doors, anyway.”
I agree. The good and the innocent are horrified by our world, which is probably a good thing. Ruining souls isn’t really my jam, which brings me back to the challenge I seek. Something unattainable – forbidden perhaps.
We head to the pool and after a couple of lengths, Jesse groans. “I’m done. You coming?”
“No, I’m not nearly done yet.”
He rolls his eyes because I rarely get out of the pool until I’ve achieved fifty lengths.
“Fine, I’ll see you back at the house.”
He heads off, leaving me in solitude. This is what I love – having the place to myself.
Today is probably the one day I can enjoy this. The first day is unusually chaotic. New students mix with old and settle in for the semester. Usual routines haven’t been established or revisited and familiarization is the aim.
It’s unusual to get time alone at Rockwell. There’s always somebody nearby, which is why I decided to use this time wisely.
I’m distracted when an unfamiliar face heads into the pool area and I watch as she shrugs out of her robe and heads toward the side, her gaze averted from mine.
I study her with interest because she is a work of art to be sure. Her body is tanned, probably as a result of the summer, and her waist is small, her hips flaring slightly from the side. Her breasts are enough to tempt the devil, and the bikini she is wearing is doing a pitiful job of disguising her incredible body. Her hair is dark and pulled back in a pony tail and as she dives into the pool it’s with an effortless grace.
I’m impressed that she doesn’t squeal as the icy water hits her bare skin because the academy is not known to consider heating the pool a necessity. If anything, it resembles an ice bath, which is why her lack of reaction impresses me so much.
I carry on with my lengths, conscious of another person invading my privacy and rather than be irritated by that, I’m at ease with it. She swims in the opposite direction but we pass at the same point every length, telling me she is a strong swimmer—my equal, if you like.
We say nothing. There is no eye contact, just length upon length of broad strokes.
Once I have completed fifty lengths, I pull myself out of the pool, the water running from my body as I shake my head.
As I move toward the changing room, I don’t look back. Why would I? We are strangers and probably always will be.