Chapter 20 #2
"Tomorrow we'll celebrate at a party." I grin, earning a snort from him.
"Fine. Just… don't die, okay? I kinda like having you as a roommate." Yeah, and having a hot cousin for him to ogle isn't too bad, either.
"If I die, you can have Jordy," I say with a snort, turning on my heels and heading through a pair of swinging doors that say locker room above me. I try not to think about the impending fight. How big will my opponent be? Will they obliterate me? They might. I’m muscular and fit, but nothing compared to some of the guys on campus.
"He can have me either way," Jordy quips, stepping into the locker room beside me. "Damn. They have everything, don't they?" he whistles, looking up at the tall ceilings that weren’t there before.
“There’s no roof here.” I lean back, staring up at the stars twinkling above Mack and me.
“One day, we’ll fix it up.” Mack grins, shoving his hand in mine and squeezing. “This is ours.”
It was our space. Something we discovered together in our hunt for treasure and peace. Now, it’s theirs. They’ve turned it into something profitable for them. Something I can’t wrap my mind around.
"You can't die." Simon’s words drag me out of the painful memory of this room.
This place. Half of me wants to beg Jordy to take me back to base camp and drop me off.
The other half wants to discover the many mysteries surrounding Greenwood University.
The missing body parts. Where Meredith went off to? Also, what Franco is up to these days.
"I won't,” I breathe, taking the filled space in. It once resembled a crumbling room, and now, they’ve built it into something extraordinary. It makes me wonder what the state of our treehouse is. The place we snuck off to in the middle of the night was close to our homes.
“Oli,” Jordy clears his throat, nodding toward a table filled with stacks of gym shorts. “Small, right?” he smirks, picking up a worn pair of green shorts, sporting a GU on them. “They’re nice and tight, too. Perfect for movement.” He stretches the material a few times.
I lick my lips, looking back at Simon, who is lost in thought, looking around the locker room in awe. He’s obviously never been called to fight, so he’d have no reason to be here. I use this to my advantage and step up to Jordy.
"Won't they be able to tell?" I whisper, gesturing to my crotch with a frown. If I had a package to show off, it’d be noticeably absent in that pair of shorts. "Won't they expect it to..." I flop my arm around a bit, earning a small snort.
"You'll move better in these..." Jordy shrugs, picking up a longer pair of shorts. "But these will hide that..." His eyes fall to my crotch, and he shivers. "You know they have di...."
"Shut up," I groan, yanking the gym shorts out of his hands. "I don't even want to hear it." Because I won't be here long enough to know. I need to get this done and over with so I can move on from whatever the hell this is.
"Wow, this place," Simon murmurs. "How do you think they found it?"
My heart pangs. With me, I want to say. As Olivia.
Who I really am. But I don't know her anymore. That girl seems to be a million miles away. She's nonexistent. Snuffed out. Replaced by this version of her. A girl who rarely lets people into her heart to catch a glimpse of her soul. Including Jordy. I think he’s the only one I’ve truly bonded with since I died.
"You have five minutes!" a voice yells as someone bursts into the locker room with a frown, pounding their feet into the dirt.
"That better not be who I think it is," Jordy murmurs, stepping behind me.
"And who do you think it is?" I'm in denial. If I'm back here selecting a pair of gym shorts to wear while fighting someone. Then surely he’s not doing the same, right? Fucking Brutus. The asshole who was waiting to jump me after class. Or harass me. Kill me? I’m not sure. Wilder didn’t know, but he got me out of dodge, and I’m forever thankful for that.
The last thing I wanted to do was confront those two on my own again.
Sure, I can take them, but I’d rather not.
I scan Brutus in all his glory. Up close and personal.
He’s huge. Bigger than Malic at the bar.
More muscular, too. I swear if he sat on me, he’d crush my organs into soup, and I’d die a slow death.
I might be fucked. Super fucked.
Listen, I’m a lean girl. I have muscles. Fighting isn’t a problem. I just have to be faster than my opponent. Outsmart them. This guy? His arm reach alone could knock me into next week without having to take a step.
"You're going to die," Simon squeaks, stepping back until he's beside Jordy.
Thanks for the vote of confidence, Si. "Oh, it was nice knowing you, roomie.
You can still back out. We don't need parties or a social life.
We can live on the fringes of society and have our faces on the wall of shame.
" He frowns now, watching the big man remove his shirt, showing off his eight-pack abs and bulked-up biceps.
Jesus. He drops his jeans, letting them pool at his ankles until he kicks them off into the dirt.
I think his quads are bigger than my damn head. He’s going to squish me like a watermelon between his thighs. Oh, God.
"I won't die," I say, holding onto the pair of gym shorts tightly.
If I say it enough, I’ll manifest it, right?
I’ve survived so much in my life; I can survive one measly fight against a mammoth who glares at me with hate in his eyes.
Well, more than hate. Shit. I think he wants to eviscerate me.
His massive shoulders roll back, nearly hitting his damn ears and then, he marches toward me with intent.
Fuck. I can hear Jordy in my head. Don’t back down.
Chin up. Show this big oaf you aren’t afraid of him.
So, faking it, I lift my chin and harden my eyes. I can do this. I can beat this big guy. He may have more muscle and height than I do, but I can outsmart him. Right? Fucking right.
"Oliver Davenport.” The way he says my name sends chills down my spine. Like I’ve kicked his puppy and thrown it off a bridge.
I look him up and down. Poor guy has got one of those faces that you never forget. Down to the scar on his right cheek, lip, and eyebrow. This guy has taken a beating before and lived to tell the tale.
"Do I know you?" I goad, sucking in a breath when he puts on the pair of gym shorts, snapping them around his waist loudly.
If there’s one thing bullies hate, it's not getting recognized.
"We met in class." He shrugs. "But even if you don't know me now, we're going to get very well acquainted." He steps up to me, and I square my shoulders, readying myself for whatever is to come.
I will not let some gym rat intimidate me.
Well, not anymore. So, okay. He may be six-foot-six, towering over me with muscles for days.
But those muscles will do nothing for him in combat.
He may be able to bench a thousand pounds and crush my face like a watermelon between his thighs, but they'll slow him down.
He's too bulky and meaty for a one-on-one match.
"I look forward to it." I grin, letting all my anxiety go. It pulses through my body and slowly drops through my toes into the floor, leaving me with nothing but a blank void of emotions. Fear runs. Anxiety tucks tail.
Maybe this fight is what I needed after all. Something to numb my worries and take them away. For the time being, at least.
Brutus steps back with a cocky smirk. "When I wipe the mat with your face, you'll regret this." With that, he turns on his heels and marches out the door with an air of confidence.
"Tool," Jordy snorts.
"Let the fighting begin!!!!" Hux's voice shouts over the speakers again.
"Well, that's our cue, Si. Let's give Oli here some privacy to change."
"Right," Simon says in a daze. "Oli..." he trails off.
"Don't worry about me, okay? This will be fun." I try to lighten the mood as Jordy puts an arm over Simon's shoulders, practically dragging him out of the locker room while whispering in his ear.
I sigh, listening to the chants of the crowd. My heart beats wildly. But I close my eyes and dive into the nothingness coursing through my veins.
I can do this.
With that in mind, I find a more private space and open an abandoned locker with a sigh.
Clutching the metal until my knuckles turn white, I battle the anxiety reigniting inside me.
Heat bristles at my back, working its way up my neck and onto my cheeks.
A thousand eyes seem to peer at me from every angle.
But there are none.
The quietness of the locker room encapsulates me, lulling me into a false sense of security. I’m okay. This fight will be fine. Even if I lose and get pariah status. I can’t run. Showing my fear to my peers will do nothing for me. Especially with my mission.
I shimmy my baggy jeans down my legs and kick off my shoes and socks, tossing them into the empty locker. A dirty, thin mirror sits on the inside of the locker, reflecting back at me. I run my fingers over my thighs, slowly dragging them up, until I’m peeling my binder and shirt to expose my ribs.
There it is. The one thing I’ve avoided looking at for years. The reminder. My memories aren’t the only thing connecting me to my former best friends. I run the tip of my finger over the word—Always—etched onto my flesh between my ribs. Centered there in cursive.
It’s a piece of them that will remain with me forever. Always. That’s what I was to them.
Today. Tomorrow. Forever. Always.
A door slams somewhere in the locker room, knocking me from my stupor as it echoes throughout the room. Quickly, I cover myself back up and pull the long shorts on, readying myself for the fight that’s about to come. I can’t let my head be clouded by all these thoughts.
I have to clear myself again. Center myself so I don’t get fucking killed by that behemoth.
This is it.
The time is here.
And now, I have to show everyone what I’m made of. I’m Oliver Davenport. Badass.