29. Juliet
29
JULIET
T he weekend arrives and with it, so does the Friday night game. My muscles are still sore from my sparring session with Gio earlier in the week as well as all of the other gym sessions he’s dragged me to. Added to that, I’ve been grabbing extra shifts at the Dionysus Lounge, overall making me ten times more physically exhausted, but I ignore it as I stretch up the bleachers in the cool twilight air.
Several other students shoot me dirty looks from where they sit with their cliques. I ignore them all in favor of finding my own seat. Once I’m sat and comfortable with a tub of popcorn in one hand and a big ass bottle of soda in the other, I hear my name above the noise of the crowd.
Craning my neck, I scowl as I hear it again and then I sigh and lift my arm when I see the person it’s coming from. Roquel stands at the end of one row a few spaces down from the one I’m on, scanning the crowd as she calls my name a third time. She’s dressed in what I can only describe as the cross between a hooker’s go-dress and a Wednesday Addams reject.
The black sheath is practically saran wrapped to her body with cut outs on either side, and the only thing she has for warmth is a faux-fur coat. It’s… kind of horrendous, but I see the way several guys eye her legs up and down like she’s a lollipop and they’re candy addicts, so I guess it works for her.
When she finally sees my waving hand, she jumps up and down and then jogs up the next few steps before squeezing past a few freshmen to join me. As she draws nearer, I realize that even if she chose an outfit that she’ll surely freeze in, at least she’s wearing a pair of Converse instead of heels. When I comment on the fact, she shrugs and tucks a strand of choppy black hair over her ear.
“I’ve got some in my car for the afterparty,” she admits, because of course she does.
I shake my head and offer her some of my popcorn. She takes a handful and starts munching away. The announcer comes across the loudspeaker and as he begins the usual hype-speech for the crowd, I start searching the stands. Roquel bumps me.
“Who are you checking out?” she grins conspiratorially. Does she really think I’m trying to check out another guy when she just asked me earlier this week which of the Scorpion Kings I was fucking? I roll my eyes.
“I’m looking for the scouts from colleges,” I say.
Her grin dims. “Oh. For the players?”
“Yeah, they said there might be one here tonight, and Gio’s going back on the field.”
Roquel frowns. “So soon? I thought he still needed to heal.”
“It’s been over a month since he got jumped,” I say. “He says he’s fine and he’s been doing practices like regular.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s completely healed,” Roquel murmurs and I can’t help but agree with her in some small way. G’s been hardcore trying to get back to the shape he was in before he got jumped. I can’t blame him, but at the same time, football isn’t exactly a safe sport.
I chew on my lip as I peruse the people in the stands. The banner holding back the opposing team rips as their players jump onto the field to the boos of those from Silverwood.
“That might be one,” Roquel says suddenly, pointing to a guy standing to the side of the field with a notebook in hand.
He doesn’t look like what I thought a football player scout would. His sandy brown hair is wavy and longer than is popular and there’s a pair of glasses perched on his nose. More than that, he’s wearing… tweed? I narrow my eyes, leaning forward. The pair of slacks he’s wearing are dark brown and they match the patches on the elbows of his most-certainly tweed jacket. He looks more like a college professor than a football scout.
“No, I don’t think so,” I murmur.
“Well, I don’t see anyone else that could be a scout,” Roquel says, popping another popcorn kernel into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully.
I wrinkle my nose, but keep an eye on the man throughout the game. He remains in place, only shifting every so often when someone comes up to talk to him. Halfway through the game when the Silverwood Scorpions are dominating on the field, I see the coach split off from the team and approach the man. Maybe he is a scout, I consider, as the two shake hands and talk animatedly for a moment. Then, the coach nods back to the bench as the cheer squad takes to the field at halftime and the professor-looking guy is led over to chat with some of the team—including Lex, Nolan, and Gio.
I sit up, wishing I’d grabbed a perch closer so I could try to overhear what they’re talking about. I’m almost completely off my seat when a low, masculine voice calls my name.
“Juliet.”
Ice drips down my spine and at my side, Roquel goes stiff. The popcorn and soda sitting in my stomach battles to come back up. By some miracle, though, I keep it in place as I turn and glance to the side.
Morpheus stands at the edge of our row, and I notice that the group of freshmen that had been there earlier is gone. Wind whips into my face, shoving my hair back and stinging at my cheeks. I swallow—once, twice, and then a third time before I manage to respond.
“Hey.”
Roquel looks between the two of us and she must sense my discomfort because she leans around me as Morpheus moves closer. “Hi, Mr. Calloway,” she says brightly, and I could fucking kiss her as she leaps up from her seat entirely and bends forward to stretch her hand out. “I’m Roquel—Juliet’s friend.”
Morpheus pauses and his eyes settle on Roquel for a long beat. She keeps her smile plastered on her face, though, and doesn’t drop her hand. Knowing Morpheus as well as I do, I’m not surprised when he caves to social expectation, taking her hand, shaking it once.
“It’s, erm, nice to meet you, young lady.” He clears his throat before returning his eyes to me. “It’s good to see you here too, Juliet,” he says. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you for long the last time?—”
“You stopped talking to my dad.” The sudden outburst of words from me stops him mid-sentence. Roquel is still standing, her gaze bouncing from me to him and back again.
Her lips twist in obvious irritation. “I’m in the way,” she mutters. “I guess… I’ll just… go grab something else to drink.” She eyes me. “Before halftime is over.”
My insides riot. I don’t want her to leave, but at the same time, Roquel is a gossip. I don’t want her to hear what I have to say either. I should be surprised that she gave me an out at all.
“That would be nice, thank you, Miss Lee.” Morpheus nods before backing out of the way and allowing her to slide past him.
I watch her walk down the bleachers and wish I could call her back, use her as a shield, but it’s too late now. I stiffen my shoulders and turn to look Morpheus in the eye.
After a beat, he gestures to the seat open at my side. “Do you mind if I…”
I cram my hands into the pockets of my hoodie even further. “It’s a free country,” I say in answer.
He waits a beat as if expecting me to say something more. When I don’t, he sighs and then sits down. The scent of his expensive cologne, something spicy and heavy, presses against my senses. My skin feels alive, as if it’s waiting for an unwanted touch. Thankfully, though, Morpheus keeps his hands to himself. This time.
“You went and spoke to him?” he asks.
“I did, and he seemed surprised about my mom,” I bite the words out. “You never told him.”
Morpheus releases a slow breath. “No, I didn’t. I was hoping to convince her to come back before I had to.”
“Why aren’t you answering his calls anymore?” I ask. “He said you won’t talk to him. Yet, you pushed me to go see him.”
“I’m not ignoring his calls, Juliet.” The sound of my full name makes me grind my teeth together. I don’t know when it happened, but ever since coming here—hearing Roquel and Mads call me Jules and the nicknames from the guys… I’ve gotten more accustomed to those names than my real one.
“He seems to think you are.”
Morpheus presses a hand to his brow as if he’s tired. “I’m trying to work something out with the DA to get his sentence reduced if I take on the debt,” he confesses.
I blink. This is entirely new information. “You are?” I gape at him as he lifts his head and looks at me. “Why?”
He seems startled by the question from me. “He’s my best friend, Juliet. I don’t want him in jail.”
My nose burns. “And?” I press. “Did the federal prosecutor agree to the deal?”
He winces. “Not…yet.”
Then why bother telling me this? Before I can ask that, however, Morpheus reaches out and I go still as his hand settles on my thigh. I stare down at the wide palm with the dark gold ring encircling his middle finger. An Eastpoint class ring, I realize from the ornate E sketched into the flat face of it. Despite the warmth of his skin seeping in through my jeans, I am cold inside. A frozen wasteland taking up residence in my chest and carving out my insides to make room for its frost.
“I heard from your counselor that you refuse to speak to her anymore.”
I don’t say anything. I don’t even bother to point out how very illegal it is that she decided to relay anything about me to him. Who would listen anyway? Morpheus Calloway is Silverwood’s savior.
“I wish you’d consider moving back in with me,” he says. “It’d be safer for you at my estate, and even if your mom is no longer there, I think you should consider it. If you don’t wish to go back to Silverwood Preparatory, you can finish with online schooling.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The words escape me on a hiss. I wish I carried a pocket knife. I wish I had it with me. If I had it now, I’d stab it into his knuckles.
A moment passes and his hand contracts on my thigh. “Of course, I would,” he answers. “You’re a pretty girl, and I hate to think of you being taken advantage of here.”
Pretty girl . The popcorn and soda make their bid for freedom again, begging me to vomit all over the man at my side. Instead, I carefully and firmly reach for his hand. Peeling it off my thigh, finger by finger, until he’s no longer touching me, I fling his hand back towards him and stand up.
“I would rather exist in a cardboard box in the slums than ever take anything you have to offer.” I look at him as I speak and his lips part in obvious shock.
“Juliet…” He stands and reaches for me, and I back up several paces, putting one hand up to hold him off. Surely, he wouldn’t cause a scene here at a football game of all places. In public.
“Leave me alone, Morpheus,” I snap. “I didn’t want your help when my father was arrested, and I don’t want it now.”
He doesn’t move towards me, but he also doesn’t turn or leave. Because, just like every man in the world with some semblance of power, he feels entitled to the last word.
“I’m sorry you feel that way, Juliet.” Morpheus’ words are calm even if his eyes are anything but. He stares back at me as if he’s daring me to say something more. “I’d hoped that you could be reasoned with, but if that’s the way you feel, then I’ll give you some time to think about your situation.”
My upper lip curls away from my teeth. “My situation is none of your business.”
He merely shakes his head. “Oh, Juliet.” The look he gives me is almost pitiful as his gaze slowly moves down my body, taking in the well-worn hoodie and ripped jeans I’m in. “A girl as beautiful as you shouldn’t be forced to deal with all that you’ve been through.” My skin starts to itch as if a million fire ants have been released beneath my clothes. I no longer feel the cold as heat swarms me, eating away at the ice inside me.
“You’ll understand your place soon enough, darling,” he says.
I have no answer for him as he shakes his head in a mockery of sorrow. I don’t move as he turns and strides away, but I keep my eyes on him, watching as he bypasses Roquel as she returns with a big red cup of soda. She looks at him before turning her gaze back up to me. Though I’m sure she’s curious, when she finally reaches my side again and we take our seats as halftime ends, she doesn’t ask any questions.
Suddenly, I can’t fucking wait for the afterparty. It’s been far too long since I got blackout fucking drunk and tonight might be the perfect night for it.