Chapter 27 Ivy
IVY
“Oh my God. He is such an ass,” Brooke hollers over her shoulder as she drops into the chair beside me. “A big, stupid ass.”
It’s clear that Micah is the object of her hatred, and I’m sure he did something to warrant her ire, but my head throbs every time she shouts. “Please stop yelling.”
I rub my temples as I shut my eyes, then I feel the table shift. When I look up, Luca is in the chair beside me.
My headache just got worse.
“I have some aspirin.” Brooke pulls a bottle from her purse. “Don’t let my mom see. She gets all principal-ly on me when I break the rules ‘Because we are supposed to hold ourselves to a higher standard than others’,” she mocks what I’m sure she’s been told a few times from the sound of it.
I quickly swallow down a few pills before passing the bottle back to her.
“Long night?” Luca asks.
The answer is yes. But I won’t dignify him with that answer and just say, “Migraine from dealing with jackasses.”
He watches me as Remy and Cain drop in the chairs across from us. Usually, Brooke sits with me at lunch, but this is the first time Luca and his minions have joined us. And of all days, it’s one where my head feels like it’s going to explode.
Long night doesn’t begin to cover it. The sound of glass shattering was on repeat in my nightmares.
It certainly had something to do with the bullets piercing the windshield inches from my head, which was wild but didn’t freak me out like it should’ve.
It did, however, pull more images to the surface, so they’re even more vivid than before—and they were already intense enough.
The whiskey I drank to help me sleep did the job.
However, it also left me in a deeply somber mood that was harder to snap out of.
“So, did you hear? Two teams were eliminated,” Remy says in a low tone.
Brooke says, “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about it? You know, sacred cow.”
Remy’s brows furrow. “There was a cow there?” He doesn’t wait on an answer before he pops a chip in his mouth. “I missed that part.”
“No, dummy. I meant Mercy isn’t supposed to be discussed.”
“Yeah, with outsiders. But we’re in the game and playing. Why can’t we discuss it?”
“Because we aren’t on the same team.” Micah drops into the seat beside Brooke as he eyes her. “So, keep that in mind if there are discussions.”
“Anyways,” Remy continues, “we’re down to four teams now.”
“I thought it was only the last team that got eliminated,” Cain says.
“It was. The Hayes duo got there last.”
“But Faith and Peter didn’t even make it into the garage. I just figured they would be out, and the others would be safe.”
“No, apparently the last one back being disqualified still stood. So, four teams remain, eight players.”
“Nine,” Micah states, and I fill in the rest: “The Deceiver.”
“It could still be eight,” Remy says before he asks me, “Is it you, Walker? You did just get here … and inserted yourself pretty easy peasy lemon squeezy.”
What? More like Luca inserted himself easily into my world and hauled me along to play the stupid game in his. But I just tell Remy, “Totally.”
“I knew it.” He turns to Luca while he points at me. “Better watch this one.”
Thankfully Cain carries on the conversation and asks, “What do you think they’ll have y’all do next? Getting shot at was scary enough.”
Remy seems offended. “You’re not the one who got shot at. Thankfully, Luca drew them away for us mostly, but they did get the back window.” He explodes his hand, making a shattering sound as I cringe.
I can’t do this right now.
Grabbing my tray, I stand and take a step to get around Luca, but his foot is suddenly in the way as I trip. He reaches out, catching me, then props me on his lap. “Might want to lay off the bottle.”
I do my best to shove away from him, but he keeps a solid hold on me. “I should have another drink now just so I can deal with you.”
“Glad to know I have that effect on you.”
Remy adds his unwanted opinion. “She does seem a little thirsty.”
“Shut up, Remy,” Brooke shouts. “You’re the one who drools over every single thing with a pulse.”
Each time I try to get up, Luca’s hold tightens.
“Let. Me. Go.”
Of course he doesn’t. His amusement grows and so does my frustration.
Once again, Remy offers some unsolicited commentary, “Sure looks like you want a taste of what my boy is serving.”
If I could reach Remy right now, I’d punch him in his mouth to hopefully shut him up. However, I’m still being restrained, and I want nothing more than to kick him in the balls. But I settle for an ego hit since he still has me pinned in place.
I make sure to say it loud enough for everyone at the table to hear as I say, “No thanks. I’d rather the other version. He’d be the fun one.”
“Same team, man. You need her,” Cain states.
Luca ignores him, sliding his hand into my hair instead to pull my head back. His eyes drop to my lips. “She does seem really thirsty though. Open up.”
I don’t, but it doesn’t stop him from pouring soda over my mouth, which drips down my neck, chest, and all over my uniform.
“Luca, that’s enough. Let her go,” Brooke pleads but it’s no use. The heathen holding me hostage is enjoying his rein way too much.
“You’re going to pay for that,” I tell him, my teeth clenching so hard my jaw aches.
He leans forward, whispering, “Send me the bill. I’m sure you’re cheap.”
Without thinking, I spit in his face, automatically grasping the first tray I feel on the table. I bring it towards his thick head as hard as I can.
He realizes my intention but only manages to shield his head from the whack he deserves, but the contents of the tray go all over him. His arm drops back down, but he still doesn’t release me.
Remy yells, “Food fight!” then starts throwing his lunch across the room.
I stay locked in a stare down with the maniac holding me hostage.
I swear the motherfucker is enjoying this display.
Me, not so much. He brings the absolute worst side out of me, making me do things I would never normally do. And I hate him for it.