Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11
RACHELLE
S cowling for a moment at the door to the school rec center where the pool is located, I shake my head to smooth my features. Emil is right, Dale should be here, and it’s shitty that he bailed on this swim meet for God knows what reason. I need to ask Liliana if there’s some way to make people more accountable to the newspaper.
He shouldn’t take credit for writing the article if he’s using my notes and sound bites from the interviews I’ll be doing for this. Blowing out a breath, I follow a group of people to the large Olympic sized indoor pool, and show my press pass to one of the people standing at the door.
The school has strict security and guidelines for events both on and off campus. Students need to show their student identification and wear the dressed down version of their uniforms. Therefore, I’m wearing a navy sweater with my school logo on it, white button down shirt underneath it, a navy skirt and knee length socks.
I feel ridiculous. I’d much rather be wearing leggings and an oversized sweater, but my opinion doesn’t matter. Finding a good place to sit in the bleachers, I shiver at how cool the metal feels against my thighs. I have a bag full of my things, including a notebook, pen, water bottle, and camera bag. Pulling out the camera, I loop it around my neck as I get comfortable and grab my notebook and pen to take notes.
The captain of the team is Bryce Jones, and apparently he’s a junior this year. An announcer introduces the swim team as they walk out wearing tiny swim bottoms, tight skull caps, and goggles raised on their foreheads. I can’t see any hair on their bodies, making me wonder if they shave everything.
Get it together, Rachelle.
I didn’t know anything about swimming, how points are awarded, or the different types of swimming strokes until earlier this morning. I did some research while I had breakfast with Liliana, and she did some work on the computer. It was a comfortable silence, something I was surprised to find. There was no awkwardness after spending the night last night, it felt the way it always does with her, just better.
I’ve never been in any kind of relationship, but I’m really glad my first is with Lili. I know she said she’d be open to adding more people or exploring options, however, I don’t know if we will. The only guys we’re attracted to are Kings, who are massive tools. I’m not sure what that says about our judgment.
Getting lost in the meet, I take photos, jot down stats and things the announcer says that are important, and notice the way Bryce interacts with his teammates.
“The team is going to need a strong leader when Bryce steps down as captain,” the man next to me murmurs to the person on his other side.
There are parents, alumni, and students in the crowd, but I have the feeling the two men beside me may have been students at one point here.
“If Denton could get his head out of his ass, he’d be a good option,” he continues. “So much talent, but really selfish.”
“This school breeds that,” the man reminds him. “They’re all being taught how to be leaders, but that only goes so far if you’re not willing to take people with you when you’re working with a team.”
Hmm. Seems I’m not the only one who has noticed how self-involved the students here can be.
There’s no denying that Jared is a powerful swimmer, his arms exploding out of the water as he forces himself through it, as if it’s something he needs to kill. Where Bryce glides as he swims, I can see that their different styles extend to more than just their personalities.
Jared is first in every race against the other team, but he looks stressed as he looks at the times on the board. I’m not sure what’s going on.
It’s clear to me that he’s performing for more than just the team and himself, though. Looking around the bleachers, I wonder if his parents are here watching him. I’m unsure if there are scouts for colleges for sophomores yet, or if that’s something he’d be worried about. Maybe I’ll be able to figure it out when I interview him.
Liliana told me to make sure I get a sound bite from both Jared and Bryce before I finished up today, so that Dale could write the article. Ugh, just thinking about that douchebag getting the credit for this makes me annoyed all over again.
As the meet ends, I pack up my things and walk down the stairs to speak to the two swimmers. The coach sees my press pass badge and camera first, raising his hand before the team can leave.
I appreciate his intervention, because it would probably be harder to get their attention.
“Who are you here for?” Coach Anderson asks brusquely.
I can tell he’s not someone who accepts bullshit or timidness, so I swallow hard to get the words out.
“I need to speak to Denton and Jones, please,” I tell him.
“Boys, make sure you speak to the lady, and don’t give her any shit, understood? She’s here to do a job,” Coach Anderson growls.
Jared and Bryce both nod, which is enough for the coach to dismiss everyone else.
“Do you mind if I go first, man?” Bryce asks Jared.
Surprisingly, Jared shakes his head. “Go ahead, I know Patricia is waiting for you,” he says.
“Thanks,” Bryce says, sighing as if relieved that Jared is being so accommodating. I think part of his issue is that he’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. We expect him to be a dick, so he shows us exactly that. “What’s your name?”
“Rachelle Thomas,” I tell Bryce. “I just joined the newspaper, and wanted to ask a few questions. Some of what you tell me may end up in the article being written about the meet, but your words will be exact and not altered in any way.”
The words are pointed as I pull out my phone to record the short interview. Jared snorts behind Bryce, which we both ignore.
“You’re very thorough," Bryce says, brow raised.
“It’s just easier if my cards are on the table,” I explain to him. “It may just be the school newspaper, but the team performed really well today. The editor and I would like to get more of the student body to swim meets to support you.”
“Well I appreciate that,” he says warmly.
I ask my questions to Bryce, getting enthusiastic answers before thanking him for his time.
“Any time,” he says. “To be honest, it’s been awhile since we’ve gotten a spotlight in the newspaper. Make us look good!”
Giving me a lazy two-fingered wave, Bryce walks away before I turn to Jared.
“He has a girlfriend,” Jared says callously. “I wouldn’t get attached to anyone who’s vaguely nice to you, Little Mouse.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. “I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”
“May I interrupt for just a moment?” A tall, older man walks over to us, a small nod showing that he sees that we’re speaking.
“Hello, Calvin,” Jared murmurs softly. There’s a deference in the way he moves, his arms crossing over his chest. None of the swimmers bothered to throw a sweater or anything on, and I vaguely wonder if he’s cold in those tiny swimming speedos.
“I’m leaving now, I wanted to tell you that you performed very well,” Calvin says. “Your parents asked to be video called while you swam.”
“I was slower than I should have been,” Jared says with a wince. “My turn needed to be tighter.”
I didn’t see any of that.
“No,” Calvin says, shaking his head sharply. “Your parents would also disagree with you. There was strength in your swimming today. I don’t believe you could have done anything differently. While there’s always room for improvement, and we should never sit on our laurels, your performance was as it needed to be.”
Jared’s slow blink as he nods shows that he’s unused to being praised. Lili told me his parents travel a lot, making me wonder if this is why Calvin is here, whoever he may be to Jared. The man is wearing a full suit, appearing to know Jared well.
“Thank you,” Jared says softly.
“Of course,” Calvin says. “I’ll see you at home, sir. Oh, and miss?”
My mind is whirling as I realize he must work for Jared and his family, so my nod is automatic as Calvin speaks to me.
“Is there any way I can have some of the photos you took of Jared?” he asks.
“I’m developing them in the next couple of days, but I’ll also have digital too. One of them is also sure to end up in the story as well. Which form would you prefer?” I ask politely.
Jared is staring at me as if I’ve grown a second head, but I don’t care. I’m polite to everyone except people who don’t deserve it. Calvin hasn’t done anything to me yet.
“Color would be wonderful,” Calvin says excitedly. It’s clear he cares about Jared, and I smile softly at him.
“I’ll develop some extras in color for you. I haven’t worked with film in years, so this will be good practice for me. I can set it aside for Jared to pick up,” I tell him.
“Wonderful. May I ask how you became the newspaper’s photographer?” Calvin asks.
“I needed an elective through one of the clubs, and I used to love photography when I was younger,” I explain. “My girlfriend suggested that I jump back into photography for the newspaper.”
I may as well get used to openly claiming Lili, even if it is to a total stranger. The more I do it, the easier it’ll get without tripping over my words, and to be honest I have butterflies just from talking about her.
“I’m glad. You light up when you talk about it,” Calvin says with a smile. “It’s important to follow the things that make you happy. Bye now.”
Jared blows out a breath as Calvin leaves, pulling off his goggles and swimming cap.
“I’m freezing, Little Mouse, so let’s move this to the locker room. I need a shower,” he grunts, surprising me.
“I have a name, Jared,” I growl as he starts to walk away, his flip flops loud as he leaves.
Not thinking, I stomp after him, enraged. Is he fucking kidding me right now?
“Why do you have to be such a pain?” I yell, my voice echoing in the empty hall.
“I told you I’m cold, Jesus,” he complains, banging the door open to the locker room. “I didn’t say you couldn’t ask your fucking questions.”
Hurrying forward, I’m inside before I realize I’m in the boys’ locker room, and everyone else is gone. I was so furious, it didn’t fully hit me that I was walking in here until now. Dammit! Jared rolls his eyes as I freeze like a deer in the headlights, watching as he opens his locker and tosses his cap and goggles inside of it.
“Out with it then,” he complains, wincing as he strips out of his bottoms.
Instead of being wrinkled, his cock bounces out thick and hard. His hand immediately strokes it absently, grabbing his shower caddy from inside of the locker. This is bizarre. I should leave right?
Moving over to me, he grabs my arm and pulls before shoving me to sit on the bench.
“Let’s test if you’re actually a lesbian,” he grunts. “I bet you touch your pussy at least once while you watch me shower. Maybe don’t waste our time and actually ask a question or two before you come, yeah?”
Fucker.
* * *
JARED
It’s like a game of chicken, except I want to see if this will send the little mouse running. I noticed that she doesn’t enjoy her nickname. That’s a pity since I don’t give a shit.
I have ink up both of my arms, but have to use heavy tattoo makeup to cover them up. I fucking hate it, it feels stifling. It’s the only way that I can swim per the dictates of the school, so I suck it up. This shit is thick, full coverage, and not a hint of color shows on my pale skin.
Chlorine doesn’t affect it either. The only way to get rid of it is to use a makeup foaming cleanser while I’m showering. I’d usually wait until I’m home, but I want to bare everything to the little mouse for some reason. My skin feels as if it’s itching, which I know is just in my head.
I know what people see when they look at me. They comment how Bryce is so much easier to get along with. While it’s true, no one knows that he cheats on his girlfriend, Patricia with a nurse who’s married, and he’s not actually as nice as he seems. My mean streak is simply on display for everyone else to see.
I’m also not a cheater in any sense of the term.
I asked the team if they wanted to go out after the meet, but most have plans. They were excited about the offer, helping me to see that the team needs that camaraderie. I may try again after a practice to get into the habit of doing it. It’s not that I hate my team members, I’m just easily peopled out, which is why I stick with my core group.
It’s not considered normal for a high school student to feel like this when everyone is partying or going to the next club meeting. Theo is one of the biggest introverts that I know, but most people ignore it because he scares the shit out of them. I sometimes wish I was more like him or Elijah, who is popular and a fantastic rugby player, yet he can easily fly under the radar when needed.
Being in the spotlight is exhilarating yet also exhausting.
Scrubbing my arms with the cleanser, I glance at the little mouse who is struggling to figure out if she wants to watch me or look away. She's still here, and I’m willing to silently give her props for that.
“Ask me something,” I grunt at her, raising my voice so she’ll hear me over the water running.
“Why do you hide your tattoos?” she says, biting her lip as she realizes that isn’t something that can be printed.
Rachelle Thomas has integrity, I’ll give her that. More than most people at this fucking school. I’ll probably never tell her that, though.
“I only cover them during meets and practice,” I explain. “Otherwise, they’re covered by my school jacket. You know you can’t use that, right?”
“I do,” she sighs, crossing her legs at her ankles and leaning back on her hands along the back of the bench. “What do you think about when you’re swimming? Your face is so intense.”
“Nothing,” I say honestly. “My mind is clear, everything is quiet, I can’t even hear Coach or the people in the stands. All the bullshit fades away.”
There’s a look on her face as I say that, and my eyes narrow. Rachelle doesn’t know this, but there’s a spotlight over the bench where she’s sitting. It means I can see the line on her thigh that isn’t hidden by them being pressed together.
Is it true then? She’s a cutter? I know what the psychiatric reports said from last year, but a part of me wants to see the scars, the proof that she’s broken.
Just like I am.
Except, instead of cutting, I jump into the pool whenever life feels like it’s kicking my ass and the pressure is overwhelming. Even when swimming is what is creating the stress because I’m not doing it well enough.
There’s always room for improvement , it’s something I’ve heard my entire life, but today was the first time that it didn’t feel like a reprimand. Instead, Calvin was telling me there was nothing I could have done differently today.
This swim meet, I swam as hard as I possibly could.
“I know the feeling,” Rachelle mutters. “Is that why you swim, for the peace?”
“Yes,” I say, uncaring if that makes it into the newspaper article.
Pumping shampoo into my hand, I begin to scrub my hair and scalp. It always feels as if I’m made of chlorine because of how often I’m in the water. Everything feels dry, or it would if I didn’t take care of my body.
“Feel like sucking my cock yet, Little Mouse?” I ask her, but more in a teasing manner. I don’t expect her to do it, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure that she won’t.
“Nope,” she says, smirking, but her eyes still trail over my skin. I can almost feel the heat in her gaze, yet as I suspected, she doesn’t move from the bench. “I have a question and an observation that’s going to piss you off.”
“Great, thanks for the heads up,” I mutter, leaning my head back to rinse my hair. My dark hair is floppy, and tends to fall into my eyes if I don’t style it with some product.
I could cut it as my parents always suggest, but the same way my tattoos are part of my identity, so is my hair. Waiting for her to ask the stupid question, I run conditioner through the ends of my hair as well. My cock is still rock hard, bobbing against my stomach due to the slight curve it has.
“Alright, shoot,” I grunt. “What’s going to piss me off?”
“That right there,” she says, leaning forward.
I don’t think the school thinks about how the casual student uniform for the girls makes Rachelle look like a naughty school girl. I kind of wish she’d wear her hair in braids, but she hasn’t since I weaponized her hair against her.
“Your fucking attitude!” she yells, throwing up her hands. “No one really paid attention to me in the stands, which means they spoke pretty freely. The man next to me was saying that you’d make a great leader if you left the ego behind.”
“You think Bryce doesn’t have an ego?” I ask, laughing. Using a different, more hydrating soap, I begin to wash my body. “He’s fucking a nurse instead of his girlfriend, Little Mouse. He gets off on the idea of being the golden boy, so he can pull the wool over everyone’s eyes. At least I’m honest about the kind of fucker I am.”
Aggressively washing my dick, I tug on it as I do, grunting as I find that it feels really good. Moving slower, I sigh as I watch Rachelle’s eyes get wide.
“How is it getting even bigger?” she asks.
Her words make me smirk, until I remember something that Elijah told me she yelled at him last week.
You can’t be a slut if the only sex you’ve had is forced. Ugh, I hate that she’s fucking right. She’s probably never even seen a cock, may as well have the first be mine, especially if she’s looking at it like that.
“It likes to be stroked,” I mutter. “Fuck, I didn’t expect to be so close to coming, but apparently fighting with you makes me hot and bothered.”
“I didn’t need to know that,” Rachelle says with a smirk. “You could have everything you wanted if you tried, is all I’m saying. If Bryce is a fake, then show up in a way that’s authentic if you think you can do better. Talent is one thing, getting people to follow you because you’re more than a big swinging dick, is another.”
“So what I’m hearing is that you like my dick,” I tease her as she grabs her bag, standing.
“For my first look at one, it’s not half bad,” she says, walking out.
Turning, I grab the wall as I pump my dick furiously, because I meant it when I said I was too close to stop. The adrenaline, performing well, and the memory of her lips as she teased me with her words even though there was so much truth in them makes my eyes roll, shouting as I come.
The ropes of cum hit the tiles instead of being swallowed down her throat, and washes down the drain. A missed opportunity for sure, but my heaving breaths make my mind whisper that I wouldn’t have come so hard if she was just some trailer trash who doesn’t deserve to be here.
That makes Rachelle dangerous, because caring about her isn’t an option when the Kings have a group bet they won’t back down from.
Little Mouse, you’re so far out of your league. I hope you realize that soon.
* * *
LILIANA
“You’re right,” I tell Rachelle, after listening to how fired up she is about the swim meet and the fact that Dale just expects her to do all the work.
There’s a few writers for the paper who do this shit, and I'm just as sick of it.
“I’ll call a meeting on Monday, and lay down a new rule,” I tell her as we walk out to the car.
The lacrosse game post interviews took a while to do, and I found her waiting for me outside of the rec center. Her cheeks are high with color, making me wonder if Jared pissed her off or turned her on. Either is possible with those two.
Am I jealous? Not in the least. This is what we want, for the guys to be turned inside out over Rachelle. If they like her and can face what that means, maybe they’ll realize how dumb their vendetta is. As far as I know, no one has died from their bullying, but I still don’t think Rachelle should be subjected to it for the rest of her time at Carlysle Prep.
“Really?” she asks, surprised.
“I’ve had to wipe a lot of asses this year,” I growl. “While not literally, I’m tired of picking up the pieces when some asshole simply doesn’t want to do the work. The newspaper shouldn’t be an easy out for an elective. They can find something else to do or step up. You also did all the legwork, so your name should be in the byline.”
“What if the article sucks?” she groans as we approach the parking lot.
The trek across campus has even my calves mad at me. Maybe I should have stretched first.
“I’ve watched how you work your ass off,” I remind her. “There’s no fucking way you’d submit something that was less than amazing.”
Stepping into the lot, I hear a revving of an engine. Glancing to the side, I see that I don’t recognize the SUV and my blood runs cold. It appears expensive, the windows are blacked out, and while it could be one of the guys fucking with us, there are too many other options too.
My father is in the mafia, and Rachelle’s stepfather is as well. There’s no fucking way I’m about to allow a kidnapping to happen on my watch.
“Baby, I need you to run, okay?” I ask her. “Don’t ask questions, run for the car!”
Pushing her ahead of me, I chase after her as the vehicle shifts into drive. They’re too close, fuck they’re going to run us over if we stay on the asphalt.
“Turn right!” I scream, my foot slipping as I move with her. “Get off the lot, run for the trees.”
I have my phone in my pocket, I’ll call Dad, Mr. Emil, or fucking anyone else to come get us. I have zero issues hiding when I need to.
Rachelle follows my directions well, running hard to get off the parking lot. The vehicle follows, barreling down as we run so hard, it feels like we’re flying. I don’t think we’re going to make it, and I throw my backpack, hoping the expensive camera doesn’t get broken. Honestly, I’d rather live to worry about it at this point.
Rachelle sees the SUV, but doesn’t freeze with fear, thank god. Sometimes, your legs just stop moving when you’re faced with something this scary. Gasping, I strangle a scream back as the vehicle barely misses us as we jump out of the way. The warmth of the fucking car as it flies by is something I’ll never forget.
“Don’t stop,” I rasp, simply wanting to get completely of out the fucking lot. I don’t trust whoever is driving not to turn around for a third chance.
Pushing my hair out of my face, I watch as the vehicle careens out of the parking lot, the window opening up.
“Down!” I scream, yanking Rachelle’s arm so she’ll drop to the ground with me. The asshole has a silencer on his gun, so the bullets fly over our heads as we make ourselves as small as possible.
Pulling out my phone, I call Mr. Emil immediately. My dad is still out of town, which is the worst timing.
“ Lili?”
I’m crying, the stress making me almost drop the phone, despite my eyes witnessing the damn SUV gun his engine and race away.
“Gun, oh my God,” I wheeze, breathing hard. “Someone tried to run us over, Mr. Emil. We got out of the parking lot on foot, but he tried to shoot us.”
“ Where? Breathe, Lili. You can do this. You have Rachelle, right?” he asks, sounding intense.
I need him to sound harsh so that I can use it to ground myself.
“She’s with me. We were just walking to the car after getting our work done for the newspaper. We’re still on campus for fuck’s sakes.”
“ Get up, get into your car, and start driving. Share your location with me, okay? I’m leaving now,” he grunts. “ I’m assuming no one is hurt?”
“No. Baby, are you hurt?” I ask, sitting up. Rachelle pushes herself off the ground, shaking her head, and I can feel my hands shaking. Driving is going to suck. “We’re fine. I think he took shots at us to be a dick. He almost hit us though. That was too close. I wish I had seen more, but?—”
“ You’re fine. Get up,” he reminds me.
Nodding, it takes me two tries to get my legs to obey. I would be better if Rachelle wasn’t with me. The idea of being responsible for her and failing to keep her safe is fucking with me. Grabbing her hand, I walk with her quickly to the car.
“We’re almost to the car,” I say, knowing there’s tears in my tone. I can’t help it, I’m very close to losing it.
“ Good, keep going. Just tell me everything, ” he says. “ Remember to share your location with me so I can track you, Lili.”
“Okay,” I whisper, a tear running down my cheek as I unlock the car. “Get in, Rachelle. We’re good.”
Rachelle glances at me but nods, almost tripping as she walks. We’re both not doing well. Twitchy, freaking out, this shit is traumatic. Sinking into my seat, I make sure I’m sharing my location with Mr. Emil.
“I’m having severe paranoia,” I mutter, glancing at the ignition.
“If they wanted to run you over, I doubt they’d bomb your car,” Mr. Emil grunts as I nod and hit the button to turn on the car. God, it’s almost like he can read my mind at this point.
Shutting the doors, I pull on my seatbelt and make sure Rachelle’s is on as well before putting the car into reverse.
“We‘re on the way,” I murmur.
“ Good. I’m in my car with two of my men following me. I don’t care if it looks overprotective to have a damn caravan to come retrieve you,” he says.
Mr. Emil talks to me as I drive, keeping me focused and calm, and I recognize his SUV as he u-turns in front of me. A second later another SUV turns around so they’re driving behind me and so on. I’m now sandwiched in a caravan of vehicles.
I have to admit, it doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. The gun being shot at us makes me check the Kings off the list of people this could have been. They’d never be so brazen as to shoot a gun when there could be anyone else on campus.
They’re not fans of collateral damage. This is something else entirely, and way above my emotional pay grade.
Pulling through gates of the Reyes estate helps me take a deep breath, my hand holding Rachelle’s tightly. Her eyes are blown with fear, but she’s holding it together better than I am, funny enough.
“That wasn’t the Kings, was it?” she whispers as I follow Mr. Emil up the driveway.
“No, I’m pretty positive it wasn’t,” I tell her. “They wouldn’t pull a gun out at school like that. The four of them have lives outside of whatever bullshit happens inside the walls of our school. The guys would never risk their freedom like that.”
“Does Emil have… enemies?” she asks, struggling to find the words.
“I’m sure he does. He’ll figure it out, okay?” I say, putting the car into park behind her stepfather.
The door is ripped open a second later, and Mr. Emil helps her out of the seatbelt before he’s pulling Rachelle into a hug. Sighing, I get out of the car to prepare for a lecture as I walk around to where they are. Instead, he pulls me into the hug, squeezing me tightly.
“Thank you for staying safe,” he murmurs against my hair as he hugs me. Nodding, I sniff as I hear Rachelle start to cry, which starts my own tears. Dammit. “It’s fine to cry now. It’s just me.”
I don’t even bother to hide as I break apart, because this could have gone very differently.
“I think someone is sending a warning, and I don’t appreciate it,” Mr. Emil grunts. “I’ll be sure to take care of it. I promise.”
There’s nothing I can do except nod, because he’s always kept his promises to me.