12. Jason
12
JASON
F or the first time since Dean Chen and Mr. Gormer told me that I had to go into the university’s recovery program to stay in college, about a month ago, I skipped classes Friday morning.
It was a nice break not to have to see Laura on Thursday night because of the library’s unexpected closure that night. Having all that free time didn’t mean I partied and drank, though. I slept. Dropping onto my bed, I ignored the party downstairs and simply rested.
In the morning, I felt groggy from sleeping too much, but in a rare moment of self-reflection, I was grateful I could sleep in like that. I was glad that I could determine what I wanted to do with my life, even if it meant skipping for a morning.
I’d always been self-sufficient and independent to the core. It was a personality and lifestyle borne of being dismissed and cast aside by parents who hadn’t ever wanted to be parental at all. It also meant that I hated to rely on anyone or depend on others too much.
Like Laura.
I didn’t need her to tutor me.
I didn’t want her to stay in my head all the time, either.
That breakup video between her and Ethan was still on my phone, but every time I thought about sharing it, I hesitated. Each time I got onto my social media and got ready to caption the embarrassing video, I couldn’t go through with it.
The whole point of putting up with her tutoring was to pay back Dean Chen. I was supposed to target her and have no misgivings about ruining her life and seeing to her unhappiness.
Yet, something held me back.
When I almost pressed the button to share the video, I couldn’t dismiss the memory of her breathy exhales when I got in her space, the almost nervous desire that she tried to hide when I talked about touching her and asking her about when she’d come before.
I… wanted her. As bizarre of a twist as this was, I had no clue how to justify this desire at all. Fucking the good girls was my “thing”. I made a hobby of it. But when it came to Laura…
I swallowed hard as I got out of my car in a crappy part of town further from the campus.
When it came to wanting Laura, I couldn’t forgive myself.
She was the target of pain, pain I wanted to inflict because her father had ruined my brother’s life.
How could I want her, to surprise her and make her come for me in the ultimate ruin of her good-girl image, when I was supposed to be making her suffer?
It wasn’t fair to my brother to want the enemy.
And that was why I came to visit him down in the hood.
William didn’t call or text often anymore, needing to use his money and phone minutes for “work” instead of staying in touch with me, but I always knew I could get ahold of him around here. This corner near the abandoned post office was where he said a lot of dealers came to do business.
Sure enough, he was there.
His hair was longer and shaggier than the last time I saw him, a couple of months ago. Pale and gaunt, he looked sicker and thinner. Unhealthy.
I tried not to react to the shock of how poorly he looked since earlier in the spring, but it was disheartening to witness the toil of a hard life on him. He used to be like me, if not as popular. Fit and of a normal body weight. Dressed well and showered.
William was still a Reeves, but he behaved like a bum, so far beneath what we had been raised with. Not a single trapping of wealth showed on him, but his eyes lit up with surprise when he spotted me.
“Hey! Jason.” He opened his arms to hug me, and I had to hold in my breath at the stink that wafted off him.
Fuck. He said he wasn’t homeless the last time we spoke. Maybe he still had a place at his buddy’s apartment, but sharing that small unit with so many other guys—fellow dealers—had to resemble a homeless shelter more than a home.
“Hey, Brother.”
I gritted my teeth to brace myself for facing him fully as he released me.
“How’s it going?” he asked, swapping a wad of chew in his cheek.
When the fuck did that start? I couldn’t ask. He’d get defensive if I pried. But I worried all the same.
“It’s going,” I replied, unsure what to tell him.
William spiraled fast after his time in college, which was cut way too short. All thanks to fucking Dean Chen, William only lasted one semester in college, at the same frat house I’d later be the president of. I’d only been a starting member when William came to college, but he didn’t stick around.
Dean Chen showed no mercy, no forgiveness, when a few other students accused William of cheating. The details varied according to who was asked, but it was more than his peeking at another student’s test for answers. It was a whole sting operation put on by the university, an in-depth scandal that rocked the whole campus.
The bottom line that I cared about was that Dean Chen was the key perpetrator in expelling my younger brother. Without representation or a lawyer, sans a proper investigation, and not even giving him a chance to answer for himself, he was gone.
Out.
Expelled.
Banned.
Just like that, Dean Chen ruined his life and cut his future too fucking short.
My parents hadn’t been very forgiving either, refusing to fight for him because that was when they were considering running for office. When William was kicked out, my father had just started to express his interest in joining the politics in our state. He and my mother were gone at dinner parties and rubbing elbows with other influential assholes and donors.
They hadn’t cared about William’s leaving. They didn’t bother to help him afterward. Because the news of the cheating scandal had gone big and they didn’t want bad press, they cut him off completely, wanting no stains on their names.
I watched, helpless and increasingly mad, when they cut all ties with him.
Without money, he was homeless. Without funds, he had no prospects for work.
All too soon, he fell into a life of dealing whatever drugs he could find.
“You need anything?” I asked, glancing around to check that we were alone in this abandoned building. Flipping through the money in my wallet, all that I could withdraw from the frat house’s account until my parents’ allowance deposit would go back into it, I held out the only money I had.
The Reeves name meant money. It meant power and generational wealth. Soon, it might mean political power. But since I proved how untrustworthy I was in college, they prevented me from having any money to myself. It went to the frat house or to my food allowance. They’d already bought my car. Other expenses were handled. All of them were, as far as any materialistic things went, but I had no money of my own.
Not until I turned twenty-five and after graduation would I personally see a cent of my trust fund.
They emptied out William’s already, putting the money into my dad’s political campaign.
“Thanks, Brother,” he said, taking the money before thinking twice.
“Still no word from Mom or Dad?”
William laughed bitterly, switching his chew again. “No. Last I heard, they sold the mansion for a place near the capital.” He shrugged. “They won’t talk to me. I gave up trying.”
I clenched my teeth, hating how I was a failure of a brother. I’d always tried to look out for him when we were kids because our parents never gave a shit, but in hindsight, that was probably the reason he got so stuck in that cheating crap.
He’d never learned to lie well because I always did it for him.
And now, I was hopeless to help him after his future was destroyed.
One day, I could help him a lot. I’d always wanted to go into medical school to become a doctor. I had always wanted to have a profession that would help others when they were sick. When I was little, I was fascinated with the body and the science of how medicine worked. William and I had grown up obsessed with watching medical dramas and emergency shows.
Until I was a doctor, though, I wouldn’t be making any money at all.
“You’re not fucking around at school, are you?” he asked after we tried and failed to share some small talk, mostly wasting time commenting about the weather, of all fucking useless topics.
I ran my hand over my hair, hedging an answer.
“Because you don’t want this life, Jason.” He grunted and looked around, then scratched at a scab on his arm. “Mom and Dad cut me off completely because of what happened to me.”
“Dean Chen is not expelling me,” I told him.
“I hope not, Brother.” He hung his head. “But don’t tempt fate. Mom and Dad won’t care.”
He didn’t need to remind me. I was already aware of how reluctant our parents were to bail me out. I was living the consequences of their distance because they wouldn’t pay a donation so I could stay in college now.
Just like every other time I saw him, which wasn’t often because he didn't like making himself available to talk to me when he could push drugs instead, I left feeling like complete shit.
I hated that he was there.
I despised that I was stuck to help him.
And it deepened the festering hatred I bore for the man who’d set Willaim’s downward spiral into action.
When I returned to campus, I worked out to vent my anger. It didn’t calm me, though. If anything, using my muscles revved me up to be even madder by the time I’d meet with Laura. The academic recovery program scheduled us to have a tutoring session tonight, on a Friday evening, to make up for what we missed yesterday.
And I was fuming. Spoiling for a fight. Anxious and excited for a chance to take out my anger on the Chen family.
She arrived moments after me, cautious like she always was.
After she put her books down on the table, she sat and met my eye. I glared, not changing my expression at all.
Because seeing her again renewed this really inconvenient desire that I couldn’t shut off. I wanted her. She had to be my enemy, my target, but I lusted after her, nonetheless.
I stared at the long, silky, black locks, wanting to wrap them around my fist and tug her closer until she sucked my dick.
I gazed at her lips, closed and nervous, as I thought about kissing her and nipping until I tasted blood.
I lowered my eyes until I watched the pulse point in her neck, fantasizing about grabbing her by the neck and pounding?—
Fuck.
I gritted my teeth.
I couldn’t want her when she was associated with the man who’d ruined my brother’s life.
But I did.
“How come you didn’t share that video?” she asked as a greeting.
It was bold of her to ask. But I refused to be impressed by her courage. Not now. Not when I wanted to both fuck and hurt her.
“ Yet ,” I snapped. “Don’t think I won’t.”
She licked her lower lip as she dropped her gaze. Fuck, if that didn’t wake up my dick faster.
“I… know you will,” she admitted, clearly noticing how much anger and wrath lurked beneath the surface.
“Don’t think for one fucking second that it wouldn’t make my day to see you cry.”
She lifted her face to narrow her eyes at me, sharpening the bright green that sparkled with hurt and a little bit of worry.
Dammit. Don’t fucking look at me like that.
I wanted her to be worried about me hurting her.
I couldn’t stand her looking worried about me, as if she noted my anger and wanted a solution to help me out of it.
Having her concerned about me and expressing pity, of all fucking things, was not happening. Not tonight. Not ever.