Chapter 5
Chapter Five
JAX
Football may primarily serve to keep me occupied and my mom happy, but it does come with a few benefits. One is having a lot of minions, i.e., Nick was here holding this seat. I knew where Kinsley was going to sit, so I had Nick claim the table. I’m done watching from afar.
I could have done it myself, but then Kinsley might have picked another seat.
I didn’t want to chance it. People tend to give Damon and me a wide berth.
We don’t try to be dicks. Being an asshole for no reason gets you nowhere.
You should save it for when you need to be, but our last name keeps people at bay—some, but not all.
I’m sure it’s more parents telling their kids to stay away from us and telling them stories. Kinsley's parents are very prestigious doctors in the city, and they, without a doubt, would tell her that if she mentioned the Marino name to them.
Nick was more than pleased to do it. Now I'll toss him a few more passes.
That's how the world works when you hold some form of power and the people around you are aware of it.
You give people a little, and they are more than willing to give a whole lot more back.
With Nick, my power is making him look good on the field.
I shouldn't stare at Kinsley. She has already shifted in her chair twice, making her skirt rise up. As much as I love the view of more of her legs, it's a fight not to reach over and pull her skirt back down so no one else can see them. Lucky me, we're tucked back in a corner.
Kinsley tilts her head in the other direction, making one of her chestnut braids fall off her shoulder, the end brushing the table.
I have the urge to wrap my hand around it and give a small tug to pull her attention back to me, but I won't. I keep myself in check, but it's wavering.
It has been for months now. It doesn't help that with every breath I take, her sweet scent of strawberries and vanilla fills my lungs.
I take in a few extra deep breaths, willing to draw in the smell.
Savoring each moment that I get to be this close to her.
There are so many things I want to ask her.
Even though I know almost everything about her.
I am a Marino, after all, and we have our ways of getting information.
Still, it’s not the same as the answers coming straight from her mouth.
I’ve dreamt of her wanting to tell me each and every detail of her life.
Of being the person she tells her dreams, secrets, and desires.
My thoughts are over the top and obsessive. I don’t fight them. It’s pointless. Why have an inner battle with myself? Only a dumbfuck gets into a fight knowing they are going to lose.
I lean back in my chair, getting comfortable.
I try not to puff out my chest when I keep seeing Kinsley peek over at me from the corner of her eye.
Mr. Korn drones on about the syllabus and what we will be learning this year.
I know Kinsley hates science, but I don’t, and all this is a refresher.
I only took this class because of Kinsley, but this will be an easy grade for me.
The human body and its functions are an area Uncle Ronan taught us about years ago. In my favorite style—hands-on. That's the thing; when you know how the body works, you can use that knowledge for all kinds of things.
Throughout history, one could observe the various methods people have used to torture others. As we grow in society and learn, we bear witness to this. There is a shift from brutal and bloody physical forms of torture using unconventional tools to alternative physical and psychological techniques.
Instead of tying a person to a chair, simply tie the wrists above behind the head and let the body hang at an awkward angle. It will cause agonizing dislocation of the shoulders.
You also have the kidneys. The kidneys are supplied by the renal plexus, which includes both sensory and efferent motor nerves. Hit those dense nerves hard enough through the muscles in the back, and widespread pain beyond the kidney itself will bring a full-grown man to his knees.
“Your partner for the semester is whomever you chose to sit next to. Hope you chose wisely,” Mr. Korn tells the room.
This time, Kinsley doesn’t hide it when she glances my way.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be paired with your brother?
” she whispers to me. Is she trying to get rid of me?
Does she want to be paired with Nick? I fight down the stab of jealousy.
Kinsley might not need biology at all. Her torture of me is on par.
“He’s a dumbass.” I speak loud enough for Damon to hear.
“Fuck off,” Damon mutters back. “Just pissed I got the looks.” Kinsley snickers. “See, your girl agrees.”
Kinsley’s eyes widen, her head giving a slight shake of no. “I’m not—”
I cut her off because I don’t want to hear her say she’s not my girl. We’ll get there.
“Ignore him, Bunny.” I'd been thrilled when I saw she had the pen I left for her. When I saw it, I knew it fit her.
Mr. Korn tells everyone to get out their tablets and pull up course one.
"You going to keep calling me that?" she asks, tilting her head, making her braid brush against the back of my hand. Kinsley doesn't have a clue what she does to me with those small acts. How badly my fingers itch to touch her.
"Does it bother you?" Kinsley gives an indecisive shrug of her shoulders.
"I'd guess myself to be more of a giraffe. One just born that wobbles."
"Nah, you're not a giraffe. You're a bunny." Her nose scrunches in a small wiggle, proving my point. I fight the urge to reach down and adjust my dick. She has no idea how adorable and attractive she is at the same time.
“What does that make you?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow at me. There you are, Bunny. Come out and play with me. I’ll lure her in little by little.
“You’re not ready for that yet, Bunny.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” she whispers, I think more to herself than anything. Then she flips her notebook open and scribbles in it before pulling her tablet out.
Mr. Korn goes over a few more items before telling us to start on coursework with our partners.
“I hate to tell you this—”
“Tell me anything, Bunny.” I could listen to her talk about anything. Well, not anything. There are a few subjects she could touch that might turn me into a murderer.
“Jax.” She snorts a laugh. “When did you get all chatty and—” This time she cuts herself off.
“What?”
“Nothing, never mind.” Kinsley inhales sharply as her cheeks start to pinken.
“Now I have to know.”
“Well, you can’t make me tell you.” When her eyes meet mine, I can see a change take over as she tilts her body to her left, away from me. It’s as though she remembers who I am and that maybe I just could make her after all.
See, Kinsley is a brilliant girl. She doesn’t need her parents to tell her to stay away from me.
Fuck.
“I’d never want to make you do anything you don’t want to, Kinsley,” I tell her.
Unless it’s to keep her from getting hurt, but we’ll get there when the time comes.
Or if it is something to do with her and another swinging dick.
Then I suppose it wouldn't be her that needed to worry ‘cause I’d just simply kill them. Right now, I’ll do and say what I need to so she doesn’t pull away from me. “But—”
“Oh noes. The but.” She tries to say it playfully, but her acting is shit.
I’d know because when I dug into her, when she first arrived at Golden Prep, one of the things I found was a video of her playing Matilda in an elementary school play.
Let’s just say she doesn’t have an acting career ahead of her.
“I’m willing to trade. You give, I give.” I make her an offer. One I know her curiosity will have her biting at.
“You want to know that badly?” This time, I shrug to keep her interested. Those warm brown eyes of hers slightly narrow. “All right, I used to be able to use Mrs. Dante’s computer, but now she’s gone.”
"You no longer have a way to get into the teachers' board and such." In there, she can get absences and notes along with people's grades. “What information do you want?” I don’t want to give her too much too soon. I need her coming back for more.
“Alice and Celia.” I know this is an asshole thing to do, but I do it, nonetheless. I cock my head, pretending to forget who they are. Of course, I know who they are. Annoying as fuck is what they are.
“The cheerleaders, the head ones?” A small laugh leaves her, letting me know that playing dumb did work in my favor.
“Oh yeah, sorry. It’s early. Celia with the darkish hair, and Alyssa is the blonde.”
“Oh my God.” Kinsley laughs more. The sound sweet and full of life, just like her. Mr. Korn glances our way, and I hit him with a hard stare that has him putting his attention back onto his computer. Smart. “Celia is the blonde, and it’s Alice, not Alyssa.”
“Right, my bad.”
“They’d die if they knew you not only mixed them up but also forgot who they are.” I’d kill them both right now if it kept her laughing and talking to me. Dad would be pissed but would understand.
“They’re forgettable.” I shrug. “Copy-paste.” That's the fucking truth. A lot of people here are, except her. Kinsley is real and always herself. It’s part of what’s drawn her to me. A name doesn’t impress her. You have to impress her yourself.
“They are very cliché.” She nods in agreement. “And they’re beefing.” I noticed. Not because I give a shit, but I pay attention more than I let on. Also, a few of the guys on the team have dated or fucked them. Same shit to me. They run their mouths often.
“I’m guessing you’re trying to find out why?”
“It could be nothing, I suppose.” She lets out a small, disappointed huff. I’m sure I could get the information from a teammate easily.
“Or it could be everything,” I offer, keeping her on my line as I slowly draw her in.
“You think?” Kinsley perks up at the idea. Maybe I should have nicknamed her “kitten” because of how curious she is.
“I’m not the reporter here. I forgot their names, after all. Maybe I need one of those notebooks.” I nod toward hers. It’s closed with her hand resting protectively over it.
"When I write things down, I tend to remember them better, and I don't like those handwriting tablets." Smart girl. You can burn your notebooks. When it comes to the digital world, nothing is ever really gone. Unless your father is mine. He can make anything disappear.
"If it works for you, then do your thing. Now, don't think I forgot. You still haven't finished your comment from before. Are you going to hold up your end of the trade?"
“That you remember but not the cheer captains?”
“Bunny, I remember everything when it comes to you.”