Chapter 17
WES
The apartment is dead quiet except for the hollow tap of Ford’s laptop keys and the low drone of Raf’s voice as he flips between phone calls.
I’m at the kitchen table, hunched over my sociology textbook, which might as well be written in another language for how much of it is seeping into my brain right now.
Finals are just a couple weeks out. I should be dialed in, cramming until my eyes bleed, but every five minutes I catch myself glancing at Ford or Raf, itching to be in on whatever scheme they’re hatching.
They said they have the shipment situation handled and don’t need my help.
Normally, that’d piss me off, but today, I’m grateful for the excuse.
Most of the faculty here hands us A’s like candy, but Dr. O’Connell is old-school.
He’ll tank my GPA without blinking, and I’m not about to wreck my perfect record playing hero for a girl who won’t even look me in the eye anymore.
So I stay in my seat. Keep my head down. Pretend I’m not listening to every keystroke and every shift in Raf’s tone, trying to piece together what I’m being left out of.
The apartment door slams open hard enough to rattle the walls, and I’m on my feet in an instant, shoulders up and fists clenched.
Ava storms in like a fucking hurricane. Her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold, hair windblown, chest rising and falling like she just sprinted all the way here. She kicks the door closed behind her, phone clutched in her hand like she’s about to beat someone to death with it.
“Who did it?” she demands, ripping her backpack off her shoulder and slamming it against the wall. The impact echoes through the apartment as she stalks straight into the living room, murderous eyes zeroed in on Ford.
He doesn’t even flinch. Just tips his chin up, calm as ever, like he’s been waiting for this all fucking day. “Did what?” he asks mildly, fingers still moving over his laptop keys.
Ava stalks up to the recliner, crowding into his space and shoving her phone in his face. “Was it just you?” she snaps, then whips around so fast it’s almost disorienting, eyes cutting to Raf, then me. “Or were you all in on it?”
Raf glances up from the couch, mouth quirking in faint amusement, but he doesn’t say a word. That’s his whole schtick these days– watching, measuring, letting everything play out until he decides it matters.
Ford finally looks at Ava’s phone screen, then back at her, a slow grin spreading across his face. “You got a problem with the party invite, Ava baby?” he drawls, clearly pleased with himself. “Do the graphics not match your aesthetic, or…?”
“I will stab you,” she snarls.
His face lights up, eyes brightening as if he’s thrilled with that suggestion.
“Careful,” he murmurs, grabbing his crotch, “you’re getting Monty all excited.”
Jesus Christ.
I clear my throat to get her attention, stepping in before this escalates further. “Let me see,” I say, hand outstretched.
She whirls on me, taking two steps in my direction before hurling her phone across the room without warning.
My hand darts up to catch it on instinct, the impact stinging my palm as I fumble it once to secure a grip and flip it over.
My eyes widen as I stare down at the atrocity on the screen– a gaudy, brightly-colored flyer with cartoon cherries and ‘CHERRY POP PARTY’ in giant font.
My stomach drops.
“Jesus, Ford,” I mutter under my breath, grimacing as I take it in.
He grins, stretching his arms above his head. “The graphics really pop, right?” he says, smug as hell. “Viral marketing.”
Ava turns back on him instantly, arms folding tight across her chest like she’s holding herself together by force. “What. The. Fuck,” she spits, enunciating every word with the kind of unbridled fury that would rattle most people.
Not Ford.
He just shrugs, totally unbothered. “Relax, baby. It’s just a joke.” He winks, like that’s supposed to make it better somehow. “And it’s gonna be a hell of a party.”
“It’s not about the party!” Ava snaps, her voice cracking through the room as her hands fly up in frustration. “It’s about the entire goddamn campus laughing at me before anything’s even happened!”
Ford doesn’t even blink. “It was your idea,” he replies coolly. “I told you I was gonna do it.”
Her eyes widen. “Like hell you did!”
“I did. At lunch.” He tilts his head, looking to me for backup.
I rub my forehead, stomach sinking as I recall the exact conversation we had in the Bistro earlier. Ava was only half-listening, distracted, more focused on arguing about the party itself, but… “Yeah, you kinda did,” I admit, the words tasting like shit.
Ava’s head snaps in my direction, jaw dropping like I just betrayed her somehow.
“But not like this,” I add quickly, trying to walk it back. “Not with the whole… graphic design flourish.”
“Really, Wes?” she scoffs, something wounded flashing in her eyes. “You, too?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” Ford cuts in, rolling his eyes like this whole thing is beneath him. “The best defense is a good offense. The Dollhouse wants to auction you off as a virgin, and this flyer tells them they’re shit outta luck.” He turns his head, gaze sliding to Raf. “Right, Raf?”
Raf finally looks up from his phone, the energy in the entire room shifting.
“It’ll reach the right people,” he says evenly.
“Every student here has familial connections to the Invictus. Information spreads fast.” His gaze flicks to Ava, steady and unreadable.
“And since the Dollhouse can’t reach you on campus, they’ll be keeping tabs on what’s happening here. ”
Ava sets her jaw, color blooming on her cheeks. The anger is still there, but something else is threading through it now– something more raw. “Is that really how you want to do this?” she asks quietly, eyes locked on Raf. “Thought you didn’t want it unless I did?”
My brows shoot up. I look between them, something cold settling low in my gut as I realize I’ve missed something. A conversation, and understanding that didn’t include me.
Raf stares her down unflinchingly, until the air in the room gets so thick it’s hard to breathe.
“Whatever,” Ava mutters after a second, breaking eye contact and turning away from him. “Hope you assholes enjoy your little party, because I’m not coming.”
Ford snorts. “You’re hilarious. You’ll be there, Doll. And you’re gonna get fucked after.” His voice drops just enough to feel like a promise. “That’s the deal.”
She recoils like he slapped her. “Excuse me?”
Ford shrugs. “You can be a bitch about it,” he says casually, shifting his laptop to the side table and pushing to his feet, “or you can lean in and enjoy yourself.” His mouth curls, slow and taunting.
“You might actually have a good time if you’d stop acting so high and mighty and loosen the fuck up. ”
Ava seethes, but I see the flinch behind her eyes, the hit landing deeper than she wants it to. Not just anger– humiliation. Violation.
“What’s fun about having my sex life turned into a public event?” she bites out.
Ford rolls his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t love the attention, Ava baby.”
She glares back at him for a long moment, something in her expression going cold. “You’re all assholes,” she says finally, then turns and storms off down the hall.
The slam of her bedroom door cracks through the apartment, a picture on the living room wall jumping loose and tipping sideways on its nail. Silence settles in her absence, then Ford exhales a laugh, dragging a hand through his hair like that was all just fun and games.
“Too far?” he asks, cocking a brow. “Don’t know about you guys, but it gets my dick hard when she’s fired up like that.”
I drop Ava’s phone onto the table, something ugly building in my chest. “Yeah, it’s too fucking far” I say flatly, staring him down. “Even for you.”
He rolls his eyes, sauntering toward the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “Jesus, you sound like my father,” he scoffs as he passes me, shoulder brushing mine on purpose. “Didn’t know she’d turned you into such a pussy, Wes.”
That’s it.
I move before I think, my hand hitting his chest hard, shoving him back into the counter as he reaches for the fridge.
“Don’t be a prick,” I snarl.
He shoves me right back, just as hard.
I go at him again– harder this time, the edge of real violence cutting in– and suddenly Raf’s there, stepping between us.
“Hey,” he barks, planting a hand on each of our chests to keep us apart. “We don’t fight over bitches that don’t matter.”
The words hit wrong, and I feel the shift immediately.
“Did you sign off on this bullshit?” I snap, jerking my chin toward Ava’s phone on the table.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, too fucking calm. “We operate as a unit.”
“Do we?” I shoot back, a sharp laugh breaking out. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m getting cut out of a lot of shit lately.”
Ford barks a laugh behind him. “Has someone fucking body snatched you? The old Wes would’ve found this hilarious.”
I lunge again, but Raf anticipates it and shifts with me, effortlessly blocking my attempt at another shove. My hands curl into fists, the urge to swing– to hit something, anything– pulsing hot under my skin.
But I stop.
Barely.
Dragging in a sharp breath, I force myself back a step, then another, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, turning on my heel and stalking off down the hall.
Ava’s door is shut, and I slow as I reach it, the last threads of adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. I hover there for a second, listening to the silence on the other side before raising a fist to knock.
“Go away,” Ava calls, her voice muffled through the door.
My hand drops to the knob anyway, just to check if she locked it. She didn’t. It turns, and the door creaks open.
I peek my head in.
She’s on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, eyes rimmed red. She looks so small, so delicate. Too damn fragile for this place.
My throat tightens as I step inside, hands raised in mock surrender like that’ll soften the intrusion. “Ford shouldn’t have done that,” I murmur.
She snorts. “Ya think?”
I sigh, easing the door shut behind me, arms folding across my chest as I lean back against it. “For what it’s worth, he’s right about the flyer,” I say, knowing the words are useless but pushing forward anyway. “It’ll make a splash. The Dollhouse will get the message loud and clear, and–”
“And what?” She lifts her head just enough to meet my eyes, and the look in hers fucking guts me. “I get to have my first time as a party trick?”
The bitterness in her voice is so thick it tightens my own chest.
I exhale slowly, my head tipping back against the door with a dull thud.
I don’t know what to say.
I never know what to say when it matters.
This part has never been my thing. Feeling, comforting, trying to fix something that doesn’t have an easy angle or a clean solution. It’s easier to joke and deflect, pretend none of it’s real. But none of that works here. Not with her.
Ava narrows her eyes, studying me like she’s trying to piece something together. “I heard you guys yelling.”
“Yeah,” I admit, scrubbing a hand down my face as I push off from the door.
“About me?” she asks, voice small.
I jerk a nod. No point in lying, she probably heard every fucking word.
She watches me for a long moment, tilting her head like she’s seeing something she didn’t expect to find. And for the first time since she got back, she’s actually looking at me. Not through me.
I swallow roughly. “Just because I stand by the guys,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “doesn’t mean I agree with everything they do.”
Her eyes go glassy and she drops her gaze, her hair slipping forward to hide her face like she doesn’t want me to see it.
I shift my weight, something straining in my chest.
I want to go to her. Sit on the edge of the bed, and do something– anything– that makes this feel less like I’m standing on the wrong side of a line I don’t know how to cross.
But she came in here to get away from us. All of us. So I don’t move. Instead, I just sigh, slowly turning toward the door and reaching for the knob.
“Hey Wes?”
Her voice stops me cold. I freeze, fingers tensing slightly on the doorknob before I twist around.
She’s looking at me again, the anger in her brown eyes dissolving into something softer. Something I can’t quite place.
“Thanks,” she whispers.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I just nod once, forcing a swallow past the lump in my throat. Then I turn, pulling the door open, and step out in the hallway, closing it quietly behind me.