Page 33 of Raise Hell

Drake has the same pained and angry look on his face that he would if he swallowed a porcupine whole.

“Thanks for the spot,” I say cheerfully as I climb to my feet. “I’m happy to return the favor any time. I’d love the opportunity to hold a metal bar that is suspended over your neck.”

He lets the bar fall back into the rack, just missing the fingers that I snatch out of the way. Fear streaks through me as I realize how much it would have hurt if I hadn’t moved them in time.

“Watch your back, Pratt,” he murmurs. “And your fingers. Your neck. Your toes. We throw a lot of weight around in here. Sometimes people get hurt.”

He has already stalked away before I come up with an appropriate response.

If Drake thinks that he is the worst threat I’ve ever dealt with, then he has another thing coming. Little does he know that this isn’t my first time in a weight room, and it won’t be the last. People like to think it’s only boys who work out their aggression physically. Girls are meaner, and when we put our hands on each other, we go for the softest parts first.

In juvie, everybody wants to mess with the pretty, white girl from a good family. They thought it’d be easy to threaten me into giving up my food or toiletries. One girl even threatened to break all my teeth if I didn’t give her access to the money in my commissary account. I got in more than my fair share of fights, and I learned early on that a take no prisoners attitude is the best way to protect yourself.

And getting a gym membership once I got out meant I never had to worry about finding a place to shower when I was in between places to crash.

Drake Van Koch isn’t anywhere near as scary as he wants to think he is.

I drift to the back of the room as Coach Cameron continues with his assessments. He’ll probably stop any of them from hurting me if he sees it happening, but I don’t want any of these guys standing at my back.

“That was pretty impressive,” a sly voice murmurs from beside me.

I turn to see Cole standing there with a placid expression on his face.

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” I ask.

“Nope. I’m just about giving respect when it’s due,” he replies with a shrug. His smile is warm, but the look in his eyes is shrewd as he gives me a long once over. “I don’t remember you being all that into weightlifting last year.”

And here I’ve been hoping no one would remember anything about the “old” me. “It’s amazing what a few months of physical therapy will do.”

If the reminder of what happened bothers him, Cole doesn’t show it. “Sounds like you’ve done a good job of moving on. Makes people wonder why you’d come back.”

“The words none, of and your business come to mind.”

“Says the girl who has managed to make an enemy of the most important people on campus in a few days. If Havoc House had some reassurances, they might let off the pressure a little bit.”

I should have caught on to their tactic from the very beginning. If Drake has made himself the designated bad cop, then someone has to play the good one and convince me to throw myself under the bus for my own sake.

“Maybe Havoc House shouldn’t assume that I came back here just to cause problems. This might be news to you, but the world doesn’t revolve around your frat.”

“Historic fraternal order,” he corrects.

“Whatever.”

“And we wouldn’t have to assume anything if we knew the real reason.” He seems genuinely curious. “You were a nobody before, doesn’t seem like there was much for you to come back to.”

I can tell the words aren’t necessarily meant to be hurtful, more like he is just stating the obvious.

“You seem like a really nice guy,” I comment drily. “Makes me wonder about some of the company you keep.”

It doesn’t take much effort to zero in on Drake. I never lost track of where he was in the room, even as I told myself it’s only smart to keep an eye on the tiger crouching in the grass. As if he feels me looking, Drake turns his head toward me at the same time I risk a glance.

Our gazes meet like a lightning bolt striking in the center of the room. He looks at me like he would happily lob the nearest free weight at my head if he could get away with it. Those eyes burn along my skin like green fire, making my belly clench with more than just fear.

I hate how much he affects me. My body doesn’t seem to realize how much it’s supposed to hate him.

“And you used to be a sweet girl from what I’ve heard, so I’m giving you fair warning. You are very much in over your head here.” Cole’s voice is still amiable, but there is a note of steel under the complacent tone. As much as he might respect my bench weight, that doesn’t change the fact he is a Havoc Boy like all the others. “Things are going to get ugly if you stick around.”

I don’t mind a bit more ugly when there is already so much to go around.

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