Page 97 of Knight

He’s not at his locker. Not keeping court on top of the steps. That leaves me with one more option.

Storming into the boys’ locker room, I’m hit with a flood of emotion. The last time I was in here, Damien made me fall apart. And I let him. What’s worse? I fucking loved it. I don’t know if he knew it, or if I did but something changed that day. Before he ruined it all. I’m not sitting back and being the brunt of the joke. No more. No way.

“Woah, Medusa,” a hockey player with half his gear on greets me when I walk between a group of sweaty, stinky boys. There’s a hoot and now I know I’m on a time limit before their coach sees an intruder. An angry intruder.

“King!” Another boy calls. “It looks like you have a package for your package.”

Scoffing as I push by another boy in padding, the small bit of commotion clears a path straight to Damien. He’s sitting at the back of the locker room on a wooden bench, back to the lockers. He’s hardly dressed, a pair of shorts leaving those washboard abs on display as he looks up with his narrow gaze. But that only makes this harder. A smirk grows on his face as I approach and that helps me keep my fists clenched, jaw tight.

“Finally come to your senses, Medusa?” he asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Want me to clear out the room so we can make-up? The showers are empty.” His movement highlights his solid pecks on that smooth, pale skin.

Focus, Jo.

“You crossed a line, Damien,” I say. “My art project? Really? Your little ego was so fucking bruised that you couldn’t even let me have that?” His brows knit together but he doesn’t say anything. So I continue, the frustration building inside, my fists turning into claws like I want to shake him. “I had a scholarship at stake, you prick! A real fucking chance at something and you’re too fucking narcissistic to—”

“I didn’t do it, Jo,” he says, jaw as rigid as mine.

“Then who did? The girl who’s not your girlfriend but who’s obsessed with you?” His lack of response and blatant lie only makes me angrier. And I hate that I sound jealous of Lea again. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. My scholarship is gone and it’s all your fault!”

Damien lets out a sigh, glancing around me. “Keep your voice down, Medusa, Coach will hear you.”

“I don’t give a fuck! And stop calling me that.”

“Enough, Jo.”

“Fuck you!”

Damien’s quick on his feet, his nose coming down to mine, eyes connecting with my angry stare. He glares at me, some whispers coming from behind me but the world around us disappears. “Leave. I’m not going to ask you again.”

Folding my arms, I move that much closer, my nose touching his. “No.”

He doesn’t move from my face when he shouts, “Everyone, get the fuck out!” My body tenses with the boom of his voice.

There’s minimal movement but when Damien slams his fist on the locker behind him, that drives the message home. The locker room empties in a flash, like the last day of classes. I don’t budge, though. I square up with him, meeting his challenge.

“Doesn’t being in here remind you of something?” he asks. “Or do you need a reminder? Is that why you’re here with your panties in a bunch? You need a good fuck?”

“That’s not why I’m here, stupid,” I’m ignoring how plump and soft his lips look just inches from mine.

“Well, that’s the only reason I’m staying here,” he says. “I’m not apologizing for some shit I didn’t do and I’m fucking done with your accusations.”

“Who else? You’re the same guy who sent Christian a copy of a sex tape I didn’t even know I took part in. And I’m supposed to believe you didn’t ruin my project?”

“Yeah, you are,” he says.

I scoff, “You’re fucked up.”

“Then why are you still here?”

That’s a good question. And while my feet feel like they’re in sticky, deep mud I do my best to do the thing I should’ve done a long time ago. Walk away. If I can’t trust him to always have my back, even when we’re fighting what am I holding onto? Turning around, I shake my head, leaving my prey to live. So what if I fail my class? So what if Damien broke my heart? There are more important things to worry about. Like cracking the code on who started the fire. I don’t need Damien for that.

He calls behind me, “Face it, Medusa. You can’t get me out of your head. No matter how hard you try.”

With one foot out of the room, I let the bird fly. “Watch me.”

* * *

Distracting myself from Damien King is not as easy as it sounds.

---