Page 4 of Broken Rivalry

“It makes things so much easier not to have to do it alone,” she continues while flexing her left hand. I don’t think she does it consciously. I can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the thick red scar crossing her palm.

I look up, and suddenly, everything stops. I stay rooted on the floor, keeping my eyes on the laughing boy exiting a room. No, not a boy, a man. And not any man… Ethan Hawthorne, the bane of my high school years and a constant thorn in my side. His father destroyed my family, and his son enjoyed our downfall.

I keep my eyes on him, clinging to the fragile hope that his face will transform into that of a stranger, praying it’s just a vivid nightmare. Eva’s voice becomes a distant murmur, drowned out by the rush in my ears.

He finally turns his head and looks directly at me. His face morphs, his eyebrows shoot up, showing his surprise, and then his mouth turns into a familiar grin as he slowly walks toward me.

My heart pounds against my chest. A frantic drum echoing in the silence of my mind. Why here? Why now? The questions swirl, unbidden and unwelcome.

He looks the same but also so different at the same time. His face has lost the remaining softness of adolescence, giving him a sharp jawline and a hardness that makes him look more like a fighter than the preppy rich boy he really is. His black T-shirt is tight, showing how kind these last two years have been to him. He is so broad and muscular now and is sporting a full arm of tattoos, something I am sure his father doesn’t approve of.

My stomach churns as he stops in front of me.

“Pauper Lockwood.” His words drip with disdain, his lips curling into a sneer.

His words sting, a slap to my face. I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to retaliate with a sharp retort. He called me Pauper far before my family fell from grace. He thought he was being clever by using wordplay. He started it freshman year of high school when my father began working for his. I didn’t really care then, and I don’t care much more now. Because now, it is actually true.

I tighten my hold on Eva’s arm, happy to have her by my side despite feeling her eyes full of questions on the side of my face.

“Cat got your tongue, Pauper? Nothing to say?” He crosses his arms on his chest, flexing his impressive biceps. God, what did he eat for two years?

“What is there to say?” I reply, happy about how steady my voice sounds despite my wild heartbeat and faint nausea.

“Yo, Hawthorne! We need to move. Coach will have your ass if you’re late for practice again.” A blond man with a man bun and impossibly blue eyes wraps his arm around Ethan’s neck and smirks at us. He’s as tall as Ethan and probably even wider… Seriously, what were they feeding them?

“Already preying on freshman meat?” he asks, eyeing me.

“As if!” Ethan and I snort at the same time.

The blond guy’s gaze moves from me to Eva, and his grin fades, replaced by a confused frown. “Julliard?” he whispers, and I feel Eva tense beside me, her arm so tight on mine it almost feels painful.

She looks up, her face hard; she has a fire in her eyes that I am witnessing for the first time, and I think her wildness could rival Nessa.

She pulls at my arm. “Come on, let’s go back.”

I’m more than happy to comply, but before we have a chance to turn around, the blond dude moves, all humor gone, and stands in front of us, preventing any more movement.

“Julliard,” the blond man insists, his voice louder and more demanding this time.

Eva finally meets his eyes, her face a cool mask of indifference.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Eva’s voice is steady, but I can feel the tremor in her arm, her nerves betraying her calm facade. “Is it some hazing code I’m not familiar with?” She sighs, but I see her hand flexing repeatedly to the side. Her eyes dart around as if searching for an escape from the blond man’s intense scrutiny.

That’s enough to spring me into action and forget the turmoil I feel at seeing Ethan again. My only thought is to get my friend out of here and now.

“It’s probably some jock slang we can’t understand. Whatever the interest is, we’re passing. Please go look for other… fresh meat,” I add before pulling Eva and walking out of the building, feeling Ethan’s eyes on my back.

As we exit the building, the fresh air is a soothing balm, easing the tension that had coiled within me, and I feel Eva’s grip soften.

“We’ll be okay,” I whisper, more to myself, a promise that I intend to keep, come what may.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as we make our way back to the café.

“I’d rather not. You?” I offer, already suspecting her answer.

“Not in this lifetime.”

We keep on walking silently for a little while, the previous excitement for a fresh start now annihilated. It’s a huge school, though, and I’m one year behind—I’m sure I can avoid Ethan if I need to. I try and fail to convince myself. Why is Ethan here? He’s a Harvard legacy! Silverbrook is way down that list of prestigious universities. Is there a way for me to—

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