Page 11 of Misconducts & Temptation

I shrugged out of my shirt and slipped on the jacket. The fabric hugged my shoulders perfectly; the stripes creating an almost hypnotic effect. It was my way of reclaiming a piece of myself from the constant demands and expectations.

Checking myself in the mirror, I adjusted the cuffs and smoothed down the lapels. The reflection staring back at me looked confident, almost unrecognizable compared to how I felt inside. My eyes, though—those betrayed the storm brewing within.

I adjusted my tie, the bold black and white stripes almost blinding against the crisp white shirt. The whole ensemble gave off a chaotic, almost rebellious energy, like a demon had decided to crash a high-society gala. And maybe that was exactly what I wanted. I needed to disrupt the carefully crafted illusion of control my father had over me.

As I turned to grab my car keys, I couldn’t help but imagine the look on my father’s face when I walked in wearing this suit. His steely gaze would probably harden into something even more unyielding, if that was even possible. My mother—if she were alive—would’ve laughed and said it suited me. But she wasn’t here to see it, and my father’s disapproval would have to do.

Good. Let him seethe.

I knew he expected me to fall in line tonight, to smile and nod and pretend like everything was fine while he practically sold me off to Lola’s family. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it. Lola had her own set of expectations and manipulations; she thrived on control as much as my father did. Her idea of marriage was a merger, a calculated move in a long game of chess.

I hoped she would be furious when she saw me. Maybe, just maybe, she'd be so put off by my appearance that she’d call the whole thing off. I could almost see her eyes narrowing in disgust, her perfectly manicured hand waving me away as if I were an inconvenience she didn’t want to deal with.

Perfect.

I stepped out of my dorm, the cool night air hitting my face like a welcome slap. It was refreshing. The party awaited, but first, I needed a moment to breathe. My car was parked in its usual spot—Maserati. Midnight black with chrome accents, it was a beast of a machine that exuded both power and elegance.

The Maserati had been a gift from my father, an attempt to win my loyalty with material things. While I resented the strings attached, I couldn’t deny the car’s allure. The sleek lines and polished surface reflected the streetlights as I approached it, keys jingling in my hand. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I felt a strange sense of freedom, if only for a moment.

The engine roared to life with a deep, throaty growl that echoed through the empty parking lot. I reveled in that sound; it was raw and untamed, much like the chaos brewing inside me. Shifting into gear, I eased out onto the road, leaving Crestwood Academy behind.

As I drove through town, the night unfolded around me like an old film reel. The streets were mostly deserted at this hour, save for a few scattered pedestrians and the occasional car passing by. Streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, creating an eerie yet mesmerizing pattern that danced along the road.

Part of me wished I had someone on the team to talk to about all this shit. But keeping my distance had always been my modus operandi. I maintained control by maintaining distance—chaos thrived in close quarters, and I couldn’t risk anyone getting too close. Not that anyone wanted to get close, anyway; my reputation as an unpredictable force kept most people at bay.

The Maserati glided through the streets effortlessly, its powerful engine purring beneath me. As I drove past darkened storefronts and quiet residential areas, I felt an odd sense of detachment from it all. This town, these people—they were just part of a backdrop.

The neon signs of late-night diners flickered in and out of view as I passed by, casting colorful reflections on the car's hood.

The road stretched out ahead of me, winding through familiar territory but feeling foreign all the same. Each turn brought me closer to that dreaded party and further from any semblance of normalcy or freedom.

Tonight would be another act in this endless performance. But for now, at least during this drive, I could pretend otherwise—even if just for a fleeting moment.

As I drove, my thoughts drifted back to the girl from the locker room. Not the one who’d been sucking my dick, but the one who’d watched.

The locker room attendant.

Her image floated in my mind—blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, and those striking green eyes that had widened in surprise and then narrowed in disgust. There was something about her, something innocent and pure, that stuck with me. It was so different from everything I knew, everything I was used to.

I’d never seen her before, but she intrigued me. There was an aura around her that drew me in, like a moth to a flame. Innocence. It was a rare thing in my world, something I didn't encounter often. Maybe that's why it captivated me so much.

Innocence wasn't meant to last. My father had drilled that into me since I was a kid. "You can't be trusted with important things, Keaton," he'd say, his voice as cold as his eyes. "You'll ruin them." And for the most part, he wasn't wrong. Everything I touched seemed to crumble, eventually.

But her?

She lingered in my mind longer than I expected. I could still see her standing there, looking shocked and repulsed but also... curious. That curiosity—it hooked me. It was as if she saw something in me that no one else did or could even imagine seeing.

Or maybe I wanted to ruin her.

I hated that part of myself that wanted to see her again, wanted to know what she thought when she looked at me with those green eyes. What did she see? Did she see the broken pieces held together by sheer willpower? Or did she see something else entirely?

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I approached the venue for tonight's engagement party. The neon lights reflected off the hood as I pulled into the parking lot. I cut the engine and sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

The girl from the locker room was an anomaly in my otherwise predictable life. She represented everything I feared—innocence, purity—and everything I desired—curiosity, connection.

I needed to focus on tonight's charade and not get distracted by fleeting thoughts of a girl whose name I didn’t even know.

But as I stepped out of the car and adjusted my jacket one last time, her image lingered in my mind like an unresolved question demanding an answer.

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