Page 10 of Vendetta

But something about Landry Andrews showing up to Ivybrook this year was pushing me over the edge.

Everything was still so raw, and seeing her walk into that party had torn open some wounds that hadn’t fully yet gotten the chance to heal. But I would figure all of this out, I always did. I just needed to think straight and keep myself from acting out impulsively.

I shot a glance to the primary cause of all of this frustration. And I promised myself that she would get what’s coming, I would make sure of it.

CHAPTER 5

LANDRY

No Scrubsblared through Olivia’s G-Class speakers as we pulled through the gate and into her circular driveway, parking directly behind Zayn’s lifted, blacked-out 1994 Bronco XLT. It didn’t take long for me to notice a trend: all the guys in the group drove completely blacked-out vehicles, with the only exceptions being TJ’s cherry red Stingray Corvette and Nate’s white Ford Raptor, both parked in the open garage that occupied its own building to the left of the house.

We had just wrapped up our fourth week of classes, officially closing out August and marking mine and Bexley’s first month of college. Olivia had picked us up from the dorms after her last class of the day, making a quick stop to grab hot pizzas that now sat on Bexley’s lap in the backseat.

I didn’t see Cashton’s car or Kaptan’s motorcycle in the driveway, so I figured they either hadn’t shown up yet or had ridden with Zayn. Still, knowing my luck, Cashton would behere tonight. These were his friends too, after all. I’d already given myself the“Keep your cool, don’t let him affect you, boys ain’t shit”pep talk a few times over when Olivia extended the invite.

I’d seen him in Communications class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays for the past two weeks, and he had yet to acknowledge my existence. I was starting to think that I must’ve kicked his puppy in another life. Whatever his reasons were, I wouldn’t let him get to me.

Olivia was one of my closest friends, and I was starting to bond with the rest of the group too. One grumpy asshole wasn’t going to dictate who I could and couldn’t hang out with for the next four years. Well, technically three, since they were all sophomores—except for Kaptan, who was a year older.

We strolled into the house, Olivia leading the way through the oversized double doors and the grand foyer, the echo of Friday night football and raucous cheers spilling from the living room.

Nate and TJ were on their feet, shouting animatedly at the massive flat-screen mounted above the fireplace, most likely debating a bad call. Their voices mingled with the muffled roar of the stadium crowd on the TV. Meanwhile, Zayn was sprawled across one of the deep, cream-colored leather sofas, his legs stretched out and a blunt dangling casually between his lips. The warm amber light from the chandelier overhead highlighted the cloud of smoke curling lazily around him.

The moment Zayn spotted us—or more specifically, Bexley, with the four large pizza boxes stacked precariously in her arms—a goofy grin spread across his face and he straightened slightly.

“Well, hello beautiful, come to daddy.” He beckoned, and Bexley turned red as a tomato before remembering what it was that she carried, making her way over to hand him one of the boxes.

“Foodandsome lovely ladies? This night just got about ten times better. I’ve been stuck with these two asshats and their stupid football for the last hour.” he complained, leaning back and stuffing a piece of pizza in his mouth.

“The Spartans are playing the Bucks tonight.” TJ scoffed as Olivia reached up on her toes to give him a quick peck. “Biggest rivalry of the season.” Zayn rolled his eyes before giving his attention back to the food, the blunt still lit in his other hand.

With Ivybrook being a private elite University, the absence of a football team wasn’t exactly surprising. Ivybrook prided itself on its reputation as a prestigious academy for the “gifted,” though, if we’re being honest, only meant “wealthy.” The founders had deliberately crafted an institution centered around academic excellence and intellectual pursuits, steering clear of the collegiate sports culture that dominated most universities.

Professional athletics had little place in Ivybrook’s vision, though they had made a few concessions. The lacrosse team, which TJ and Nate played on, stood as one of the only competitive sports programs offered. Even then, it was more of a status symbol than anything else—lacrosse being a sport synonymous with the elite.

When it came to football, most people around here rooted for the Stoneview Trojan’s, Centennial’s public University to the north of the city, where most of the people I had attendedhigh school with in Benbrook had gone. There was also a smaller community college on the less-wealthy east side of Centennial across the city, though they didn’t have a football team either due to their smaller size.

Settling in, the girls and I launched into an easy conversation, Olivia spilling insider knowledge about some of my professors from her experiences last year. Like me, she was a communications major. Neither of us had a concrete plan for how to use it in the future, but knew it could be applied to many different career paths.

Olivia, however, didn’t seem overly concerned about her post-college plans. With her family owning a portfolio of luxury hotel chains and sprawling golf courses, it was clear she’d eventually step into the role of running one—or many—of them.

Bexley, on the other hand, already had her sights set on a career in Molecular Biology or Biotechnology, insisting that she still wasn’t sure exactly where she planned to end up, but clear in her work ethic that she at least knew the general direction.

I would love to have a passion as evident as hers, but as of right now, my only goal was to graduate and figure it out eventually. The only thing waiting for me back home was the option to follow in my father’s footsteps into the world of politics—a thought that churned my stomach just imagining it.

I had enough in my trust fund to live comfortably for the rest of my life if I chose to, but that wasn’t the life I wanted. I craved a career of my own—something that would give me purpose and pride beyond my last name or bank balance. The thought of becoming a trophy wife, like so many women on the west side who wore their husband’s status like a designer label, held no appeal to me whatsoever.

The one solace I had was Ivybrook itself. A degree from here was more than just a piece of paper—it was a key. A key that promised to unlock doors I didn’t even know existed yet.

“GO, GO, GO, RUN!” The sudden shouting jolted me out of my thoughts, and I looked up just in time to see Nate and TJ crashing into each other, spilling beer all over Olivia’s pristine cream carpet. Her eyes widened in horror, and she immediately launched into a string of chiding remarks, waving her hands at them like a mother scolding unruly kids.

I stood up, deciding to escape the chaos by heading to the kitchen to look for some paper towels. As I passed the grand foyer, the front door opened, letting in a cool draft from the night air. Kaptan and Cashton walked in, both of their dark hair damp and their frames clad in sweatpants and hoodies. They must have just gotten back from the boxing gym that Zayn had mentioned earlier.

I offered a curt nod, continuing on my quest for paper towels, deciding that I would offer Kaptan a proper hello once he wasn’t with Cashton.

I found the paper towels and headed back to the commotion in the living room. Cashton was making his way around the room, offering ‘bro hugs’ to all of the guys and even offering Olivia a kiss on the cheek before taking my original seat next to Zayn and grabbing the blunt to steal a quick hit.

Kaptan bypassed any greetings altogether, his broad frame moving directly to the couch, where he sank into the cushions beside his brother and Cashton. True to form, he radiated his usual quiet intensity, the broody, enigmatic contrast to Zayn’s boisterous, life-of-the-party energy.

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