Page 55 of Speak

I’m watching movement come from the upstairs bedroom window when my phone chimes twelve minutes later.

Unknown: Whatever you want will cost you $10K.

I groan loudly. I send a text out to Tyler and he wires me the money. I’d use my own but I don’t have access to my trust fund for another four years and I’m not explaining this to Father.

Me: Send me your info. I’ll send $5K now and $5K when you get me gate access to this address and access to the security system.

Unknown: deal. I’ll have the info by midnight.

I drive off and speed back to campus.

________

Fourteen minutes after half-time and we’re fucking losing. Not on my fucking watch. But it’s Jonas. Jonas is playing like fucking shit and he’s pissing me off. His head isn’t in the game. It’s on that goddamn ghost of his. I can see it. I can feel it. He hasn’t seen her at all today. He’s worried and it’s causing him to slip. We’re heading back in formation after a break from the huddle.

I spit out my mouth guard connected to my helmet. “Get your fucking head in the game or get the fuck off my field, you’re playing like shit.”

“Fuck you.”

“I swear to God, JoJo if you’re playing like this because of that lying slut-“

He lunges and tackles me to the ground; my helmet slips off, stadium lights blinding me and he strikes. I barely have the time to move my head out of the way when his fist lands beside my head. “Don’t ever fucking call her that again!” His punch lands on my nose and I feel my blood rush out and into my ears when I strike back.

“But she is! Do you know what she was doing today? She was off campus at some lake house with someone. She’s already over you. She doesn’t love you!” I roar as he’s pulled off me.

“Fuck you! We’re done.”

I wipe the blood from my face with my sweaty forearm watching the small shiner I gave him already turning a dark pink. “We’re done?” I scream and lunge at him and the noise surrounding me is all chaos as the crowd goes fucking wild. “We’re done when I have her coming around my cock,mimingmy name.” I laugh.

The glare he returns is murderous, when he gets a second wind and lunges at me, catching me by the collar of my jersey, snarling in my face but his voice is so low, it comes out a growl, sending a chill down my spine. “Touch her and I will fuckingmaimyou, Chase. I won’t kill you. I’ll find a way to fuck you up so bad you’ll live the rest of your life a useless meat sack stuck in your own mind, listening to your family say theywishyou had just died instead. You’llbe nothing but a living, breathing, decomposing bed sore - unable to talk, walk, or even feed yourself.” He sneers.

And I know he means it. I know he could do it. Because after all, we’re legacies.Madefor this shit. My stomach churns but I don’t let him see the effect his words have on me, standing toe-to-toe with him. Him. Jonas. My best friend.

“Hey!” Fuck. Coach is on the field when they manage to break us apart again, Jonas’ eyes never waver from mine. “You big fucking bastards! I don’t know what this is about but Jonas go sit the fuck down. Tanner! Sub in! Chase, are you good?”

I spit the blood that poured into my mouth out, glaring at Jonas as I shove my helmet back on my head. “I’m fucking good, coach. Never better.”

We barely win.

_______

Unknown: RAVEN - 94732

I park a quarter mile from the entrance as I wire the rest of the money.

The sound of the TV in her bedroom is low, but it’s on the college football channel. She watched the game. Most likely saw the fight. I’m fucking exhausted. My face hurts, every muscle in body is sore, I’m sleepy and so fucking hungry. The soft glow of the station is dimly lighting her form on the bed. I take a seat on the purple accent chair in the corner and lean my head back. There’s fucking glow-in-the-dark stars forming constellations all over the ceiling.

I stare at her form on the oversized bed. She looks so small on it. The rope in my hand feels heavier by the second. I could do it right now… strangle her.

But she starts thrashing. Fighting invisible demons, probably. Her hands ball up into fists, head moving side-to-side wildly. Even in her sleep, in the throes of the war raging inside her mind, she’s silent.

I get up and kneel by the bed next to her face. “They fucked you up good, huh, Spooks?”

At the sound of my voice, all her thrashing stops. Her mouth opens in agony, parted in a silent scream. My heart slows to a stop. Her fear is beautiful. I run my fingers through her silky hair and shush her.

It would be soeasyto kill her right now. I’m so close to her and yet, the heaviness of this… of everything is exhausting.I’mexhausted. I know I’m an idiot for not handling this right now. I’m an idiot when I take off my clothes. I’m an idiot when I pull back the lilac and black comforter and bring her to my chest and she clings to me and I love the feel of her against me. I’m an idiot when I pull my phone out and take a selfie of us just like this and send it to Jonas with the caption, ‘Just keeping my promise. She’s good, buddy.’ And then turn off my phone.

Or maybe I’m selfish.

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