Page 75 of Distorted Obsession

I have to save myself.

The problem is… I don’t know if I deserve to be saved.

And worse—I’m not sure I want to be.

“Too much shit to even begin to try and unwrap,” he laments, and I know I’ve successfully diverted the focus off of me. “Owen’s finally back, but there are still too many moving parts—enemies popping up at every turn, and they’re not only threatening our entire community but the Fraternitas as well.”

By the time I left for Groveton, Edgewood was a dumpster fire. Everything flipped on its head once Ariah Bishop and her family moved into my hometown. The death toll in a community as small as ours is something crime statisticians would salivate to study. The Selection brought out the worst in people.

“It was a shitstorm by the end of the school year. I can only imagine what fuckery is transpiring,” I state.

Humming in agreement, Callum replies, “The Council is up to their necks trying to maintain control. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He’s about to continue when he suddenly freezes. His eyes bulge, and his mouth opens slightly.

Curious at what has my brother awestruck, I turn and immediately know why he looks like he forgot his words.

“Good morning. I’m Lexi, and I’ll be your waitress today.” The beautiful, curvy server stands before our table with her diamond-pierced, dimpled smile. Gulping, I gaze up to meet the prettiest bluish-green eyes before I continue my perusal. Shecan’t be more than five feet six inches or seven inches tall. She’s in a maroon-colored short-sleeved top tucked into the tapered waist of her ripped denim jeans that fit over her sculpted, thick thighs.

Fuck me. She’s gorgeous.

A hand waves, breaking Callum’s and my obvious ogling.

“Oh, sorry. Did… did you say something?” my brother fumbles, and that’s enough to ultimately break the spell Lexi had us in. I snort, and Callum’s head whips toward me, making me snicker. His eyes narrow into slits, and I quickly mask my mirth with a cough.

She grins, suppressing her laugh before she repeats what Callum and I were too distracted to hear. “Can I get you started with something to drink, or are you ready to place your order?”

When my brother still looks stuck on stupid and simply can’t get the neurons in his brain to signal him to speak, I respond, “He’ll have a cup of coffee—black with no sugar, and I’ll have a cup of any herbal tea you have.” I quickly pick up the menu as she pulls out an order pad and begins to jot down our order. Unsure of what I want, I peruse the menu and realize we’ll need more juice. “We’ll also have a pitcher of orange juice, but we still need more time to decide what we’d like to eat,” I state, peering back up at her.

Nodding, she replies, “I’ll get those right over and then check on a few of my other tables before returning to take your order.” Lexi turns and walks away, and I can’t lie—I shamelessly watch as her hips sway and her Georgia-sized peach ass bounces with each step she takes.

“You’re drooling,” I say, taunting Callum when I turn to face him.

His mouth snaps shut. “I am not.”

“The big boss, the vice president, is blushing,” I snark.

Arching his eyebrow, he picks up his menu, averting his gaze before retorting, “If I’m not mistaken, that’s a bit of drool on your shirt.”

I glance down, unsure of what I did while I was entranced.

“Made you look,” Callum snickers.

“Jerk,” I mutter, balling my napkin up before tossing it at his face.

He lifts his menu, blocking my napkin assault. “How has the start of the school year been?” he questions without lowering his makeshift protection shield.

Biting my lip, I contemplate how to answer this so it’s as truthful as possible, without saying on day one of classes, I was drenched in pigs’ blood as they shouted‘murderer,’and before the end of the first month, one of the students responsible died. Avoiding the entire macabre dumpster fire that would probably end up with me being pulled from school, I go with, “I’ve made some really great friends, I enjoy my classes, and we have a kickass volleyball team that I think will go all the way.”

Callum lowers his menu, a bright smile on his usually serious face. It makes him look like the youthful twenty-year-old who graduated from college with two master’s degrees in international business and finance before he turned eighteen. While I chose to go the more traditional route, my brother, a MENSA scholar, was too smart to go the cookie-cutter way. He pauses like he’s doing a mental cost-benefit analysis of my response and the look on my face. His grin grows, seemingly satisfied with my answer, and he hums, “Good. You need some good ole normal in your life, Eva.”

I nod in agreement, and for the first time in months, I feel like we’re back before our world imploded. For the next two hours, we are Cal and Evie—no barrier between us, and it feels like water to my dehydrated soul.

The snap of the serve jolts me back to the present just as the volleyball travels over the net toward me.

“Mine,” I shout, my voice amplifying over the raucous crowd.

Planting my feet, I bump the ball to our setter, and then she sets it outside as Jade soars through the air, spiking it down between two of the opposing team’s players, earning us a point and possession of the ball.

Cheers ring from our teammates on the sidelines. We’re up two sets to one, and we’re one point away from match point.

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