Page 46 of Just One Bite
“I just got finished. It was good.”
There’s a shuffling on the other end. “You … uh … felt good, then? Do you think you’ll get in?”
Annoyance creeps into my chest. “I don’t know. I hope so.”
He already knows how much I want it. Somehow having to speak those words out loud makes my chest tight. It feels like work.
“How are you settling in? Any new people?”
Parker is the only person who comes to mind, but I’m unwilling to take questions about him, so I say, “Yeah … I got into Noxx House.”
He pauses for a second, then clears his throat. “That’s great, kid.”
It’s not that my father is a terrible person. It’s that he’s decided to start being a good father out of the blue. And that’s great for him, for whatever hurdles he had to climb to get there. I’m happy for him, really.
But my mom died more than ten years ago, and all those years, he’d pulled away from us and ripped us away from everyone else. Grief took over his life, and he gave up the career he loved. He ran away from work and his children and retreated into vacant solitude. There physically but not mentally. Absent for dinners and performances and only offering his input to say no it’s too dangerous or that we couldn’t go somewhere. For years, I was alone. I had nosupport other than my sisters, and they needed me while I needed him, but he was always locked in his room.
That doesn’t just go away. Not even when he sat us down to tell us he was sorry and he’d put in our applications for Doxlothia. It was his bridge, but I’d already had the gasoline in one hand and the lighter flickering in the other.
“I’ve got to go, but … thanks for calling, Dad. It’s good to hear your voice.”
No one has disappointed me more than my father, yet inflicting pain on him only leaves me with a guilty pit in my stomach. I do for him what he couldn’t find the courage to do for me. Give empathy. And I don’t know when or if I can ever forgive him for that.
Chapter Fifteen
Parker
I can’t stop thinking about her in my bed. Her attraction to me is based solely on the fact that I’d pinned her down and used my tongue to scent her. She’d think that about any man who’d done the same. That’s a good thing, right? That’s what I want. Because I don’t have time for a girlfriend. Even though I’ve willingly agreed to be her fake boyfriend in this scenario to help her. But that’s totally different. All I need do is protect her, and scenting her is a huge part of that.
I guess I didn’t need to lick her thighs. Was it my fault her thighs were so lickable and enticing? And leaving that mark on her thigh was for … me. Okay, fuck, it was for me, but that doesn’t need to mean anything. As it stands now, we’re friends and everyone thinks she’s my girlfriend, so that forbids any other guy from leaving marks on her thighs, and that’s a good thing. I think. Now I’m back to where I started: in practice thinking about Olivia under me, in my bed, panting and saying my name.
I’m nearly tackled to the ice as a teammate flies by.
“Head in the game, Captain!”
Right.I speed past Zant on my right to maneuver for the puck. The game rules are pretty simple to follow. I’d started playing young, and thankfully—because it could be lucrative—my dad had no problems paying for gear for all my games. Not that he stayed for any of them. But I’d learned easily enough. One,unlike hockey, you can only touch the puck with your stick with no exceptions, and that can bereally hardwhen the puck is rigged to move around and bounce all over the ice. Bumping the puck with any other part of your body will get you a deduction. The other stuff is pretty standard. There are eight people on the ice at a time, and we don’t have standard offense and defense positions like in hockey. Except for the goalie, we do have one of those. You need to get the puck through the net for a goal. Only, how you get those goals is the fun part. Shifting, hitting, and bleeding are all permitted.
It’s versatile. Some teams choose to forgo the fighting unless necessary. Rage champions are known for the different ways they play the game—some are great fighters, others quick and strategic.
As team captain, I have to be able to do it all.
This is a practice scrimmage, so we're split into teams. I clip an opposing teammate, knocking him to the ground, but my focus is on Zant. It’s the last drill of the day, and I’m trying to trigger a riot play.
“Come on, big boy.” Zant taunts me.
I growl and plunge my blades into the ice. The ice is an irritating nuisance but necessary for evening the playing field. The great thing about Rage is that werewolves and vampires can play together. It was the first game of its kind, and it all started at Doxlothia. Soon after, a lot of the other sports followed suit with combination teams.
I slap the puck to Chase, hoping he blocks it even though he's on the opposing side. He’s our new goalie and he needs the practice.
He dives onto the ice, missing the block completely but it’s fine, we’re working on it.
“Chase, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Sorry, Cap!” He stumbles to his feet with a wave.
I swoop in for the puck again and look for someone to pass to. Anyone. Anyone at all, but all these fuckers want to do is fight each other on the ice. This year, no one wants to listen to strategy. They all want to fight, and it’s hard to be mad at them because that’s my favorite part too.
I fight the frustration and decide to take it myself, but then I see Ryker is wide open and ready. He’s a new transfer student and one of the only ones who listens.
