Page 36 of Relentless (The Titans of Founder's Ridge 2)

Playing football is so bittersweet for me. I love the game. I love the atmosphere of games. I love the surge of adrenaline that comes from each player’s competitive nature, forming currents of energy across the field.

The thing I hate, though, is the expectation from my father. From the second he took away basketball, my real first sports love, I have felt a weight hanging from me. He wants me to follow the blueprint he set for his life. High school football star, collegiate quarterback at a D1 school, National Championship ring, MBA, and then spend the rest of my life locked behind a desk on Wall Street playing circle jerk with a bunch of entitled assholes.

It’s not what I want, but I haven’t found a way to tell my dad. I’m fairly certain he won’t disinherit me, but I’m the only heir. So, I just continue to exist in the cold space between the rock and the hard place.

The game ends with us winning by ten. We had it in the bag the whole time, so much so it was a disappointingly boring game. I’m the first off the field, ready to shower and get over to Con’s house. That weird urge to make sure Hoodrat is okay seems to be lingering; it’s different from how I feel about Ives but just as strong.

* * *

Ivy and Lilith walk into the game room at The Abyss, and I swear the noise stops. Or maybe it just happens for Con and I because he’s definitely looking at Hoodrat like she’s a snack, and I know I’m looking at Ives the same way. They couldn’t look more different. Ivy is average height, muscular, tan, dark hair and eyes, rocking the fuck out of a purple dress that might as well have been painted on. Hoodrat is in tattered skinny jeans and a black tank top, wearing shoes that are definitely not hers, looking like she might fall over. Ives has done something to her long, platinum blonde hair and stuck it in a high ponytail, and she’s wearing more makeup than I’ve ever seen her wear.

When I look over at Con, he’s scowling at the two kids talking to our girls. He glances at Griff and I before taking off over to them. Con and Hoodrat start going at each other again, round for round. I don’t know who they think they’re fooling with their nonsense. I turn to watch Ives watch them. It takes all my willpower not to lean down and bury my face in her neck. I’m about to drag off to a private corner to talk when I hear the unmistakable drawl of a Texan douchebag.

Scott Owen has just approached Con, so Griff and I both come up on either side, silently backing him. Owen is going on about one of his family’s oilrigs exploding in the Gulf, trying to blame the Volkovs, which is so fucking off base. Con and his dad aren’t even interested in major players in oil industry. Con wants to go to MIT to work on renewable energy engineering, and his dad refuses to open drilling on their land.

Then Margaux tries to make herself relevant by going for Hoodrat. Griff and I exchange impressed glances when Hoodrat goes toe-to-toe with the resident mean girl and then smashes the hopes and dreams of the vile bitch in front of her by spinning and kissing Con like they’ve done it a million times. Honestly, maybe they have because they seem very comfortable kissing, definitely not a first kiss.

When I look over at Ives, she seems just as shocked but also proud. She grabs Hoodrat and takes off. Con watches her go with a hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes. The three of us make eye contact, and he does something he rarely every does in public. A huge ass smile crosses his face with dimples and all.

“Time to pay Ferguson a little visit,” Con says as he walks out to the back of the party compound where the ring is set up for fights. “Peasant ismine.The sooner everyone knows the better.”

Ferguson is out there already, waiting with an arrogant smirk on his face. Con pulls his shirt over his head and steps right out into the center of the makeshift ring. He doesn’t even give Ferguson a chance to speak before his fists collide in rapid succession to Ferguson’s face and stomach. Everyone watches in fascinated horror as Con systematically annihilates his opponent. Usually he allows whomever he’s fighting to get a few hits in first but not this time.

The first year we started this fighting ring, everyone slept on Con thinking that because he doesn’t have an interest in playing team sports or being an athlete that he would be an easy mark. Big fucking mistake, he’s a beast. He’s in his home gym for hours a day beating the shit out of punching bags and dummies. Griff and I exchange glances when it’s very clear that Con isn’t going to stop unless we pull him off.

“Let him go,” Griff says quietly but sternly. “He won’t be back to FPA anyway. His dad found the stash of coke in his car. Ferguson is going to military school.”

13

IVY

I did a bad thing.Random lunch hour hookups are an ill-advised idea. It was unsatisfying, and it hurt Levi. I hate myself a little for the look in his eye when I showed up late to lunch on Monday with my face flushed and hair messed up. He and I haven’t discussed us and where our relationship stands since I’ve been back, but we need to. We’ve skirted around the issue, and he’s been pretty clear about what he wants by the actions he’s taken, such as beating up and threatening Wes.

At this point, I don’t even know why I keep pushing him away. I haven’t seen him with any other girls since I’ve been back. I stalked all his social media from the summer, too, and didn’t see anything showing him being his usual man-whore self.

I’ve waited up for him to get home after the game, so I could talk to him. Based off the fact that it’s after midnight, I’m guessing he went to one of the after parties. I’ve texted him a few times, but he’s left me on read, which is actually a pretty dick move, and I will be calling him out on it. I’ve never done that to him, even when I was dating Oliver.

A thud in the hallway and whispering voices gives away his presence. He’s obviously brought someone home. I hear his door close and dart out into the hallway to press my ear against it. I hear murmured voices and a thud, then a low moan.

I have a moment of internal debate. I’d be a huge hypocrite if I walk in there now and interrupt. I mean, I had a boyfriend all last year. But he’s definitely doing this to upset me. He’s never brought a girl home like this since that first weekend with Grace last year. He wants to hurt me, and he’s hitting the mark right now.

Fuck it.

I’ll be a hypocrite.

I grab the doorknob and let myself in his room. A blonde is topless and straddling his lap, her skirt pushed up around her waist but at least her panties are still on.

“Hey, Levi, sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Andrews called in your prescription for the cream to treat your crabs. He also sent in an antibiotic just in case you picked up anything else.” The blonde squeaks and jumps off his lap, looking back and forth between us confused. “It’s okay honey, he’s a two-pump chump anyway. You wouldn’t have gotten any satisfaction out of this.”

The blonde must be incapable of speech because she squeaks again and grabs her shirt, tugging it over her head. Levi asks if she needs a ride home, and she shakes her head before hustling her ass right out the door.

Levi and I look at each other for a minute in silence. He’s leaning back on his elbows against his bed, shirtless as usual, with his jeans undone. The fact that he doesn’t have a visible hard on is proof that he wasn’t into it.

“Well, Ives, that was rude,” he says lazily. “I haven’t had a good fuck in months.”

“You weren’t going to get a good fuck from the mute,” I point in the direction she ran off to. I prowl across the room toward him and slide my hand over his dick. Just like I thought, he’s barely sporting a semi. His dick surges to life under my touch though, twitching against my hand through the denim holding it back.

“Careful,” he smirks, “wouldn’t want to catch my crabs.”

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