Past…

“Sorry, man. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but someone had to,” my friend and sometimes rival in debate tells me. “I’d want to know if it were me.”

I nod slowly, afraid to do more than that for fear it will only make the situation worse.

It’s one thing to find out your girlfriend of a year and a half is cheating on you with the biggest asshole in school. It’s another to have a mental breakdown in front of the entire student body over it.

Judging by the way everyone in the cafeteria is currently eyeballing me…I’m the last to know. Awesome.

I slap Corey’s shoulder. “Thanks, man. Appreciate the heads up.”

I keep my expression neutral as I wade through the cafeteria.

I’m not sure whether to confront her now or later. Later, I decide. Not only do I not know where she is, but I have no desire to catch her in the act.

“Wait,” Corey yells and I stop walking.

“They’re in the shed near the shop room,” he informs me, louder than he needs to.

Make that now.

I’m sure a small part of him is enjoying this. He asked Katrina Owens—the cheater—to go to homecoming at the start of our junior year, but she turned him down and went with me instead.

We’ve been together ever since.

Until she started fucking Damien King behind my back.

It would almost be comical if it wasn’t happening to me.

The two of us couldn’t be more different from one another. So different I don’t know much about him and I’m sure he can say the same about me.

What I do know about him isn’t good, though. He doesn’t run with a bad crowd…he is the bad crowd. His mother isn’t in the picture—not sure why—but he lives with his father who’s loaded. Not that being well off is an anomaly in this town, but his father is a callous businessman and most people in Black Hallows hate him. With good reason.

For instance—a few years back, our town was hit with a bad storm and a beloved ice cream shop was severely damaged. The owner, Mr. Manning—a nice man in his eighties didn’t have the money to fix it. Naturally, the community came together and organized a huge fundraiser to help. However, a few days before it was supposed to take place, Mr. King stepped in and handed Mr. Manning a check. The old man was so grateful, he must not have realized what the paperwork he signed entailed.  

A week later, Damien’s father had it bulldozed to the ground and turned it into a gym.

To this day the man has never stepped foot inside of it. He just did it to piss everyone off.

And the apple doesn’t fall far because most can say the same about Damien.

He pisses a lot of people off.

Like me. Right now.

Because I’m watching him nail my girlfriend against a wall in a shed.

I should probably stop them, but for some reason, all I can think about is how Katrina and I lost our virginities to each other ten months ago.

It would have been sooner if it were up to me, but Katrina said she wanted to wait. She claimed she was a good girl and wanted to make sure I was serious about her before we took it to the next level.

She doesn’t look like such a good girl right now though.

Her legs are wrapped around his waist. Her fake nails are digging into his back. And brazen moans are spewing from her whore mouth while he fucks her so hard the shed vibrates.

No, she’s not a good girl. Or rather…she was never this much of a good girl for me.

“Oh my God,” Katrina squeals when she notices me.

Leaning against an oversized tool chest, I give her a tight smile.  “Having fun?”

“Cain, I’m so—” She slaps Damien’s shoulder. “Stop. My boyfriend’s here.”

“Hold on,” Damien barks, his thrusts picking up speed. “You can have her back in a minute, bro. Just need to bust this nut first.”

I stuff my hands in my pockets. “It’s cool, bro. Take your time.”

Take your time busting a nut inside my girlfriend while I stand here.

Katrina’s eyes fill with tears. “I’m so…” Her voice trails off and her breathing accelerates.

I assume it’s because she’s so overcome with emotion and remorse for what she did.

That is until her head lolls back and she moans loud enough to wake the dead. “Oh, God. Don’t stop.”

Tilting my head to the side, I look down at where their bodies are joined…where Damien’s hand is strumming her cunt like a banjo.

Evidently, fucking my girlfriend in front of me isn’t good enough for him. He needs to pour salt in the wound by making sure I witness him getting her off in front of me too.

I grind my molars. The asshole is intentionally provoking me.

And it’s working because my composure’s akin to a rubber band about to snap.

Never let them see you sweat. My father’s words of wisdom echo through the walls of my skull. The key to surviving any scandal is to act like there isn’t one.

And let’s not forget his latest. Katrina seems a little slutty, son. Your future wife should be your accessory, not everyone else’s.

Turns out my father was right. I’m sure he’ll love hearing me admit it when I go home.  

“Finished yet?” I bite out through clenched teeth.

Thrust. “Just.” Thrust. “One.” Thrust. “Fuck. There we go.” He shudders. “Yeah, baby, squeeze your snatch around me and milk it.”

I want to kill him.

I watch in disgust as they disassemble themselves and put their clothes back on. Well, Katrina does.

The fucker barely puts his dick away before he’s reaching for his cigarettes.

How any chick in their right mind would choose him over me is anyone’s guess. Despite his bank account having more money than my own will ever see, he looks like trash. I’m not being facetious either. The dude actually looks like he smells bad. Then again, everything smells bad currently since I’m inhaling the musky scent of their post-coital bliss.  

Narrowing my eyes, I continue my appraisal. His dark hair is cropped close, but thanks to the view I was afforded during the show, I know there are a few designs shaved into the back of his scalp.

As if that’s not weird enough, smack center in the middle of his neck is a huge skull tattoo with flames expanding across his throat. His arms are also covered in a few skulls, along with a few profound statements like ‘Trust No One.’

His body might be a little better than mine, I suppose. If you’re into that sort of thing. We’re both over six feet, but I’m lean and toned thanks to my years of running track. And he’s…I guess someone’s getting use out of the gym his father built after all.

I definitely have him beat in the facial area, though. Unlike him, I’m well-groomed and clean-cut. Unfortunately, the constant stubble on his face does little to dull his intense features. Downright creepy features if I’m being honest. Especially those icy blue eyes of his that chicks fawn over. They don’t even look real. Fucker probably wears contacts.

Those unusual eyes aren’t his most disturbing feature, though. It’s what goes on behind them. The look he gives you. It’s downright menacing. Almost like Satan himself is using him as a host to steal your soul.

Hell, maybe Katrina’s not a two-timing tramp after all and this is the devil’s work.

Or maybe, I need to stop procrastinating and kick her ass to the curb already.

Goddammit, this sucks. Despite my father’s reservations, Katrina fit into my life perfectly. She knew my aspirations, knew what was expected of her, and cheating whore aside, would have been a good wife.

Her uncle is a congressman, so politics aren’t a foreign concept to her or her family. Her parents aren’t rich, but they are hardworking people. Something that would have made people support her, and in turn, support me. She came from good stock.

Not to mention—people enjoy a high school sweethearts love story when it comes to their politicians.

But there’s no way I can stay with her given everyone knows she cheated on me with Damien King of all people.

She ruined everything. And now that the dust is starting to settle…it hurts. Losing her is like losing a block of wood you took the time to personally carve out in order to fit the part of your puzzle that needed to be filled.

A year and a half down the drain. Just like that.

God, I hate wasting my time. Especially when chances are she’s just going to end up with some other aspiring politician who will profit from all the hard work I put into her.

“I’m so sorry, Cain,” Katrina says, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Me too.”

Her gaze darts around the room, looking everywhere else but at me. “It’s just…you’re always so busy all the time, and Damien—”

“Does nothing but fuck and smoke weed all day.”

She blinks. “Well, yeah.” She looks at him. “No offense.”

He lights his cigarette. “None taken.”

“It’s just…I don’t know. Everything between us seemed like it was on autopilot lately,” Katrina continues. “We barely see one another because you’re always so busy with student council and the debate team. And whenever we do hang out, it’s always the same thing. We go to Fatty’s, meet up with your friends, and then screw for five minutes in the back of your car until you drop me off at home.”

Damien snorts.

I narrow my eyes at him before addressing Katrina. “First of all, it’s not five minutes. It’s never five minutes. Secondly, if you wanted to switch things up with our routine, you should have opened your mouth and said something.”

“I did.” Mascara streaks line her cheeks. “I told you last week and you ignored me.”

“Last week I was filling out college applications. I was a little distracted.”

Especially since my brother already found out he was accepted to Harvard. He’s not only six minutes older than me, he also surpasses me on nearly everything that matters. Grades, sports, politics, looks…our father’s approval.  

She jerks her chin at Damien who’s watching our exchange with a humorous expression on his face. “Well, that makes two of us.” She buttons her cardigan. “I’m sorry, Cain but—”

“Wait,” I interject because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her fuck him in front of me and then turn right around and break up with me. People might be eavesdropping outside, and I won’t let her make me look like a chump. “You’ve been fucking him since last week?”

She nods. He shrugs.

“We had sex yesterday,” I remind her.

Damien looks unfazed by this information.

Katrina, however, looks guilty. “I’m—”

It’s all I need.

“I don’t want to hear your apology, Katrina.” I roar loud enough she jumps. “Get the hell out of my face, you lying, cheating slut.”

Her mouth drops open and she looks at Damien to defend her honor.

I tense, preparing for a fight. I don’t want one, but it’s pretty much unavoidable at this point thanks to my outburst.

To my surprise and bemusement, Damien remains silent as he takes another drag off his cigarette, appearing undeniably lackadaisical.  

“All right, it’s settled then. We’re over.” Straightening her spine, Katrina bats her eyelashes at Damien. “Call me later?”

Damien stares at her blankly. “I thought we were over?”

She looks about as confused as I feel. “Me and Cain are over, silly. Not us.”   

Damien looks positively disturbed. “I don’t do girlfriends.”

“Of course not,” Katrina coos. “We’ve only been seeing each other for a week. It’s too soon for that kind of talk.”

“Fucking,” Damien corrects. “I fucked you twice in the same week.” He takes another long drag off his cigarette. “And only because I thought you already had a boyfriend and therefore not looking for one.”

Well, this is awkward.

Katrina smiles nervously. “Can we not talk about this in front of Cain? I don’t want to upset him more than he already is.”

Jesus Christ. I suddenly feel like a child in the middle of a divorce.

“I’m not upset.” I’m a little upset.

“Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but just because I shared the same cunt with your boyfriend, doesn’t mean I share or inherit your relationship problems. The pussy is the only part I’m interested in.” Damien stubs out his cigarette. “Unfortunately for you, yours is now past the acceptable expiration date.”

Dammit, he not only screwed my girl, he also had a better breakup line.  

Katrina understandably looks offended. “You’re an asshole.”

It’s my turn to snort. Telling Damien King he’s an asshole is like telling a deaf person they can’t hear. Utterly pointless.

She grabs her purse. “The two of you can go to hell.”

And she must be blind because I’m pretty sure I’m already here.

Damien laughs as she closes the shed door behind her.

“Something funny?”

He looks around. “You talking to me?”

“What are you, DeNiro? Of course, I’m talking to you. Who else is here—” The sound of clanking outside snags my attention. “What was that?”

He curses under his breath. “That was the sound of us getting fucked.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He walks over to the door and pushes. “She locked us in here.”

I walk over and try it myself. “Shit.”

He rolls his creepy eyes. “Told you.” He pulls out his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m gonna call someone who can get us out.”

I look around. “We can probably get ourselves out. We are in the shop shed.”

His tongue finds his cheek. “See a blowtorch around here?”

No. There’s nothing but wood and basic hand tools. None of which do us any good since we’re locked on the inside.

“Exactly.” He brings the phone to his ear. “Yo, Bagels, it’s D. Listen, I need a favor. I was fucking some bitch in the school shed, but shit went south, and she ended up locking me in here. My phone’s about to die so don’t call me back. Just get your ass to the shed with some bolt cutters.” He’s about to hang up but pauses. “And an eighth of that green lady. I’m good for it.”

I glare at him. “Did you really just call your drug dealer for help?”

The last thing I need is to be discovered in the school shed with Cheech and Chong’s long-lost brother and an eighth of weed four months before graduation.

My father will kill me.

He picks his cuticles. “If you’re so concerned, call one of your own contacts and handle it yourself.”

“I will.” I feel around for my own phone but come up empty. “Shit.”

“What’s the matter, Mr. President? Find a hole in your polo?”

Annoyance skitters up my spine.  “I left my phone in the cafeteria.”

He throws his at me. “Knock yourself out.”

I go to dial, but the phone screen goes black. “It’s dead.” Panic rivals my annoyance. “The only person who can help us now is a drug dealer named Bagels who’s probably too stoned to remember his actual name let alone go on a rescue mission.” I scowl. “How the hell my girlfriend cheated on me with someone like you is beyond me.”

He lights another cigarette. “Bagels will come through. Dude can’t say no to a sale. It’s why I asked him to bring weed.”  He shrugs. “As for your chick…that’s simple. I’m richer and I fuck better.”

For a moment, I contemplate how to kill him and get away with it. Money is an extremely sore subject for me. Always has been. On the outside, my family looks like they do pretty well. And we would be…if it weren’t for my father’s bad habit of needing to be bigger and better than everyone else around him. His spending habits were easier when he still had my mom’s trust money coming in, but he blew every cent of it—leaving nothing for me or my brother like she wanted.

In the last three years alone he’s purchased two boats, four cars, a vacation home, and tons of other expensive things he’ll never be able to pay off in his lifetime if he doesn’t stop.

I can’t even afford to go to college unless I get a full scholarship or take out a massive loan. Which of course, I’ll be forced to do because my father won’t allow me to be a disgrace and embarrass him.

And yet Damien can spend all his father’s money on drugs and walk around intentionally looking like a bum.

“You’re a scrub, Damien. You’re not rich because you’re intelligent and earned your money with your brain. You’re nothing but a trust fund baby who will end up dying from a heroin overdose by thirty.” I leer at him. “Don’t worry, though. You’ll leave behind three ex-wives who took you for whatever they could, and five kids who hate your guts because you’re a shitty father.” Amusement lines his face as I continue. “As for my bedroom skills, you don’t know shit because I’m sure as hell not screwing you.”

He blows a stream of smoke in my face. “A bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You just told me my future and you don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me either, asshole.”  

“No, I don’t.” He stares at me for a long moment, pondering. “Well…I do know some things.”

I hate myself for feeding into whatever bullshit game he’s playing, but curiosity won’t let it go. “Like what?”

I’m not sure what to make of the expression on his face. I can’t tell if he hates me as much as I hate him, or if it amuses him he annoys me so much.

“I know your dad’s a senator. I know you wear preppy shit like khakis and polos. I know you’re on the debate team. I’ve heard you a few times—you’re not bad…but you could be better.” He takes a step in my direction. “I know your twin brother can be a dick…it’s why people respect him more than you.” He smirks. “I know Gerald Douglas was supposed to win the race against you for student body president, but you rigged the votes.” He fixes my collar and winks. “I know your dad’s credit card got declined at the country club the other day—because I fuck one of the waitresses and she couldn’t stop laughing about it when I saw her later that night.”

He inches closer and it’s all I can do not to deck him. “And I know you never gave a shit about your little girlfriend—because if you did, you would have gone after her…instead, you’re locked in here with me.”

Tension locks my jaw when his lips hover over my ear. “You’re just mad she played you and made you look like a sucker. Because Cain Carter can’t be anything less than perfect, can he? He has to remain in complete control and be an angel at all times. He has to color inside the lines and stick to the script. Just like his daddy taught him.” His voice drops to a whisper and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “We both know you don’t hate me because I fucked your girlfriend…you hate me because I fucked her better and live my life the way you wish you had the guts to.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the sound of something clanking outside catches my attention.

Damien, the fucker, chuckles under his breath. “That must be Bagels.”  He throws his cigarette on the ground and steps on it. “Catch you later.” He starts walking toward the door but pauses. “If you ever want to stop being a pussy and have some fun, you know where to find me.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

His cruel, mocking laughter as he walks out of the shed has me thinking up ways to hurt him.

But it also has me wondering what it would be like to be Damien King for a day and live life the way he does.

To break all the rules and not give a fuck about the consequences.