Was I really doing this? I stared at the entrance wide-eyed, hoping it stayed this quiet, stayed this still while I deciphered my thoughts.
That was too much to ask. "Hey!" Diego yelled from where he was pressed to his stomach by the men on top of him. "That's you fucking daydreaming again?" One of the men palmed him hard against the back of his head. "Can you just shut the fuck up for once in your life?" Their words were like echoes, shadows. Ones I wished would just cease existing. The old man slowly limped up to me while I struggled with my thoughts, and I wasn’t aware until he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Myles, I hate to tell you this, but stalling won’t help you people." "I'm serious," I insisted, then swallowed when he raised a brow at me. "Wait here," I announced, sprinting back into the room. Hurling the bed up was quick, but at the first sight of the money, I froze again, desperately dragging my hands through my hair. One feel of that money, and I'd have a leash around my neck for the rest of my life. Then my mum’s pleading voice swirled up into my ears, and that’s all I needed to hurriedly place it in a wad. Soon, I was rushing back out and pushing the money into the old man’s hands. "See?" I stammered. "I told you... I got the money...." I could feel Mum’s breathless gaze on my back; for the first time, Diego was quiet while the old man inspected the money in puzzlement. "Myles," our landlord looked up at me, "You wanna tell me what’s going on?" I blinked. "Where’d you get the money from?" Another blink. Then one of the goons began to stand up from Diego, the gun dangling in his hold. "What do you care, boss? You got your money. That’s what matters." "Do not..." the old man pointed. "Speak until you’re spoken to." The man muttered apologies. "Myles," the landlord came even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, "You know I wasn’t going to kick you guys out. I just wanted to shake the bastard up." One day, he would. There was no such thing as unlimited patience. "I’m good," I said, pulling back to the entrance. "But I don’t mind if you continue teaching him a lesson." I looked down at the fucker on the ground. "In fact, I’d like that very much." I could hear Diego yelling curses as he was dragged away, but that wasn’t enough to drown the screams in my head. Not ready to walk back into the room, to face the empty space beneath the bed, I moved to the fridge for a glass of water. For minutes, I stared at the almost empty containers—just a couple of bottled waters and a few cabbages—and although my throat was scorched, I slammed the door closed. What have I done? What was I thinking? "Myles..." I heard Mum behind me. "Myles, is there something you want to tell me?" The quiet fear in her voice... I shut my eyes, feeling my rage at her melt into a puddle. "Not now, Mum," I muttered. "I’ll explain later. Not now." "Okay, bebé," she answered, and I didn’t feel her presence anymore. An hour later, I was back at the mirror, the memories slamming into me like tsunamis, but this time I didn’t wince when I saw my reflection. I didn’t throw my jacket at it. I just thought, tightening my fingers around the phone in my hand. There was nothing to lose anyway... wasn’t it just one night... just one night. I could do one more night. So, I found myself staring at the number I swore I’d never touch, hitting the unblock icon and typing. "I’ll take your offer..." then delete. Too sure... perhaps he had found someone else to fulfill his needs, and the deal was off. I scratched the back of my head, then began to type again, "Uh, hey, just wanted to ask if your offer is still up." His reply came later, but it wasn’t him; it was another number, his driver asking where to pick me up. As I buried my face into my hands, I whispered to myself, "Just one night." *** "The young master is currently in his room... what did you say your name is?" asked the middle-aged man who had driven me down. "Uh, Myles," I answered, then quickly added, "I’m a friend of Tristan’s." I heard him scoff and mutter, "Yeah, right." My fingers dug further into the handle of my bag, and I dropped my gaze back to the floor, unable to stomach the sight of his luxurious condo. My stomach churned at the warm, comforting light overhead as we walked down a passage. I tried not to breathe in the perfumed air, but realized I was just punishing myself. There was still time to turn back, but imagining the grumpy older man glaring at my back and scoffing more condescensions ate at my guts. Before long, we stopped at a grand door. After ringing twice, the older man turned to me, then stretched out his hand. "Give me your hoodie." I did as he asked, ignoring the urge to demand what he wanted it for. But when he snatched it, he gritted at the bag hanging on my arm. "Make sure you don’t steal anything." With that, he turned around the same way we came. Did I have a right to feel offended? Not when I was in his space, I decided. Besides, it would be the last time. The door opened, and I looked up into emotionless grey eyes. A thick mop of dark hair rested damp on his head, despite him being fully clothed, and water dripped down his chin. He shoved the door wide, walking further in. "Come in. Don’t slam the door." In a moment of pettiness, I wondered if I should do just that, but seeing him stroll over to the drawers at the side of the room, rattling it open while massaging his temple, I decided not to. Desperately searching for something, he finally pulled out a pill bottle and hastily popped three into his mouth. I stood there, quietly watching him bent over the drawer in silence, hoping he’d get a seizure from the overdose. When nothing happened, I snickered, "Why don’t you just do the world a favor and die?" He heard. His lips twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. "Would that make you happy?" I glared. "You don’t know how much." His jaw clenched. In a swift move, he capped the bottle and dumped it on the drawer, but it clattered to the floor. He ignored it, walking to the settee opposite the bed. He sat on it, legs wide apart and head thrown back, then sighed. "And you’re about to fuck me. How’s that?" The organ in my chest clenched. Was he making fun of me? I shut my eyes. Fucker. "Hey." He snapped his fingers. I opened my eyes. "I need you here." "I’m here." "Mind, soul, ass, and spirit." He saw me wince and grinned. He exhaled again, then leaned back. "Alright then, get on with it." Get on with... what? "Seduce me, Myles." My ears rang... Wait... what...?🫠 Writers need reviews too.
My fingers dug into the edge of the table, knuckles white, as I leaned in. "All I ask is for a chance to prove myself, and you won’t fucking let me!" "Mind your language, Myles Astor," Coach Daniel snapped, his gaze flicking up briefly. The words were cold, indifferent. Like I was some kid throwing a tantrum. Outside the office, cheers roared from the party in full swing. Each burst of laughter and clinking glass grated against me, a reminder that while my life was falling apart, everyone else was having the time of theirs. They were celebrating *him*—Tristan Medici, the golden boy with the golden ticket, stepping right into my spot, *my fucking spot*, on the team. My chest tightened. I wasn’t breathing. "Please." My voice cracked, more fragile than I wanted it to be. I hated myself for it. I took a step closer to his desk, my hand resting on the edge for support. "At least let me play the next match." The next match meant everything. NHL scouts would be there, watching, eval
The shrill sound of my alarm clock wasn’t what jolted me awake. It was the yelling. My stepfather’s voice cutting through the walls. I stared up at the ceiling, straining to hear my mom’s voice fighting back, but it never came. It never will.. “If this was toast, the whole of America would be fucking dead!” His voice boomed again. I sighed, sitting up in bed. Pain shot from my hips and... lower down, a raw reminder of last night. It wasn't a dream. It happened. *“Changing the list?” The phone camera clicked. “You little devil.”* “Listen, it’s not what you think,” I had said, heart pounding. “Oh, I know *exactly* what I think.” His voice dripped with amusement. Shit. “But I’ll keep my mouth shut," he whispered, stepping closer, "if you fuck me." I shook my head, the memories flooding back with nauseating clarity. The worst part was I didn’t even know who he was. Yet, I had agreed. “Myles?” My mom’s voice, soft and hesitant, floated through the door. “You’re late for school
“Yes, Myles, what’s the answer?”I blinked, yanked out of my trance by the teacher’s voice. The whole class turned toward me, eyes wide, some barely stifling laughter. I stood up, trying to shake the fog from my mind.“Sir… could you repeat the question?”“Repeat the question?” He raised an eyebrow. “Caught you smiling. Figured you knew the answer.”If only class made me smile that much. But no, my smile was all because of the little chat I had with Coach Daniel earlier."I had a nap and realized I wasn’t fair to you. There’s a way to get you back on the team, but it’ll cost you your dignity."That “dignity” translated into being the water boy during training, just so I could hold on to a sliver of a chance of rejoining the team. It was humiliating, but at least it was something.“Sir, I have no idea.”“The answer is ‘cell,’” a soft voice offered from behind. “The smallest unit of life.”Natalie. My brows furrowed as I turned to see her offering a small, sympathetic smile. I nodded in
I dropped my gaze to my still throbbing fingers, feeling Coach's eyes on my face. It was the day after the brawl at the rink, and I hadn't even fully entered the school gate before Coach's voice came over the speakers, demanding to see me in his office. "...We had a deal, Myles. What were you thinking?!" I had no clue, but I knew what I thought after it all happened: run! And I did—taking my bag and the strange money home after the biology teacher discovered no one else's was missing. Things to worry about just kept multiplying. Now Coach stood up straight. "All you had to do was lay low." "Which I did." "That wasn’t laying low, Myles." "He fucking came at me!" When Coach said nothing, I quickly toned down my voice. "I know you're trying to help, but goddammit, it gets hard when you're punched in the midsection." Coach sighed and sat down. "I understand." He gestured for me to sit down too, but I didn’t. "That’s why I said it’s going to be hard. George doesn’t want y
**TRISTAN** My phone buzzed. One new message. *"You're sick… Use that money to get your head checked."* And right below it: *"This person is not contactable."* I pinched the bridge of my nose, holding back a chuckle as the coach stood in front of me. There was something about the brown-haired rascal that amused me—something I hadn’t quite figured out yet. Maybe it was the way he overflowed with emotion. *"You hate emotions."* Maybe. But they suited him—better than those coffee-brown eyes or the slight athletic physique hidden beneath oversized hoodies. *"He hates you."* Why should I care? At first, all I felt was guilt. The morning after, when I placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, I realized—his first time. And I hadn't even noticed. It was no coincidence he was the first I laid my eyes on when I walked into the school that evening. The brunette surrounded by friends and staring at the wall. Habits died hard, so once again, like the life I kept a secret from e
**MYLES**I gripped the marble sink, glaring at my reflection. The image of his smug smile wouldn’t leave my head. He’d looked at me like I was some kind of snack. *Snack?* Was that the best I could come up with? Christ, Myles. What the hell have you done?I staggered back until I hit the wall, sliding down to the floor. Never in a million years would I have guessed he was the one. Now that I knew—and had a clue where the money came from—there was only one option left: leave the country.I clutched my hair, frustration boiling inside. But that wasn’t possible. The next choice? Return the money and tell the bastard to back off. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to face him yet.A soft knock pulled me from my thoughts, followed by my mum’s voice. “Myles, are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been acting strange.” I raised my head, catching my pale reflection again. “Yeah... I’ll be out in a minute,” I called back, the words sounding distant even to me. There was a long silence befo