Prologue

 

 

Two months earlier…

COLE

 

“You’re gonna be late.”

My little sister really needs to fix this annoying habit she has of not knocking on my bedroom door before barging in.

You’d think walking in on Casey giving me head last month would have ruined her for life, but evidently not.

I glare at her. “Ever hear of knocking?”

She pops one hand on her hip, and I fight the urge to scratch my eyeballs out because she looks nothing like the frizzy-haired, brace face girl she was two years ago.

Especially in the cheerleading uniform she’s wearing.

Jesus Christ. What the fuck was I thinking asking Casey to give her a spot on the squad?

Bianca’s only a sophomore, which makes her the youngest girl on varsity. It’s also the reason the guys on my football team have given her a nickname. Jailbait.

Jace is gonna kill me when he finds out.

My brother’s only a year older than I am, but since my dad tapped out after our mom died, he’s pretty much raised me and Bianca.

However, he graduated last year and moved into an apartment near his college campus with his girlfriend Dylan.

The two of them are so in love it’s nauseating, but I’m not about to take a dump on his happiness.

The shit-eating grin on Bianca’s face tells me she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

“It’s hysterical how scared of him you are.” Before I can argue that I’m able to kick his or anyone else’s ass with one arm tied behind my back, she adds, “If you bothered to look at your text messages, you’d know he can’t make it to the game today.”

I tamp down the flicker of disappointment in my chest. He’s never missed a game of mine before…let alone the first one of the season.

“Oh.” I quickly shrug it off. “Whatever. No big deal.”

She studies her nails. “Apparently, he’s on a strict deadline with those gaming people to finish that zombie island thing.” Her gaze sharpens. “Between me and you, I think it’s a load of crap and he wants to spend more time with Dylan. Apparently him living with the bitch and seeing her every day isn’t enough for her, so now she’s convincing him to blow us off.”

Yeah, I’m not touching that one. Bianca’s beef with Dylan is her shit, not mine.

On second thought.

“Your little spoiled princess act is getting old.” Turning around, I grab my gym bag off the bed. “Keep it up and people will start thinking you have the hots for your brothers.”

“Ew,” she squeaks. “That’s disgusting.”

Spinning around, I waggle my eyebrows. “Don’t worry, I’m sure most won’t blame you.” I point to my face. “Given I look like this and all. However, you saw what happened to Dylan last year when everyone thought she fucked Oakley. You really think you could handle a shitstorm like that?”

Oakley is Dylan’s step-cousin and Jace’s best friend.

Mine too, for that matter.

And technically—as of recently—he’s also our tenant, since my dad lets him rent out our guesthouse because his family…

Well, let’s just say his current family dynamic makes mine look like the Brady Bunch…which is saying something.

“What exactly are you implying, asshole?”

Wow, she almost sounds like a grown-up. Guess all her studying to become a doctor is starting to pay off.

It’ll be fun to knock her down a few pegs.

“You can barely tie your shoes without Jace.” I get close to her face. “But he isn’t here anymore. Which means I’m in charge.”

She has the audacity to cackle. “Ohh, my pom-poms are shakin—” She yelps when I grab her arm. “Ouch. What the hell, Cole?”

“Pay attention and let what I’m about to say sink into that thick skull of yours.” The look I give her wipes the smile off her mouth. “I’m not Jace, so don’t expect me to clean up your messes. You fuck up this year, you’re on your own. Got it?”

She needs to learn this shit now. She might be the baby of the family, but I won’t coddle her like Jace and our mother did.

Like he did.

If she goes down, she won’t be taking me with her.

My brother and I have ruled Royal Hearts Academy for the last four years, but whereas Jace ruled with an iron fist, I’ve ruled it by being everyone’s golden boy.

Every guy wants to be me, and every girl wants to be the lucky one to suck and fuck the cum out of me.

And it’s just the way I like it.

“You’re such a jerk.”

“Careful. Last I checked, I was your ride to the game.” I flash her some teeth. “Rumor has it your cheer captain can be a bitch if you’re not there on time.”

Shaking her head, she glares daggers at me. “Which is exactly why you agreed to get me a spot on the team.” She pushes me away. “I thought you were doing me a favor, but you only did it so you could manipulate me.”

“Manipulate is such an ugly word.” Clicking my tongue, I stroke my chin. “I prefer the term—keep you in line.”

“God, I will never understand why—” She clamps her mouth shut mid-sentence.

“Why what?” I probe.

We both know what was on the tail end of that statement, so she might as well fucking say it.

Whatever gusto she had is replaced by anguish. “It’s not fair.”

With that, she storms out of my room.

I’m grabbing my car keys off the dresser when I catch my reflection in the mirror.

Instantly, I tear my gaze away.

She’s right…it’s not fair.

The wrong twin died that day.

And it’s all my fault.

 

 

SAWYER

I never should have come here tonight.

For some reason, I honestly believed Oakley when he said he wanted to hash out his tutoring schedule over a beer during the party at Christian’s.

He didn’t graduate with his class last year and since his cousin Dylan is my bestie, I agreed to do him a solid and make it my mission to make sure he graduates this year.

However, for the last hour, all he’s done is smoke blunts, drink copious amounts of whiskey, and stick his tongue down some cheerleader’s throat.

Well, not just any cheerleader. Morgan, who happens to be Casey’s—the cheer captain and queen bitch of RHA—best friend.

I’m so annoyed with him for dragging me here for nothing, I snatch the red Solo cup from his hand and take a few sips.

“Oakley,” I gripe for the hundredth time tonight. “Can you please try and focus?”

Finally, he pries his lips from Morgan’s. “Shit. My bad, boo.” Leaning his head back against the couch, he lights a blunt. “Where were we?”

I muster up the tiny kernel of patience I have left, no doubt thanks to the whiskey in my system. “I work Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays, and Sunday evenings. I also have youth group at my church on Wednesdays after school, but—”

“Jesus Christ,” he moans when Morgan starts nipping his earlobe.

Less than a second later she’s mauling him like a tiger again.