Rixon Raiders: The Collection Read online

  “Breathe it all in.” Flick inhaled deeply as we reached the doors. “Our last first day at high school. We’ll never start a new year here again. Next year, we’ll be freshmen.”

  I grabbed the door handle and glanced back at her. “We’d better make it count then.” I smiled. A genuine honest-to-god smile. Because she was right.

  One year.

  I only had to survive one more year. Of this town and its beloved football team; of my step-brother and his asshole friends.

  Then I’d be free.

  But despite my excitement at what the future held—far far away from Rixon, if I had anything to do with it—it was senior year, and I intended on making the most of it.

  Then a familiar voice washed over me, a cruel reminder from the Universe that while I still roamed the halls of Rixon High, there was no escaping them.

  “Looking good, Sunshine.”

  My eyes snapped up to find Cameron Chase, Rixon Raiders star wide receiver and my step-brother’s best friend, smirking at me. “You know I don’t like being called that,” I said calmly, schooling my irritation.

  “I know,” he replied with an air of indifference, his shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Nice ti… t-shirt.” His gaze dropped to my chest before lifting slowly to my face again, amusement dancing in his murky blue eyes. “Is it cold in here or are just happy to see me?”

  Cameron winked, before slipping around me and Flick. He shoved my hand off the door handle and I jerked back, caught off-guard by the tiny bolts of electricity shooting through me. He paused for a second, looking at his hand, before shaking his head and ducking inside the building, letting the door slam closed behind him... and right in my face.

  With a heavy sigh, I yanked it open and slipped inside, Flick trailing after me. “Just look at that ass,” she whispered, leaning in close, watching Cameron’s retreating form as kids tripped over themselves to move out of his way. But I wasn’t looking at his ass. My eyes were burning into the back of his head, imagining all the painful ways I could hurt him. He glanced over his shoulder, our eyes locking, and I let out a frustrated groan.

  I knew that look.

  I’d seen it enough over the years. But I’d never seen it from Cameron before. Sure, he went along with Jason’s pranks and efforts to find new ways to piss me off. But he’d never been so blatant about it.

  I glared back, willing him to look away. But to my surprise—and irritation—he turned around fully, walking backward, his eyes still set right on me. My stomach knotted, the intensity in his gaze disarming. He looked like he either wanted to kill me or devour me, and knowing Cameron the way I did, I knew it wasn’t the latter.

  Shit, what had him so worked up?

  Except for the wedding, I’d avoided the three of them as much as possible over the summer. They had been gone a lot: attending football camps, and then summer practice, and Mr. Bennet had let them vacation at his place in The Hamptons as a pre-birthday treat for Asher. On the rare occasion they were over at the house, I made myself scarce, locking myself away in my bedroom. But from the way Cameron was looking at me, anyone would think I’d killed his puppy and he wanted slow, painful revenge.

  “Hmm, Hails, what is happening right now?” Flick’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, but it wasn’t enough to save me from the trap he’d ensnared me in. “Why is Cameron looking at you like that?” She looped her arm through mine, but before I could respond, Jason appeared out of nowhere and slammed into Cameron, the two of them doing that awkward guy hug thing. I finally shook off the lingering feel of his eyes and went to my locker.

  “That was weird,” Flick added.

  “Probably just enjoying the show.” My eyes dropped to my chest and rather obvious nipple situation.

  “Maybe,” she mused, unconvinced.

  I wasn’t convinced either. Because I’m pretty sure Cameron had been sending me a message.

  And it looked a lot like game on.

  Chapter Two

  Cameron

  “Fuck yeah, senior year,” Asher waggled his brows as he casually leaned against his locker. Most of the kids had already made their way to class, but not our little group. We were in no rush. It wasn’t like anyone was going to tell us to move it along.

  “Shit, man, did you get a look at Hailee?” Joel Mackey, a sophomore, and our new tight end, grinned. “Can we thank you for that, Jase?”

  My eyes wandered absently to where she was just disappearing down the hall with her best friend. I didn’t linger though, sliding my gaze to Jason who shrugged with indifference. He liked to play with Hailee, but he wasn’t one to brag about it; not outside of our trio anyway.

  “Well, I for one, enjoyed the show.”

  Before I knew what was happening, my hand collided with Joel, slapping him upside the head. He yelped like a little bitch, his smile replaced with a grimace. “Show some damn respect, that’s your QB’s sister.”

  “Step-sister,” Jason corrected me, shooting me a funny look.

  “Sorry, Jase, I was only messing around,” Joel mumbled, rubbing away my hand print from his skin.

  I hadn’t meant to hit him, but hearing him talk like that about Hailee didn’t sit right with me. Besides, the idea the little fucker had been looking at her at all… The only people allowed to mess with her… to look at her… to talk to her… were Jason, Asher, and me.

  “Hey Jason, Cam.” Khloe Stemson, head cheerleader and total pain in the ass, approached us. “Looking good.” Her eyes grazed past Jason and landed on me, and she licked her lips like the viper she was. “I was thinking we should probably get together to talk about the pep rally—”

  “Not now, Khloe. We have to get to class.” Jason pushed past her, flicking his head for us to follow. Her eyes fixed on me again, glittering lust and desperation, but if she thought I was going to save her, she was barking up the wrong tree. Khloe wasn’t the kind of girl you saved. She was the kind of girl you fucked and then moved on.

  Swiftly on.

  “Are we really going to class?” Asher asked as we made our way down the deserted hall.

  “What do you think?” Jason grumbled. “I can’t believe we’re stuck with Khloe all year.”

  “Like you haven’t already banged that.” Asher elbowed Jase who levelled him with a hard look.

  “Exactly,” he ground out. “And I’m not looking for a repeat. Ever.” Contempt dripped from his words, as if the idea of being with a girl more than once was crazy. But then, when girls threw themselves at you the way they did Jason, I couldn’t blame him.

  Being a Rixon Raider came with a certain set of privileges. We were treated like gods in the halls at school; and outside the school gates, around town, wasn’t much different. It was easy to get swept up in it all. The girls. The attention. The respect. But being the team’s star quarterback was a whole other deal. Jason Ford wasn’t just a Rixon Raider—he was the Rixon Raider. The guy legends were made of, and we all knew he had a one-way ticket straight to the NFL.

  “So, what’s the plan?” Joel said and Jason’s head whipped around as if he’d totally forgotten he was with us.

  “You should get to class.”

  “But—”

  “Later, Mackey.” I shoved him toward the stairs, and he walked away, shoulders slumped, dejection burning in his eyes.

  “Little fucker’s got balls talking about Hailee like that,” Asher said, and my spine straightened.

  “Hailee would eat him alive. But no one will touch her,” Jase grunted. “Everyone knows she’s off-limits.”

  Thank fuck.

  “Anyone would think you want her, the way you act all—”

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Jason had Asher pinned up against the wall before he knew what had hit him.

  “Easy, man.” Asher’s eyes were wide, his hands up by his sides in surrender, as I watched on.

  Jason and Hailee’s games of push and pull were nothing more than sibling rivalry gone bad. Really fucking bad. Me and Asher ha
d been around long enough to know how it was between them, so why Asher was pushing the issue now was an interesting development.

  “I’m just yanking your chain,” he choked out. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “So don’t fucking be saying that shit.” He relaxed his hold and Asher slumped down the wall, rubbing his throat. “You know I can barely tolerate her ass and don’t even get me started on Denise. I swear I should have figured out a way to sabotage the wedding before they went through with it. I can’t believe my dad married that smug bitch.”

  It was no secret Jason had issues. I would have liked to say his dad’s recent nuptials with Hailee’s mom was the reason for his anger, but he’d always been that way. Ever since we were kids, he’d had giant chip on his shoulder, angry at the world and everyone in it.

  “I don’t know,” Asher said. “She’s always been nice when we come over. Offering us cookies and milk, batting her come-fuck-me-eyes in my direction. Hey, if you need me to help throw a wrench in their post-wedding bliss, I’m more than willing to take one for the team.” He grinned, quirking his brows, and Jase tackle hugged him, the two of them falling into the wall again but this time with smiles on their faces.

  “Mr. Ford, Mr. Chase, and Mr. Bennet, what a surprise.” Principal Finnigan appeared, hands clasped behind his back, disapproval etched into his expression as he watched my two best friends untangle themselves.

  “Good morning, Sir.” Jason swept a hand through his messy hair, laying it on thick. “How are you today?”

  “All the better for seeing you.” He deadpanned. “I trust I can expect nothing but hard work and a mature approach to your school experience this semester?”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “Glad to hear it. It would be a shame to find yourself on the bench in your senior year.” The principal gave us a scathing look before going about his business.

  “Motherfucker...” Asher muttered under his breath. “Like he can actually do that.”

  “He’s just pissed the school board overruled him last year.” There had been an incident with our rivals Rixon East High. Our names all got cleared in the end, but Principal Finnigan had made it his mission to see that the reputation of the football team be cleaned up, whatever the fuck that meant.

  Finnigan didn’t get it. An out-of-town transfer last year, he didn’t understand what it was like to live in Rixon, to play football in Rixon. He didn’t understand people looked the other way if they saw you up to no good, even if they recognized you as a Raider. Because Rixon, Pennsylvania, was a football town. And it just so happened to have one of the longest standing rivalries in the history of high school football. A rivalry that spilled off the field and into people’s lives. A rivalry so embedded into the history of the town, people accepted it as readily as they accepted Fourth of July or Thanksgiving.

  “Coach warned us he could be a problem this year, so we need to try to keep our noses clean.” Jason shouldered the door to the athletics field, and we cut across the grass to the gym.

  “Screw that,” Asher said. “Thatcher will be looking to get payback after what you did to Aim…” He backtracked when Jase levelled him with a hard look. “My bad. I’m just saying, after what went down, he’ll be gunning for blood.”

  “He can bring it.” Jase growled. “If they come onto our territory, then that’s on them. Finnigan can’t pin anything on us if it’s got their fingerprints all over it.”

  “So that’s it? We just roll over and let them come at us?” Asher threw Jase an incredulous look. But Jase’s eyes darkened, a wicked glint in his narrowed gaze as he said, “Who said anything about rolling over?”

  “Hit the showers and get out of here,” Coach Hasson boomed. I was already ass naked, cupping my junk as I ducked into the showers.

  “Bell’s tonight?” Asher said from somewhere behind me and Jase grunted, “Yeah.”

  Jase didn’t want to talk, he rarely did after running drills out on the field, but Asher talked enough for the three of us put together. When we’d cleaned the dirt off our skin and let the hot jets unknot the muscles in our bodies, we each grabbed our towels and padded back into the changing room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jase barked at the few remaining guys who were all staring at us.

  “I... hmm, shit...” It was Joel who stepped forward, his eyes avoiding his QB, opting for the floor instead.

  “Spit it out, Mackey,” I said, moving to my locker.

  “Hailee, she hmm...”

  Hailee?

  What the fuck?

  Then my eyes dropped to the bench in front of Jase’s locker. The bench where his sports bag was. The one that should have been full of his clothes and wasn’t.

  “Oh shit...” I whistled between my teeth, unsure whether to be impressed or concerned for her life.

  “She wouldn’t fucking dare.” Jase grabbed his bag and turned it upside down. “She took everything.” He sounded calm. Deadly.

  Shit. Hailee would pay for this, and there was something very wrong with me, because the idea made my dick twitch to life.

  My history with Hailee Raine was complicated. When she and her mom first moved in with Jason and his dad, she’d been nothing more than his annoying step-sister. But I quickly learned Hailee Raine wasn’t annoying at all. She was smart and quick-witted, and she didn’t take Jason’s shit.

  From day one, she’d stood up to him; looked him right in the eye as he laid into her, laughing at her pigtails, glasses, and denim overalls smeared with paint. He’d called her Pippi Longstocking and said he didn’t play with girls who looked like thrift store rejects. Hailee had kicked him in the shin and run off. But she hadn’t told on him and she hadn’t cried. That got my attention.

  But six years was a long time. Now we were older, and Hailee was a different kind of annoying. All grown up, she’d filled out in all the right places since junior high. I’d noticed. Hell, we’d all noticed. It was why Jason had shut that shit down in ninth grade, the year she grew tits. It had been an unspoken rule before then, but that year Jason officially laid down the law.

  Hailee Raine was off-limits to the team.

  But that wasn’t good enough for Jase. No, he issued a whole school lockdown. It was excessive. I knew it. Asher knew it. Everyone knew it. But since everyone also knew her step-brother’s reputation of following through on his threats, no one dared ask her out. And for the last three years, Hailee had been a social pariah. She kept herself to herself, had a small circle of friends, and preferred to lose herself in the art studio than lose herself in school spirit. Although part of me couldn’t help but wonder if she liked it that way, or if she’d just come to accept her fate.

  I should have felt an ounce of guilt of over it—I didn’t. Because the truth was, Jason wasn’t the only one who had issues with his teammates, or anyone else for that matter, hooking up with Hailee.

  “Found them.” Grady, another senior, breezed into the locker room, holding a pile of clothes. “But you’re not going to like what she did to your jersey.” He unballed the white and cobalt-blue shirt and held it up, a strange mix of fear and amusement flashing in his eyes.

  “Fuck,” someone mumbled as we all took in the drawing of a pair of tits covering half his jersey. If it wasn’t so weird it was actually a good drawing. Really good.

  “I call a D-cup,” someone else shouted. But Jason didn’t respond. He simply snatched his jersey back off Grady, anger radiating from him, shoved it into his bag, and started getting dressed.

  Jason liked to think he had Hailee under control. Liked to think he called the shots, that he ruled the roost. But over the past couple of years, she’d grown ballsy. Going up against us more. Against him. It was like she didn’t give a fuck, and it had made for some entertaining memories.

  There was just something about getting a reaction out of her that got my blood pumping. Although he’d never admit it, Jason and his step-sister were a match made in heaven.

  Thank fuck my best fri
end had a shred of morality left. Because watching him jones after his sister would have been a step too far—even for me.

  It wasn’t that I wanted her.

  I didn’t.

  I just didn’t like the idea of anyone else having her either.

  Chapter Three

  Hailee

  All week I waited for Jason to retaliate. But to my surprise, he never did. In fact, Tuesday morning when I’d left my bedroom to go downstairs, I had almost stumbled over a bag of my missing bras. It had taken a thorough investigation to deem them safe. There was no note. No hidden traps. Just my bras in all their super-supportive glory. Anyone else might have thought it was a white flag. But I wasn’t anyone else. If anything, I knew the gesture was a decoy, intended to throw me off the scent of whatever he really had planned.

  So all week I waited.

  And waited.

  My senses went on high alert whenever I spotted Jason and his friends in the halls at school. But they barely looked in my direction—just how I usually liked it. Except for Cameron. His eyes always lingered a little too long. As if he was plotting; planning my downfall. It was unnerving, but I didn’t overthink it. Maybe he was feeling particularly douchebaggy this year? Whatever it was, I didn’t care, because no matter what they dished out in my direction, I could handle it.

  I’d been handling it for the last five and a half years.

  Everyone thought Jason and I hated each other. But it wasn’t about hating him, so much as hating everything he stood for. So he could throw a football? Big whoop. So could thousands of other eighteen-year-olds. Personally, I didn’t understand the nation’s infatuation. Playing sports didn’t make someone a good person. It didn’t make them trustworthy or kind. In my experience, football players were usually conceited assholes who cared more about their dicks and winning games than what was going on in the world around them. How their actions affected the world around them.