Page 2 of Play Dirty

I shiver from the thought.

Peter Morelli is hot as sin but fucking scary. There was a time that my parents really wanted us to get married—I was his crowned. Then, one summer after some scandal, Mr. Morelli paid a lot of money tomake it go away. Then Peter was sent to study abroad. And marriage was off the table.

I’d say I dodged a bullet, which is great because then that summer Asher came into my life. June looks up at me from the ground.

“Are you guys going to help?”

I scrunch my nose at her question, pretending to be bored, staring at my manicured hands.

“Not sure, maybe not.” I tease. Of course, I’m going to help the girl I love like a sister.

“You seem like you are ready for an actual game.” I point to the posters in June’s hand. She laughs nervously, fidgeting as she looks down at her work. “I thought it would be a nice source of encouragement. This place is going to be brutal to them. Might as well show them they can have an ally.”

Tatiana scoffs loudly. “With the lowies. June, this is practically a charity.”

Scowling, I roll my eyes at the comment. Tatiana can sometimes be too judgmental and believes in the separation of classes. She doesn’t mind helping the ‘needy’ as she calls it. Ironically, she’s quite the humanitarian, but sometimes her actions don’t match her words.

“Come on, I’m all for charity. Let’s not act like they will make it to nationals, not here, fuck they are lucky if they survive the first year. Lowies just don’t belong here.”

“Stop calling them that,” June mutters, already heading towards the fields. Tatiana throws her arm around June. “Hey, I’m sorry, you’re right, that was shitty of me.”

“It was.”

“Right, so let me make it better. Let's welcome and encourage the newbies.”

I stand behind for a bit; my stomach feels odd, as if butterflies are dancing inside it. Like a warning that something big will happen today.My phone pings in my hand, and I smile when I see that Asher, my on-and-off again boyfriend, finally texts me back.

Asher

Bummed that you didn’t pick to come to my school. :(

I replied immediately.

I tried, Mom said it was my right to become a crowned one.

The bubbles appear and disappear.

Finally, the message comes, and with that, my heart sinks.

Asher

I think we need a break. I don’t like distance.

Left on read.

This time, I don’t reply. I do what a Johnson does best — hold my head up high and continue with my day. Of course, he wants a break. Boys always want the easy option when they stop getting exactly what they want. Since I can’t be available all the time, he simply finds someone else who can. Since I don’t have much say in the matter. I swallow the heartbreak threatening to have me in tears; however, my eyes sting, and my cheeks flush red. I take three breaths in and turn just to slam into something —

Soft.

Fucking tall.

Sweaty.

I look at where my hand is pressed against a bare and sweaty chest. A spider tattoo on his left pectoral is moving with each uneven breath. My fingers instinctively curl up around it, feeling the slow rise of his chest. He smells like weed and sweat.

Masculine.

Earthy.