Page 7 of Poisoned Pawns (The Gamemakers Trilogy #1)

Oliver Michaels- Revenge Is So Damn Sweet

Watching those bitches walk away with Silas and Desmond, I narrow my eyes and snarl as I get to my feet, brushing off my knees.

Taking a deep breath, I start walking towards the house but footsteps suddenly charge at me, and before I can do anything, cold metal presses against my neck, causing me to fall still.

“Feel that vein beating rapidly beneath my blade, quarterback?” he whispers, but I say nothing, too afraid to move a muscle.

“All I have to do is just nick it,” he growls, licking the shell of my ear.

“Then watch as your blood seeps from your pulsating artery. How sweet would that be? You really don’t want to push me to those lengths.

I don’t wanna have to explain to your mommy why her precious son is dead for touching what is fucking mine!

” he growls, pressing the blade deeper into my skin.

“Stay the fuck away from Ivy. Nod if you understand?” he spits, and I nod.

Slowly, he removes the knife from my neck, then shoves me away as he walks back to the white Range Rover.

I don’t take my eyes off of it until I see nothing but its tail lights.

Shrugging off the embarrassment I feel for letting some towny prick threaten me, I walk over to the front of the house and decide to call it a night and head back to the dorms.

Getting into my Maserati, I gun it down the streets of Hillside until I get to the highway, then I cruise the rest of the way back to Summerhills. My phone rings and my mother's name comes across my dash. Pressing the green button on my steering wheel, I answer the call.

“Good evening, Mother.”

“Oliver Eugene Michaels, why are you not at the dorms at this hour of the night? You have practice to attend tomorrow morning. This is unacceptable behavior,” she yaps through the line.

I roll my eyes, knowing she would fucking track me, but hoped that she was too preoccupied on a Friday night to do so.

“I couldn't sleep, so I went for a drive,” I lie, and she huffs.

“Next time, find a girl and get your dick sucked. I’ve told you time and time again I will take that car away from you if you can’t follow simple rules,” she yells.

“Alright, Mother, I’m pulling into the parking lot of St. Vincent’s. Thanks for the wonderful chat.”

“Don’t be smart with me. Do as you're told,” she scolds, ending the call.

Thank god. I can’t even get laid without her breathing down my neck.

Shutting the car off, I grab the duffel from the passenger seat and exit the car.

Walking up the path towards the dorms, I run into Colby who’s sitting on a bench making out with some girl.

He puts his fist out for me to bump, and I shake my head, laughing.

Fuck, it hurts to laugh. That cunt really got me good.

Walking into the dorms, I take the stairs a few at a time instead of taking the elevators.

Getting to my floor, I take my key card out of my wallet and press it against the reader until it turns green.

Pulling down the door handle, I push open the door and step into my quiet room, heading for my closet first. Setting the duffel down in the deepest part of the room, I move things around and hide it under a bunch of football equipment.

Then, I strip out of my clothes, grab a pair of gray sweats from the shelf, and pull them on.

Stepping out of the closet, I kill the lights and climb into bed, thinking about how I'm going to hurt Ivy Bloodworth.

Waking up early for Saturday practice, I feel like I was hit by a Mack truck.

Oh, that’s right, I was. Little Ivy Bloodworth kicked my ass last night.

Why I thought bringing up her dead friend while in the throes of passion on the side of some house was a good idea is beyond me. Some girls are into it, but not her.

Climbing out of bed, I stumble to the bathroom and take a leak.

After I finish, I stare at myself in the mirror, getting madder by the minute.

A nice shiner adorns my face, making it impossible to hide.

Coach is going to kick my ass, never mind a tiny girl doing it.

She handed me my ass and now I’m fucked!

Stepping out of the bathroom, I grab my gear and head out of my dorm room to practice. I can already feel my blood boiling. I know what’s going to happen the minute Coach sees my face, and telling him the truth will only make him laugh.

Deciding to skip breakfast and the mess hall altogether, I slam open the double doors of the building as the chilly morning air hits my face.

Taking a deep breath, I continue to walk toward the sports center as the sun rises over the trees.

One thing New York has is amazing sunrises and sunsets.

I’ve spent many mornings and nights over at Bluffpoint just laying on the hood of my car watching the sky change different colors.

It’s the only place that calms me. You would think football was my center of gravity, but it’s not.

I fucking hate being a quarterback. I hate the game altogether, but I must follow my mother’s orders or I won't get any of my inheritance from my grandfather. The deal has always been: get honor roll, graduate high school with a scholarship to play ball, and finish college with a business degree. The moment my diploma hits my hands, then I get my money, and I’m out of here.

No more rules, no more mommy up my ass. I’m over it.

Sometimes I feel like I should’ve been the one who died, not my father.

I hate being around my mother. I hate the person she’s forced me to be.

As I look around the university, all this elite shit is a farce.

I can’t stand being something I’m not. It’s not like anyone has truly tried to get to know me.

The team is the team. We play the game, fuck bitches, and get drunk.

There’s no depth to it. I have no one, not one friend that I can tell anything about myself to.

No one cares. It’s all about money and what you can offer.

Even the girls only want me for my money and status.

I just want to be normal. I want someone to see me as the real me and not this ‘Elite Jock’ shit.

There’s more to me than the persona I put on. I just wish someone would see it.

Opening the doors to the sports center, I enter and head straight for the locker rooms. Swinging the door open, I'm greeted with silence–just how I like it. Stripping off my clothes, I gear up and head out to the field.

Practice was brutal, and Billy, the assistant coach, sent me to the coach's office. He wanted to bench me, but I told him to suck my dick. He’s not the boss, so now I’m stuck waiting for Coach to get here. Clicking of heels has my neck snapping to my right as I sit in Coach's office.

Low and behold, my mother is walking towards me dressed in a long tight black dress with her hair wrapped in a bun on top of her head.

Coach walks in and stands behind his desk as she steps in front of me with a snarl on her face.

Rearing back, she slaps me across the face.

My head whips to the side as I narrow my eyes at her.

“Don’t look at me like that. You’re a fucking liar, like your worthless father,” she spits, but I take it. I always fucking take it.

“Son, you're benched for the next two games for misconduct. I don’t care that it happened off school property, but the marks on your face are unacceptable,” he scolds.

“What? That’s not fair. I caused no harm to anyone. A girl beat me!” I yell, and he laughs as my fists tighten against the arms of the chair.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You listen to the coach, and practices for you are now twice a day.

One more infraction from you and you can kiss that inheritance goodbye,” she tells me, and I internally fume.

I’m only biding my time like the good boy I am to get that fucking inheritance so I can take care of myself without her pawing at my skin.

“Fine! Whatever you say, Mother,” I mutter.

“Good, now escort me to my car,” she commands, turning to the coach and giving him a wink, making me want to puke. Getting up from my seat, Coach slams his hand on my shoulder and gives it a rough squeeze.

“It's for your own good, son.” I roll my eyes and shrug him off as my mother sticks her hand out for me to grab and walk her out of the office and locker room.

“Oliver, I’m getting sick and tired of your disobedience. Have you done the job I asked of you yet?” she asks, raising a brow at me as I open the double doors and exit the sports center into the parking lot where her waiting SUV is parked along the curb.

“Yes, it’s done.”

“Good boy,” she says, placing a kiss on my face as Paul, her driver, opens the door for her.

“See you soon, Ollie. Remember what I said,” I nod, spinning on my heels to head back to the dorms. I’m sick of the constant embarrassment by women I can’t fucking stand.

Now I’m benched for two games because of this blonde bimbo.

Revenge is nothing compared to the storm I’m going to rain down on her perfect life–destroying every piece of happiness she has. She is mine to ruin; leaving her pieces spread upon the asphalt, rotting away as piece by piece turns to molten.