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Chapter nine

Daxton

I had no intention of coming to this damn party. Cope was antagonizing me the whole time he was getting ready, and I swore I wouldn’t go. But he kept bringing up Trayton, saying not to let him get under my skin. I’m so over people thinking I’m that quiet, timid guy who accepts punches and doesn’t retaliate. I’m sick of being seen as a pushover.

The moment Cope said, “Trayton will think he’s got to you if you don’t come,” there was no turning back. Over my dead body will I let that guy get to me anymore. Last year, I was in a bad headspace; it felt like my world was crumbling, and then I lost my best friend. I’ve never felt so low in my life. But leaving that trailer was a fresh start for me. It was my new beginning, and there’s no way I’m letting Trayton drag me back to that dark place.

Every step I took toward this party was fueled by my determination to prove that I’m not the same person I was then. As soon as I walked into this fucking kitchen and he saw me, I had to swallow whatever self-doubt was gnawing at my mind and put on my brave face. I needed to show this prick that I’m not the same guy. Even if sometimes I think I am. I’m not someone who seeks confrontation, but Trayton brings it out of me. Just seeing his face makes me want to scream.

It’s funny how time changes our perspective of someone.

I never used to look at Trayton and want to scream.

It was the complete opposite, actually.

I used to look at him and instantly smile.

Then Bexley happened. That’s why Trayton despises me. I’ve told myself a thousand times that his hatred is justified. I understand why he loathes me. But it was years ago. Why can’t he let it go? We were just kids.

He blames me for so much.

What he doesn’t realize is that I blame myself even more. I wish I could turn back time and change everything, but I can’t.

“Let’s go into the living room,” Cope mutters, tugging on my hoodie.

I take one last glance at a seething Trayton, his stare burning into me, before I walk through the door to the living room with Cope. I spot the couch and notice a free seat at the end. I came here, proved myself, and now all I want to do is leave. I’ve shown him I’m not scared, and now I’m over it.

Cope pushes a bottle in my face, and I shake my head. I’ve got a lot of drawing to do tomorrow and need a clear head.

“One drink won’t hurt,” Cope insists, pushing the bottle right in front of my face again. I sigh, taking it from his hand. Maybe if I just take a sip, every time he looks at me, it’ll make him happy.

I don’t even know why he’s trying so hard with me anyway. I sit back on the couch, pulling myself to the edge as more people squeeze in. The music blares, and I don’t recognize a single song. I feel so far out of my comfort zone that I might as well be on Mars.

Why did I need to prove a point?

As I go to set my beer on the table and prepare to slip out since Cope has vanished from sight, that voice stops me dead in my tracks.

“Daxton Rivers.” A smug-looking Jamie Vice comes into view as he stands in front of me, not leaving me any room to get up.

Why did you fucking come here, Daxton? For fuck’s sake.

“Jamie,” I reply—bored. Jamie is a cunt. That’s the only way I can describe him. I was at a party last year; me and Bexley were there selling shit, and Jamie was drunk. He ended up walking into the bathroom when I was taking a piss, but he didn’t turn around and walk out like any normal person. He stayed until I was finished and then literally threw himself onto me.

I instantly pulled back because no, just no. Jamie Vice is a fucking dick, and I’ve always known it. No way was he going to try to kiss me behind some closed door while he was drunk and high on god knows what.

Turning him down unleashed a storm I wasn’t prepared for. He spread lies around the school, claiming I made advances on him and even mocking how I smelled, saying I reeked like a garbage truck. This nightmare began before I even started at Hawksview. When I finally did, he made it his personal vendetta to tarnish my name, making everyone remember the fabricated stories he’d spun about me. People would stare, snicker, or dramatically sidestep me as I walked down the halls. It was downright humiliating.

“What drugs you selling today then?” He sneers, his voice dripping with sarcasm and malice.

“None, so go find someone else.” My words are monotone.

“What brings”—he scans me from head to toe, a look of utter disgust contorting his features—“you here, then?”

“I was invited,” I say flatly, attempting to rise, but he steps forward, forcing me back onto the couch.

“Who the hell would invite you?”

“Me. Now fuck off.” Cope’s voice cuts through the tension from behind him, making Jamie whirl around.

“Why would you invite him here, Cope?” Jamie’s voice is laced with an icy edge, his eyes locked on Cope, though a flicker of fear betrays him.

“Because I can. Got a problem with that?”

“Leave it, Cope. I’m heading off,” I say, standing up again. This time, Jamie retreats, making a show of sniffing the air.

“Still reeks,” he mutters under his breath.

“What the hell did you just say?” Cope steps toward Jamie, towering over him, his presence menacing.

“Whoa, whoa. Killer, take it easy.” Trayton appears out of nowhere, brushing my arm as he tries to reach Cope. I step aside as he pulls Cope back.

“What did you say to my boy to get him riled up like that?” Trayton’s eyes narrow at Jamie.

“Say it again, I dare you,” Cope seethes, his voice a low growl.

“N-nothing,” Jamie stammers, his face paling as he frowns up at Cope. He sidesteps, walking away, but not before shooting me a death glare that could bury me six feet under.

The last thing I need is to be back on Jamie’s radar.

“How about a game of truth or dare to lighten the mood?” Some annoying girl singsongs, standing on the couch next to me with two bottles of vodka in her hands, clearly three sheets to the wind.

Truth or dare? What are we —ten? I’m definitely out of here.

“Sit,” Cope growls through gritted teeth, clamping his hand on my shoulder and shoving me back onto the couch. I glance up at him, but his eyes are locked on Jamie, who has slinked to the other side of the room, chatting with his friend.

“I’m not playing truth or dare, Cope.” I sigh, exasperated.

“Humor me,” Cope says, a smile tugging at his lips as he sits down in the now-vacant spot next to me.

My eyes follow the girl with the vodka bottles as she stands in the center of the room, spinning around as if searching for something. She strides over to a large glass bowl, empties the vodka into it, and then places the now-empty bottle in the middle of the floor.

“We’re not boring, guys,” she drawls. “Make it juicy.” She winks, prompting a few guys to catcall, and one even goes over to the stereo to turn down the volume.

“Gabby, you spin first,” she says, her voice trembling with excitement as she bounces on her bare feet, clapping her hands like a child on Christmas Morning. Gabby spins the bottle, and it lands on some dude I don’t know.

“Joe, truth or dare?” Gabby asks, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Dare, obviously.” The guy winks confidently.

“I dare you to get your ass over here and slap a kiss right here.” She points to her lips and with what I’m guessing is supposed to be a seductive smirk.

“Yes, ma’am,” the guy, Joe, says instantly, up on his feet in seconds. After they literally eat each other’s mouths, another girl spins the bottle, and it lands on a girl this time. She picks truth, and I watch as the other girl asks her something that clearly makes her uncomfortable. I have no idea what they’re saying because I’ve completely tuned them out. Suddenly, Cope’s laughter snaps me back to reality. Trayton is sitting next to him, whispering something in his ear, and both guys are watching the two girls make out across the room. I scan around and see that most of the guys are doing the same thing, like a pack of dogs drooling over watching their prey. I roll my eyes and shuffle to the edge of the couch so I can try to make my getaway before Cope realizes.

But just as I go to stand up, a girl’s voice breaks through my thoughts.

“Daxton, isn’t it?” she says across from me, sitting on the floor, with her legs crossed.

I frown before answering with a hesitant, “Uh, yeah.”

“Truth or dare?” she asks, her eyes glinting mischievously.

“What?” I furrow my brows in confusion, then look down at the bottle on the floor, pointing directly at me.

“Truth. Or. Dare,” she says, speaking as if I’m a small child who needs things spelled out for them.

“Oh.” I chuckle. “I’m not playing; I’m leaving.” I start to stand up, but Trayton’s voice stops me and makes me grind my teeth.

“Of course you pussy out.” He laughs. I see Cope punch his leg, causing him to hiss in pain. Why do I feel the need to prove myself to this jerk? He gives me a smug look and raises one eyebrow slightly, like it’s a challenge.

Just go home, Daxton. You don’t care what these people think of you.

No, I don’t. But for some messed-up reason, I care what this guy thinks of me.

“Dare,” I grit out while keeping my gaze focused on Trayton.

My stare remains fixed on him, refusing to look away even as Gabby’s words sink in. A chill runs down my spine as I realize what I’ve just agreed to, but it’s not the fact that I said dare that leaves me breathless and stumbling over my words. It’s the next part, the impossible demand she makes with a nonchalant tone that hides the harsh intent behind it.

“Sorry, wh-what?” I stammer, my voice betraying my shock and fear.

“I dare you to get on your hands and knees and crawl to Trayton like a dog, then plant a kiss on his lips,” she states matter-of-factly, her eyes glinting with malicious glee as though she’s reciting lines from a dark tale. “And I want tongue,” she demands, her voice dripping with lust and malice. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Trayton’s eyes sparkle with wicked delight. He leans back on the sofa, spreading his legs wide and beckoning me to kneel before him.

“On your knees, Rivers,” he taunts, sadistic pleasure in his voice at the thought of seeing me submit. My bravery crumbles as my heart races in my chest. I shake my head frantically.

“I-I’m not doing it,” I stammer weakly.

Trayton’s grin widens, his predatory gaze roaming over my trembling form. “Didn’t think so.” He sneers. Before I can say anything else, Jamie’s voice breaks through the silence that now blankets the room.

“Don’t worry, Daxton. I’ll take that dare for you.” Trayton’s attention shifts away from me as Jamie crawls onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Trayton’s neck and locking lips with him. My stomach churns as I watch Trayton’s tongue invade Jamie’s mouth, and Jamie’s hips move in response. I am frozen in shock, unable to look away as Trayton dominates the kiss.

Leave, Daxton. Fucking move—do something. Stop watching.

The sound of a girl beside me commenting on how hot they look doesn’t even register as I’m lost in the intensity of the moment. But suddenly, something snaps inside me a few moments later as I hear her words, and I realize that I need to do something.

With all my willpower, I tear myself away and make a beeline for the door. My heart is pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. But just as I reach for the handle, something grips me like a punch in the gut. I feel it, something burning through me. I turn my head and glance over my shoulder. It’s Trayton’s eyes, piercing through me with an intense stare that makes me feel both vulnerable and desired. He winks at me before deepening the kiss with Jamie. I can’t handle it anymore and tear myself through the door, gasping for air as my heart pounds in my chest.

But then I realize something that sickens me to my core.

I lift my sweater and look down.

My dick is painfully evident under my jeans, rock hard and throbbing, despite the disgust and confusion swirling inside me.

What the fuck was that?

And more importantly, why am I reacting this way to the one guy I hate most?