Page 23 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

HUDSON

At the start, play had been solid. We held our own for most of the game—unfortunately those pussies at St. Mary’s were huge. What they lacked in brains, they made up for in brawn.

Reed, as quarterback, pulled off two rocking rush touchdowns.

Then I bagged another after he hit me with a rope across the middle.

That was before he got levelled by the other team’s colossal defensive tackle.

The guy was a monster—six-two, three hundred pounds easy .

My brother got up, dirtied, but survived.

But that’s Reed for you—cool as ice, even after getting flattened.

I remember crushing the ball to my chest, feeling prematurely victorious. Adrenaline surged as my fingers locked on the leather, legs going into overdrive. St. Mary’s cornerback was fast, but I juked and sent the fucker flying just before taking it to the house.

We played with heart. But with four minutes left, our kicker, Josh fucking Sanderson blew it. It was the same as last year, and St. Mary’s bled the clock dry.

Fucking Sanderson. His head was only ever half in the game. Dude was a lacrosse player and a good one, and you know what they say about a jack of all trades.

Coach Rutherford was still fired up afterwards and impressed with my performance. So even with the loss, I was out of the doghouse. Until next time.

My brothers and I had done our own thing for the rest of the weekend, licking our wounds in the privacy of our rooms. And I don’t mean wounds figuratively, both Reed and I were sporting numerous bruises on our bodies from rough tackles.

Micah got roughed up, too, but it didn’t show up on his skin as much.

And let’s face it, Phoenix got off scot-free as the opposition just bounced off his body.

He was built like he bench-pressed cars in his spare time, go figure .

I had toyed with texting Molly but decided against it. I felt like a dick after fucking with her about Sasha, but she needed to stop giving me those doe-eyes of hers. She was the enemy, and I needed to treat her as such. Determination to do just that was all that ran through my veins.

The sight of her tits beneath that bra would be in my spank bank for the foreseeable future, irrespective of me telling myself she was sexually off limits.

It was Monday morning. I tolerated the beginning of the week much better, as the boys and I usually hit the pool during our free period before practice.

The pool complex was a well-kept building, the changing facilities lacking the usual amounts of graffiti-ed doors and signs of ageing.

The water, although on the chilly side, was always crystal blue.

The space was used for recreational and competitive swimming and diving.

Lessons were held in the main pool, leaving the diving pool free for lane swimming.

The tiles were cold against my feet as I walked into the natatorium, my boys falling in behind me.

As we rounded the corner, the smell of warm chlorine lingered, and a twinge of annoyance kicked in as I realized a class was taking place there.

I cleared my throat and washed a hand down my face as I stopped and stared at the class of students on one side of the pool. A mixed class looking at the differences in their ages. Fucking great.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Phoenix hollered, echoing my thoughts.

“I thought Parsons said it was free?” Micah grumbled, thumbing behind his shoulder.

Mrs. Parsons had said the pool wasn’t scheduled for use that morning, but she’d gotten it wrong, as fucking usual.

The bitch couldn’t organize shit. My brow wrinkled as I spied Storm and Tate sitting on a bench at the side of the pool, fully dressed.

It wasn’t a surprise; those girls would do anything to get out of swimming.

Water and the popular chicks didn’t mix.

Even when Storm threw a pool party, they never got their hair wet.

Pathetic. I wondered why they were there instead of in the library.

Tate was the queen bee of the school, she had most girl’s head’s up her ass, including Storms. Thank God they’d ditched the prom king and queen shit years ago, otherwise Tate would have been mine.

Not that I couldn’t have dealt with that.

Bitch would do as she was told; a queen’s place is to answer to her king.

“What now? I’m sick of that crusty old fart getting it wrong,” Reed huffed, pulling a face .

I shrugged. “How about you stop whining like a little bitch and we swim, dumbass. The place is big enough if we take the diving pool,” I pointed out.

It was then ‘all eyes on us,’ and everyone’s gaze snapped around.

There were a few other seniors I recognised, as well as Storm and Tate.

The latter gave me a finger-tipped wave as she saw us.

There were also some tenth graders, Harper being one of them, and a handful of juniors.

Maybe it was tryouts for the new swim team?

Looking at the builds of some of the younger students, Coach Sheldon was totally scraping the bottom of the barrel.

I sighed, feeling frustrated. I didn’t want any distractions for me and the boys, and the group were as loud as fuck.

I told myself that if they didn’t get in our way, it wouldn’t be a problem. The pool was supposed to be Olympic-sized; at least, that’s what it said on the school prospectus.

As we moved forward, boys and girls nudged each other, their attention distracted from the teacher.

Coach Sheldon was standing before a whiteboard with qualifying swim times written all over it.

The students were in a huddle before him, bone dry, suggesting they had yet to get in the pool.

They were talking amongst themselves, some not listening.

A few had fallen silent as they ogled the hell out of me and the guys.

I knew what type of picture we presented to the other students.

We were at the top of the food chain in high school.

It was a solid presence and one of power.

I wasn’t being arrogant; I was stating a fact.

We were seniors and were there in our swimwear, tatted, bare-chested, and proud.

The girls openly ogled us, and the boys looked either in awe or as uncomfortable as fuck.

No one messed with us; we’d bury them if they tried.

Martin Sheldon was the coach of the current swim team and was banging on about the importance of mastering water safety.

Walking to stand just behind the group and towering above them all, we caught the coach’s eyes. After a scowl, he motioned for us to use the diving pool, which had been cordoned off into four lanes by colored floating ropes.

Perfect, as we each had a lane. You didn’t want to get caught up in the same one as Phoenix, as he swam in the middle, taking up the entire area. Nix was also slow, like old lady slow. I was twice as fast, but the guy had more bulk to carry, so no shock there then .

I winked at a brunette tenth grader, and her entire face lit up. See, I wasn’t a complete dick. I liked to share the wealth with those less worthy, occasionally . I’d made the girl's day as she turned and giggled with her friends. Sweet.

Even Harper was staring, although from the direction of her gaze, her attention was focused on Phoenix.

My eyes roamed over her ugly ass bathing suit.

It was one of those with long sleeves and shorts.

She had a decent enough body, slightly on the bony side, and I wondered why she kept it hidden all the time.

It was clearly a confidence thing, unlike Phoenix, who had enough for everyone.

I wondered how long it would take for them to admit they liked each other.

She was almost sixteen, and then that age gap would close.

Strolling past the group of kids to the other end of the pool, Nix flanked me, and I saw him smirk at our foster sister as he said, “Take a picture, Harper; it will last longer.”

He looked especially pleased with himself. We all exchanged knowing glances as Harper’s face flushed, and she turned away, muttering something under her breath to the girl at her side. And then it hit me like a punch in the stomach.

Molly.

I’d managed to put her out of my thoughts temporarily.

Self-preservation I called it as, I’d almost fucked up at the game on Friday due to her getting into my head.

And holy shit, she was dressed in a plain one-piece black bathing suit, but it still left little to the imagination.

I could see all her soft curves. As could every other douche bag in that room, unfortunately .

My annoyance levels climbed at the two skinny sophomores who kept side-eying her, fucking cockroaches.

Molly’s blonde hair was tied in a messy bun, exposing her slender neck and shoulders. Her face was free from make-up, and she had no other embellishments, yet she managed to outshine every other half-naked female in the vicinity.

Flashes of Molly’s breasts encased in white lace shot through my brain like an electric bolt. The beast inside me roared, and I wanted to grab a towel and cover her body. The thought of other male eyes, even my brothers, seeing what should have been for my eyes only worked me up even more.

And then it hit me. WTF?

Where the hell did that come from? How was I feeling so territorial over a girl I had known for a week?

Pretending to stretch my muscles out, ready to enter the pool, I glanced at my brothers, who were all focused on doing the same .

Molly hadn’t seen me, and I continued to watch the beauty with a hooded gaze.

The English girl's build was delicate, and though she was small, her legs appeared incredibly long. Surely that defied the laws of physics or some shit like that? Her tiny waist was probably spannable, and my palms itched as the desire to test that theory powered through me. I remember feeling how trim her waist was when I’d tucked her school shirt into her skirt.