Veils of Rivalry Chapter 46

Blaise's POV

Tiago: Are you coming over tonight? Mia and Allie won’t be around.

Me: I can’t, sorry.

Tiago: You never spend time with us anymore.

Ronnie: He’s too busy sucking up to Cole’s friends.

Me: Leave him out of it. I have things I need to take care of tonight.

Tiago: You’re defending him? Who are you, and what did you do to my friend? Are you best buddies now?

Music blasts in the background as I tap the side of my phone. My stomach churns with unease as I shift on the couch. I’ve been distracted lately by Mia’s bullshit and my complicated emotions where Cole is concerned, and now the cracks are starting to show in my friendships. Ignoring the messages, I pocket my phone when Jackson flops down beside me. He rests his arm behind me on the couch and spreads his legs obnoxiously wide as though he owns the place. His eyes sparkle in the dim light as he flashes a side smirk. “Where’s your brother?”

“He couldn’t make it.”

He smiles and flicks his eyes to my mouth. “I’m glad you came.”

My teeth grind at the hidden meaning beneath those words. If he thinks I’ll fall for his blatant flirting, he’s dead wrong. Something about Jackson feels off, and I can’t put my finger on it. I sought him out the other day because I was in emotional pain and had nowhere else to turn. My bullshit radar was broken. But tonight, as he presses his thigh against mine, a shiver runs through me. It’s not a pleasant one. “Are you having a good time?”

A good time? I’ve sat on this couch alone for the last hour. Mia tried to speak to me earlier, but I brushed off her attempts, not in the mood. This isn’t my crowd. “Sure,” I reply instead.

“We’re doing another chase in a bit. You in?”

Frowning, I glance away from the busy dance floor—and by the dance floor, I mean the empty space in the living room where scantily clad girls hop around like Duracell bunnies on speed. “Another chase?”

“Yeah.” I stiffen when he grazes his fingers over my shoulder. “Like the other time when we broke up into teams.”

Something is definitely off. “Sure.” I open my mouth to talk to him about his flirting and how it needs to stop, when he jumps to his feet the moment Allie enters the room.

My brows knit together as he plants his lips on hers and shoves his tongue into her mouth. What is he playing at? And not only him. When he’s done eating her face, he whispers in her ear, and her eyes flick my way. I swear she’s smirking.

“Sup, man.” Samson slams his hand down on my shoulder, tearing me from my thoughts. Jumping over the back of the couch, he sits beside me. “See a pussy you like?”

I pretend to scan the crowd. Girls no longer interest me, but neither do guys. I have tunnel vision for Cole. “That one?” Samson asks, following my line of sight to a girl on the dance floor. Her short skirt swishes around her tanned thighs. Samson whistles, shoving a beer bottle at me. “I’m up for sharing if you’re into that stuff. A good old spit roast.”

I stare at the beer, trying to determine if Samson has slobbered over it, then pretend to take a sip. I don’t trust anyone anymore. “You can have her.”

He licks his lips like he is eyeing up a chopstick. “Thanks, man. I’ll ride her hard tonight. What do you think she’s into? Reverse cowgirl or doggy?”

“Doggy,” I reply absentmindedly, watching Jackson talk to some of the other guys. Why do I have such a bad feeling about tonight? It makes no sense.

“I think you’re right. She looks like an ‘ass in the air and face shoved into the pillow’ kinda girl. Those are my favorites. Nasty girls who like to be fucked hard.”

Chuckling, I shake my head. “Whatever you say.”

Samson smacks his knees before standing up. “I’m going in. You partaking in the chase later?”

I nod. “Sure am.”

“Good, man.” Samson claps me on the shoulder, his eyes on the girl. “Later.”

“Later.” As he walks away, I scan the room for Jackson, but he’s nowhere to be seen. Fucking typical. I don’t know when I’ll get to speak to him at this rate. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I check for the hundredth time if Cole has messaged. He hasn’t.

My heart sinks. I type out a quick message, but delete it. Then I type another one, my thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button.

Me: I wish you were here.

I delete that one, too.

***

POV Cole

B

laise is at the party.

There are photos already on social media. He’s in the background in a few, drinking a beer, and one of them has him talking to Mia. She’s close, sitting beside him on the sofa, her thigh pressed to his.

At least he’s keeping his hands off her.

I swipe to the next photo, and my blood runs cold when I see Jackson leaning over the back of the sofa, saying something to Blaise. He’s not looking at him, though, his eyes on the beer bottle in his hand as he peels the label.

The next swipe, Samson and Keith are taking a selfie with Allie, and Blaise is no longer on the sofa, and there’s no sign of Jackson.

He’s with my fucking friends, our ex-girlfriends, and Jackson, and I’ve not had a single message from him. My nerves have been acting up all night. A bad batch of butterflies in my gut when I think of all the ways he might be fucking around. He’s probably drunk and forgetting I exist.

I should trust him, but why? He fucked Mia only a few days ago, went to Jackson’s place, and then got chased by me without knowing it was me. And then earlier, we…

Every insecurity I have is valid.

I grind my teeth together as I cut off my phone screen and toss it aside, anxiety bubbling in my chest, heart pounding. Maybe I should go. Maybe I should get dressed and go lay claim on him, once and for all.

The shrill of my phone has me grabbing it and bringing it to my ear without looking. “Hello?”

“Son,” my dad says, hiccupping. “Don’t hang up on me again.”

With a sigh, I pinch the bridge of my nose, dropping my head back on the couch. “What do you want? Calling to threaten me again? Seeing if no one is home so you can wreck the place again? Oh, wait, you want to scare my mom into leaving town and kidnap me?”

He sniggers, tsking. “You know me so well.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. There’s silence, and my heart races at the possibility of him crashing into my life and making it hell.

“She’s mine,” he says, snarling the two possessive words.

“Who?”

“Rachel,” he replies, hiccupping again. “He has no claim on her, she belongs to me. I married her first. I loved her first. She’s been mine since we were fifteen years old.”

“You beat her and abused your title as a parent,” I say, laughing bitterly. “The only reason you’re not in prison is because of your badge. I hope loneliness feels good and worth all the shit you put us through.”

“You little asshole⁠—”

Hanging up, I let out the heaviest, most audible breath ever. I lean forward, head dropped between my knees, needing this anxiety to fuck off already. Between my dad and Blaise, and Jackson being an asshole, I feel like the world is closing in on me and I don’t know how to stop it.

My phone rings again, but I ignore it, rocking back and forth on the seat. I’m dizzy, and my eyes burn. I stay like this through five missed calls and message pings. The sound of the vibrations nearly drowns out my deep, rushed breaths.

I eventually sit up, just as the next call ends, and I catch the number I still haven’t saved, but I recognize it. Grabbing my phone, I see I have ten missed calls from Mia and multiple messages begging me to call her back.

I swipe away from each notification with a groan. She’s probably drunk and thinking we’re in love – or maybe she wants round two without the third person involved. How the fuck do I get her to leave me the hell alone? Tell her I’m into her ex and that I’d rather fuck him?

Then another message pops up.

It’s about Blaise, it reads. I think Jackson and your friends are up to something.

Quickly getting to my feet, I throw on my hoodie and shove my feet in my sneakers, grabbing my keys on the way out of the front door. I call her back, but of course, the idiot doesn’t pick up.

It starts ringing ten minutes into me driving to the house. “What’s going on?” I skip the introductions and manners. “Where’s Blaise?”

Music blares in the background, then it grows faint. She must be trying to get somewhere to hear me. A door closes. “Cole?”

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re about to play that chasing game again, but something doesn’t feel right. Allie was making out with Jackson in the bathroom, and I walked in. I overheard them ask if the plan was set and if Blaise was taking part. They’re putting him in the runners and they’re the chasers.”

I frown. “I don’t understand.” It doesn’t help that she’s drunk and falling over her words. “Where is Blaise now?”

“I don’t know,” she replies. “Are you coming here? Can you pick me up?”

“I’m coming for Blaise,” I tell her. “I’ll drop you off at the dorm.”

“Can I come to your place? Allie will go there with her professor again.”

I blink a few times, trying to think of a response.

It’s the least I can do. She obviously isn’t comfortable where she is, and I’m not a complete and total asshole. But then again, she’ll be expecting something, especially after what happened between the three of us.

“Go grab Blaise. Tell him I’m coming for you both.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I know, by the way. I won’t say anything.”

I pause my breathing, staring at the road as I turn a corner, five minutes from the house. “What do you mean?”

“I love him too.”