Dear Ava by Ilsa Madden-Mills

3

Ipark my black Mercedes-Benz G-Class in a spot and turn the ignition off.

“Fucking hot new ride,” Chance says from the back seat as he gets out, slinging his backpack over his arm. His pale blue eyes crinkle in the corners, still sporting a tan from his vacation in Maui this past week. “You always get the best toys, Knox.” He huffs out a laugh, and I shrug, knowing there’s no jealousy in the words. His family wealth is old money, passed down from generations of well-to-do lawyers and even a governor, but it doesn’t rank up there with mine and Dane’s—our dad’s a real estate millionaire.

I step out of the car. “Nothing but the best for the Graysons.” There’s sarcasm in my tone. No one gets it but my twin.

My brother Dane gets out of the passenger side and pats the hood of the car. “Yeah, dear old Dad was feeling guilty for leaving us home most of the summer to work in New York. Nice way to appease us, don’t you think?” His tone is deadpan, his face expressionless except for the lines of tension around his lips.

He’s fine, I tell myself, my eyes following him as he walks around to join us.

Liam crawls out from the back seat. A six-four linebacker for our team, he’s our star defensive player and on his way to a big college. ESPN has him ranked higher than anyone on the team, including me. He needed a ride this morning but told me his dad is dropping something off for him later—a new black Escalade.

With a wicked grin, he smiles as he straightens, stretches out his arms, and looks over at the school, taking in the stately structure, the turrets on each side, the ivy that grows from the bottom, draping the gray stones. “Are you getting chills like I am, boys? Senior year—it’s ours.” He cracks his knuckles and rubs his hands together. “And I’m going to bang every girl I want. More than you assholes. As my dad likes to say, boys will be boys.” He laughs.

“Only you keep score,” Chance says with an eye roll.

“So you and Jolena are off again?” comes from Dane. “Guess I’m not surprised. You two are a soap opera.” He laughs, amusement wiping some of the tension away. He’s like that, swinging from one emotion to the other.

Liam shrugs broad shoulders, running a hand through his side-swept, white-blond bangs—old-style Justin Bieber. “Too many girls in the world to be tied down to just one.”

“You’ll be back together before the day is over,” Dane muses.

Chance chuckles. “Careful there, Liam. I do recall you getting a rash on your dick this summer from one of those college girls you picked up at the club we snuck into. Damn, she was hot—but an STD? That doctor’s appointment had to be embarrassing.”

Liam’s face reddens. “It was curable, okay? Don’t be telling people—it will kill my game.”

I smirk. “I’m going to make it the morning announcement.” I mimic tapping a microphone. “Welcome back, students. This is Knox Grayson, your quarterback for the Dragons. It’s going to be a fine year at Camden Prep, but before we get started today, I’d like to touch on STDs—well, not actually touch, but you know what I mean. We’ll be using Liam Barnes as our visual aid. Also, a riddle to brighten your day: What’s worse than lobsters on your piano? Anyone?” I throw a glance around at the guys, smirking at Liam’s red face, the color deepening. “It’s crabs on your organ, of course. Just ask Liam.”

Chance snickers, and Dane guffaws. “Good one, bro.”

I shrug. “I have my moments.”

“And Liam makes excellent material.” Chance gives me a fist bump.

“Screw you, QB1,” Liam mutters. “You just wait and see what happens on the field.”

I arch a brow, feigning nonchalance at his little threat, but my hackles rise. Doesn’t seem to take much these days, especially when it comes to mouthy football players. “It’s just a joke.”

Liam’s face flattens. “Still not amused. I don’t appreciate being the butt of your joke.”

I laugh then, deep and long, satisfaction washing over me because I annoyed him. There’s weird competitiveness between us. Maybe it’s an offense-versus-defense kind of thing, but mostly it stems from me being in charge of the team, coupled with the fact that I had Jolena sophomore year before him. I tapped that fast and got out, and for all his blustering about not being serious with her, he doesn’t want me near her.

Sex with her was just water to me—tasteless, meaningless, nothing but passing the time. I’m not even sure she really wanted me, but she made all the right noises and pretended, eager to be one of my girls under the bleachers. She didn’t give a shit about who I was, but you can bet she told everyone she had the quarterback. Funny—I never tell anyone who I fuck, but people always know.

Liam rolls his shoulders. “You’ve been acting weird lately, Knox. Worried about winning a state championship already?” He gives me a once-over. “Don’t worry, I’ll win those games for us. You just throw some pretty passes and I’ll do all the hard work.”

“Fuck off,” I say softly.

Then, I smile.

He gives me a double take then darts his eyes away. Distaste is evident on his face. Four years with this scar on my face and he still can’t stomach it.

Dane grows still next to me and gives me side-eye, which I refuse to acknowledge. Liam is his best friend, and like the good twin he is, we’re in sync; he knows when I want to use my fists.

“Come on, let’s go in,” Dane murmurs, his shoulder jostling mine.

“Mmmm, maybe Liam and I need to hash out some shit before we walk in,” I say lightly.

Liam swings his head back to me, meeting my eyes and turning his unease into a careful smile. “Ah, man, forget it. It’s gonna be a good year, alright? Our team’s going to win that trophy this year. You and me, right, Knox? We’re tight. We’ve been tight since freshman year.”

It’s me and Dane who are tight, asshole. Never you. “Yeah,” I say.

The four of us step onto the long sidewalk that leads to the entrance. Liam opens the door, and I head in first, carefully searching the faces in the foyer then the hallway.

Nothing.

She isn’t here yet.

Wait.

A blonde girl catches my eye down the hall, her face hidden and ducked. My steps falter, pausing as I trail behind the other three guys. I’m about to head toward her—

I touch my scar, rubbing it.

Nope. Nope.

Don’t follow her, Knox. Let it go. Right.

A familiar dark green Jeep flashes in my peripheral as it whips into the lot and speeds past the sidewalk. I frown, my gut tensing up. Ava. So the blonde wasn’t her. A tight feeling settles in my chest, and unease mingled with excitement washes over me as I watch her park and get out of her car. I bite my lower lip, my body tightening.

With what?

Tension? Fear? Lust?

Yeah, I’m a regular split personality.

Part of me never wants to see her face again, but the other side of me…well, that’s the one I have to worry about.

* * *

Liam rushesoff to the headmaster’s office to get his schedule figured out while Dane, Chance, and I linger close to the door, checking out the incoming freshmen and waiting for the friends we haven’t seen over the summer.

But I know why I’m really standing here.

Dane leans his head against the wall and scrubs his face.

“What’s up with you?” I ask, one eye on the door, watching.

He raises his head. “Nothing. Stop hovering.” Gray eyes the same color as mine give me a look. His pupils are dilated.

My jaw grinds, but I keep my lips zipped. The more I ride him, the more belligerent he gets, and you can’t argue with—

Shit.

There she is.

It’s been months since she graced the hallowed halls of Camden with her long, lean legs and big aquamarine eyes.

A suffocating feeling grows in my chest.

She.

Is.

Here.

My thoughts jumble back to the past. I still remember the day she showed up freshman year, that look of hope on her face, full of optimism that Camden was going to be a new beginning for her. She made me look at her, and I hated it. Even now, I itch to peel the sensation right off my skin.

No feelings allowed in this body for her.

Not a single one.

“She’s back,” Dane says, straightening up from the wall, an enigmatic expression on his face. “Gotta give it to her—she’s got balls.”

“Mmmm,” I say, studying her while she isn’t looking. Gone is the long blonde hair, replaced with jet black. She looks harder. Her mouth is frozen in a smirk with bright red, glittery lipstick on her full lips, accentuating the sensual curves there, the paleness of her skin. Small freckles dot over her nose, same as before, but it’s the tense set of her jaw that tells you she’s not the same. Her skirt is a hair too short by the school guidelines, the hem hitting about three inches above her knee instead of the required two. I wonder if scholarship students get the last pick when it comes to uniforms. I guess their clothes are free, like the textbooks. Do they give her just a couple of sets of each one? Two jackets, a few shirts and skirts? I can’t even count the number of uniforms in my closet at home, so many khakis, perfectly starched white shirts, and a myriad of ties.

Her red blazer with the Camden dragon crest is draped over her arm, her white blouse snug around the fullness of her breasts. On her feet are ragged black Converse. My gaze lingers, taking in the tall white socks on her calves.

“Why are you staring at her like that?” Chance hisses at me, standing on my other side.

“Like what?”

Who is she deep down? To walk into this place, eyes lit with a vicious edge.

My hands curl.

She’s so sweet.

So forbidden.

“Like you’re fascinated or some shit.” His voice is hushed.

“Mmmm,” I murmur.

I can feel him still watching me watching her as he says, “Leave her be.”

I narrow my eyes at her, not even listening to him, feeling annoyed by the vulnerable hunch in her shoulders that grows, the one she keeps attempting to straighten as she walks closer to us.

I shrug, keeping the movement cool and light. “She’s definitely a spark that just might ignite and catch fire.”

“And burn us all down in the process,” Dane mutters. “I agree with Chance—stop.”

“Can’t do it,” I answer under my breath. I lick my lips, battling internally to drop my gaze from her, feeling baffled by it.

She came back, she came back, she really did it.

Chance’s jaw pops as he watches her, grappling with control.

She seems rooted to her place in the hall, sweeping her eyes over us. Students jostle past her, giving her a wide berth.

Come on, little Ava.

Come closer to me, fierce girl.

One more step.

Let me touch you. On the arm. Your hand. Anything.

Please.

My fingers twitch.

“I can’t believe she’s back,” Chance grunts and looks at me, keeping his voice low so she can’t hear us. “Did you know?”

“Why would you think I’d know?” I say dryly.

“Because you always know shit. Your dad is on the board.”

I laugh. Oh, if he only knew the information I have—all of it about defiant, charity case Ava. I have so many details about her life it makes my head spin, makes my cock hard—

Stay far, far away.

Chance’s chest rises. “My father took my car away after that party. I still don’t have it—when I did nothing wrong. She was my date, and that was all it took for him to judge me and hold me responsible.”

Yeah, but he left with Brooklyn.

Annoyance tugs at me. “Weren’t you in love with her?”

He inhales sharply, but his voice is subdued. “No.”

Liar.

I chuckle under my breath.

My gaze lingers on her heart-shaped face, watching as she stumbles, her feet pushing forward and stopping about four feet from us, staring at Chance. Hate flows from her, almost palpable. Hot. Electric.

He pales and his throat bobs, some of that anger leeching out of him and turning into…hmmm, fear? Nothing ruffles him these past months like someone bringing up Ava, and seeing her for the first time since that night—well, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

He drops his eyes.

“You over her for real?” I stare at him hard.

“Fuck yeah.”

Last year, he was totally lost in Ava. I saw it when he gave her puppy dog looks in class, and shit, even I heard angels singing when she gazed back at him. I saw it when he’d throw down his helmet after a game and dash over to pick her up and twirl her around. He talked about her constantly, how he thought she might be theone. He didn’t brag about his sexual conquests with her. No, he kept that under wraps.

He and I have been best friends since our days at the elementary campus. When I showed up one day in middle school with my face in stitches, swollen and red, and he asked me what the hell happened, I told him it was nobody’s business. He accepted it, made it his own personal crusade to tell everyone to Back the fuck off and stop asking. When he lost his mom sophomore year to cancer, I stayed by his side for weeks, playing mindless video games and talking about nothing to ease him. I know what death is, the grief it brings.

Chance’s jaw grinds. “I never thought I’d see her again.”

I stare down at my phone. “Yet here she is. Random factoid: did you know date rape drugs wear off pretty fast?”

Chance flinches. “Just stop, Knox. She wasn’t assaulted. She lied.”

“Mmmm,” I murmur.

Dad easily obtained the police report for Dane and me after her interview and everyone else’s at the party. I know about the bruises on her inner thighs. I know she doesn’t remember much. And those police interviews with the players? A fucking joke, or at least I think so, though it was a tense few days with my dad’s scrutiny squarely on us for the first time in a while. Dane was one of the guys dancing with her in the video, and then there was my predicament. Still, once our obligatory interview with the cops was over, Dad flew us to LA for a U2 concert as if nothing had happened.

Dane may have told me to stop staring, but even he has her in his sights, a low, wary look in his gaze.

She certainly draws the eye.

“Guess it doesn’t matter,” I say to Chance. “Nobody believes some scholarship girl.” I study my nails.

His reply is lost when Brooklyn appears next to Chance, batting her lashes up at him as she curls her fingers around his upper arm. “Hey, baby,” she murmurs, sending a scathing glance back at Ava. “You okay?”

He gives her a nod. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Brooklyn smiles at him and wanders off to slide in next to Jolena, and I watch them huddle together for a moment then approach Ava.

How will she handle it?

Will she stay at Camden when life gets tough?

Because it will.

It’s going to be fucking bad for her—

Chance snaps his fingers in my face, and I realize I’d forgotten about him. His eyes have followed mine to the girls several feet away. “You’re a dick. Stay away from her,” he finally says.

I laugh.

We all know he doesn’t mean Brooklyn.

“Both of you shut up. We’re all dicks. We’re Sharks,” Dane says just as the bell rings.

Sharks. I don’t know where the name came from, this “club” we’re in, but it’s been around for years. Our dad was one. Chance’s too. We stick together. Mostly it’s jocks from the various sports teams, born to the richest parents. We don’t have a ceremony with hooded cloaks and candles and hazing. Either you’re part of the inner circle or you’re not.

We straighten, pick up our backpacks, and head down the hall, cutting through the less fortunate, making our way to class.

Yet…

I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Ava’s back as she struggles with the combination on her lock. Her head is tilted down, the strange dark hair draped on either side, exposing the graceful arch of her neck taut with tension. The skin there is creamy and perfect.

She walked in here like she owns the place, but she doesn’t.

I do.

Still…

The very air around her seems lit with an aura of expectancy.

Emotion, something unnamed, rare and beautiful, brushes down my spine.

I tense.

Rein it in.