14. Levi

14

LEVI

T he rhythmic thud of the weight machine provides a steady backdrop to the churn of my thoughts. I pump harder, trying to work off the frustration that's been gnawing at me ever since we started upping the ante on Lyric.

The tension in my muscles mirrors the tension in my mind, each rep a release, a way to focus on something other than the mess our lives have become.

Dammit, Lyric! Why can't she just understand what she did when she tore our lives apart like that? I stop for a second, the sweat dotting my brow doing little to cool the rage that threatens to boil over.

Switching to the punching bag, my fists land with satisfying, repetitive force. The physical exertion brings a semblance of calm, a way to channel the anger that's always simmering beneath the surface. My mind drifts back to simpler times before everything became a twisted, convoluted mess.

Zane was the first to be taken in by the Hudson's. He and Archer were best friends in elementary school and when his parents died, they immediately stepped up. What happened to him was a tragedy and I don't discount that, but my story was very different.

See, I had parents. My parents were pieces of shit, though. They didn't give a crap. I was in and out of foster homes in elementary school before I was put back with them in fifth grade. In middle school, I met Zane and Archer and we became a trio. The two of them were like the sun and stars to my moon. We just clicked. At the end of seventh grade, when my parents were arrested for dealing drugs, the Hudson's took me in too.

We became brothers in every way that mattered and our bond solidified by shared loss and new beginnings. They gave us a family and stability.

I land a particularly hard punch, the bag swinging wildly in response. Despite everything, despite the anger and bitterness, I can't forget what the Hudson's did for us. They gave us a chance at a real life, a chance to be more than what our pasts tried to shape us into.

But now, with Lyric back in the picture, all those old wounds are reopened. Her betrayal and secrets have brought all that pain back to the surface. I can't let it go, can't forgive her for what she did to us.

I pause, wiping the sweat from my brow, my breathing heavy. This isn't about revenge anymore. It's about protecting what we've built, what we've fought so hard to keep. The gym falls silent around me, the echoes of my efforts fading away. I know what I have to do. We have to break her and make her understand the consequences of her actions.

Because when she betrayed us, she tore apart the only true family either of us had. Zane and I had to re-experience the grief and loss of parents all over again. It felt like the stability I had yearned for, the love and acceptance I had wanted for so long, was ripped away from me.

Lydia and Eric Hudson—Archer's parents—were more than a foster family. They had become my parents. Feeling like I'd let them down had shattered me. I feel more distant than ever from them now, still rebuilding what we'd once shared.

Archer and Zane stood by my side, but the rest of the town turned against us. Zane and I were barely better than Lyric in their eyes, both being orphans taken in by the well-off Hudson's, but even that changed with the incident. Now we were treated like garbage, hearing mutters that we should have been left to our own devices or sent off to the system.

My punches grow faster now, more erratic. The stress of everything starts building inside me, reminding me that I can never go back to what I once had. All I wanted was a family who cared about me and I don't know if I'll ever have that again.

Landing another swing at the bag, my arm starts to ache from the exertion. I grit my teeth, sweat beginning to drip down my brow as I keep going and landing jab after jab on the bag.

"Wow. Look who it is," a voice drawls from my left. I turn, wiping the sweat from my brow as I catch sight of the last person I want to see right now.

Max Byers, an old classmate from Crestwood Academy and a current member of our rival frat, Sigma Theta, is leaning next to the weight rack, a smirk on his face. "You look like hell, Cooper," he says as he sizes me up.

"Go away, Byers," I grumble, turning back to the bag to continue my workout.

"I have every right to be here, Coop," he shoots back. "It's you that doesn't belong. You never belonged in this world."

I focus on hitting the bag, ignoring the way his words sting. "I got into this place on my own merit, Byers," I say, tone clipped and cool.

"I'm sure the Hudson's money didn't hurt," he taunts. "You're still the same gutter rat as before. Did the Hudson's feel sorry for you? Is that why they let you come to this school even after everything you three did?"

"Fuck you," I mutter. "We didn't do shit."

"Keep telling yourself that," Max says, running a hand through his black curls before taking a swig of his water bottle. "You and your so-called brothers were trash losers then and you're trash losers now."

"Shut up!" I snap. "You have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, so just shut the fuck up!"

Max laughs. "You three like to pretend the past never happened, walking around here like big men on campus, but there's plenty of us who came from Crestwood and know the truth. You'll never escape the shit you did, Cooper. You, Hudson, and Matthias can act like you're hot shit, but soon enough, everyone will know how horrible and pathetic you are."

I can't deal with this anymore, so I grab my water bottle and storm off, shoving my shoulder against Max as I pass him.

Once I hit the locker room, I shove my shit into my locker and hit the showers, needing to cool down. Fuck that idiot, piece of shit and fuck what he said. The Hudson's didn't "let" me go to Sterling Heights. I got into this place from all the hard work I did. Plus, my bio parents' child support paid most of the tuition and I worked every summer of high school to earn the rest.

It's not like I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth like someone like him. I knew what real suffering looked like. I knew what poverty looked like firsthand. His words digging under my skin as I wash up, scrubbing the sweat off my skin.

By the time I'm done, I'm not as angry anymore, but I still feel restless, like I need to work out this extra adrenaline. As I exit the gym, I spot Lyric walking across campus and I beeline over to her.

"Come on," I say, dragging her by the arm. "I know you don't have class right now. You're coming with me."

She blinks, wide-eyed, and glances down at my hand on her arm. "What's up your ass today?" she asks.

"None of your business. You know the deal. You do what we want, when we want it and we don't bother you or your kid."

We reach the frat house and I drag her up the stairs, shutting the door hard behind me. Facing her, I see that she is looking at me with a calm curiosity.

"I don't want to be in my head right now," I confess, breathing hard in and out. "Can you help me?"

Something akin to sympathy shines in her eyes and she nods before sinking to her knees, pulling my hips forward to take my cock out of my sweats.

Her mouth descends on the tip and I breathe out slowly, the tension melting away. As her tongue and lips work me over, I feel better than I have all day.

Why does Lyric have this effect on me? Why is it, that being with her can calm me when nothing else can? As her mouth works further down the shaft, my brain short-circuits, shutting everything else out to focus on the sensation of the warmth and wetness that surrounds me.

I reach out, intending to push her head down on my cock, but my hand stops, cupping her cheek instead. She looks up at me and I find myself stroking her cheek with my thumb, craving connection.

My eyes lock with hers and I feel the shuddering pulse of my orgasm hit. It's over almost before it started as she swallows me down and I pull away, needing space.

"Thanks," I say, trying to pretend like that didn't affect me as deeply as it did. Lyric stands there for a moment and I wave her off.

"You can go now," I tell her. "I got what I needed."

She stares at me before slowly moving toward the door. My heart aches, but I can't stand to be around her anymore.

Whatever that was, it was nothing. So what if I felt comforted by her presence? So what if I nearly melted under her gaze and broke down, telling her everything that was going on in my mind?

It doesn't matter anyway. Lyric can't be trusted and I did the right thing by keeping my mouth shut.

Still, the ache lingers the rest of the day, no matter how hard I try to forget it.