Page 26 of You Were Never Not Mine
“Rafe.”
“Well, Rafe, you’re fucking wrong. All of the action happens in the suite. Free food and booze. Excellent view of the field.”
Their eyes light up and Tim starts nodding enthusiastically, which is what he usually does. “How do we get tickets?”
“I control all of them.” That’s a lie. I just happen to know the person who doles them out and he always gives me however many tickets I want—which is usually none since I never go to the games. But I do go to concerts and other events at the stadium. “And first year members rarely get a chance at them.”
They both drop their heads, their sadness eminent.
“But I’ve decided to make an exception for you two,” I add.
Their heads jerk up in unison, the two of them wearing matching grins. God, they’re easy to please.
“No way,” Tim breathes.
“Are you serious?” Rafe asks.
I hold up my hand. “Don’t say another word and the tickets are yours.”
They both press their lips together, nodding. Solemn and quiet—just the way I like them.
“I’ll make sure they’re available at the will call office. Don’t even bother sitting in the student section. You’ll impress your—” I choke on the word a little “—datesby taking them to the suite.”
I can tell Tim is dying to say something. Probably thank me profusely and slobber all over me like the annoying golden retriever that he is, and I point at him, holding my index finger out as a warning. He gets it, remaining silent, and a trickle of satisfaction runs through me.
I’ve got them where I want them for the night.
Chapter Thirteen
SINCLAIR
The past
I got invited to go to a football game with some of the girls from my English class and I’m so excited I could almost burst. This is what I’ve wanted since I started at this stupid school—friends. Acceptance. It’s been hard infiltrating their groups, but I think finally I’ve made some progress.
I’m meeting them at the front gates of the football field and I wasted so much time trying to figure out what to wear—it’s rough to come up with something when you’re so used to wearing the uniform all the time and never have to make that decision—now I’m running late. Jogging across campus with a Lancaster Lions T-shirt on along with my favorite jeans that fit me right and make my butt look good when a familiar voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“Jesus, watch where you’re going.”
I skid to a stop, nearly running into the one person I hate the most on this campus. “Oh. I didn’t see you.”
He sneers at me like I’m a disgusting rodent who dared to run across his shoes, which would be gross, but yeah. I hate how he looks at me like that all the time. “If you’d look up for once, then maybe you wouldn’t run into people.”
I’ve never run into someone before on this campus and I definitely didn’t actually run into him either. And though it’s my automatic response for just about everything, I’m not going to say I’m sorry to him. August Lancaster can fuck right off, which is what he told me to say to him a few weeks ago.
“Are you going to the football game?” he asks when I still haven’t spoken.
I nod.
The sneer gets bigger if that’s possible. “It’s the stupidest sport ever invented.”
“You don’t like football?”
“It’s boring.” He yawns for good measure.
“You’re not going?” Why oh why am I making conversation with him? I can’t stand him.
“Of course not. We’re leaving campus and going into town.” He runs his gaze over me as usual. “Want to come with?”
