Chapter 6: Payback Kiss

Raven Pov

I've always prided myself with the idea I was the type to never make stupid decisions. But here I was. Inside a club I never had any idea existed until today. Waiting for a guy I'd detest everything he stood for.

Lyra and Damian are seated ight next to me. “Am I the only student who loves a peaceful sleep in her dorm room?” I asked, surprised by the huge crowd packed inside the club.

Lyra and Damian burst out of laughter. And just immediately a deafening music erupts from the speaker. The club going from level six slutty to level nine just as quickly.

Another dozen of sorority girls storm inside the club, triggering the cryo jet beside the door to send off another blast of white smoke. But what caught my attention wasn't the girls in their daring cut-out sexy dresses, or how each of them was intertwined with different guys seamlessly.

It was the weirdly familiar design at the top of the door. I rack my brain, trying to remember where I'd seen that design but I couldn't.

“Alright ladies, the boys just dropped in from the back door. I've got to go say hello.” Damian voice drawing me back from wherever my head was. He plants a huge kiss on Lyra's cheek. “I'll grab some drinks on my way back.”

“Don't bother babe,” Lyra jumps in. “I promised Rav nothing strong tonight.”

Damian gives me a nod before leaving.

“You know you can go have fun with him right?” the guilt in me taking over. “You don't have to ruin you two's fun by babysitting me.”

“And leave you to get sexually harassed by a random hot dude who is totally not your type?” Lyra's trademark smile glued to her face. “Of course not.”

I laugh at her clever choice of humor. “I just don't want to be the one that makes the party not fun for you.” Although I'm not overly the party type. Lyra is a total opposite of me. She's totally the party type, and ever since she started dating Damian, she'd have the same consistency in going to the hockey games and friday night parties.

“The only person I'm leaving your bubble ass for is Jace.” Lyra teases. And I try not to reply any part of that statement. And I'm successful, when a bottle service girl walks up to our booth.

“Jace said you might need a drink.” the bottle girl gleamed at me. Placing two glasses of what I know is Aperol Spritz at the table before.

“Speak of the devil,” Lyra grinned.

“And he appears,” I completed.

“At least this devil came with something not overly alcoholic.” Lyra stretched to grab the glass close to her. “Now you don't have any excuse to not drink anything.” downing half the cocktail in one gulp.

I hiss playfully. Since freshman year we'd be roommates, Lyra has only successfully gotten me to go to a night club three times. And all three times I'd refuse to drink because the clubs didn't have anything less alcoholic.

But thanks to Mr. hockey captain. My trademark excuse was blown for the night.

“Come on, Rav. Have a sip at least.”

I hesitantly draw the cocktail close to me. The smell of sweet bitter orange and a subtle hint of vanilla caressing my nose. I take a careful sip of the cocktail. And that's when I almost choked..

Not because of the cocktail—If anything the cocktail was actually nice—but because of him. Jace. Staring down at me. Standing inside the clubs VIP lounge. His stormy blue eyes glinting of the clubs multicolored lights.

“Shit. That's how he knew where you were, he's been watching you from up there all along.” Lyra's voice cuts me of my thought. She must have followed my prolonged gaze to Jace.

“Yeah, I guess so.” I say, taking another gulp of the cocktail. But it does little or nothing in settling the quiver rising inside my stomach.

“Are you not going to meet him?” Lyra raises a brow. “You know if you don't, then your deal with him is not going to hold. And you're left to find another way to beat Zoey. I want you to beat Zoey.”

I shoot Lyra an innocent frown. Although she was right about me needing to beat Zoey. But I know she is more interested in her dreams of me finding a romantic relationship come true. But poor Lyra. She'd have to wait more longer. Because not in this world would I date Jace.

Hockey players are in one word; Assholes. Assholes who walk the campus thinking they're God's. And I hated the fact they always get things the easy way. Lecturers even grade them less strictly because the school needed them more focused in whatever sports they're into.

“Ravvvv, you there?”

“Yes Lyra, you don't have to bring the roof down on me. I'm already going.” I say, pulling back my chair. Making my way to the small staircase that led to the VIP lounge.

I shove myself through the tons of people in the staircase. Most of them using the fact that the staircase was darker to make out.

I push the door in front of me open. And surprisingly Jace is the only one inside the lounge. “Are you always on dresses related to hockey?” I take in the short-hand hockey jacket and black jeans he's putting on. And that's when I see it. The tattoo. A black-and-grey drawing of a fierce woman with flowing hair, wrapped in snakes, running vertically along his right arm. The same design I saw on the door. I must have seen it when I saw him naked. “Who copies the design of a club as a tat?”

“Why do you think I copied it and not the other way around?” Jace gives a little sarcastic look that clearly tells me I'm wrong.

Shit. Don't tell me he... “You own the place?” suspicion lodges in my throat. And I beg to be wrong. But when Jace nods my suspicion turns to shock.

“But how? You just transferred to Everfrost.”

“Yeah, turns out the owner was on the brink of bankruptcy. So I bought it at a discount price.”

Of course he did. My wolf growls inside my head. But before I can digest the fact I'm about to get stuck with a ridiculously handsome hockey alpha. Who owns a night club, the cryo jet shoots up another set of white smoke. Drawing my attention to the two people entering the club. Oh fuck.

It's Jett and Sharon. They're here. Oh moon goddess, why here, of all places? I try to push my gaze off them. But I can't. Jett practically walked in with his mouth buried deep into Sharon's. And my stomach churn.

“Does he know you've been crushing on him?” Jace blurts out. His eyes practically scanning every inch of my face.

“Of course he doesn't. Because I'm not crushing on him.” I shoot Jace a stern look.

“Has anyone ever told you that you suck at lying? Even a six-year-old would know you’re head over heels for him, with the way you’re staring at him.”

“That's not true.” I protest. But my voice betrays me. Cause, hell yes I had a crush on Jett, for seven long years at that. “Even if that's true, which it's not, it doesn't matter now, cause I no longer feel anything for him.”

Jace doesn't say anything immediately. He slowly moves his gaze to the all lovey-dovey two downstairs. And fuck I hate to admit it—Jace's side view is equally as beautiful. “She must be that much of a great kisser for him to choose her over you. Oh shit. There’s only one explanation I can think of.” Jace pauses. “You’re a bad kisser.”

My jaw drops in outrage. “You're full of shit. And I most certainly am not.”

“Yeah?” Jace lowers his voice in a seductive pitch. “Prove it then.”

Somehow I've traveled back in time to my third-grade playground days. Unless there’s another explanation for why Jace is goading me into kissing him.

“I don't have to prove a damn thing to you, and I happen to be a fantastic kisser. Sadly, you will never get to find out.” I inform him. But just as I take a look downstairs again and see Jett fixating angrily at both of us. The thought of kissing Jace as payback to Jett quickly shunts into my head. And I move instinctively before Jett looks away. Pressing a deep kiss on Jace's lips.