Masuk
ZAIRE’S POV
Two years ago… I was fuming, my hands balled into fists as I busted through the doors of the arcade, with Jasper and Reggie hot on my tail. This was the place I knew I was most likely going to find that piece of shit. My heart was beating so fast in my chest, and the rage surging through me was like nothing I had ever felt before. But then again, this was my usual reaction whenever anything had to do with that prick, Burkhart. God, I hated him so much. I didn’t know why he couldn’t just leave me the fuck alone. What was his damn problem with me, really? I thought when he moved back to England three years ago, I was finally rid of him, but he hadn’t even been back here in St. Jose for a week and he was already starting shit with me. And this time, he’d gone too fucking far. I hurried around the corner to the side of the arcade where I knew the Miltonians usually hung out. By Miltonians, I meant the students of Milton Academy. Even though the arcade was neutral ground for both schools, that didn’t stop us from marking our own territories. The Miltonians had their domain and so did our school. Years ago, the competition between St. Jose High and Milton Academy was all about academics and sports. But over time, it had turned into a fierce rivalry—where the students pulled silly pranks on each other and a few too many physical altercations, especially between the football teams: The St. Jose Warriors and the Milton Lions. The bad blood ran deep and for good reason. Those morons thought too fucking highly of themselves. I just couldn’t stand them. Self-entitled punks. The first person I spotted was Scott, the Lions’ captain, leaning against one of the arcade machines with a girl wearing a far-too-short mini skirt pressed against him. A little on the side stood Trent, and then next to him, there he was—Sebastian fucking Burkhart. I felt my blood boil even more just by looking at him. He was leaning against a machine, smirking like the arrogant bastard he was. No care whatsoever for what he had just done. I swear to god I was going to kill him. “There you are, you piece of shit!” I growled, storming toward him. Sebastian turned slowly, like he had all the time in the world. That same lazy grin immediately tugged at his mouth as he realized it was me. “Gibson,” he said, mock surprise dripping from his tone. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Shouldn’t you be busy holding Amanda’s hand somewhere or something?” Jasper swore under his breath behind me, but I didn’t care as I lunged forward and shoved him hard in the chest. “Don’t you dare say her name,” I snapped. “You think this is funny? You think screwing with me—screwing with her—makes you what? A man?” Sebastian’s smirk didn’t falter, but his jaw flexed. “Relax, Captain. The girl didn’t seem too bothered when I had her pinned down, to be honest. So yeah Gibson, I’m pretty much a man.” That was it. My fist connected with his jaw before I even realized I’d swung. The sound of the hit echoed through the arcade, and people started turning, whispering, watching. Sebastian wiped his mouth, looking at the smear of blood on his thumb, then back at me with that infuriating half-smile. “Still got that temper, huh? I almost missed it.” His words came out lazy, teasing, but his eyes—his damn eyes—were daring me to swing again. “You think this is a fucking game?” I barked, shoving him back once more. The arcade machine behind him rattled with the impact. “What’s your problem, bro? What the fuck do you actually want from me, man?” Sebastian didn’t say anything as he looked straight into my eyes. Something flashed in his eyes but disappeared as quickly as it came. He shook his head and briefly looked away from me. “You slept with my girlfriend, douchebag!” I gritted out, grabbing him roughly by his collar. “Hey, back off…” Trent launched forward to intervene, but Sebastian waved him off. He didn’t even try to wiggle out of my hold as he stared down at me. “What’s your problem? Do you fucking get off on making my life miserable?” Sebastian shrugged, maddeningly calm. “Maybe you shouldn’t make it so easy.” “Easy?” I laughed bitterly, though it sounded more like a growl. “You went after Amanda, knowing damn well—” “Knowing what?” he cut in, his jaw twitching and eyes narrowing into slits. “That you liked her? Maybe that’s the fucking problem. Maybe that’s why I did what I did. Because you actually fucking like her.” For a heartbeat, I froze. The way he spoke. His tone wasn’t mocking anymore—it was rough, edged, coated with something I couldn’t quite understand. He suddenly looked so pissed for some reason. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped. I shoved him away, harder this time, causing him to stumble when he didn’t say anything but stared at me so intensely I felt a shiver run down my spine. “And you wonder why I didn’t want to be friends with you? You are a dick and just not fucking worth it.” At my words, Sebastian lunged forward and grabbed me by my collar, pulling my face close to his. His nostrils flared, a vein popping on his forehead. “Fuck you, Zaire!” he said through gritted teeth. He rarely used my first name unless things were tense. “I don’t wanna be friends with your sorry ass anyway.” “Oh, I think you do. Or why else are you still hung up on it like a little bitch? Or did the rejection hurt your little feelings that much?” The next thing I felt was pain exploding across my face and warm liquid rushing from my nose. Did that prick just headbutt me? I staggered back, clutching my face as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “You crazy son of a bitch!” I lunged forward and started swinging at Sebastian again. Jasper and Reggie stepped forward too, and so did Sebastian’s friends. We didn’t care if we were outnumbered, but before everything could erupt into full chaos, Mr. Connor’s rough voice boomed through the arcade. “What the hell is going on here!” Everyone froze. Even the music from the machines seemed to fade as every head turned toward him. Mr. Connor stood by the counter, his face red with fury, wiping his hands on a rag as he glared at us. The man was built like a linebacker—short, stocky, and absolutely terrifying when pissed. “Are you kids out of your damn minds?” he barked, stepping closer. “I told you last time—no fights in my place! You wanna throw punches, do it somewhere else!” Jasper grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here.” But I couldn’t move. My jaw clenched, and my eyes stayed locked on Sebastian. He wasn’t saying a word. He just stood there, chest rising and falling, a streak of blood on his lip, and those same infuriating grey eyes fixed on me—calm now, too fucking calm for my liking. Mr. Connor pointed at the exit. “Out. All of you. Now!” The Milton guys started moving, but Sebastian didn’t. He stayed there, looking at me like he wanted to say something but chose not to. He wiped the blood from his lip again, then finally turned toward the door. “Yeah, you better walk away,” I spat, voice sharp. He froze, shoulders tense. For a second, I thought he’d turn around, but he didn’t. He just gave a quiet laugh under his breath—the kind that pissed me off even more—and walked out with his friends. The moment they were gone, I exhaled hard. My fists still clenched. My knuckles throbbed like hell. My whole body buzzed with adrenaline and anger—and something else I couldn’t quite pinpoint, all tangled together. Mr. Connor’s voice cut in. “You boys better clean up that mess by the pinball machine before you leave. And Gibson—” his eyes narrowed, “—if I see you or Burkhart starting shit here again, you’re banned. Got it?” I nodded stiffly. “Got it.” When he walked away, I glanced toward the door again. Through the window, I saw Sebastian outside, leaning against Scott’s jeep, lighting a cigarette like nothing had happened. The smoke curled around his face as he blew it out. While I was fuming out of my mind, he looked so fucking calm, and I hated that with every fiber of my being. I clenched my jaw, the urge to go fuck him up again overwhelming, but I held back. For now, I was going to let it go. But he was dead wrong if he thought this was the end of it. Hell no—this was far from over. And I was going to make sure I repaid his favor with far worse than he could ever imagine, even if it was the last thing I did.ZAIRE'S POV I was still hungover. I could feel it. Although the headache was gone now , but I was tired as hell. I just wanted to sleep some more. And I definitely didn't fucking want to be around this many snobbish people this early in the morning, especially with the grumpy mood I was in. Rich people were the worst. Trust me. My eyes felt heavy, and they were so red, like I was high or something—all because I barely slept. Honestly, my plan was just to sleep in the whole day, but my cousin had other plans. Instead of going alone to meet his mom's boyfriend's kids, he decided to drag me along for no damn reason. This guy literally dragged me off my bed at six am, after I only had about four hours of damn sleep. We came back from the party around three am for fuck's sake. Couldn't he just let me fucking sleep? I had no business meeting these damn kids anyway. I slept the whole ride from Southridge to Kingmoore Court, but it was not enough. To make matters even worse I find o
SEBASTIAN’S POV The private beach was packed today. Families were out on the sand, enjoying the warm sunny day. Kids ran barefoot between picnic blankets, their laughter mixing with the sizzle of barbecues and the low thump of music drifting from somewhere near the dunes. Temporary bars lined the edge of the beach, stocked with alcohol for the adults and soft drinks for kids and anyone who didn’t drink. Ice cream carts did steady business, bells chiming nonstop. Candies, grilled meat, fresh fruit—everything smelled like summer and money. Days like this were a Kingmoore Court tradition. Once in a while, the residents stepped out of their glass houses and marble hallways and gathered by the water, pretending to be normal. The Kingmoore salon, barbershop, and spa had all set up removable stalls right on the sand, white canopies flapping lazily in the breeze. People here were rich—stupid rich—so no one complained about the prices. Most of them didn’t even look at the numbers. It wa
SEBASTIAN’S POV I groaned, patting around the nightstand for my phone, squinting at the dim glow of the screen when I finally found it. My head felt heavy, sleep still clinging to me so hard. I answered the call without even checking the caller ID. “You are an asshole.” I frowned immediately, blinking myself awake. “…Zaire?” “It’s me,” he slurred. “You been blowin’ my phone up all day. When I call you, you don’t answer?” “I was sleeping,” I said, my voice rough as hell. There was a pause on the other end. “I know,” he said, then added, quieter, almost thoughtful, “Why do you sound like Barry White?” I rubbed my face. “Barry White?” “Mmhmm,” he hummed. “Your voice is so deep right now. It's giving me goosebumps.” I froze, my breath locking in my throat. I could feel the way my pulse spiked. “…You drunk,” I said , trying not to read too much into what he had just said. He laughed, slow and lazy. “Yes.” His voice dropped quieter now, like he’d leaned closer to the phone. “
ZAIRE’S POV I woke up later feeling more rested than I had in a long time. Like actually rested. I pushed myself up from the bed and stretched, rolling my shoulders until a few satisfying cracks echoed through my body. Shit. I needed that. I grabbed a pair of sweatpants from my bag, pulled them on, then stepped out of my room and headed downstairs. “Yo, you up?” Quinton said when I walked into the living room. “Yeah.” I nodded, my voice rough with sleep as I dropped onto the couch beside him. I leaned forward, reaching for my phone off the coffee table. “When’d you get back?” “Not long ago,” he said casually. Then he smirked. “Somebody named ASSWIPE been blowing your phone up.” I frowned immediately. “What the fuck does he want?” I unlocked my phone and saw that there were about 7 missed calls and one voicemail all from Sebastian. My jaw tightened. “This idiot has got a lot of nerve,” I muttered. Quinton snorted. “You gonna get back to him, or just keep glaring at
ZAIRE’S POV Southridge wasn’t that far from Winton Str, but it might as well have been a different world. The closer I got, the worse the roads became—cracked pavement, crooked streetlights. The buildings were pressed too close together. The brick walls were covered in graffiti everywhere. It resembled your typical ghetto neighborhood that appeared on movies. Although I was from the richer part of town, this place never really intimidated me or made me uncomfortable in any way despite its rough and violent nature. In fact I liked it there. I used to visit a lot during summer and winter breaks until my father started restricting me from going after falling out with my aunt after my mom passed. He never really liked me visiting there to begin with. Said the neighborhood was not for people like us—whatever the hell that meant. He was my father, but he was just full of shit that man. I rolled my window down, letting the warm air rush in, thick with the smell of oil, smo
ZAIRE’S POV I looked away first, unable to hold his gaze anymore. Something about those eyes made my knees weak. They made me feel very weird. Like he could ask me for anything in that moment—and I wouldn’t trust myself to say no. I shook my head, taking in a heavy breath as I willed my heart to calm down. There was no way I was going to turn back now. Sebastian saw me, and so was Will. If I turned back, they would think I was running away from them, and no chance I was giving them that satisfaction. Might as well go in and buy something to eat. I silently made my way in and then stood behind the last person—who unfortunately happened to be both the people I was hoping to avoid—on the queue. I could still feel Sebastian’s gaze on me, but I had no intention of meeting his eyes. Will shifted when I stopped behind them and turned to look at me. Unlike his friend, I had no problem looking at him head-on—which I did. He scowled at me, and I just rolled my eyes ,checking ahead if t







