Chapter 24 - Waylon

I loved Wakely. I knew that we didn’t know each other very well, but from what I did know about her, I loved every aspect of her. She had integrity in a world that had so little. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was…perfect.

That would make my obsession with her easy to explain.

I printed Amber’s schedule to my shitty printer. She didn’t have any early classes and no more than two classes per day. The number of classes she was taking wouldn’t get her to graduate on time.

It was just over half the load that all the mentors on campus suggested. Not only that, but she also didn’t even have an internship listed. That major heavily relied on internships as part of its curriculum.

“Probably nobody wanted her.” I snorted.

It would be easy to follow her, she had one Tuesday and Thursday night class. I would approach her then. She needed to be put in her place sooner rather than later.

Was I really going to follow her and scare her? Probably not. But the idea was there, and if I needed to do anything, I was going to be prepared.

And I was all about scaring the shit out of her. And if she did anything else to Wakely, I was going to make her pay.

Images of her begging for her life flashed before my eyes. Her blood dripped down her throat, and tears streamed down her cheeks. It would be a sight. But I would do it for Wakely. It would be so easy.

Wakely.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her name. I was slowly winning her over. I could tell. She was fighting it at first, but now it seemed like she was considering it.

After a little more time, I would ask her out. She would see that it was a good idea. She had to.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through our conversation from this morning. What was her bad dream?

Did it involve that person who texted her?

My teeth clenched together as I thought about it. How could I figure out who that was? I was good at hacking into things, but hacking into my future girlfriend’s phone felt wrong.

I quickly crossed that off the list. I would easily break into someone else’s phone but not hers. At least for now.

But I needed to find out who would say she was a disappointment. Because whoever said it would pay.

I pulled up Wakely’s F******k page and clicked through her pictures. In all of them, she looked concerned. All of them, except the one where she was curled up reading a book.

I leaned back in my chair and thought about Wakely. She said that her mother died and that her father was still around. But none of her pictures on F******k featured him.

Sure, he was a big tech mogul, but he was still her father. Shouldn’t he be in at least one of her pictures?

I looked up Barrett Gilford. Thousands upon thousands of hits popped up. I rolled my neck and stretched my arms out in front of me.

Today was going to be a long day of research.

Picture after picture of Berrett showed him with a gleaming teeth-whitened smile. Hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Not a wrinkle on his face, the product of using Botox. Everything about him seemed fake, even his spray tan.

He had his arm around dates on special occasions, and they looked just as fake as he did. Fake boobs. Fake hair. Fake lips. My nose wrinkled at them.

I altered my search to include Wakely.

There were fewer results, but the pictures I saw revealed a lot. Even when she was a young child, the look of concern on her face was there even when she smiled. They were at some sort of function.

Where Berrett put his arm around his dates, with Wakely he gripped her upper arm tightly. Almost in a bruising way.

I zoomed in to look at Barrett’s eyes. They were steel, cold, and even angry. In other pictures, he looked genuinely happy. But with Wakely, his mouth was closed in a tight smile, and his teeth were clenched.

I clicked to the next photo of them. The same tight smile was on Barrett’s face. The same concern was in Wakely’s eyes. He gripped her arm in the same way as the first.

The next picture was the same.

And the next.

And the next.

Now I was sure that those text messages were coming from her father. In all of his photos with Wakely, he didn’t look happy to be with her. As if he had to keep her in line.

From what I knew of Wakely, she was well-mannered and fiercely protected her friends. But the way he was holding onto her arm, it was like he had to hold onto her or she would do something embarrassing.

With each photo, my anger grew. The man acted as if she were a mistake. Then I landed on a picture at a party. Barrett was glaring at Wakley from across the room. And she met his gaze, and the look on her face was as if she were terrified of him.

I screenshotted each and every photo and saved it to a file that I password protected. I didn’t want anyone to see what I was looking at. This was for me, so I knew what I had to do with Barrett.

Eventually, I would get Wakely to trust me enough to tell me about her past. And her father. It was strange that she separated herself from him. He was a wealthy and famous man, but she wanted nothing to do with him. And it seemed that she didn’t want anything to do with being famous.

She definitely didn’t act like a typical child from famous parents. Usually, they were vapid and entitled. But Wakely was the complete opposite.

A loud pounding came from the door, and my door handle turned. I knew exactly who was on the other side.

“Waylon, open the fucking door,” Whittaker yelled.

“I’m busy,” I said back, not caring if he heard me or not over his pounding.

“I don’t fucking care if you are jerking off, we need to talk,” Whitt said.

“About what?” I smirked, playing dumb was going to be fun.

“You know what the fuck we want to talk about,” Whitt said.

“Can you quiet down? I have a raging hangover,” Wynn said in a quieter tone.

“Shut the fuck up,” Whitt growled at him and pounded on the door again. “Open up.”

I rolled my eyes and sighed. I knew that they would never stop until I opened the door. I closed out of all open windows and closed the laptop. They didn’t need to know what I was working on. I opened the door.

I only opened it just enough so I could lean out. “What?”

Whittaker glared at me while Wynn was rubbing his head. They both looked worse for wear, and Wynn looked a little green. He was probably the culprit who threw up on my bed.

“Do you mind explaining what that email was about?” Whitt growled at me.

“I want the team to be strong. And if we don’t have serious team members, we need to cut the fat.” I gave my brothers a once-over. “And by the looks of it, you both used your one skip for the semester.”

Whittaker’s jaw clenched and unclenched.

“What’s this about a make-up practice?” Wynn said as he still rubbed his temples and looked a little greener than before.

“The team came up with it and said that if, for some reason, they couldn’t make it and let me know ahead of time, I would schedule a make-up session with them. But that’s for the dedicated.” My last statement was pointed.

I knew that they didn’t care about the team; they barely made it to the competitions. And they sure as shit didn’t care about placing. They just needed to show up and race, and they wouldn’t have to worry about their scholarships.

“You can’t possibly kick someone off the team. That’s the coach’s call.” Whitt said, trying to find a loophole.

I gave him a knowing smirk. “You and I both know that the coach doesn’t give two shits about the team and will follow along with whatever I say. I am the one who got the team to regionals. And this year, I plan to get the team to nationals. And that will only happen if we have a team that cares.”

Whitt’s hands clenched at his sides. Wynn leaned against the wall to steady himself.

“And I should mention, I didn’t appreciate all of the little surprises I got when I returned to my room.” I was going to leave it at that. Because in the end, they gave me more time with Wakely. And I wouldn’t have had that if they didn’t throw up on my bed and jizz all over my clothes.

Wynn straightened up, thought for a moment, and laughed. “Oh yeah. We thought you would find that funny.”

I fought the urge to punch him in the face. I have been fighting that urge more and more. “I didn’t.” My jaw worked for a moment. “From now on, my room is off-limits to you and your girlfriends.”

It was time to put my foot down.

Whitt shook his head and started to breathe heavily through his nose. I was pushing him, but he wouldn’t do anything. He was all talk when it came to me.

“Can we schedule a make-up practice?” Whitt said through his teeth.

I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him that he needed to email me in order to get that make-up practice. But the way they looked, I knew I could get my revenge for not only missing practice but also messing up my room.

“Typically, you would need to email me before you miss the practice to schedule a make-up. But since you are my brothers, I’ll let it slide this once.” I gave them as innocent a smile as I could. “Change and I’ll see you at the pool in twenty minutes.”

Wynn’s face paled. He was barely hanging on as it was. And Whitt fought the urge to react the same. But I knew that he wasn’t feeling great either.

“We’ll see you there. Come on, Wynn,” Whitt said as he shoved Wynn to go to his room.

I closed the door and chuckled to myself. I was going to run them ragged with my end goal of having them throw up. This was my revenge. And I knew it was going to be sweet.