Chapter 3: Fuck Friendship! And This Officer!

JAX

"There you are. I've been looking everywhere for you," Jeremy said, bumping into my shoulder as he stepped out the back exit, wiping drool off his chin. "Where did you go?"

"Just checking on something," I muttered, glancing back at the empty corner where the weak glasses boy had disappeared. I quickly turned back to Jeremy. "Why were you looking for me anyway?"

Jeremy licked his lower lip and rubbed his palms together, a sneaky grin forming on his face.

"You see..." He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a whisper. "I planned a welcome-back party at the sports ground tonight. I need you to come."

"Jeremy, I hate parties," I sighed, pulling back.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "I know, dude. I just need you to show your face so more girls show up." He glanced around the hall to make sure no one was listening, then leaned in again with a wink. "Some of the guys are even bringing... you know."

He was talking about drugs. Definitely drugs. A frustrated groan left my throat as I rubbed my temples.

"Thirty minutes," I warned him, holding up a finger. "I show my face for thirty minutes, and then I'm out."

Jeremy laughed loudly, smacking the back of his hand against my chest before pulling out his phone to type a fast message.

"Come on, let's go!" he said, grinning up from his screen. "The party starts tonight. Let's go buy the drinks with your credit card."

"Sure..." I started walking behind him, then froze dead in my tracks. "Wait, what?"

"Relax, man, I'll pay you back," Jeremy said, rolling his eyes as we pushed through the doors into the bright courtyard leading toward the Arts Department sports ground. "My dad said he's tracking my bank account now that the new semester started."

"You know there's an option called being independent, right?" I deadpanned.

All around us, girls started screaming my name, waving and snapping pictures with their phones. Jeremy immediately jumped in front of me, soaking up the attention.

"Jax is hosting tonight at the field! Everyone's invited! Woo-hoo!" he yelled, and the crowd of girls cheered right back.

Fucking bastard.

"Being independent is expensive, man," Jeremy muttered out of the side of his mouth, his big smile dropping as he pushed open the iron gate to the football field.

Two of our other guys were already on the grass, stacking crates of alcohol and setting up the DJ booth. No wonder their seats were empty in class today.

"Jax is in the building!" one of them shouted, slapping my palm into a handshake.

"Wait, is he actually coming tonight?" the second guy asked, his eyes wide.

"He's coming, just not staying long," Jeremy answered for me.

"Hell yeah, a few minutes of Jax is enough to pack the whole field with girls," the first guy laughed, wiggling his hips in a stupid dance.

I stared at him blankly.

'Why am I even friends with these idiots?'

***

A few hours later, the sun went down and the party was in full swing. The music was so loud the ground vibrated, and the field was packed with bodies. I didn't need anyone to tell me that ninety-eight percent of them only showed up because they heard my name.

Red plastic cups were everywhere. Half the crowd was dancing on the grass, while the rest snuck under the dark bleachers to make out, suck cocks, and do whatever else in the shadows.

True to my word, I did my thirty-minute walk-through. I strolled around the field, flashed a few lazy smiles, and let strangers take selfies with me like I was some kind of trophy.

"Thanks, Jaxon," a girl purred after snapping a picture, biting her lip and batting her eyelashes up at me. "If you ever get bored tonight, I can give you my number..."

"Haha, thanks, but... no thanks," I said, my smile dropping the second I turned my back on her and walked away before she could say another word.

Pushing through the sweaty crowd, I checked my watch. Thirty minutes on the dot. Time to go.

I looked around for Jeremy, then clicked my tongue. Did I really need to tell him I was leaving? Fuck no. I turned and headed straight for the iron gate.

Suddenly, a high-pitched scream cut through the noise from the other side of the field.

"Oh my God! Somebody help, he's bleeding!"

Bleeding? Fuck!

I turned on my heel and shoved my way through the crowd. By the time I reached the bleachers, the DJ had killed the music. Jeremy was down on his knees in the grass, pressing a towel against some guy's bleeding arm.

"Get the first aid kit! Hurry!" Jeremy yelled at one of our friends, his voice shaking.

I let out a small breath when I saw the blood was only coming from the guy's arm and not his chest or stomach. If someone died here, we'd all be royally fucked.

"How bad is it?" I asked, squatting beside Jeremy.

Jeremy looked up at me, his face pale and sweaty. "It's not too deep. He'll be fine, as long as the cops don't find out what really—"

A loud police siren wailed right outside the gates, cutting him off.

Panic exploded across the field. Cups hit the grass, and hundreds of students bolted toward the exits like cockroaches when the lights come on.

Fuck. My legs tensed to run with them, but when I looked down at Jeremy frozen in the grass, I cursed under my breath and stayed put.

Fuck me for being such a good friend.

Heavy boots crunched against the grass behind us, followed by a deep, commanding voice.

"What's going on here? Dispatch got a call about an injury."

I turned my head and looked up, expecting to see one of the usual officers on my father's payroll.

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew every cop in this city, and I had never seen this man in my life. He was tall... way too tall, with thick black hair and a sharp jawline sharp. His black uniform shirt stretched tight across his broad chest and thick, muscular arms. When his cold grey eyes locked onto mine under the stadium lights, my stomach did a weird, hot flip, and my mouth went completely dry.

Fuck. Who the hell is he?

He flashed his silver badge for a second before dropping to one knee beside the bleeding student. Checking the wound with his hands, he reached up and pressed the mic clipped to his shoulder.

"Dispatch, this is Officer Grant, Unit Four," he spoke into the radio, his low voice sending a shiver straight down my spine. "I need an ambulance at the Beacon Hills College football field. One male, conscious and breathing, deep cut on his left forearm."

He let go of the mic and stood back up to his full height, resting one large hand on his gun belt as his cold gaze swept over us.

"Who threw this party?" he demanded.

Beside me, Jeremy bit his lip so hard it almost bled, unable to make a sound. If his strict father found out he threw an illegal party on campus, he was a dead man.

Whatever. It didn't matter. I'd handle this the same way I handled everything else.

Letting out a bored sigh, I pulled my leather wallet out of my back pocket and stepped right in front of the officer. Standing this close to him, I realized just how big he really was. I wasn't short, yet I had to tilt my chin up just to meet his eyes.

"I did," I said, a cocky smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. "I threw the party."

"I see," the officer said coldly, his hand already reaching behind his back for his cuffs. "Then you're coming with me to the station. We'll sort this out there."

I let out a soft laugh, running my fingers through my silver hair. "There's no need for all that. Just tell me how much."

His dark brows pulled together, a shadow crossing his handsome face. "How... much?"

"Ten thousand? Twenty thousand?" I tapped my black card against my wallet. "Just name your price, Officer."

He went dead silent.

My smirk widened. There it is. Every single time they hear the sound of money, they shut right up. That was the power of being a Whitfield.

Then, the man took a slow step forward, invading my space until the heat of his chest was an inch from mine. He dipped his head down, glaring straight into my eyes.

"How... much?" he repeated softly.

A dark, dangerous smirk curved his lips, carving a deep dimple into his right cheek that made my heart skip a beat.

"Do I look like a cheap cop to you, kid?" he growled, his voice dropping even lower. "Walk to the car. Do not make me cuff you."

"Jaxon..." Jeremy whispered nervously from behind me.

I raised a hand without looking back, silencing him. I kept my eyes locked on the officer's grey ones, a strange thrill buzzing in my veins as I held my wrists out.

"Sure," I said smoothly. "Let's go."

His jaw flexed. Without breaking eye contact, he snatched my wrists, spun me around, and snapped the cold steel cuffs tight around my skin. His thick, rough fingers wrapped around my bicep, gripping me firmly as he marched me across the quiet, empty field toward his flashing cruiser.

I never thought I'd actually get arrested on the very first day of school.

Ah, fuck. I should have just run away with everyone else.

Fuck friendship. And fuck this hot officer.