Mag-log inTamine Jordan has three rules for surviving Blackridge Academy: 1. Keep her head down. 2. Avoid the Thorpe brothers at all costs. 3. Never, ever, let her heart get involved again. But rules have a way of shattering, especially when your cheating ex and his infuriatingly charming half-brother are determined to make your life impossible. Atlas Thorpe, the boy who broke her heart, is cruel, smug, and still playing games that leave her humiliated in front of half the school. Evans Thorpe, the hockey team’s golden boy, should be easier to ignore… except one reckless night left her tangled in his memory and in his sights. Now Evans has maneuvered his way into her Literature class, and thanks to the world’s most sadistic teacher, Tamine is stuck tutoring him. Being near him is dangerous; not just because of his relentless teasing and disarming smile, but because she can’t stop remembering the way he once touched her. And when two brothers are locked in a rivalry where the prize is her, it’s only a matter of time before someone gets burned. The real question is, will Tamine survive the game, or end up playing it too?
view moreTamine's POV
Rule number one for surviving Blackridge Academy: Avoid the Thorpe brothers at all costs.
That included avoiding certain hallways and making sure your class schedule didn't clash with theirs. Coming to school five minutes to the first period and of course, eating lunch in one of the empty classrooms or the school field even.
You might wonder, why put all these efforts into avoiding just two people. Are they really that bad?
The Thorpe brothers are what I would call my nemesis. All it took was one night of heartbreak and misguided priorities to fall into their trap and since then, life has been hell for me.
Imagine getting your heart broken and fucking a stranger impulsively just to feel better, only to find out the next day that he is actually your ex's brother.
Yeah, that was pretty much my life now.
“Get your ass down here this minute, Tamine!” My mother screamed from downstairs. I swallowed thickly, pushing aside my homework.
I dragged my feet down the mini stairs, the smell of stale beer hitting me before I even saw her. It was past ten, which meant she was already five to seven bottles deep.
Barely had I reached the last step when a vase came flying in my direction. I immediately ducked, my heart pounding heavily in my chest.
The half-drunk petite woman was on a rampage, hurling everything she could possibly lay hands on at me.
“This is all your fault! All your fault!” She cursed, throwing a stool at me. “If you hadn't come into my life when I was still a teenager, things would have been so much better for that. Those losers wouldn't embarrass me in front of my buddies! Do you know how much money I lost tonight?”
I immediately understood what she was talking about. They must have thrown her out of the pub again.
She threw another vase at me. “Why won't you just stay still and let me hit you?!” She screamed.
“Mom… please calm down. I… I can get you another drink!” I tried advancing towards her.
“Oh yeah, why don't you try dying instead?” She grabbed one of the empty bear bottles she had lined up in a corner. “It’s barely enough compensation for getting me disowned and abandoned by your worthless father!”
I froze on the spot, a familiar sting caressed my eyes. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. The yelling, the throwing, the way she turns into a tornado after too much whiskey. The neighbors sure are. They’ve got their own “get rid of Sarah” routine down to an art, not to mention the number of debts she racked up for me from gambling and drinking.
When that happened, she would come home and curse me out, blaming me for how her life turned out even though she stopped spending on me when I was five. I had to work three jobs a day to feed, clothe and give her pocket money. I studied hard so I could go to school on scholarship but somehow, none of it was enough for her.
She hated my very sight because it reminded her of the boy who lured her into his bed and ran abroad at the opportunity he got.
“Why are you looking at me like that, you wench?! Do you blame me too?!” I was so lost in thoughts that I didn't realize she crossed over until she held me by the collar.
“Let go of me…” I tried to break free of her choking grip. I could have pushed her off but I was worried about hurting her so I continued trying to peel her hands off as i choked.
When she saw the tears running down my cheeks, disgust stained her expression. “You're pathetic!”
She shoved me hard and I hit the floor with a thud. A yelp fell off my lips as the shards of glass pierced through my skin.
My mother ignored me and marched to the fridge to grab another bottle but when she saw it was empty, she grew even more frustrated.
Her eyes flamed with rage as she turned to me. “Where's the beer, Tamine?”
“You… drank all of it, Mom.” My words wobbled, like they were afraid to leave my mouth. I bit my lip hard to suppress the scream as I pulled out the glass.
“Do I have to tell you everything? Can you not think for yourself? If we are out of beer, you refill it! Do you understand that?!” She yelled.
“Keep it down, Sarah! Leave the kid alone!” The woman next door yelled.
“How about you mind your damn business, Lara!” My mother fired back. “You see the humiliation you put me through? All because you can't do a damn thing right!”
“I… I'm sorry, mom…” I sniffled. “I'll get your beer.”
“You better be quick about it!”
It was just an excuse for me to leave the suffocating space. It was bad enough we lived in this crumbling building with barely enough space for two, but she had to make it unbearable to. As I hurried downstairs, the few neighbors I met gave me pitiful looks.
The wall in the building were very thin so they pretty much heard everything that went down in our apartment every single day.
I arrived at the bar where I worked on weekends. It was Thursday night but I badly needed to escape my mother until she fell asleep at least.
“Tamine, what are you doing here?” Manager Shawn asked. “I thought you'd be coming in tomorrow!”
I feigned a smile at the middle-aged man. “I had nothing to do so I thought I'd stop by in case you need any help.”
“Actually, Tonia called in sick so we need a bartender for the club,” he said.
I gulped hard. “The club?”
“Don't worry, it's nothing too dangerous. The big fishes usually hangout on weekends. We just have a bunch of highschool punks celebrating their seasonal win. Normally I wouldn't let them in but they are all legal and one of them has ties with the club owner so yeah, you just have to serve and watch them party until they pass out,” he said.
It sounded relatively easy. I mean, what was the worse that could happen?
“I'm down.”
“Great, go change and get to work. I'll double your pay this time,” he grinned.
“Thanks Shawn.”
I got to the storage room and changed into my uniform before heading into the club. There were only a few people on the dance floor but when I glanced upstairs, my entire body froze at the Blackridge jersey.
“Tamine! It's good your here,” Lesley, my coworker popped from behind me with a basket of drinks. “Could you take this up quickly to the table filled with jocks?”
I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at her. “Why should I? You do it,” I frowned but she pushed the drinks in my hand.
“They ordered quite a lot of cocktails. I need to get that ready,” she said quickly and walked away before I could say anything.
I swallowed thickly. It's probably the football team, but that would mean I would have to face that jerk, Atlas Thorpe. My cheating ex. I honestly would rather not.
But somehow, facing Atlas seemed a lot easier than facing Evans. So I braced myself up and headed up. The worse he would do was badmouth me to his friends, right?
That night, I showed up at the club for my shift. Rick looked surprised to see me."Thought you'd be retired by now," he grunted, gesturing to the gossip sites on his phone. "Word is you're royalty again.""I need the hours, Rick," I said, tying my apron on tight. "Put me on the back bar. Please. I just want to work."He put me in the VIP lounge the dark, secluded area upstairs where the high rollers and the fake ID crowd converged. It was quieter there, usually.Around 11:00 PM, the energy shifted. The downstairs bass thumped through the floorboards.I was wiping glasses when the VIP door swung open.A group of guys stumbled in. Hockey players.My heart hammered.It was Ryker, two defensemen, and… Evans.Evans wasn't on crutches. He was leaning heavily on Ryker, hopping on his good foot, his boot dragging. He looked drunk already. His eyes were glassy, his hair wild.They collapsed into the corner booth the one furthest from the bar, thank god."Whiskey!" Ryker shouted. "Bottle. The
The gold dress was hanging in the back of my closet, shrouded in plastic like a crime scene evidence bag. I hadn’t touched it since Saturday night, but I could still feel the weight of it on my skin cold, constricting, and heavy.Monday morning didn't bring the usual dread of the bus stop. Instead, it brought the low purr of a black sedan idling in my driveway at 7:15 AM sharp.I walked out of the house. My mother was watching from the window, a cigarette burning between her fingers. She didn't wave. She just stared, her expression a mix of relief and something that looked uncomfortably like envy. She thought I had won the lottery. She didn't realize I had just sold the ticket to pay her debts.I slid into the passenger seat of Atlas’s car. The interior smelled of leather and the expensive, spicy cologne that now clung to my own clothes no matter how many times I washed them."You're late," Atlas said without looking at me. He put the car in gear. "Thirty seconds late.""I couldn't fi
The box had arrived at noon.It was sleek, black, and heavy, tied with a gold ribbon. There was no card. No note. Just the Blackridge crest embossed on the lid and a courier standing on my porch, looking nervously at the peeling paint of my front door.I opened it in my bedroom, the only sanctuary I had left.Inside, nestled in layers of tissue paper, was a dress.It wasn't just a dress; it was a statement. It was floor-length, made of a heavy, shimmering gold silk that looked like liquid metal. It had a plunging neckline and a slit that went dangerously high up the thigh. It was beautiful. It was expensive.It was a collar.I stared at it for an hour, feeling the urge to take a pair of scissors to the fabric. But I couldn't. This was the uniform. If I wanted to survive Dean Vance, if I wanted to keep Evans safe from his own father, I had to wear the colors.Gold. The color of the Thorpes. The color of ownership.At 6:30 PM, I showered, scrubbing my skin until it was raw, trying to wa
The bass in the club always vibrated in my teeth. It was a physical sensation, a rhythmic thumping that usually helped me drown out the world. But tonight, it just felt like a headache keeping time with my heartbeat.Thursday night. Three days since the video went viral. Three days since Dean Vance threatened my scholarship. Three days since I blocked Evans Thorpe.I wiped down the bar counter for the hundredth time, the smell of sanitizer mixing with the spilled lager and lime wedges. My phone was in my back pocket, silent. I had turned off notifications. I couldn't handle seeing the Blackridge Buzz updates or the empty void where Evans’s texts used to be.“Table four needs a refill on the pitcher,” my manager, Rick, shouted over the music. He tossed a rag at me. “And smile, Jordan. You look like you’re at a wake.”“I am,” I muttered, grabbing the pitcher.I navigated the crowded floor, dodging groping hands and spilled drinks. The club was packed with the usual Thursday crowd colleg






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