Page 17 of Boots & Scars

It was a riot of colors and shapes, the kind of design meant to catch the eye and hold it hostage. At the center was an image of a DJ with headphones slung around his neck, surrounded by splashes of neon paint that seemed to leap off the paper. The words 'SPRING BREAK BASH' were emblazoned across the top in bold, blocky letters that seemed to shout at me even in silence. Below that, in slightly smaller print, it promised an unforgettable night with live music, dancing, and 'the best drinks on campus'. The address at the bottom was scrawled in a font that tried too hard to look like graffiti.

"Do I need to bring anything?" I asked, still staring at the flyer. "Like an id?"

The words 'Bring your friends!' were printed just below the address, followed by 'BYOB for those over 21'. It was clear this was going to be a night where rules were bent and memories made—or forgotten.

"An id?" he asked.

"Well, it's not like I can drink," I pointed out.

"And it's not like campus police are going to be breathing down our necks," Zack said with a casual shrug. "You can drink if you want. Hell, I'll get you your first one. What do you say?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks, turning them a shade of red that would rival the setting sun. It was a tempting offer, one that made my heart flutter. The idea of attending a college party, sipping on something probably too strong for my unaccustomed palate—it was like stepping into another world, one that had been off-limits for so long.

"I'd... I'd like that," I managed to say, the words tumbling out before I could second-guess them.

"See you then," he said with a wink that sent another wave of heat across my face.

I nodded, clutching the flyer as if it were a golden ticket, and practically skipped to the locker room. The air felt different somehow—charged with possibility and the sweet scent of rebellion. This was it: my first real taste of freedom, and I could hardly wait.

6

Cooper

Iwatched Everly talk to the skate guy, a frown etched on my face. Her presence bothered me, and not for the obvious reasons.

After she disappeared into the locker rooms, Walker walked over to me. "Well?" he asked.

I whipped around to glare at him. "Why the fuck is Hawthorne's daughter my student? Don't you think that's a conflict of interest?"

"I forget," Walker said, his tone nonchalant. "Did she do anything to you personally? You're going to have to understand the world doesn't revolve around you, Cooper. You'll deal with people you don't want to." He pointed down the hall. "That girl is like a daughter to me."

"Well, she has to be a daughter to someone, doesn't she?" I quipped, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Walker clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening. "She's a good girl."

I scoffed. "She's a stupid one. Who let her out of her cage? She just agreed to a frat party. A fucking frat party. They're going to eat her alive."

Walker glanced at Zack, who was busy putting away the skates. "Zack Manson? He's a good kid."

"You're right," I said, my tone mocking. "Do me a favor, though. When you're woken up because campus police have to take a rape report because some asshole took her virginity, I want to tattooidioton your forehead."

"I guess it's a good thing you'll be going," Walker said, his eyes tracking Everly's shadow behind the frosted glass.

"What?" I asked, my voice flat, not bothering to mask my annoyance.

"Go supervise," he said with a smirk that I wanted to wipe off his face. "No one is going to say no to Cooper Sinclaire."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm too old for frat parties," I muttered under my breath.

"You were never in a frat," Walker pointed out, unfazed by my irritation. "And that's rich, considering you weren't too old to beat someone almost to death."

A grunt was all I offered in response, the memory sour on my tongue. My eyes stayed fixed on the locker rooms, imagining scenarios I had no control over.

"She's staying on campus for break," Walker continued, as if reading from a script designed to torture me. "If she wants to skate, you let her skate."

I rolled my eyes again. "So babysitting is part of my job description now?"

"You do whatever the hell I tell you to do is part of your job description," he retorted. "Maybe she'll rub off on you."

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