Page 12 of Shattered Hate

“I just wanted you to know. I thought I should tell you.”

“It’s cool.” Cope shrugs, pulling on a black pair of sweatpants. “It doesn’t bother me if you thought that might be the case.”

“Okay, good.” I smile, standing up and heading toward the shower.

“Oh, Dax,” Cope calls out. I turn, raising my eyebrows in question. “One of the guys on the team, Smithson, it’s his birthday, and he’s throwing a party at his place on Saturday. You should come.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. But thanks.” I give him a tight, almost strained smile before opening the bathroom door.

“I thought Tray didn’t bother you.” I snap my head around to look at Cope, my expression hardening.

“He doesn’t,” I reply, perhaps a bit too aggressively. The words come out sharper than I intended.

“Then there’s no reason why you can’t come on Saturday,” he says with a disarming smile before grabbing his bag. “Catch you later,” he adds, and exits the room quickly.

Standing there, I shake my head. There’s not a chance I’ll be attending that party. The thought of being around Trayton King and his cronies sounds about as appealing as a root canal without anesthesia. The mere idea of it makes my skin crawl.

Chapter seven

Trayton

Opening my eyes, I lie there for a minute, planning out my day in my head. I’ve always believed that if I don’t mentally plan exactly what I’m doing, the whole day will go to shit.

Get up

Make Kal roll his eyes at least once

Shower

Eat

Go to first class

Eat

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