Page 20 of Vicious Games

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How the fuck did I get myself in this mess?

“Don’t worry, brother. You got this,” Enzo whispers beside me, sensing my anxiety.

“I better, or otherwise, I’m fucked.”

“So you have to tutor Frankie. Big whoop. As punishments go, that isn’t so bad.”

“Hello?” I point to my face, trying to prove that it can, in fact, be that bad.

“Stop.” He chuckles. “You’ll heal. And who knows, maybe you’ll even like spending time with her.”

“I think I’d enjoy plucking my eyes with this spoon better.”

Enzo bites his knuckles to prevent breaking out in laughter and grabs the attention of our ball-busting sister. When he’s simmered down, he leans in and says, “What did Mother Superior say the other day to our dad, Gio? The Lord works in mysterious ways. Who knows, maybe you’ll like tutoring the soon-to-become nun more than you think. Don’t know if you noticed, Frankie’s kind of hot.”

“I hate nuns,” I remind him with gritted teeth. “Hot or otherwise.”

“So you keep saying,” he chuckles under his breath. “Hmm… wouldn’t it be ironic if you actually fell for one?”

As my eyes widen in horror, Enzo is no longer able to keep his amusement in check and starts laughing at my misery, leaving everyone looking at us as if we have a few screws loose.

Fuck.

There goes my senior year if I have to spend half of it with a nun.

This is going to suck.

Luck had always been on my side until Frankie stomped into it.

Now, I’m positive I’m cursed.

Chapter 4

Frances

I clutch my books to my chest, keeping my head down as I navigate the busy hallway, feeling the weight of a hundred stares and barely stifled laughter.

Word spread like spilled ink on paper, impossible to contain, and apparently, the headline of the week is that I—Frances O’Malley, resident nobody—socked Lucky Romano in the face.

And just like that, everyone knows my name.

I’ve never been part of the popular crowd, nor have I ever wanted to be, but having my name on their lips wasn’t exactly on my bingo card this year.

Damn you, Lucky Romano.

Because of him, I can’t take three steps without someone pointing, whispering, or throwing some half-assed joke my way.

“Look at the heavyweight champion of Sacred Heart!”

“Remind me never to cross you!”

“I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.”

“Of course he went down. Look at how big she is!”

Yeah. Real original, guys.

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