Page 11 of Save Me

“What the hell?” I snap.

“Let’s start the negotiations over again,” he replies. He glancesat his watch. The strap is black and the casing is bronze, and it looks very stylish. And crazy expensive. “I’ve got training in a bit, so it would be good if we could get a move on.”

He holds the door for me and nods into the room, untying his tie altogether and starting to unbutton his shirt too. My brain short-circuits as his chest comes into view and I get a glimpse of his muscles. My throat is dry as dust.

“Are you insane?” I croak, taking a step back before he can get to the last button.

He looks intently at me. “Don’t act like you don’t know how this works.”

I snort. “You must be out of your mind if you think you can buy my silence with your body. Who do you actually think you are, you arrogant bastard?”

He blinks again and again. Opens his mouth and shuts it again. Then he shrugs his shoulders.

My cheeks are hot. I don’t know whether I should be repulsed or ashamed. I think I’m feeling a bit of both. “What’s wrong with you?” I mumble, shaking my head.

Now it’s his turn to snort. “Everyone has a price, Robyn. What’s yours?”

“My name’s Ruby, for fuck’s sake!” I snarl, clenching my fists. “Here’s my price: Leave me the hell alone from now on. I seriously can’t afford to be seen with you.”

His eyes are spraying sparks. “Youcan’t afford to be seen withme?”

The disbelief in his voice ought to make me angry, but by now I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“It’s enough that you spoke to me in the dining hall. I don’t want to be part of your world.”

“My world,” he repeats.

“You know…the parties, drugs, all that crap. I want nothing to do with it.”

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. My heart skips a beat and then starts to race. I shove James into the room and slam the door behind us. I hold my breath, listening intently and hoping desperately that whoever is out there won’t come in here.

Please no, please no, please no.

The steps grow louder, and I screw my eyes shut. They pause outside the door. Then they fade away again and disappear altogether. I breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re serious.” James’s tone is inscrutable, like his face.

“Yes,” I say. “So kindly do your shirt up again.”

He slowly complies with my request but doesn’t take his eyes off me. Like he’s searching for some back door that I might have left open somewhere. He doesn’t seem to find one. “OK then.”

The pressure on my chest eases abruptly. “Good. Great. So, I have to get home; my parents will be waiting.” I gesture over my shoulder with my thumb. He doesn’t speak, so I awkwardly raise my hand to wave goodbye. Then I turn to the door.

“Even so, I don’t trust you.” The sound of his dark voice sends goose bumps down my arms.

I press down the handle. “The feeling’s mutual.”

5

James

The mood in the changing room is tense, the air crackling with adrenaline. These few moments before our pep talk from the coach and finally getting onto the field are the best and the worst at the same time. In these few minutes, everything seems possible: victory and defeat, pride and shame, joyful triumph and unbearable frustration. This is the time when the team spirit is at its peak and we’re at our most motivated.

From outside, I can hear the cheering spectators—our schoolmates and the opposing fans alike. It’s hard to believe that six years ago, nobody at Maxton Hall gave a fuck about lacrosse. In those days, it was a loser sport, a dumping ground for those who were shit at rugby or football, and as a result, the team was shit too. A mishmash of adolescent beanpoles with spotty faces and gangly limbs that weren’t fully under control.

I thought it would be a laugh to sign up. I was mainly hoping to seriously annoy my dad. I never expected to actually enjoy it. Or that within a week or two, I’d have ambitions to make something of the team. I convinced my mates to join in, told Lexie to hire abetter coach or feel my dad’s wrath, and got our top designer to work on our uniforms.

It was the first time in my life that I’d felt passionate about anything. And it paid off. Now, six years later, after many hours of training several nights a week, after all the blood, sweat, tears, and a few broken bones, we’ve won three championships and we’re the school’s poster team.

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