Page 21 of Wicked Scorn
Jeremiah
Icrack my neck and roll my shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tiredness and stress from my body after being out late babysitting Oakley at that damn party. It’s been two weeks since she’s been back in my life, and she’s all I see now. Awake, asleep, it doesn’t matter. Everything is Oakley Ashford.
The smell of sweat and anticipation fills the visitor locker room, and I can almost taste the energy crackling in the air as my teammates buzz around me. We’re getting ready to face our archrivals, St. Vincent’s, and tonight’s game promises to be a brutal one. The noise is deafening. Guys are hyped up, yelling and smacking pads.
“Yo, check out this chick!” Zeke, one of the receivers, holds up his phone. “Been watching her cam shows all week. Took these screenshots last night.”
A few of the guys crowd around for a look. I ignore them, focusing on taping my fingers. Don’t need the distraction.
“She’s some cam girl, but she’s got this mysterious vibe,always wearing masks and shit. Drives me wild because she doesn’t actually show anything.”
“Let me see that.” Jameson snatches the phone. He whistles low. “Definitely has that fairy princess vibe going on. You tap that yet?”
“Nah man, building the anticipation, you know? She keeps things anonymous, no names. Makes it hotter, but I’m gonna get her under me soon. I just need to convince her to let me fly her out to St. Charles.” Zeke grins like the cocky bastard he is.
The surrounding circle grows tighter as they crane their necks for a glimpse.
“Ease up, you’ll drool on my phone,” he jokes, tilting the screen just enough to tease them. “She’s like a drug, ya know? The less you see, the more you want.”
“Sounds like a pain in the ass,” I mutter, my focus drifting from the knotted tape on my wrists to my teammates salivating over some internet girl.
“Ah, come on, Jere,” a lineman chides, clapping me on the back hard enough to make me stagger. “You telling me you wouldn’t wanna unwrap that present?”
“Didn’t say that,” I shoot back, my tone clipped. “Just not into chasing ghosts.”
“Suit yourself, bro,” Zeke chuckles. “More for the rest of us, then.”
I roll my eyes and slam my locker shut. I just lied through my damn teeth. All I do is chase ghosts. Well ghost, singular because it’s only the one that’s got me all twisted up. The last thing I need is Zeke’s sexcapades invading my headspace before a big rivalry game. I need to be focused, ready to shut down their offense.
“Hey eighty-seven, c’mon just check her out for yourself!” he calls out as he strides closer to me.
“Fuck off,” I mutter, not even bothering to look up from my cleats. He ignores my dismissal and shoves his phone in my face, eager to share his latest interest. Apparently, fuck off and I ain’t interested, don’t comprehend in his thick ass skull. We have a fucking game, but I can help him weed through the cobwebs occupying his fucking brain afterward.
“Look at her, man.” He grins, swiping through the photos of a girl wearing a bunny mask, her eyes hidden behind dark shadows. Her lips are painted a deep red, and she oozes sensuality in a way that would make any man weak at the knees. She’s dressed simply, in a blue skirt and white top.
“Where’d you find her?” I ask, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and unease that I can’t quite put my finger on. Something about her draws me in, and I can’t help but stare at the screen, captivated by her allure.
“Found her on the Starlet Streams site,” Zeke says, still grinning like a cat that caught the canary. “Makes you wonder what she’s hiding under that mask, doesn’t it?”
My chest tightens as I scrutinize the photos, searching for any clue that could reveal her identity. There’s something about her. The curve of her neck, the arch of her brow—that feels achingly familiar. But it can’t be her. It just can’t.
“Get that shit out of my face,” I snap, shoving my teammates’ phone away as I force myself to refocus on the game. Tonight is about one thing and one thing only, kicking St. Vincent’s asses all the way back to their campus. And I won’t let anything stand in the way of that goal.
I try to block out the noise and chatter, the image of that girl in the mask. But something about it niggles at my mind.
Zeke is still talking shit, walking around showing everyone those pics.
Against my better judgment, I let myself look them overagain. I’m unable to shake the feeling churning in my stomach. The moment I zero in the photos, really looking at them, it feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. I fucking know that beauty mark on the left side of her collarbone. Oakley, wearing a bunny mask that barely conceals her bright blue eyes, staring back at the screen.
“Fuck!” I roar, snatching the phone and smashing it against the cold concrete floor. The shattered pieces scatter across the ground. I grab Zeke by the collar, slamming him into a row of lockers with a crash. “The girl, what’s her fucking name?!”
“Hey! What the hell is your problem, Jeremiah?” he gasps, clutching at my iron grip on his shirt. His eyes are wide with fear, but I don’t care. All I can think about is Oakley, my sweet, innocent Oakley, parading around like a piece of meat for men to ogle at.
“Answer me, you piece of shit! What. Is. Her. Name?” My voice is deadly, and I see everyone except my brothers take a step back. They’re all staring at me now, but I barely register their presence. My rage is blotting out everything else.
“Christ, man! It’s fucking VelvetVix! She’s just some chick with a cam and an account. Everyone’s talking about her,” Zeke stammers, his earlier bravado evaporating under the glare of my wrath.
My heart hammers in my chest, pounding harder than the anger coursing through my veins. Oakley, my Oakley, reduced to this? The thought makes me want to tear someone apart. I push him away from me with a violent shove that sends him sprawling across the floor.
