Page 29 of Brat Baby
“They are really giving up that easily? Their Monarch reputation makes them seem more… I don’t know, pursuant? It’s kind of disappointing to learn that they are just like other guys, moving on the moment it stops being convenient.”
“Mmmm,” I reply, still pretending to be distracted by the app—a request for feet pics goes in the maybe pile. I practice some box breathing in attempt to help with my sudden unsettled stomach.
From my sleuthing on the forums, I know the lack of group photos is weird. Most show them traveling in pairs, at minimum. I’ve only seen one photo of Derek alone, but it’s of him leaving Grinder with a tray filled with four coffees, clearly on his way to meet the others.
Are they fighting over this—me? But why? They all seemed to be in agreement the other day, especially when they all turned their backs at the same time. And then Darcy didn’t show up to our date. And maybe Xavier’s sudden appearance two nights ago was truly about making sure I am looking after my cuts.
Which reminds me.
I pop up from the couch. “I’m going to go study in my room. Want to do breakfast together?”
The frown on Oakley’s face clears up, as well as the faraway expression. “Sure. Want to try Grinder again?”
Edging backward toward my bedroom, I grimace. “Sure, but we bail if they are there. I can’t handle getting yelled at in public again.” Or worse, ignored by all four of them. Although, we didn’t see them there today.
She nods as she pulls out her buzzing phone. “Deal.”
I leave her to whoever is calling and close my door before setting up to take my photos for Xavier. Everything gets set up the same way as usual—pillows for a stand, shorts and panties down around my knees, and my ass stuck out so that a hint of pussy is in the pic.
I take several, even zooming in for a couple. The zoomed-in pics show me what I started to suspect this morning. The cuts are all but gone. Some of the lines of the letters are nothing more than a faint pink line, which will be gone by the end of the weekend.
My heart pangs and my arms feel heavy. I don’t want them to be gone.
Looking at my wrist, I rotate the bracelet until I can see the pendant and rub my thumb over the engraved letters. DHDX.
He did say that if I’m good for him, the next time we play together, he’ll give me a new mark. I’m not sure if he said it in the heat of the moment, but that one sentence has left me with a painful bubble of hope. Continuing to receive the rewards isn’t helping, either.
Opening the messages with Xavier, I send him the pictures—all of them. Our entire thread is just me sending him pictures morning and night. But tonight, I decide to change things up.
Me:Daddy, they are almost gone *sad face emoji* When can I have some new ones?
My messages display asreadalmost immediately, but I don’t get a reply.
Sighing, I toss my phone to the side before retrieving my stack of textbooks, dropping them onto my bed, grabbing the laptop, and knee walking into the middle of the mattress. Once I’m comfortable, with all my things surrounding me, I get to planning my studying and assignment schedule.
I need to get back to focusing on my dreams, my goals. And I need to putthemin the rearview mirror.
Chapter 17
Xavier
Seven twenty-eight.
My stomach clenches with anticipation as I take a sip of the drink Derek silently offered me before we started this poker game. We are only a few hands into the evening, and the tension among the four of us is sharper than the blades in my roll, not that I give a fuck.
What I do give a fuck about is this little game of cat and mouse Emery is playing with me. Always right on time. Never early. And I fucking love it. She is goddamn perfection, and she is mine. Just thinking about her makes my blood heat.
I know it’s the same for the other three, even if they aren’t willing to admit it now that we know she’s a student. Her being a student is irrelevant to me, but I get it. Derek and Hudson have worked their asses off to get where they are, and I respect that. Mostly.
For me, what she can offer me—us, them—is worth so much more than a career. The peace that enveloped me Sunday evening was worth the backlash of Monday.
I couldn’t give two shits about my job at Newton. The only reason I’m keeping my distance from my little dove is for these three fuckers. They care about Newton. And I get it. They chose it. Unlike me, who was placed.
However, if it comes to choosing between them and Emery, I think it’s pretty fucking clear what my choice will be, and everyone knows it. Hence, all this fucking tension.
Cards flick across the green felt to each of us as my phone lights up on the tabletop. I glance at it, one corner of my lips lifting as I see that she has met the deadline by a minute. A weight lifts from my chest as she proves to me that she can follow my instructions, but a restlessness rustles as well. A part of me hopes she will miss another deadline.
That weight sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach when a second notification appears.
