Page 5 of Nothing to Fear
I clear my throat in my fist, shaking myhead slightly to clear the fog currently threatening to pull me under. “Yes, sir, sorry. I’m sorry, President Blackwood wants me totutorSilas?”
Professor Thorne sighs audibly as if I’ve exhausted him. “That seems to be correct. He asked for you personally, said you were the best the school had to offer, and that if I needed anything, I could count on you to help. I’m sure time will tell if I agree with his opinion.”
What is happening?
“Of course, sir.”
“Well then. Now that that’s settled, you’re dismissed. I will see you in class.”
“There are no other details, sir?”
“No. I believe you two can work out the arrangement on your own, seeing as you’re both adults, yes?”
The chance of Silas and me getting on the same page about anything is about as slim as the bones in the graveyard rising from the dead.
“Of course. Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.”
With my fate sealed to Silas, I leave Professor Thorne’s office and retreat down the long corridor of the chamber. Shock starts to wane quickly, replaced by sudden and powerful anger. I don’t have the time or desire to help Silas get caught up on his studies when he doesn’t focus on anything besides being an asshole and playing rugby.
How is my excellence rewarded by forcing me to lift up the president’s asshat son? With thoughts of my schedule change quickly replaced with being shackled to Silas Blackwood, I stomp through the quad as the clouds open up and rain starts to pelt down on me.
Frickin’ great. Universe, I hear you loud and clear.
Chapter 3
Silas
Practice was fucking brutal. There’s an adjustment period every year as we learn to play as a new team, but our coach must not be happy with the way we’ve been performing the last few games because he’s ramped up our practices. Two, two-hour practices five days a week on top of the stress of games, workload of our classes, and coursework. I’m dead tired.
My body drips with sweat, the cold autumn air swirling around me, making me feel both hot and cold. I’ve been playing rugby for Corvus College since I was recruited right out of high school.Recruitedis a loose term, considering my dad is the president of the school, and it’s been expected that I would attend since I was in utero. Everyone in our family has attended Corvus for generations. It doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of my place on the team, however, considering I’m now the team captain. Not a bad way to finish out my time at Corvus, especially because it’s the only real joy I get while locked up here.That and reliving Friday night over and over again.
“Hey, Blackwood!” Coach yells from behind us. I turn to face him, my team’s steps faltering.
“Yes, Coach?”
“Get your shit together! You look like you haven’t slept all week! You’re playing worse than my grandmother, and she’s been dead twenty years!”
Jesus. That’s a surefire way to motivate me.
“Yes, Coach.”
“What crawled up his ass today?” my teammate Dean asks as he jogs up next to me.
“The hell if I know, but we’ll be playing like shit in a few days if we have any more practices like that.”
“I think my legs are broken! Carry me, Capt.!” Rome whines as he slings a heavy arm over my shoulder and drops his weight, nearly dragging both of us to the ground.
“For fuck’s sake, Rome! Get up! My legs are feeling it just as bad.”
“Some captain you are. Aren’t you supposed to carry your team?”
“Metaphorically, dumbass, not physically,” I say in return, giving him a pathetic shove with my limp arms.
The steam of the showers fills the locker room as I enter, heading straight for my locker to undress. I peel the tight, damp material of my shirt over my head, letting it flop in a heap on the wooden bench, leaving me in just my shorts that come down to mid-thigh. I’m covered in grass stains and dirt, looking like I had a wrestling match on the field rather than a scrimmage.
“Damn, you’re already bruising, Blackwood!” a shout comes from my teammate and friend, Eli. I lift up my left arm and look down, noting the blooming red skin and the faint black and blue rising below it. I knew the hit I took was hard, but I didn’t really clock how bad, apparently.
“Yeah? Thanks for that, by the way, dickhead.” Eli drops his head backward in a maniacal laugh before walking toward the showers, bare-ass naked. I roll my eyes at him, quickly averting them.
