I’m putting my lock back on when I change my mind and fling the door open again, snatch up the letter, and tear at the flap. What if it’s from Piper?

Dear Ava,

Your eyes are the color of the Caribbean Sea.

Shit. That’s stupid.

What I really mean is…you look at me and I feel something REAL. And that never happens.

It’s been ten months since you were here, but I can’t forget you.

I’ve missed seeing you walk down the hall.

I’ve missed you cheering at my football games.

I’ve missed the smell of your hair.

And then everything fell apart that night.

If you need anything, I want to be there for you. Text me. Please. 105-555-9201

P.S. I’m a Shark, but I’d never hurt you.

P.P.S. I’ve tried to fight it with everything I have, but I want you. Still.

My heart pounds as I read the words, and I’m vaguely aware of a bell ringing and students streaming past me, heading to classes. I want to crumple the letter and set it on fire. I want to piss on it.

And that makes me laugh.

Who left this?

Of course, I don’t believe it for a second. First of all, it’s from one of the football players—a Shark—and they all despise me. It was their party, and they were the ones the police focused their investigation on.

They all said the same thing: Ava Harris was drinking when she came. No one gave her drugs or a drink. No one saw her go into the woods. No one assaulted her.

The late bell rings, startling me out of the past, and I stuff the letter into my backpack, slam my locker, and bolt for my first class.

3

I park my black Mercedes-Benz G-Class in a spot and turn the ignition off.

“Fucking hot new ride,” Chance says from the back seat as he gets out, slinging his backpack over his arm. His pale blue eyes crinkle in the corners, still sporting a tan from his vacation in Maui this past week. “You always get the best toys, Knox.” He huffs out a laugh, and I shrug, knowing there’s no jealousy in the words. His family wealth is old money, passed down from generations of well-to-do lawyers and even a governor, but it doesn’t rank up there with mine and Dane’s—our dad’s a real estate millionaire.

I step out of the car. “Nothing but the best for the Graysons.” There’s sarcasm in my tone. No one gets it but my twin.

My brother Dane gets out of the passenger side and pats the hood of the car. “Yeah, dear old Dad was feeling guilty for leaving us home most of the summer to work in New York. Nice way to appease us, don’t you think?” His tone is deadpan, his face expressionless except for the lines of tension around his lips.

He’s fine, I tell myself, my eyes following him as he walks around to join us.

Liam crawls out from the back seat. A six-four linebacker for our team, he’s our star defensive player and on his way to a big college. ESPN has him ranked higher than anyone on the team, including me. He needed a ride this morning but told me his dad is dropping something off for him later—a new black Escalade.

With a wicked grin, he smiles as he straightens, stretches out his arms, and looks over at the school, taking in the stately structure, the turrets on each side, the ivy that grows from the bottom, draping the gray stones. “Are you getting chills like I am, boys? Senior year—it’s ours.” He cracks his knuckles and rubs his hands together. “And I’m going to bang every girl I want. More than you assholes. As my dad likes to say, boys will be boys.” He laughs.

“Only you keep score,” Chance says with an eye roll.

“So you and Jolena are off again?” comes from Dane. “Guess I’m not surprised. You two are a soap opera.” He laughs, amusement wiping some of the tension away. He’s like that, swinging from one emotion to the other.

Liam shrugs broad shoulders, running a hand through his side-swept, white-blond bangs—old-style Justin Bieber. “Too many girls in the world to be tied down to just one.”

“You’ll be back together before the day is over,” Dane muses.

Chance chuckles. “Careful there, Liam. I do recall you getting a rash on your dick this summer from one of those college girls you picked up at the club we snuck into. Damn, she was hot—but an STD? That doctor’s appointment had to be embarrassing.”

Liam’s face reddens. “It was curable, okay? Don’t be telling people—it will kill my game.”

I smirk. “I’m going to make it the morning announcement.” I mimic tapping a microphone. “Welcome back, students. This is Knox Grayson, your quarterback for the Dragons. It’s going to be a fine year at Camden Prep, but before we get started today, I’d like to touch on STDs—well, not actually touch, but you know what I mean. We’ll be using Liam Barnes as our visual aid. Also, a riddle to brighten your day: What’s worse than lobsters on your piano? Anyone?” I throw a glance around at the guys, smirking at Liam’s red face, the color deepening. “It’s crabs on your organ, of course. Just ask Liam.”

Chance snickers, and Dane guffaws. “Good one, bro.”

I shrug. “I have my moments.”

“And Liam makes excellent material.” Chance gives me a fist bump.

“Screw you, QB1,” Liam mutters. “You just wait and see what happens on the field.”

I arch a brow, feigning nonchalance at his little threat, but my hackles rise. Doesn’t seem to take much these days, especially when it comes to mouthy football players. “It’s just a joke.”

Liam’s face flattens. “Still not amused. I don’t appreciate being the butt of your joke.”

I laugh then, deep and long, satisfaction washing over me because I annoyed him. There’s weird competitiveness between us. Maybe it’s an offense-versus-defense kind of thing, but mostly it stems from me being in charge of the team, coupled with the fact that I had Jolena sophomore year before him. I tapped that fast and got out, and for all his blustering about not being serious with her, he doesn’t want me near her.

Sex with her was just water to me—tasteless, meaningless, nothing but passing the time. I’m not even sure she really wanted me, but she made all the right noises and pretended, eager to be one of my girls under the bleachers. She didn’t give a shit about who I was, but you can bet she told everyone she had the quarterback. Funny—I never tell anyone who I fuck, but people always know.

Liam rolls his shoulders. “You’ve been acting weird lately, Knox. Worried about winning a state championship already?” He gives me a once-over. “Don’t worry, I’ll win those games for us. You just throw some pretty passes and I’ll do all the hard work.”

“Fuck off,” I say softly.

Then, I smile.

He gives me a double take then darts his eyes away. Distaste is evident on his face. Four years with this scar on my face and he still can’t stomach it.