Liquor numbs the body, lust numbs the brain and both gets you killed.
The kid wasn't built for this—he was too damn eager, too rash, too slow, too weak, too talkative. I really had my work cut out for me on this one.
Troy should be paying me extra for this. I would break him in, one way or another. This was a challenge, and I was never one to fail a challenge.
"Alright," I finally said, stepping back. Xavier was on his knees, looking like he was about to pass out. "You'll be running drills today. Basic combat first. Then we'll move on to something more advanced if you don't mess this up."
He held a hand up, short breaths escaping him as he heaved dramatically. "Just a sec." I sighed, tossing him a bottle of water that he barely bothered to catch. It landed on the floor with a plastic sounding thud, rolling to where his knees were planted against.
Xavier reached for the bottle desperately, cracking the seal and chugging every single drop down in a manner of seconds.
After a few minutes, he got up, wavering on his feet slightly and cracked his knuckles. "Bring it on." I made a mental note to involve more cardio exercises in his training. A jog a day would definitely keep the doctorsaway.
"You're not as ready as you think. Don't mistake cockiness for skill. Let's see what you've got."
I gestured to the sparring mat in the center of the room. "Get in position. You have five minutes. I'll show you how to fight smart—don't waste it."
Xavier lunged forward before I had even finished speaking, all unrefined aggression, wild and erratic. I sidestepped easily, letting him crash to the ground in a heap.
"Pathetic," I muttered, looking down at him, unamused. I didn't know what he thought this was. "You think you can outsmart me by throwing a punch? Look at you." That definitely should leave a dent in his ego. I crouched next to Xavier, who was still on the floor, shaking off the fall. "I'm not teaching you how to throw punches, I'm teaching you how to outthink your opponent. When you're in the field, they will not wait for you to get your shit together."
Xavier glared up at me, a mix of slight shame and defiance in his eyes. I held out a hand, pulling him back to his feet with little effort. "Get back in position. This time, move like you possess a brain or at least pretend to."
He nodded, though his pride was clearly stung. I could see it in the way he clenched fists, the determination trying to fight through his ego.
I threw a few quick jabs and kicks in Xavier's direction, gauging the kid's reactions. He wasn't half-bad—if he could just get the arrogance to take a backseat for once.
"You know," Xavier panted, ducking under a quick jab, "I don't get why you so damn serious all the time. We ain't infiltrating a military base—it's a high school."
I feinted a left left hook, forcing him to block high then swept his leg low, and sent him stumbling back.
"Focus," I said flatly. "You talk too much."
Xavier brushed himself off. "Talkin's what keeps me sane, bruh. Unlike you, I don't thrive off all that brooding silence."
I sent a fist into his abdomen that he didn't avoid fast enough, it sent him doubling over.
"Focus," I said again.
He straightened up with a grimace. "Man, I am focused," Xavier shot back, blocking a punch that still sent him stumbling. "But seriously, we gon' be surrounded by rich, spoiled kids, not trained killers. You need to chill."
My eyes narrowed. "They're more dangerous than you think. The Quinns aren't ordinary."
Xavier grinned, wiping the sweat off his brow. "Oh, I know. Julian walks around like he owns the place. And Juliette? She could wrap any guy around her little finger." He smirked. "Bet even you aren't immune."
There was no difference between Juliette and every other female I was uninterested in on this planet. My bored expression didn't falter. "She's a target. Not a distraction."
He rolled his eyes. "God, you're like a damn brick wall. Look, man, I'm just sayin', maybe blending in means... I don't know, acting human for once? Smile. Talk. Hell, flirt a little. Maybe, you might even enjoy it."
I lunged, forcing him to block a flurry of punches. "Emotions compromise the mission."
"Bruh, you needa get laid!" Xavier dodged, barely, then danced back with a cocky grin. "You wound tighter than a damn spring."
My eyes flashed, and in an instant, I had Xavier pinned against the mat. "You talk too much."
The feeble boy coughed, tapping the mat in surrender. "Damn, okay! Point taken!" I let him go, and he sat up, rubbing his neck. "I'm just tryna tell you, man; you're gonna be stuck in that school, surrounded by all them... distractions," he thrusted his hip in an unnecessary demonstration. " You might wanna practice some... self-control."
I stood, arms crossed, staring down at him. "Discipline is self-control."
Xavier laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, good luck with that when Juliette bats them lashes at you. Or when Julian tries to pull you into one of his lil power games. They ain't about that fair game." He got up, stretching. "You're gonna need to play along. Hell, you might even end up enjoying it a little."
The next few minutes were a blur of swift movements and tactical advice. I worked through the drills with precision, while Xavier struggled to keep up, but gradually began to catch on. He wasn't fast, but he was starting to think before he acted.
The kid seemed to be strong at defense but his blows were scattered, too weak and all over the entire place.
I decided on something different.
Now, the room echoed with the rhythmic thud of fists against the punching bag. I stood like a shadow, arms crossed, eyes locked on Xavier, who was sloppily trying to mimic the form I had shown him.
"Footwork. Tighten your stance."
Xavier scoffed, barely holding the bag steady. "Man, footwork isn't gonna matter when I'm surrounded by a bunch of spoiled preppy kids. I done seen the Stourton High crowd—they couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag."
Again with this?
I didn't reply, just watched as he threw another weak punch. "Again."
He rolled his eyes, wiping sweat from his brows. "You don't get it. I already own that place. Everyone at Stourton High knows me. Hell, half the girls wanted to date me, and the other half wanted to be me."
I raised an eyebrow, slightly now interested. "And the Quinns?"
Xavier smirked, leaning against the bag. "Julian? Thinks he's hot shit because his daddy's loaded. We used to run in the same crowd. He's all bark and... well, some bite. But he's not as untouchable as he thinks."
"And Juliette?"
He grinned. "Ah, Juliette. She... complicated. Let's just say she knows how to play the game. Gets what she wants, ain't afraid to use... certain assets." He waggered his brows. "You should watch out for her, though. She got a thing for the dangerous ones. You might just be her type."
"I'm not there to get involved."
He chuckled, throwing a lazy punch at the bag. "You keep saying that, but you'll see. Stourton's a whole different world. It's not just some school—it's a kingdom. The Quinns rule, and the rest of us? We just playing in their court."
"And you think you're a king?"
Xavier grinned, cocky as ever. "Prince, maybe. I've got connections. Friends. Hell, even a few enemies who wouldn't dare cross me. You blend in by standing out, Zayn. That's the Stourton way."
Without warning, I lunged, grabbing his wrist and twisting him into a hold. He yelped. "Damn, man! A little warning?"
"Enemies wouldn't give you one," I said, voice low. "And your 'popularity' won't protect you."
He tapped out, grimacing. "Okay, okay! Point made." I released him, watching as he rubbed his lanky arms, grinning. "You all business, huh? You's gonna stick out like a sore thumb."
I turned away, picking up the training knife and flicking it in the air. "Then I'll need you to blend in enough for the both of us."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh, don't worry. I got that covered. By the end of the week, I'm gonna have you sitting at the cool kids' table, whether you like it or not."
My eyes flicked back. "I don't like it."
"Oh you will."
✧∘˚˳°｡☆∘˚˳°｡☆∘˚˳°｡✧
Deep vibrations racked through my entire being, horrid tasteless music blasted through the speakers. The fast changing neon lights irritated my eyes.
The smell of alcohol and smoke melded with the already stuffy air.
I was back at the exact same run down bar where I had stabbed Julian. A place reeking of past sins and unfinished business.
I didn't know why I had agreed to this. I could barely even garner how I had ended up here. Maybe curiosity. Maybe a sought for a distraction or maybe because Xavier wouldn't shut up and end his needless attempt of convincing me on how I needed to get laid and release all that pent up aggression on some poor unsuspecting female. He seemed to be very certain my grumpiness stemmed from sexual deprivation.
Usually, I never took what Xavier said into the slightest consideration, concern or care, but the bar intrigued me. What could have possibly brought Julian into a place like this?
And besides, if there was anything better than silence and mentally dead Xaviers or Troy, it would be free alcohol.
Xavier had wandered off with 2 women half an hour ago while I had sat here. It seemed underneath all that talkativeness was a perfectly honed skill of crafting deliberate wordings of charm and luring.
In short, he was an expertised womanizer. That and possibly a good spokesperson and mediator.
First useful potential mentally unlocked.
In between my fingers, a glass twirled. The cold rim perched my lips as I sipped the sparkling vodka quietly. Cool liquid sharpness burned my throat while my gaze scanned the dim, crowded room.
There was absolutely nothing special about this bar. No reason for someone like Julian Quinn to step into.
A breezy cologne drifted in. I shifted my gaze to the side, noticing a female had intentionally slipped into the barstool beside me.
I wasn't interested in dancing with any female tonight. I wasn't interested in dancing at all. "Getting laid" also seemed to rank very high in my disinterest.
Luckily, she ordered a drink and said nothing. I barely looked at her path.
Soon, she was gone but her airy cologne and presence still lingered. I stiffened, feeling something soft pressed up against my back. Fingers began to weave through my hair in a sensual attempt and my jaw tightened.
I felt her lean down, lips tracing up my neck and stopping just at my ear. "What's a man like you doing alone in a bar like this?" Her voice was smoky, confident, arousing, or at least meant to arouse.
She grasped my shoulder and spun me around, the chair groaned as it pivoted.
My eyes trailed up her skin with no hurry. Moving from her brown slender legs wrapped up in fishnet stockings, to her little waist, then lingered at her breasts at my eye level that threatened to spill out the low-cut neckline she wore, before proceeding to drink in her sharp features framed by dark waves.
She was cladded in a short shimmery black fitted dress. It wasn't her body that caught most of my attention; what caught them were her eyes, a striking bright green, though they weren't nearly as dark or as beautiful as the mysterious girl at the bench. They looked unreal, not in an ethereal manner but in a plastic manner, artificial somehow—but it had my heart stopping just for a second.
The side of her lips tugged up. "I'm guessing you just love what you see." She had some sort of strange country accent that barely matched her features. Didn't possess enough curiosity to enquire further.
So I hummed lazily in agreement, I wouldn't deny that she was indeed pleasant to the eye.
"Sadly, I'm not interested."
Her smile faltered, surprised but not deterred.
"You're not interested in me? Or in the company of a woman?"
I found my lips twisting. Her confidence was amusing. it was clear she wasn't used to being turned down. "The latter."
"So, you're gay?"
I frowned. "No."
"Then I'm sure I could pique your interest." Her hands wandered down boldly to my crotch, and she lowered herself slowly to her knees. I fisted my hands in her hair, yanking her head back roughly until her neck arched and her throat was exposed.
Her eyes were fierce and glinting. Definitely not one to take no for an answer.
Those eyes.
I sighed, giving in—only because I had already begun imagining someone else.
"Let's take this somewhere more…" my gaze flitted to the lust-filled dancing crowd, gyrating, humping and swaying to the blasting music. "... private, shall we?"
She grinned in triumph, straightening up and taking my hand. She led me through the throbbing mass of bodies, then unlocked a side door with a flick of her wrist.
We stepped in and she shut the door behind her, locking it with a click. The room was dim, with walls lined by faded wallpaper. Private enough.
"This is your room?" I asked, already bored with the small talk I had unintentionally started.
"My father owns this house—well bar, it's a house with an attached bar…"
She had begun to ramble, much to my unconcern. Her voice faded when I pulled her sharply into a searing kiss, swallowing whatever useless words she had left.
Everything shattered into raw need—rough, relentless. Hands gripped, claimed, bruised. No tenderness. No meaning. Just destruction in its most intimate form.
And all the while... her face dissolved into a memory that wasn't hers.
Perhaps, Xavier was right. I did need to get laid.