See No Evil

On the ride back to campus, I try to think of how I’m going to deal with the whole Stone situation, instead of focusing on past fuck-ups. Maybe I should give her some space to breathe. Give her enough time to miss my stalking ways. Isn’t that how the old proverb goes? Distance makes the heart grow fonder, or some nonsense like that? Couldn’t hurt to try and see if it will work. It sure as hell beats the alternative—me groveling for her attention. Unless, of course, backing off is exactly what she wants from me.

Fuck.

This shit is hard. Do all guys go through this when they want to win a girl over? Because if they do, then I wasn’t missing much.

By the time we get to Richfield, I’ve decided to give Stone a few days for her to get in touch with me. A week should suffice. Okay, maybe less than a week. Three days tops. But do I count Saturday and Sunday, or do I give her three days starting from today? Hmm. Isn’t there some sort of manual on how to deal in these types of situations?

I’m about to google it when Easton parks the car. Since I don’t want his ass to tease me any further for my lack of experience, I stash my phone away, making a mental note to check later for the correct protocol on how to deal with chicks.

However, when we both get out of the car, our attention is quickly grabbed by a herd of college kids in the parking lot, all excitedly on their phones, taking pictures of something I can’t quite make out.

“Wonder what that’s all about?” Easton queries next to me, as we walk closer to the gawking crowd.

With each step I take, there is a twisted feeling in my gut, telling me I’m not going to like it one bit.

“Fi

I just nod because words fail me as soon as I set my eyes on what everyone is gaping at. My silver Porsche, drenched from hood to tires in pig’s blood, with one single word fingered on the windshield for the whole world to witness—KILLER.

I swallow dryly as the kids around me slap my back in approval. From the strands of endless gibberish coming from the crowd, I realize they are all thinking that this is just some fucked-up hazing from a rival team, wanting to mess with my head before a big game. Thing is, there is no big game this weekend, and if these kids used the same brain cells they are wasting to upload pictures of my wrecked car on every social media platform there is, they would also put two and two together.

“Remember when I said that I would take The Society’s hoopla seriously when shit hit the fan?” Easton asks beside me, nodding at the student body around us as if joining in on the joke. “Well, this is our motherfucking wakeup call that these cunts mean business.”

I crack my knuckles, trying to keep my fake, standoffish grin on my lips, rather than letting the dread set in.

“What do we do now?” I mutter under my breath, not wanting anyone to pick up on my panicked question.

“We don’t do shit. You are the one who has to step up their game.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

“You know what you have to do, Fi