Kingston
A bead of sweat slid down the bridge of my nose.
My muscles began to burn as the slight cracks from my elbows locking up became louder. Eighty-seven, Eighty-eight, Eighty-nine.
I kept pushing.
One hundred push-ups before I left my bedroom. That was my goal.
I hadn't hit a hundred pushups without a break in some time.
But today was a new day, and I could taste the satisfaction on my lips. Along with the lingering sweet taste of Sophia's pussy.
She had spent the night again, and I woke up to her plump lips wrapped around my dick. She was heading to Europe with her mother for summer, so we had lots of fucking to do before she left.
Ninety-six, Ninety-seven. I could feel a cramp creeping up my shoulder blades, but I could finish. I had to-
I grunted as the lights from my phone brightened my room. Who the hell was texting me so damn early? I tried to ignore it. But my room was dark, and the flashing lights had broken my concentration.
I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead then grabbed my phone from its charger. The little icon had over fifty notifications, and it kept going up.
I closed my eyes as I leaned back, stretching my legs out onto the wooden floor. The feeling of satisfaction flowing through me.
And it felt good.
The new coach had the entire team in a group chat, and the topic of the day had been pre-workout meals. I scanned the messages and saw the images of breakfast he wanted us to send that day.
This fucking guy was trying entirely too hard. Even after I told him that my father arranged for a nutritionist to visit the football team once a month during the season to keep us in the best possible shape. There was no use for him to try. This was Fair Oaks Prep, for fucks sake.
I got the impression that he wanted to take charge. Possibly show us a few things. But that was unnecessary.
I was the quarterback. I told the team what they needed, and I had the trophies to back it up.
I turned off the notifications and tossed my phone onto my bed. The white sheets were hanging off the opposite side with a wet stain in its center.
I smiled as the image of Sophia's long tanned legs spread wide appeared before me. She had climaxed on that very spot before taking the back entrance out.
I laughed to myself.
I had my pre-workout meal already, but there was no way in hell I was sending him a picture of Sophia's sweet twat.
Coach Hudson had another thing coming if he thought he would control what I ate. I already had to change half my team's positions around. I kept my mouth shut when he gave us individualized workout plans. I normally had the guys come over every Saturday morning and once during the week to work out in my father's gym, but that wasn't enough.
I had to draw the line somewhere, and it would start with food. Mrs. Silvia, our chef, wouldn't even allow me to help her cook, so there was no way I would dare tell her Coach's menu.
I did have to get in better shape if I wanted to win the state championship in my senior year. I had to learn to control every muscle in my throwing arm. I had to be the best quarterback Fair Oaks Prep had ever seen.
We had won it all last year, but I had played fucking awful, and the truth was our defense stepped up and got us that win.
We were going for back-to-back titles my senior year, and I was determined to make up for my shit performance. The first Blake at Fair Oaks to win league MVP. Something even my older cousins hadn't been able to get.
I showered in my ensuite bathroom and dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a white tee.
The school's jacket was already in my upgraded Audi R8 in the garage. I almost made it out my bedroom door before remembering my gold chain after touching my neck and finding it naked.
I looked up at the wooden beams, a stark contrast against my black walls, thanking my mother for the reminder. My chain was good luck. The most precious thing in the world to me.
She'd given me the simple braided chain for my birthday, and I had worn it every day since her death.
I walked past the gaming area of my room, searching through the loose paper and wrappers on the center table.
Once I realized I'd left it on my dresser, I ran back to my closet, taking a moment to look at the photo of my Mom and me at the waterfront in Boston.
The picture was one of my favorites of hers. She had a genuine smile on her face, with tiny wrinkles scattered at the corners of her eyes.
There wasn't another picture like this of her with anyone else. Not even my father. Our driver Chuck had taken the picture before we got on a lunch cruise for my seventh birthday. My father was working as usual. But my Mom had made me feel special.
She always had.
That kid in the picture was lucky. But that happy kid was gone for good the moment she didn't come out of the lake.
"Kingston."
I heard my father's stern, authoritative voice calling me from the bottom of the stairs.
"Yeah, what's up, Dad?"
I began my descent into the archway of the kitchen.
It was redecorated to resemble the French cottage where my father had taken my mother on their honeymoon. Thankfully Mrs. Silvia put the kitchen to good use after my mother died.
I greeted him with a slight nod, and we made our way to the dining room for breakfast.
"I want you to get in contact with your advisor. I haven't been able to speak with her," he said as he placed his Navy blue Canali jacket on the chair opposite him.
"That's strange."
He gave me a vaguely threatening look before he picked up his coffee. We both knew he had made acquaintances with almost every eligible woman at school.
I sat down at the table and grabbed the stack of banana pancakes along with the homemade maple syrup Mrs. Silvia always brought over.
I knew where my father was going with this, "Ms. Wilson said she will call you about senior year stuff before the end of the term."
He turned around to face me. Dark eyes peered through me. "This is your future, Kingston, don't let her drag her feet. You should be the first person she speaks with regarding the senior year activities. The amount of money our family has given to the school...it is unacceptable we're even having to have this conversation."
I took another large bite and grabbed the glass of orange juice to wash it down.
"I need to give her the list of universities we will be visiting over the summer. Sebastian has scheduled luncheons with a few of my business partners that you will be meeting there."
I felt my stomach drop at the news. What the fuck was he getting at? My summer had already been arranged.
"You said I could have part of the summer for training with the team," I reminded him.
We agreed that I could continue football if I stayed out of trouble. And I had done exactly that. I understood the power attached to my name. And I made sure to use it to my advantage like he had shown me.
I was discreet with all my activities but football. On the field, I shined.
No one loved football the way I did. I loved football and everything it had brought out of me. On that field, I was able to get control over my emotions about my Mom's death.
I only wished my father understood.
I snapped out of the daze I had entered, but his attention had been taken by his phone. It was then I noticed more silver hair around his neatly trimmed beard. He had more on his head.
My Dad was entering his fifties and had taken over Blake & Co. less than ten years ago from his older brother. Uncle Dan got sent to federal prison for some illegal business that I wasn't privy to. It was around the time we moved back to Fair Oaks from California. It was supposed to be a fresh start. But when my mother died suddenly, my Dad threw himself into work.
It was originally my Mom's idea for him to return home, which he reminded me of in the beginning. Be closer to my father's side of the family since my Mom was an only child.
If it wasn't for my two older cousins, I don't think I would have survived living with him after she died.
Once Angelo and Tommy came around, I started to feel part of an actual family again.
"God Damnit!"
My head snapped up at his outburst, watching as he brought his phone up to his ear.
I poured myself a bowl of frosted mini-wheats and added some granola oats to it. I grabbed three boiled eggs and some sausages from the tray and waited.
These mornings together were rare, and it made me wonder if there was something else on his mind.
"What did you say?" He looked up and acknowledged me.
"You said I could go to football training camp this summer."
I didn't mean to blurt it at him as I had. But now his other phone was buzzing on the table.
The conversation was just about over. He wasn't going to come back from the motionless expression he had on his face.
"We'll have to talk later, the property on Jefferson has just been burglarized, and the cops need me down at the building."
"Don't you have people for that?" I was annoyed. He leaned down to kiss the top of my head before grabbing his jacket and heading out.
"Alright, see you later," I called out after him, but he didn't turn around.
I doubt he heard me about training camp. Which meant I would have to email Sebastian, his assistant, to pass it along.
I finished my food and brushed my teeth before heading for my car. The school was only a five-minute drive away. I could walk, but I couldn't leave the Blake parking spot empty. My family has been attending Fair Oaks Prep for almost a century, only a few notable families earning designated spots.
As I pulled into the back parking lot where the locker rooms were, I spotted Sasha's old rusted ford F100 near the cafeteria.
My dad pulling his usual be-there-without-actually-being-there act, and now her. She was the last person I wanted to see.
Sasha had hurt me when I was at my lowest. She'd stomped on what little heart I had left after my Mom died. She'd been back in town for a month now after a decade away and was still acting like she hardly knew me.
It was true, though.
I wasn't the innocent heartbroken little boy she had befriended and then abandoned all those years ago. And she was about to find out what I had become.
As I stepped out of my Audi, the familiar weight of expectations settled on my shoulders. The Blake legacy, the team's hopes, my father's demands – all of it pressed down on me like a physical force. But I'd learned to carry it, to use it as fuel.
I spotted Angelo and Tommy by the bleachers, their heads bent together in conversation. They straightened up as I approached, falling into step beside me like the loyal lieutenants they were.
"Yo, King," Angelo greeted, his easy smile a contrast to the tension I felt coiling inside me. "You see the new girl's truck? Looks like it barely made it here."
I grunted in response, my eyes involuntarily scanning the parking lot for a glimpse of Sasha. "Yeah, I saw it."
Tommy, ever observant, caught the edge in my voice. "What's the deal with her, anyway? You've been on her case since day one."
For a moment, I considered telling them. About the summer we'd spent together as kids, about how she'd been the only one who could make me laugh after Mom died, about how she'd promised to write and then... nothing. But the words stuck in my throat.
"She doesn't belong here," I said instead, my voice hard. "And I'm going to make sure she knows it."
Angelo and Tommy exchanged a look, but neither pushed it. That's why they were my best friends, my brothers in all but blood. They knew when to back off.
As we entered the school, the crowd parted for us like the Red Sea. Freshmen scrambled to get out of our way, girls batted their eyelashes, and even the teachers gave us a wide berth. This was our kingdom, and everyone knew it.
But as we rounded the corner to my locker, I froze. There, leaning against the metal door like she owned the place, was Sasha.
She looked different than I remembered. Gone was the shy, awkward girl with braces and pigtails. In her place stood someone... else. Her hair was shorter now, dyed a vibrant pink at the ends. She wore ripped jeans and a vintage band tee, a far cry from the designer labels that surrounded us. But it was her eyes that caught me off guard – defiant, challenging, with a spark of something I couldn't quite place.
For a moment, I was that little boy again, standing on the edge of the lake, waiting for her to come back up for air. But then reality crashed back in, and I remembered who I was now. Who she'd made me become.
I stalked towards her, Angelo and Tommy flanking me. "You're in my way," I growled, my voice low and dangerous.
Sasha didn't flinch. Instead, she crossed her arms and met my gaze head-on. "We need to talk, Kingston."
"I've got nothing to say to you." I reached past her to open my locker, deliberately invading her space.
She didn't back down. "Then just listen. I know you hate me, and I get it. But this war between us? It needs to stop."
I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter. "War? Sweetheart, this isn't a war. It's barely even a skirmish. You have no idea what I'm capable of."
Something flashed in her eyes – hurt? Regret? – but it was gone before I could be sure. "Maybe not," she said quietly. "But I'm not going anywhere, King. So you might as well get used to it."
With that, she turned and walked away, leaving me staring after her, a storm of emotions raging inside me.
Angelo whistled low. "Damn, she's got balls."
I slammed my locker shut, the sound echoing through the now-empty hallway. "She's got nothing," I snarled. "And by the time I'm done with her, she'll have even less."
But as I watched her disappear around the corner, a tiny voice in the back of my mind whispered a traitorous thought. What if she's right? What if this war isn't worth fighting?
I shook my head, banishing the thought. I was Kingston Blake. I didn't back down, and I didn't lose. And Sasha? She was about to learn that the hard way.
As the first bell rang, I squared my shoulders and headed to class, the mask of the cold, untouchable King firmly back in place. But beneath it all, in a corner of my heart I thought long dead, something stirred. A memory of laughter by the lake, of shared secrets and pinky promises.
I pushed it down, buried it deep. I couldn't afford weakness, not now. Not ever again.
Game on, Sasha, I thought as I took my seat. Game fucking on.