(junior year)

He's here.

I knew it the moment I saw his shiny silver Corvette parked in the gravel driveway of the house. It had been two months since I've seen him last. He called to check in every week and all. But it felt like an obligation, you know?

I climbed out of my matte black BMW M3, stopping to stare at the house for a second. The exterior was a combination of brick and wood. Blue roof. Brick walls. Wooden floor. It looked hella cozy. Too bad it was a manipulative bitch, just like its owners - me included.

Honestly, though? I'd gotten so used to having it all to myself for the past years. Sure, it was lonely as fucking hell sometimes. But having someone in the house who also owned it felt sorta awkward now, especially when that someone was just as fucked up as I was.

Good thing they didn't usually stay for long whenever they visited.

I sighed, dreading seeing him. Out of the four of us, he turned out the worst. Shaking my head, I walked towards the front door and swung my keys around my forefinger.

See, the thing about this house was that it was quiet. Sure, it was fucking huge. But you would definitely know if someone else was home - if you could even call it that.

The moment I opened the door and stepped foot inside, I heard a faint murmur of the TV in the far right side of the house. The gym was there. Typical.

Wanting to get this over with, I headed to where he was. With him here, the elegant house felt foreign to me as I walked down the main hall. The walls had been white for as long as I could remember.

When someone mentioned their childhood memory, it was usually a pleasant one. It was automatic. Most kids played outside and got dirty, waited for ice cream trucks, and just did whatever silly thing they could get away with.

But whenever I thought of mine, the only things I could recall were the lessons in the afternoon, fancy dinners I could care fucking less about, and high school parties I was way too fucking young to witness. I remembered being reprimanded once for playing tag with the kids at school. Don't get me wrong, I was allowed to play. I just wasn't allowed to look like a slob while I was at it. Fun, right?

Well, at least they gave a shit back then.

I could hear my older brother's feet pounding against the equipment as I neared. I quietly pushed the glass door and entered the gym. My eyes settled on the guy running on the treadmill.

He was facing the window, with the view of the swimming pool. His broad back was covered in sweat. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only sweatpants and sneakers. He was bigger than me by a couple of inches. But I was quickly catching up.

"Been a while."

My head snapped up. He didn't turn around, nor glance in my direction, yet he knew I was here. If I wasn't so used to it, I'd be creeped out.

"Speak up," said Clyde.

I didn't.

"You're not gonna say hi to me?"

What's the point? You're gonna leave, anyway.

He shook his head and chuckled in amusement.

Damn. It was scary how much Clyde and I looked so fucking alike. I was literally the younger version of him. Our only difference was; he looked like a goddamn saint - which was way fucking far from it.

That's the thing about Clyde, though. He's deceivingly charming. He'll hook you in with his angelic smile and good manners. He'll make you think you're his friend - and you'll trust him. Completely. Only to bite your fucking face off.

He wouldn't give a shit if you ended up homeless, too, as long as he got what he wanted. To him, it was all about business. If you didn't add up to equation, you were useless.

He got a bunch of connections.

But real friends? Zilch.

I tilted my head and waited for Clyde to say more. Surely, he wouldn't go all the way here only to have a small nonsense chat. He wasn't shallow like that.

"My offer's still up," he added, "in case you changed your mind."

I knew it.

Last summer (around the time we last saw each other), he unexpectedly gave me the option to attend a boarding school somewhere in Washington DC. He even offered to pay for everything. I honestly thought he'd gone nuts.

But our parents would never allow it. Shocker, I know. They insisted we go to a public high school instead of a private one, which they could more than afford. It was weird how much they cared about social status yet they made us attend a public high school. Something about training us to survive or some stupid shit like that.

Told ya we're all fucked up in this family.

"How's your girlfriend?"

My eyes snapped to his at the mention of Snow. Clyde glanced at me over his shoulder. I caught a smirk before he turned to face his front.

"Why are you here?" I finally asked.

If he came to convince me to agree getting shipped off to boarding school, he was seriously out of his fucking mind.

"Am I not allowed in my own home?"

"This isn't a home. We both know it."

He hopped off the treadmill and faced me.

"Be that as it may, I missed it," he shrugged.

"Wow," I breathed out in disbelief. "You're human, after all."

He winked. "Don't tell anyone."

"Not worth my time."

He chuckled, picking up a towel on the near table and wiping his sweat with it.

"What have you been up to lately?"

I snorted. "You care?"

"You're my brother."

Clyde wasn't the one who taught me how to play ball.

Ethan did.

Clyde wasn't the one who taught me how to pick up chicks.

Ethan did.

Clyde wasn't the one who made me realize I was worth something.

Ethan did.

To think, Ethan Tyler was just my sister Annabelle's ex-boyfriend. He wasn't blood. But he treated me like family, unlike my own.

So no, Clyde didn't care. Not really.

When he finished wiping his face, he hung the towel over his shoulder. His face turned serious as he looked at me, saying, "I want you to go to the boarding school in DC."

He won't let up, will he?

"You think the old man will allow it?" I asked skeptically.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you see him protesting?"

I didn't answer. It stung more than it fucking should.

"As I've mentioned last summer, St. Albans School has a promising -"

"Cut the crap, Clyde," I snapped, glaring at him. I couldn't take this shit anymore. He acted like he gave a shit, but we both knew he didn't. "You only want me to attend that damn school so I could be buddies with America's wealthy legacies. You want me there so you can have more connections. Just fucking own up to it."

The corner of his lips curled up a little. "I want you there so you can have connections of your own." He paused to stare at me. "You seriously don't think you have a future in football, do you?"

My hands turned into fists, gripping my keys in the process but I was too caught up to care. He noticed it, because he shook his head.

"Even if you do make it pro, running backs are the lowest paid in the NFL. You know why - because they're the most disposable. You gonna rely on your trust fund, then? What happens to the rest of your life? You need a backup plan."

I hated the way he spoke.

I hated how he seemed like he cared about me all of a sudden.

Most of all, I fucking hate how I almost fell for it.

"Money isn't everything," I deadpanned.

"Don't be fucking naïve," he spat.

"You believe in money, fine. That's your call. But my code is loyalty."

"Loyalty means jack shit in a world that revolves around money and power."

I laughed humorlessly. "You're a fucking piece of work, you know that? The old man must be so proud of you."

"I'm his masterpiece," he leered, stretching his arms proudly.

Twisted son of a bitch.

"Football season just started. I won't abandon my team just to get connections that I won't use until at least a decade. What matters is what's happening right now. And right now, you're pissing me the hell off."

A crooked smile stretched across his face. I tried to read what he was thinking. But before I could, his phone buzzed. He walked to it, checked the message, and let out a breath.

"Fortunately for you," he began, "I won't be staying long."

"Great," I merely said, turning to leave.

"Be careful, little brother. Loyalty could be your downfall someday."

I gritted my teeth, jaw clenched. I tightened my grip on the keys, faintly wondering if the edges of the metal could cut through my skin enough to cause bleeding.

Without looking at Clyde, I replied with the coldest tone I could muster.

"At least, I know it'll be for something worth it."

_____________

This is only the first half of this chapter. I divided it because I finished writing the first half tonight and it was begging me to upload it here. Haha. Besides, I'd like for you guys to focus on one thing at a time. Mainly, Clyde first.

Did Clyde creep you out? Were you mad at him? Did he piss you off, too? Is he hot? (He's Kellan Lutz, duh.) I had a freakin' hard time writing him, btw. XD

Going on a serious note... Some people kept asking me this. The point of the 'past chapters' is for everyone to fully understand what happened. The past must be told in a way that it's as if you were there, too. It's not just a background story. It's how everything went down. It's the turning point. I want everyone to see how Oz was before the incident in junior year. So that you could understand and see how much he changed. And how he'll change again. As I've said, the past-present thing will only be told until the truth is revealed. It won't last the entire book. I understand how you must get confused and frustrated. Tbh, making you feel that way is point. ;)