Chapter 4 Garrett
Garrett
Last year at beloved Crownwell Academy, and who would’ve thought it’d turn into our own private version of The Hunger Games.
The Constellation—myself included—were the hunters. And the brand-new Narnia boy was the target.
Not that I’d planned it that way.
The first time I saw him, he slammed straight into me in the hallway like he didn’t understand how space worked. My first instinct was automatic—anger, weight shifting forward, muscles already coiling to shove him back where he belonged, because—well, yeah, why not …?
Then I looked at his face.
And everything in my head stalled.
Dark hair. Too soft. Too messy. Like he didn’t give a damn if it behaved or not. But it was his eyes that got me—amber, sharp, locked onto mine like he wasn’t afraid of what he’d find there. Like he wasn’t measuring escape routes as I stared.
And, for the record, I don’t do that.
I don’t look into other guys’ eyes and shit. I don’t freeze up in hallways. I don’t—
I’m not fucking queer.
So whatever that was, I shut it down immediately.
I told him to watch it. Cold. Flat. Like he was nothing. But he felt like something, and that bothered me enough to take off and not look back.
And I would’ve erased him completely after that if Ass-land—or whatever his hippie-ass name was—hadn’t decided to get right in my face the very next day.
The audacity.
Standing there in the cafeteria, calling us out like he had a death wish, like he hadn’t just walked into a system that chewed people up for sport. Like he didn’t know how this place worked.
So I gave him my famous—and rare—Silver Star badge.
But, somehow, he didn't grasp the memo, and two days after, he was still everywhere. In the halls. In class. In my face… Like a damn virus. Unsettling. Loud. Messing with my head in ways I did not appreciate.
Worse—he was messing with Aitor.
I saw it… And that alone was reason enough to end this quickly.
There was only one option.
Screw him over hard enough that he’d quit.
He didn’t belong at Crownwell anyway. And he sure as hell didn’t belong pulling attention from people who already had enough pressure on them.
The Constellation wasn’t just a group. It was an ecosystem. Balance. Control… And control came at a cost no one ever bothered to mention.
My mother liked to say leadership meant sacrifice, and she'd made too many to let me ruin it all for her.
That was crystal clear.
To me, keeping the top spot meant living every day with your spine locked tight, waiting for the smallest crack to turn into blood in the water.
I’d learned early what happened when you slipped… And I'd be damned if I was gonna go through that again…
So yeah.
We had a reputation to maintain, and Narnia boy was a threat—whether he meant to be or not.
I clenched my jaw and looked out over the quad, already planning how to make him disappear from my line of sight.
The equestrian fields sat at the edge of campus, fenced off by white rails and old money tradition. I leaned against the fence with the others, arms crossed, bored out of my skull.
Horses weren’t my thing. Too big. Too unpredictable. Too much power packed into something that could decide you were irrelevant in half a second.
Then I saw him. Of course…
Ass-land walking toward the paddock like he actually belonged there. Calm. Focused. No hesitation. He rested a hand on the horse’s neck like it was second nature.
Tempest.
Even I knew that name.
Three riders injured in the past year. One with a broken arm, another thrown hard enough to quit the program altogether. The instructors loved to pretend it was “character-building.”
I straightened without realizing it.
The idiot was new, but they assigned him the crazy horse anyway.
Aslan mounted smoothly, posture relaxed, like he’d done this a thousand times. Tempest shifted beneath him, muscles tensing, head tossing, and his neck arching as he stamped once, then twice, hard enough that a few people murmured.
Something in my chest tightened. Was I damned worried for him?
Tempest reared—just a fraction. Then bolted.
Not sideways. Not in a circle.
Straight for the fence.
Straight for me.
Shit!
For one frozen second, my body didn’t respond. I was pressed against the rail, eyes wide, heart slamming so hard it hurt. There was nowhere to go. No time to move.
I saw it all in brutal clarity—hooves tearing up the dirt, Tempest’s nostrils flared, its power unleashed and aimed directly at my face.
I braced for impact...
It never came.
“Aslan!” the instructor shouted, alarmed.
But he was already in high alert—leaning forward, lowering his center of gravity, voice cutting through the chaos in sharp, controlled Spanish commands. Calm, assertive, and unafraid.
Tempest slowed right at the fence…. Right in front of me.
The horse reared once, snorting, then stilled—massive head inches from my chest, breath hot against my skin. Dirt and silence hung heavy in the air.
Aslan’s eyes were locked on mine. Focused, intense, and steady. Like he’d never doubted he’d stop it.
Like I was part of the equation.
For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then Aslan swung down from the saddle and stepped back.
I realized I was breathing too fast. Forced it down. Straightened. Mask back in place.
“Don’t think saving me means I’ll go easy on you,” I said coolly, like my pulse hadn’t just tried to escape my ribcage.
A couple of laughs followed me as I turned and walked away. I didn’t look back.
That night, I lay alone in my room, lights off, staring at the ceiling in my private room. My private silence. The kind my mother preferred—no witnesses, no cracks.
But the image wouldn’t leave.
His muscles flexing as he rode that horse… A wild thing brought to heel without force.
I shut my eyes hard.
Next thing I knew, there was a knock on the door. Who the hell was it now? I swung my legs off the bed, annoyed.
When I opened it, there he was—Aslan, his wild hair falling over those liquid eyes. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing the smooth muscles of his chest. I swallowed hard at the sight.
“What the hell do you want?” I managed, my voice rougher than I intended.
Aslan stepped forward, closing the door behind him with a soft click. “You never thanked me properly for saving you.”
Before I could react, he was pressing against me, his body warm and solid. Then his lips were on mine—firm, demanding, tasting faintly of mint and something wilder.
I fought it for half a second before letting go.
My hands tangled in his hair as I kissed him back, all the tension of the day melting into raw need. His fingers worked at my shirt buttons while mine found his belt buckle. Clothes fell away between frantic kisses and gasps.
The room spun as he backed me toward the bed, his stare burning with an intensity that matched my own. Just as his hands gripped my hips, pulling me against him—my back hit the mattress with a soft thud.
Aslan was over me in an instant, his dark hair fanning his face, brushing those silky full lips. His mouth was on my neck, teeth grazing my skin just enough to make me gasp. I arched into him, my fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Garrett," he murmured against my throat, his voice low and rough. "You feel so fucking good."
My hands were already fumbling with the zipper of his jeans, desperate to feel more of him. He helped me, the fabric pooling at his knees before he pressed against me again, skin to skin, hard and ready.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing—needing—before I flipped us over, pinning his wrists above his head. A smirk played on his lips as I positioned myself between his thighs, my cock pressing against his entrance.
"Look at me," I demanded, my voice rough with need.
He met my gaze, his pupils blown wide. I pushed forward slowly, savoring the way his body yielded to mine. The tight heat enveloped me as I slid deeper inside. His breath hitched, his back arching off the bed.
Just as I was about to thrust into him completely—
I shot up in bed, heart racing. The room was dark. Empty. Just me and the ghost of a dream that felt more real than reality.
“What the fuck?”
My eyes went wild, jaw clenched, and nerves buzzing like I’d swallowed static.
Who the hell was this guy? I knew shit about him except that he was crawling under my skin like a goddamned leech. But I was gonna find out—and Evan was gonna help me dig up everything there was to dig about him.
Whatever this was—whatever he was doing to me—
I would end it.