Chapter 5

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Arthit left the club in a rush. He didn't know where he was going; all he knew was that he didn't want to be there anymore. He knew coming was a bad idea. He felt it from the moment they pulled into the parking lot, but it was his own fault for letting Tutah convince him to go in.

He stopped in the middle of the parking lot, his body tensing as he remembered the confrontation he just had and Tutah's connection to it.

That bastard...

He thought viciously, his hands clenching into fists as he turned around and started back towards the entrance, but he stopped short.

He couldn't go hauling off into the club after Tutah, not for something like this—something that shouldn't matter to him, even though it kinda did. Kongpob wasn't part of his life anymore—he had never really been—so this jealousy Arthit was feeling was completely inappropriate.

A heavy sigh left Arthit and, feeling rather dejected, he turned and finally left Table Top's parking lot. He walked along the sidewalk with no destination in mind, and after awhile he shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

Arthit stiffened when his fingers brushed against the ticket he had taken from Tutah and, even as he resisted the urge to do so, he pulled it out of his pocket.

It looked like any other normal raffle ticket; small, blue, and completely innocent. There was nothing on the small slip of heavy paper to suggest its true purpose. Arthit thought about throwing it away. He even stopped in front of a waste bin and held the ticket over it, but for some reason, he couldn't let go. He sighed again before shoving his hand back in his pocket and then he continued on his way.

He wondered as he walked along, cars passing him in the hazy night, what had happened in Kongpob's life that had changed him so drastically. Arthit couldn't believe, not for a moment, that what he did to Kongpob in high school was to blame.

It had happened so long ago and teenagers were resilient, surely Kongpob had gotten over it only to open himself to something even more damaging—something that would eventually lead the young man to Table Top.

Arthit's fingers curled into fists inside of his pockets and he felt a slight shiver pass through him as something, something soft and something he hadn't heard in a long, long time suggested that maybe, just maybe he had more to do with Kongpob's downfall than what Arthit was willing to admit.

x x x

Once upon a time, when Arthit was still the popular football star, there was an Upperclassmen. Everyone knew his name, and yet no one knew him.

He was a Suthiluck and that, within itself, was no small thing to be. His surname almost certainly guaranteed him popularity from the trails blazed by his siblings before him, but he had never reached for it. He was quiet, smart, and just the tiniest bit dorky.

He was an outcast—an outcast that watched instead of participated. He was shy and sweet, but had an aura about him, one that drew people in. Arthit wasn't the first and he certainly wouldn't be the last, but he'd be the only one to abuse it once he was accepted.

Being an outcast meant that the upperclassman was a target for teasing and bullying. It didn't matter to the student body who he was or who he was related to, he was an object of ridicule just the same.

One day, during a fit of boredom, Arthit's friends decided to use the outcast as a means to amuse themselves and like any other teenager his age striving for approval and acceptance, Arthit followed their lead.

That was the day the bet was made—the one that'd come to haunt Arthit for years. It was made because one of his friends mentioned how stuck up the youngest Suthiluck was, how prudish he seemed while he sat at that table all by himself.

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