by Beck, J. L.
“Anything you want,” he winks and presses a soft kiss to my hand that makes my stomach quiver. At Oliver’s words, she leads the way, taking us to this little coffee shop a couple blocks from the library. We sit down at a small table near the window, and I watch as Oliver walks up to the counter and orders us some coffees and pastries. Our gazes clash when he catches me staring at him, and I look away, my cheeks heating instantly.
Caroline giggles softly, and then asks, “How’s it been going? Last I talked to Sullivan, he told me you were staying with them for now?” Her question has images of me curled up in Sullivan’s bed last night popping into my head.
“It’s been going good,” I grin. “Actually, it’s been great.” I already know I’m blushing up to my hairline, giving my indecent thoughts away but it’s not like I have anything to hide, least of all, from Caroline.
“That’s good, and how have classes been? I know the rumor mill started up again, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Did someone say something?” Oliver’s voice cuts through the air, as he sets two cups in front of us.
“Yes,” Caroline pouts, “Tiffany and her stupid gang of barbie dolls are spreading rumors about Harlow again.”
Oliver’s gaze turns murderous, “I’m so fucking tired of them spreading lies about you.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he slams down into the seat beside me. He looks like a hungry lion, ready to strike down his prey. Placing my hand against his thigh, I give it a reassuring squeeze.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie. “They can say whatever they want. The only person who knows the truth is me.”
Oliver’s eyes move away from me and to something behind me. A moment later, a group of guys enter the coffee shop, their loud laughter and talk filling the quiet space. Sipping at my coffee, I try to ignore them, but it seems to get louder and louder.
“Dude, that’s Oliver Bishop, and Harlow, you know the one who likes to be double stuffed,” one of them snickers, and I can see the anger pouring out of Oliver like a river.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, even though it’s not. It’s not okay for them to say such shitty things, or to talk about me in such a degrading way like I’m not even here.
“No, it’s not,” Oliver growls, his leg bouncing up and down incessantly.
“Think he would share her with us? Let us take her for a spin?” Another guy laughs, his voice low and a little closer than the other guys.
“Never know unless you ask.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head. This is nauseating.
Caroline cringes. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be, none of this is…”
My words are cut off as a heavy body slams into the back of my chair, causing hot coffee to slosh out of my cup and onto my hand. A yelp slips past my lips, and I place the mug down on the table, before turning around in my seat, but there’s no point in scolding this guy because Oliver is already out of his chair, standing toe to toe with him.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“Sorry, it was an accident, not that it matters…” The asshole scuffs, like it wasn’t a big deal or rude as fuck.
“It matters, and you’re going to apologize for what you did.”
The guy’s eyes bug out of his head, and then he’s laughing, his voice bouncing off the walls inside my head.
“This prick thinks I’m going to apologize to his skank.” He elbows his buddy, who also joins in on the laughter. A knot of worry starts to form in my gut when I see Oliver’s balled up fists, they clench and unclench. Shit. He’s going to get himself into trouble for nothing. All because of some stupid idiots.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice Oliver moving until it’s too late. His fist connects with the loser’s face right as I’m getting up, the wooden chair clattering to the floor, drawing even more attention. But I don’t care. I’ve got to stop him before he gets himself into trouble. Moving fast, I curl my hand around his bicep and pull him back toward me, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. Pointless.
The asshole stumbles backward, his posse of friends catch him, as he holds a hand to his face, fury brewing in his eyes.
“Fucking prick just punched me, and all for some stretched out pussy.”
I don’t even let the words he’s saying affect me. They mean nothing, not a damn fucking thing. Oliver, however, thinks otherwise and lunges forward, hoping to get another punch in but I’m quicker this time and instead, put myself between him and the enemy.
“He’s not worth it. He’s just some idiot listening to a rumor that’s been spread more than Tiffany’s legs.” Wrapping my arms around his middle, I hug him tightly, resting my head against his chest, the sound of his erratic heartbeat filling my ears. His chest vibrates with anger as he makes the decision to stand down.
“Get out, assholes,” he growls.
“Whatever, she’s not worth it.” One mutters, and another says, “Keep the whore.” Again, I ignore them and hold on tighter to Oliver. The dinging of the door tells me they’ve finally left, and only then do I peel myself from his chest.
“I want to rearrange their faces,” Oliver snarls, looking devilishly handsome as he does so. My insides heat, my core pulsing with need. Damn vagina always getting in the way. A loud ringing pierces the air, and it takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone that’s ringing. Pulling the device from my pocket, I look down at the screen and see Shelby’s face and name flashing across it.
“Hold that thought,” I tell Oliver, and press the green answer key.
“Hey,” I barely get out before Shelby’s voice cuts me off.
“Oh, my god, Harlow! Our dorm it’s been… it’s…” There’s muffled crying, followed by a shriek. Instantly, I stand, ready to make my way toward the door, needing to make sure that Shelby is okay.
“What happened, are you okay?” The words come out in a panic.
“I’m fine, but our room is not. Get here soon, please,” Shelby pleads.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up the phone and notice that Oliver and Caroline are both standing now. They look at me confused, and I know I have to explain.
“Shelby said something’s happened to our room.” Fear radiates down my spine like a never-ending trickle of ice water.
“What do you mean?” Oliver questions, as I grab my bag, and we walk out of the coffee shop.
“I don’t know,” I answer, my distress evident in the three simple words. “She just said something has happened to our dorm.”
“God, I have a bad feeling about this.” Caroline sounds like she might be sick.
“Me too.”
It doesn’t take long for us to make it to the dorm, and when we arrive, Banks and Sullivan are standing outside the building, waiting for us. Oliver called them on the way, and they got here in record time.
“What’s going on?” They both ask with equal amounts of fear in their eyes. Oliver opens his mouth, answering for me.
“We don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” Entering the building, dread fills my gut, and it only mounts with every step I take, until it’s damn near suffocating me. By the time I make it to the room, I think I’m going to vomit. I’m about to open the door when it is pulled open by Shelby, her tear-stained cheeks and somber face greeting me.
“Harlow!” She cries and pulls me into her chest, wrapping her arms around me. It’s then that I notice all of my stuff destroyed, my bed flipped over, my belongings thrown around the room. But nothing could have prepared me for what I see next; the word SLUT spray-painted across my mattress in bright red paint, the same color as the one that was used to make the banner. I remember seeing the same word… in almost identical writing before. Someone wrote it on my T-shirts when I was doing laundry.
“I think it was Tiffany and her friends, it has to be,” Shelby cries. “Look at the handwriting, the paint, it’s all the same.”
“Fuck!” I hear Banks say.
“She will pay for this, no doubt about it. I’m going to make her life hell,” Oliver says next, but I don’t even feel the effect of his words. I know he’ll do exactly as he says, but right now I feel humiliated, so damn humiliated.
“I….” I pull from Shelby’s embrace, my chest rattling, as I suck air into my lungs. I’m angry, but I’m sad too. I hate these people. Say what you will about me, but don’t touch my things, and don’t mess with the people I care about.
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I don’t know how she got in,” Shelby says, and I can tell that this is all affecting her on a deeper level. “I’ve let you down,” she confesses a moment later.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” I tell her because I know it will be. “You didn’t let me down, never.”
“Should we call the cops? Or at least campus security?” Caroline asks.
“You think they would do anything? Investigate a prank, even if it was taken way too far?” Banks has a good point. What are the cops going to do?
“Let us clean this up, you and Caroline can go back to the house,” Oliver suggests, but I don’t want to leave yet. I want to help. I need to help. Those bitches may have hurt me, but they didn’t break me. I’m not going to go home and hide.
“No, I’ll help. Shelby needs me, she’s always been there for me, and I can’t leave her now, especially since it’s my fault our room got destroyed.”
“Okay,” Sullivan responds this time, and I can tell he’s unhappy with my answer but doesn’t push for me to leave. He knows I need this right now.
As we all clean up the room, I plot my revenge knowing someday soon I’ll make the bitch wish she never knew my name.
12
“Why can’t I just sit in this class?” Banks is basically yelling at this point, his hands clenched at his sides. The professor looks beyond annoyed, his almost always calm face starting to turn red with anger, while my own is becoming red for an entirely different reason.
“Because you are not enrolled in this class anymore, Mr. Bishop,” Professor Brown barks, his voice strained, like he’s about to lose his last thread of patience. “You need to leave my classroom now, or I will call campus security, and have you removed.”
His words come out as a threat, but something tells me he’ll do exactly what he says. Not wanting the situation to blow up further, I turn to Banks.
“Hey, it’s fine. I promise I’ll be okay,” I whisper, trying to calm him down, all while he continues to scowl at Professor Brown. A few moments pass, and I worry Banks will push the matter, but then he looks over at me, his eyes softening as they connect with mine.
“Fine,” Banks growls, the single word dripping with suffocating disdain. “I’ll pick you up at the end of class,” he directs the words at me, before shoving out of his seat. Then he leans forward and gives me a quick peck on the lips before turning toward the door.
Once he’s left the room, I force a smile, but it’s not returned by the professor, or anyone else, for that matter. Well, at least Tiffany is not in this class. It’s a small positive, but I’ll take it either way.
Prof. Brown goes back to the front of the class, and a heavy silence blankets the room. Half-way through class things have finally settled down enough for me to actually learn something. I might not be able to pass this class, but I can pick up some stuff, at least, to make next semester easier.
When a loud knocking interrupts the professor’s speech about different research methods, I half expect the door to open and there to be one of the Bishop brothers. Instead, the door frame is filled with my two bodyguards, Ernie and Bert. At the sight of them, I slouch down into my chair, picking up one of my textbooks, lifting it and holding it in front of my face.
“Can I help you?” Prof. Brown sighs in frustration.
“Yes, we need one of your students to come with us immediately. It’s a family emergency,” Bernie says.
Family emergency?
“Miss. Lockwood…” He scans the room and finds me almost immediately. “Please, this is very important,” he urges. I’m waiting for the feeling of dread and worry to hit me. He said family emergency that usually means someone is hurt.
I should be worried and scared, but neither feeling comes. Instead, I feel… annoyed. Nonetheless, I gather my things up and stuff everything into my backpack, before flinging it over my shoulder, and making my way to the door.
As soon as I reach the door, my security flanks me, as if they are protecting me from some imaginary threat.
“What kind of family emergency is it?” I question.
“Let me carry your bag for you,” one of the guys suggests and takes my bag from my shoulder before I can respond. Blinking slowly, I stare up at him.
I can carry my own things.
Annoyed as hell, I follow the two goons out, hoping that Banks is waiting outside the door for me. Disappointment fills my gut when he isn’t there, and I’m left alone with the security guards my father sent. It isn’t until we’re outside, and walking toward the parking lot that I realize they’re not trying to keep someone from getting to me, they are trying to stop me from leaving.
I dig my heels into the ground, stopping instantly. They must have expected the move because they stop a split second later, each grabbing onto one of my arms. Instantly, I’m restrained.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, demanding an answer. Instead of answering me, they just tighten their grips. My lip curls in anger.
“Tell me now, or I’ll scream.”
Bert, I think, squeezes my arm, “Your dad asked us to bring you to him, he is very worried about you…and your safety.”
My safety?
“I don’t give a crap what my father asked you to do or what he is worried about. I’m an adult. You can’t just pull me out of class, and force me to go with you. It’s kidnapping.”
Before I know it, I’m being dragged across the parking lot, the two guys tugging me along by my arms. Try as I might to dig my feet into the asphalt, nothing stops their movements, and soon we’re at a black SUV.
For some reason, only then do I think about screaming and calling for help.
“Help! I’m being kidnapped!” I yell at the top of my lungs while attempting to stomp my feet into the ground and make as much noise as possible. The two men don’t even blink at me.
One of the guys opens the door to the SUV while the other one pushes me inside, holding my head down, so I don’t bump it against the door frame. As soon as I’m in the car, he closes the door behind me. I grab the handle and pull on it frantically, but of course, it’s locked. I scoot across the bench and over to the other side and try that door.
“You can’t do this,” I growl, when the men get into the car a moment after depositing me inside.
Ignoring my comment completely, Bert turns to me. “Please buckle up, Miss.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I shake my head.
“No, you can’t make me.” Both men shrug as if they don’t care, and then they speed off. With their attention on the road, I search my pockets hoping to find my phone.
Shit! It’s in my backpack.
Ugh, I could kick myself for being so stupid. I never should have gotten up and walked out of that classroom. I should have just kept my ass glued to my chair, refusing to go anywhere, what’s the worst they could’ve done? Sinking deeper into the leather seat all I can hope is that someone saw me leave and maybe, just maybe told one of the guys what happened. Angrily, I stare out the window, and as soon as they turn right onto the highway heading North, I know they’re taking me back to my parents’ house… back to North Woods.
“What kind of emergency is this?”
“Your father told us that it was important that we not inform you of the matter. Instead, he will share the details with you when you arrive at the house.”
I want to scream, to punch the seat. Do anything but sit in this godforsaken seat like a child and wait for my fath
er to inform me as to why he had his bodyguards pull me out of class.
“Can I at least have my backpack?”
“I put it in the trunk. I will return it to you once we are back at the estate.”
Of course, he will.
I spend the rest of the drive moping, letting the anger simmer just underneath the surface, and thinking about all the things I’m going to say… no, scream at my father, once I’m in his presence.
We pull up the long winding driveway of my family’s estate, and my fury just intensifies. We park right in front of the house, just as the door opens and my parents appear on the front steps. My goons get out quickly opening the door for me so I can get out as well.
“Lloyd, Milton, thank you for getting her here,” my father greets the two men who dragged me here. Lloyd and Milton must be their real names, well, I like Ernie and Bert better… fits these two puppets. Pushing that unimportant thought away, I get ready to release my anger.
Waltzing up to the front door like I’m on a mission, I start yelling, “What the hell is this? Why are you having me kidnapped from school?”
“Harlow, calm down, and don’t be ridiculous. We didn’t have you kidnapped. We simply had you picked up from school.” My mother’s dismissive tone has my blood boiling.
“Picked up? Is that what you call dragging me across a parking lot, shoving me in a car against my will, and refusing to let me have my stuff? Because, to me, that is kidnapping!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, those Bishop boys were the ones who kidnapped you and held you hostage for three days,” my dad snaps. He might be right on the initial kidnapping part but, of course, I won’t admit to that.
“They didn’t hold me against my will, I stayed with them because I wanted to.” At my words, my mom sucks in a loud dramatic breath and holds her hand to her chest, as if she just had a mild heart attack.
My dad’s face turns slightly red, and there is a vein popping out on his forehead, but besides that, he is keeping a composed expression. “Let’s go in and talk,” he grits. I take the cue and stomp past my parents and inside the house.