Harvard Academy Elite

by Knight, Sapphire

  That math class she spoke of just so happens to be third period, which is the class we have together, and the last thing I need is one of those four in there with us. Sam would not leave me alone if they were. Hell, no female in the class would be able to function properly around them. I don’t think I have anything to worry about when it comes to shared class schedules though. They strike me as seniors just floating through their last year. They’re probably concentrating on doing as many females as possible and the bare minimum on actual work. I’ve learned over the years that seems to be the main agenda for senior guys—other than graduating.

  “’Sup, Kres?” I’m pulled into a strong embrace and lifted off my feet by an oversized warm body as I enter the class.

  “Brandon Tompkins put the young lady down,” the teacher chides, adjusting her glasses as she witnesses our exchange. I beam a bright smile at Brandon and pat his arm until he finally sets me on my feet and gives me some breathing room.

  “Hi, Brandon,” I greet with an amused grin and turn to apologize. “Sorry about that, Mrs. Lawkins.”

  “Just take a seat you two, and preferably, two separate seats. I’ve already been warned that Brandon is known for sitting on your desk during classes.”

  Cringing a little, I shoot her an apologetic smile. Brandon will no doubt keep our instructor on her toes. He’s a handful, but by the end of the year he’s usually most of the teachers’ favorite student, especially the women.

  He hoots, making a loud mess of the situation. “What! You’ve been gossiping in the teachers’ lounge, Mrs. Lawkins? Or, do you mind if I call you Sandra? I think I like the way Sandra sounds better; you seem younger.” He flirts and she rolls her eyes again. He’s a good friend of mine, but unlike him, I prefer not to have the instructor’s attention directed toward me.

  “Mr. Tompkins, take your seat, please.”

  “Oh, and a dominatrix as well,” he mutters on the way to a desk, making the class choke out the snickers they’d been attempting to hold back.

  He squeezes my bicep lightly and sits in the chair to my right. I’ve been friends with Brandon since kindergarten. He’s wanted to date me for a while now, but I just can’t think of him that way. I like him too much as a friend. I’ve heard that his gaggle of followers is upset, too, because they all want him, but he won’t date them. Supposedly, he’s holding out until I see the light. Unfortunately for him, it’ll never happen. I’ve told him that very thing before, too, but he still holds off on committing to anyone. I know he randomly dates; I’ve had a few people ask if it bothered me, but I always assure them that it doesn’t. I want him to find a girl that he likes, and she feels the same way for him in return.

  It’s not that I don’t find him attractive either, because I’m pretty sure every female in the entire school does. Brandon’s got that whole sweet, outgoing, dimples vibe about him. He’s super tall, around six foot five or something, too, so he basically smothers you if he decides to hug you. If he does, there’s no squirming away either. I think his muscles have muscles from playing so much football and baseball. It’s hard to resist his charm when paired with his big brown eyes resembling melted chocolate. Despite all of that, I see him like a brother—not that it deters him from attempting to change my mind on the matter.

  The class instantly becomes silent, drawing my attention away from Brandon. My gaze tiredly trails over each of my classmates before finally coming to stop at the front of the room. The cause for the sudden quiet and curious stares is none other than one of the new guys.

  I should’ve known right away too. And how did I get stuck with one of them first thing in the morning? This is AP; none of my new neighbors struck me as English buffs. But then again, I’d thought they were the moving guys. I had no idea they were a group of spoiled rich boys and I’d practically stuck my foot in my mouth when I met them all. Then they’d made such a commotion pulling into the parking lot this morning that I’ve basically remained in a state of frazzled nerves since first interacting with the four of them. This is so bad. I don’t have room for distractions this year or next.

  He locks his gaze with mine and it’s far too alluring to turn away. I shouldn’t stare—people are going to start talking if I do, and I don’t want to be anyone’s next topic of gossip. Rumors spread like wildfire here and I’m doing everything I can to keep a low profile and get the hell out with a scholarship.

  His gray orbs remain on me with each step he takes down the aisle. One foot after the other, he draws nearer, and it’s as if I’m in a trance, unable to look away. After an awkward moment of us staring at each other, he takes the seat directly to my left, looking toward the front. I could reach out and touch him if I wanted, but I don’t do it. We’re not friends; we don’t even know each other.

  He turns to me, catching my lingering stare on his profile. Pulling the glasses free from his collar, he places the obsidian framed specs on and offers me a shy smile. It’s him, the geekier one of the bunch. It’s not fair for me to call him that because there is absolutely nothing geeky about him. Oh no, he’s one hundred percent gorgeous just like his brothers. His irises are ash, though, not cobalt like Cole’s. I tuck that small detail away for later if I’m faced with them all at once like before. I don’t remember if the four of them all have different colored irises. I’ll have to try and get a good look sometime.

  “Hi again,” he murmurs quietly, being friendly. My mouth goes dry at the smooth, deep timbre. I had forgotten how low their voices were when we’d spoken before or how they all have that Southern twang mixed in with their words. Cole’s accent was much more pronounced, but I can definitely hear the easy drawl in Clark Kent’s words.

  “Hi,” I reply with a friendly smile. I don’t want him to think I’m some weirdo who only sweats and stares at people like I had after my run. They caught me at a very unflattering time of the day.

  “I, uh, didn’t catch your name yesterday.” His Adams apple bobs as he tugs at his black collared shirt a little, as if it’s constricting around his throat. It’s not, but maybe he’s shy after all? I can’t imagine him not having girlfriends that are prettier than me though. The guy is just that hot. Hell, they all were—sexy, like you see on TV.

  “I’m Kresley,” I whisper, attempting to not draw additional attention to us. “Most people around here call me Kres though.” I shrug, not wanting to admit that not many people call me anything because only a few speak to me on a daily basis.

  “I’m Axel,” he supplies and my stomach pitter-patters with excitement and anxiety all rolled into one. It’s been too long since this school had a new student, and now we have four of them—all on the same day. I’m sure my stomach isn’t the only one doing flips at seeing these guys. There’s no doubt in my mind that every girl in school has their sights set on the quads already.

  “I remember you,” I admit, and his smile grows. His teeth are perfect. Pearly white and straight, and now I can’t stop myself from imagining what it’d be like to kiss him. Not that he’d ever kiss me or anything, but I can’t stop thinking of his mouth.

  His irises aren’t just any old gray either. They remind me of a rainy day when the clouds are a darker shade from the stormy weather. His hair is short and styled neatly, his nose narrow and strong, but not too big for his face. And his lips...they’re the impeccable bit of plumpness that you just know when he kisses you that you’ll get lost in him. He’s the type of boy I could sit and stare at all day long discovering each and every little thing that makes him uniquely him.

  So, it turns out that maybe I am a sweater and starrer. Jesus. I’m going to embarrass myself with them by the end of the year. I can feel it.

  “You look beautiful today.”

  I swallow, taking his compliment in and open my mouth to respond when my hair is tugged from the opposite direction. I turn, finding Brandon. He’s got my hair twisted around his finger and a territorial glare pointed at Axel.

  “Are you okay?” I whisper
at my angry friend.

  “The teacher was speaking to you, but you were in la—la land. Pay attention up front.”

  I want to huff and roll my eyes but hold myself back. He’s only trying to make sure I don’t get detention on the first day back. I can’t fault him for looking out, especially because I know that if I get detention, he’ll do something to end up with the punishment as well. While it may not be a big deal for me to stay after school and do my homework, Brandon’s coach would be furious at him for being late to football practice and I don’t want him getting in trouble on my account.

  Nodding, I sit back in my chair and pay attention. That’s how I stay for the remainder of class, too, because I know if I move or look to my left, that I won’t be able to turn away from Axel. He’s far too enticing, especially knowing that he’s smart enough for this class. He’s obviously not all good looks and muscles. Did I mention he has muscles too? Not the big in your face kind like Brandon’s or Axel’s brother’s abs and jock boy, but you can definitely see that he’d pack a punch if he were to throw one. I imagine you’d have to be able to hold your own growing up with three brothers.

  One thing’s for certain, I’m going to have my hands full when Sam gets a good look at the four of them. And if the thought of her having crushes on them upsets me, then I can only imagine how it’ll be seeing them with a new girl on their arm each week. This is going to be a long year and it’s only begun.

  “I

  know who they are,” Sam bursts, full of energy as soon as I see her at lunch the following day. The servers walk around each of the filled tables asking if we want anything from their trays. I opt for the grilled lemon chicken and Sam grabs a filet mignon and Waldorf salad.

  “Oh?” I comment as our food’s placed in front of us and Brandon makes his way toward our table from the jocks. Surprisingly, I didn’t see Tristan amongst their fold, but I imagine it won’t be long before I do. I’m not startled at Sam’s declaration; I figured she’d be all over it. Not that I really want to discuss guys in front of Brandon, however. We’re only friends, sure, but it has to be uncomfortable for him when I know he’s wanted to date me in the past.

  Her grin blossoms and I can tell she’s on the verge of squealing in excitement. “French aristocrats!”

  “They’re too young...or something.” I wave her guess off.

  She snorts. “Not the guys, silly, their ancestors. They come from old money and holy shit they are super-duper wealthy. You know that billionaire that just pledged one hundred million euros to help rebuild the Notre Dame Cathedral?”

  Wincing, I think of that beautiful structure and the devastation. “Of course, the fire is a tragedy. I hope they catch the terrorists that started it. We all know it was arson even if the media likes to hide the truth from the world.”

  Brandon pulls out the vacant chair beside me and sits, leaning over with his arm resting on the back of my chair. We always sit like this though. He hangs with his football buddies until Sam and I get our food and then he makes his way over to sit with us. It’s not every day, but it happens enough that Sam doesn’t even blink when he leans in to listen. He’s nosey like she is.

  She continues, ignoring the interruption. “That guy is their grandfather, the billionaire.”

  My mouth drops open a little. “How do you know all this?” I ask, as Brandon turns to stare at me. His attention doesn’t go unnoticed, but I play it off like I’m not paying any attention.

  “I Googled, as has half the school.” Her eyes widen, like I’m dense for asking. “The other half knows from those of us too impatient to wait,” she fills in and I snort.

  “Of course they do,” I murmur, not missing the exasperated look she shoots my way before pasting another big smile on her mouth. I cut into my chicken, lifting my fork and Brandon dives in to steal the bite.

  “Hey!” A giggle breaks free and I grin his way. “I was going to eat that.”

  He shrugs. “I know, but I was tired of hearing about the new guys. Everyone has been talking about them and I’m over it.”

  “Have you seen them?” Sam interrupts. “Of course, we’re all taking about them; they’re hot and rich...oh, and in case you missed it, they’re hot and rich!” she repeats and Brandon scoffs in return.

  A shadow falls over our table; it takes me a second to realize that the lunchroom has grown suspiciously quiet. Glancing up, my mouth pops open. It seems to be a bad habit when I’m around these guys. Cole’s glaring menacingly at Brandon and I quickly flash a look beside me to see he’s returning the look right back at the Cajun.

  “Uh, hi?” I manage to squeak, and Axel greets quietly, “Hey, Kres.”

  Tristan’s mouth turns up into a cocky smirk. “May we join you?”

  “Me?” I ask as Sam snorts beside me. A growl comes from the big brute on my other side as Cole’s startling sapphire gaze finds mine.

  “Mon cher,” Cole murmurs.

  Brandon grumbles, “Like hell,” and I smack his firm thigh.

  “Abs” folds his arms across his wide, muscular chest, filling up the space even more, if that’s possible. Brandon is a big dude, but this guy’s a tank all on his own as well, let alone throw in three brothers to his side. They’re certainly their own force.

  Sam breaks through my awkward pause with a bright, welcoming smile. “Of course! Please join us. I’m Samantha Collingsworth by the way.”

  Cole snorts, muttering something under his breath as they pull the chairs out and take the vacant seats. Tristan meets my gaze. “Would you like to introduce us?” he asks, being the gentleman and I silently chide myself for being the muted idiot. I’m so damn rude and that’s not my usual MO.

  Drawing in a breath, I attempt not to stutter when Brandon tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I swear he got closer in the last few seconds, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he scoots me on his lap. It’s not out of the ordinary for him to do it and I’ve let the actions—his polite possessiveness—go on for far too long. “Guys, this is my best friend, Sam, and I’ve been friends with Brandon since I was five.” I don’t know why I share that bit about knowing Brandon for so long, maybe so the quads have a small understanding of our closeness. Brandon is not my boyfriend, by any means, but I won’t put him on the spot coming out and saying that at the moment.

  Clearing my throat, I gesture to the group in front of me. “Meet my new neighbors…Axel.” I nod toward Clark Kent. Gesturing at Cole next, I continue, “Cajun, the jock, and abs.” I use their nicknames as I have to draw a line somewhere. They can’t realize they’ve frazzled me so much already, and Sam would easily catch on to my little fib from before when I said I didn’t know them. It wasn’t technically a lie and I don’t know why I felt the need to hold back in the first place, but it’s too late now to change my previous decision.

  The guys stare at me, fully amused by my nicknames I’ve assigned to them. The jock speaks first with a chuckle. “I’m Tristan, but thanks for the jock compliment. I did help my team take home a trophy last year and was voted most valuable player.” He shrugs, clearly not shy about letting the world know he’s talented.

  Brandon’s body stills, his muscles flexing. “Shame you had to leave then, as that’s my title here.”

  Tristan flicks his intense stare to the man next to me, acting as if it’s the first time he’s noticed the massive form hovering over me like a possessive boyfriend. “Shame indeed. Let’s hope we don’t play the same position,” he throws out and it’s like lines being drawn in the sand. “I keep my spot no matter where I play.

  Cole chuckles. “Cajun, hmm, beba?” His icy glare cuts from Brandon to soften on me as he says it.

  “It was that or tattoos,” I admit reluctantly, and he chuckles again, amused.

  “Mon cher, I’m Cole. Thought you’d remember it though, as you were sweaty and panting at the time.” He flashes a devilish grin that has my heart stammering in my chest. His words sound naughty even though I kn
ow he’s referring to catching me after my run. No one else around here knows that minor detail though.

  Brandon’s chair scrapes, loudly echoing and goes flinging backwards as he stands and nearly roars in anger. The four across from me jump to their feet, chests puffed, ready for a fight. It’s enough to garner the attention of the entire room, much to my mortification. I hate being the center of attention and this throwdown that’s about to take place no doubt has me right smack dab in the center. This is not my scene. I’m quiet and kind and keep to myself.

  Abs growls low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest. His quiet dominance rearing its head once again, as he warns, “Be really careful with what you do next. I’ll paint this table with your face.”

  I nearly choke at the raspy threat and Sam gasps beside me. Quickly hopping up, eager to defuse this building tension, I clutch Brandon’s rigid bicep. “Go for a run, Brandon. Please,” I plead, not wanting these four to hurt him. He’s my friend and I want to protect him however I can, even if it’s merely getting him to leave. I have no doubt in my mind that my new neighbors can hold their own, no matter how big the other guy is. “You have a game coming up and you know how much the team needs you.” It’s the only thing I can think of to get him distracted. The team is everything to him…well, besides me. I gaze up at him, wanting him to see how much I need him to listen to me. Brandon usually does his own thing and others seem to roll with it, but he needs to take my advice on this.

  His pissed off coffee-colored irises meet mine before he rips his thick arm free and storms off. I’ve never seen him act like that before and find my hands a bit shaky as I meet the stares of the brothers in front of me and take my seat once again. Drama has never been my thing and I have no idea what to say or do at the moment to break up what just happened. It escalated so quickly that I almost want to believe it hadn’t happened at all. Everyone’s curious stares quickly push the wishful thinking away. They’ll no doubt be whispering about it for the remainder of the day.