by Eva Ashwood
I suppress a snort. I know I’ll have to meet the other students eventually, but I imagine that none of these rich shits with their fancy cars and trust funds will look favorably upon the dyed-haired, tattooed stranger who’s invaded their precious school grounds.
Not like I actually give a shit what they think.
Pocketing my map since I have a good idea of where I’m going, I’m about to veer left toward a large stone building when a wave of dizziness hits me hard. The breeze shifts, carrying the heavy scent of lilacs to my nostrils, and the cloying, potent fragrance only makes the dizziness worse.
My feet stumble to a halt, and I sway slightly, wishing I had something to fucking hold on to for balance. I may not give a shit what these rich assholes think of me, but life has taught me not to show weakness around people I don’t trust—which is pretty much everyone.
Fuck.
Can’t I have an episode somewhere else?
Preferably in solitude, where the potential blackout won’t gain me an unwanted audience.
My chest hurts. My head feels like it’s going to split open. I swallow down the metallic taste of bile, trying to close my nostrils off to the too sweet, too cloying scent.
Shit. First the episode on my last day at the McAlisters’ house, and now this. I don’t like how off-kilter I feel at the mercy of my fucked up brain.
The breeze shifts again, and I manage to force my feet to carry me forward. A few more yards and the floral smell fades from the air, allowing me to drag in deeper breaths. I clench my hands into fists as I force my head to clear, dragging myself away from the edge of an attack.
Suddenly, a body slams into mine.
My already not-quite-there balance is thrown off entirely, but a strong arm wraps around me before I can go down like a sack of bricks.
“Whoa there, my bad. Was on my phone and didn’t see you there.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t listen when someone tells you to watch where you’re going,” a second deep voice chimes in.
I pull away from the first speaker’s hold, steadying myself through sheer willpower alone. My vision is still a little blurry, but when it settles and clears, I turn around to find myself looking at two guys close to my age.
One is blond and built like a fucking linebacker, like he could go toe-to-toe with Jason Mamoa himself. His light brown eyes gleam with amusement, as if something funny just happened, and a goofy grin quirks his lips, showcasing twin dimples in his cheeks.
Beside him stands a guy with messy dark hair and eyes that are such a deep brown they look almost black. He’s surprisingly tatted up for a school like this—honestly, I sort of expected to be the only person on campus with any ink. The design on his left arm emerges from under the sleeve of his T-shirt, snaking all the way down to his wrist.
He looks vaguely familiar, although maybe it’s just because I’ve seen his I don’t give a fuck expression on so many faces before.
“Anyway, sorry.” The linebacker speaks up again, drawing my attention back to him.
“Yeah. Don’t worry about it.” I stand a little straighter, shaking my head a little to test it. The world doesn’t spin in my vision, and I breathe a little sigh of relief that I managed to stave off a full-on attack.
“My name’s Elias, by the way.” His grin widens as he holds out his hand like he expects me to shake it. “You? Never seen you around here before—and I always know who the ladies of Hawthorne are.”
“She’s obviously a freshman.” His friend shrugs. He’s still got that disinterested look on his face, but the intense way his gaze is zeroed in on me tells a different story. “I’m Declan.”
Unlike Elias, he doesn’t hold his hand out, just jerks his chin up in a half nod.
“Why is that obvious?” I ask, brow shooting up. Challenging.
Elias laughs. “Spunky. I like that. But don’t take it the wrong way. The only new faces at Hawthorne are first-years. The school doesn’t take on transfers.”
“Why? Does it spoil the elite breeding gene pool the school’s founders are trying to cultivate?”
Elias laughs again; his dimples deepen.
“Nah. Maybe? Probably. But it’d be hard to spoil everyone’s good genes.” He winks at me. “Mine are particularly impressive. So. Where’d you come from?” He cocks his head. “That hair… those gorgeous grey eyes… You a Weston cousin? Or maybe a rebel from the Clairemont family?”
“Avery does have a thing for tattoos. Maybe it’s genetic.” Declan eyes my ink appreciatively.
I can’t help the bemused laugh that falls from my lips. Are these rich guys really standing here contemplating what other ridiculously rich people I may or may not be related to?
“No. Jesus, I’m not a Weston or a Clairemont or a… whatever.” I shake my head, interrupting them as they list increasingly pretentious-sounding surnames. “I don’t even know who any of those people are. I’m one of the new scholarship students. I’m from LA.”
The shift in the two men in front of me is like a lightning strike against a night sky—sudden and ominous. Their voices break off, their features darkening as they stare at me for a moment.
What the fuck?
“You’re one of the new scholarship students?” Elias asks slowly, his dimples nowhere to be seen now.
Well, so much for all that cordiality, all the easy-going charm and high-bred flirting. I expected to be given some shit for being the charity case among the elite, but I’m honestly a little taken aback by how instantaneous and intense the change in them was.
A second ago, they were both looking at me with an appreciative sort of hunger in their eyes.
Now their expressions are completely shuttered, closed off and hard.
At least I don’t care enough to be offended.
“Yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m one of the scholarship students. Is that a problem?”
6
Elias blinks, as if my words have startled him out of some private thought. Then he gives a half-smile, although it has nowhere near the wattage of charm his earlier grin held. “Nah, it’s not a problem. It’s just…”
“Unexpected,” Declan finishes when Elias trails off.
“Yeah.” Elias shrugs, shooting a glance at his friend before looking back at me. “Since there are so few of you, we don’t usually meet the scholarship kids so randomly outside of classes…”
Sure. That’s why they both just went from hot to cold like someone flipped a damn switch.
Bull-fucking-shit.
They’re acting weird, and irritation rises inside me—not so much at them as at myself. I actually got taken in by their charm and easy good looks for a second. I let my guard down more than I should have, forgetting lessons I’ve spent years learning the hard way.
There’s a burst of noise and chattering voices as the doors of one of the nearby school buildings bang open. Dozens of students filter out into the warm sunlight, laughing and talking amongst themselves. I know classes won’t start until Monday, but I guess I was wrong to think the campus would be a ghost town until then.
Declan and Elias look in the direction of the noise too, and I take a step back, already turning away from them. A good time to leave, I think. Make my exit and spare myself the early onset of scrutiny that comes with being the charity case. I’ll have to deal with that shit soon enough—no reason to get a head start.
But as I start to make my wordless departure toward the admin building, the approach of a new man makes me pause.
He’s walking toward us with purpose, his gaze focused on the two guys behind me as he lifts his chin in greeting. But then his focus shifts to me and his entire posture changes as he recognizes me.
I recognize him too.
Hell, I’d remember those piercing blue-green eyes anywhere.
It’s Gray.
The man who fucked me senseless in the bathroom of The Silent Hour all those months ago before doing it all over again in the alley behind the bar
.
My first thought?
Please let him be the other scholarship student.
Let him be the small beacon of much needed solidarity among these out of touch rich fucks that don’t have anything better to do than judge a poor person on sight.
My second thought?
I wonder how far away our dorms are from each other.
I think maybe he’s had the same idea. That smoldering, soul drenching gaze is turned on me, fiery as the night we fucked in a dirty bathroom like we were about to die.
He looks like he wants to pick up right where we left off. Like he wants to throw me over his shoulder and haul me into another alley, then push me up against a wall and fuck me so hard the entire building shakes.
I’m not really opposed.
In fact, my panties are already slick just thinking about it.
His long strides bring him closer, and we don’t look away from each other as he comes to a stop a few feet away from me. He’s far enough away that I’d have to take a step forward to reach out and touch him, but even so, energy crackles in the air between us, white-hot and electric.
“Sophie.”
His voice is the same deep rumble I remember, and my body reacts to the sound instantaneously, as if it’s been imprinted on my soul. Even my name sounds sinful on his lips, like it’s a promise of every filthy thing he wants to do to me.
“Ah. Well, we didn’t get her name.” Elias clears his throat, and although I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Gray, I see the blond man glancing between us in my periphery. His gaze settles on Gray as he adds, “She’s the new scholarship student. The second one.”
Because I’m watching Gray so intently, I see every detail of his expression as he absorbs that information.
And if I thought the reaction from the other two men was harsh, the change in Gray is so fierce and so complete that it almost gives me physical whiplash.
His jaw tightens, his lips pressing into a line. The hungry gaze that was fixed on me a moment ago is no longer ravenous.
It’s cold.
Disgusted.
Like he’s looking at a slug making its slimy trail up the side of his bedroom wall.
My heart kicks up in my chest, a burst of adrenaline flooding me as my instincts prepare my body for a fight. I don’t know what the fuck just happened, I don’t know what these men have against me, but I’d be an idiot not to realize that something is wrong.
This isn’t just the mocking or derision that I’d braced myself for as one of the school’s few charity cases.
This is hatred.
And I don’t know where it came from.
Before I can say a word—not that I know what I would say—Gray opens his mouth and laughs. It’s loud, almost intentionally so. Forced-sounding, like he’s using it to draw attention.
And it works.
Students who were drifting away from the building they all emerged from a moment ago slow their steps, turning to watch the four of us with interested, greedy gazes. Probably hoping for some cheap entertainment they can gossip about later.
Gray’s ocean eyes flick toward the gathering crowd quickly, and then he lifts his voice again.
“Right,” he drawls. “The second scholarship student. Bit of a waste if you ask me. Kinda like tossing money into a dumpster and lighting it on fucking fire.”
“Excuse me?” My voice is hard. The warmth that flooded my veins when he first looked at me has turned to ice, freezing my limbs.
The shift in his tone grates like sandpaper against my skin. He’s cruel. Vitriolic.
“You heard me.” He smirks, his gaze burning into me. “One charity case is already a stretch for the school. Two though? What’s the fucking point? You take some messed up druggie or coke slut off the street, polish her up, give her a piece of paper that says ‘you did good sweetie,’ and then what? She’s still a fucked up mess. Still a pathetic loser.” He chuckles. “There’s not a degree in the world that can change that.”
I grit my teeth, my hands curling into fists. Two minutes ago, I wanted to fuck this man’s brains out on whatever horizontal—or vertical—surface we could find. Now it’s taking every bit of self-control I have not to plant my fist in his face.
“What the fuck is your problem with me?” I spit out. “What the hell difference does it make to you if I’m here on a scholarship or not? You don’t even know me. You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”
His smirk takes on an even darker twist, and he steps forward, closing the distance between us in two long strides. I back up, but it doesn’t stop him from getting fully up in my space.
“I know enough, Sparrow,” he murmurs, and this time his words aren’t a performance, a show for the crowd. They’re just for me. “You shouldn’t have come here. You don’t deserve to be here. And if you’re smart, you’ll turn around and fucking leave.”
My heart gives a weird half-thud in my chest, like it forgot how to beat for a second. The malice in his words is palpable, almost like a physical weight that presses against me.
But it’s only one word that stopped my heart.
Sparrow.
The tattoo I have on my shoulder. My favorite tattoo, the one that means more to me than any of the others. It’s of a bird in flight, wings outstretched as they catch the air.
Graceful.
Beautiful.
Free.
He saw it the night we had sex at The Silent Hour. I know he did. I can still feel his fingers tracing the outline of the ink.
He remembers that night just as well as I do, and he’s letting me know it. But whatever passed between us then, whatever seemed to pass between us when he first caught sight of me today, it doesn’t mean anything now.
Not anymore.
Whatever chemistry existed between us once, it’s been swallowed up by hatred.
I have no idea where all this is coming from, but the longer this goes on, the more attention we draw. Dozens of people have formed a wide circle around the four of us, watching the spectacle unfold. They whisper among themselves, eyeing me, eyeing the trio of guys.
Gray hesitates for a moment, still leaning so close to me that I can smell the masculine scent of his aftershave. It’s spicy and rich, and I hate that my body remembers that too, but it does.
When he finally steps back from me, I let out a breath, trying to clear my nostrils of his addictive scent. Like I could purge my body of his memory somehow. He shares a look with the two men behind me, and they step around me to join ranks with him, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder.
Fuck. They’re friends of his. Not casual acquaintances like I first assumed, but good friends. The kind of friends who will hate me just because he does. They probably don’t even need to know why.
“So…” Gray raises his voice again, resuming the public show. “Our new scholarship classmate.” He glances at the crowd. “You want a fun fact about our little freshman inductee? Sparrow and I know each other.” He smirks, looking me in the eyes. “Biblically. Intimately. Though I gotta say, I wouldn’t waste your time on her if you think she’s gonna be a decent charity case lay. She’s not very… entertaining.”
Anger flares through me like a bolt of lightning. I remember that night at The Silent Hour, and I’m positive he does too. And “entertaining” isn’t even on the list of things that could be used to describe what happened between us.
It was meant to be a quick and dirty fuck to take my mind off my grief, to banish the pain for a few minutes. It was meant to be a brief, meaningless entertainment.
But that’s not what it was.
We fucked each other within an inch of our souls leaving our bodies. It wasn’t just sex. It was a goddamn collision, something I’d never experienced in my life before that night.
And now he’s laughing about it, telling the crowd about it, making sure the entire campus will know about it come Monday morning.
Just to prove some fucking point.
Well, fuck him. And fuc
k all these single-celled rich shits who think any of this is funny, let alone any of their goddamn business.
“Sorry.” I raise my voice to match his, letting an easy, taunting smile slide across my face. “It was probably so lousy because I spent most of the time trying to figure out if you were actually inside me or if you were just dry humping me like a two-inch virgin.”
A ripple goes through the gathered students, and I get the sense that no one actually expected me to stand up to Gray. Low noises reach my ears—a chuckle here, a snicker there, a few whispered voices. Over the sound of the crowd’s reaction comes a braying laugh. It’s grating, setting my teeth on edge like nails on a chalkboard and making goosebumps scatter across my skin. It nearly distracts me from the satisfying sight of Gray’s shocked expression.
I guess he didn’t expect me to hit back either. Did he seriously think I’d just stand there and take whatever bullshit he threw at me without lashing out in return?
Does he think I’m that fucking weak?
Or does he just have that much power?
I want to say something else. I want to turn the look of surprise on his face into one of regret. I want to make him sorry he ever opened his fucking mouth and talked shit about me.
But the prickling tingle racing over my skin is only getting worse. My heart is beating harder and fuzzy blackness is creeping in at the edges of my vision. The attack I staved off before Elias bumped into me is returning full-force, and this time, I don’t know if I can hold it off.
I won’t fall in front of these men or their stupid fucking groupies.
I won’t let them see me vulnerable.
A cold sweat is breaking out over my skin, and it takes effort to move my limbs normally, but I force myself to shoot Gray one more unimpressed look before I turn and walk away, forging a path through the bodies still clustered in a loose circle around us.
My head stays high and my spine straight until I round the corner of a building. When I’m sure none of them can see me anymore, I pick up my pace, staggering like a drunk as I try to put as much distance between me and them as I can before the attack overtakes me fully.