by R. A. Smyth
Yup, the fucking asshole suckered me into eating with them. The other three shitheads agreed with Hawk—of course—and I was totally outnumbered, with no real argument for why I didn’t want to sit at their table, other than that I just didn’t want to.
Emilia looks at me impatiently with a quirked eyebrow.
“Ihavetostarteatingattheprincestable,” I blurt out, the words all running into one another in my haste.
Her eyes widen as she tries to comprehend what I just said. “You, what?”
Grimacing, I repeat myself, “I have to start eating at the princes’ table for breakfast.”
“Yeah, I figured you would,” she remarks sadly before plastering on a smile.
“I’m sorry.” I reach for her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’d much rather sit with you than up there being gawked at.”
Her smile turns genuine. “I know you would, but no girl in their right mind would turn down eating breakfast with all that hotness.”
I can’t help but laugh. She does have a point.
“Besides, we can eat lunch together on the days I’m not busy, right?”
“Definitely,” I promise.
“And I’ll still have Michael in the mornings.”
“Crap. Michael. I should probably explain all of this to him before he finds out tomorrow, right?” My eyes widen as realization dawns. “He probably already knows. Most of the school was there last night.”
Emilia shrugs. “He might not. The scholarship kids rarely listen to the school's gossip. It’s up to you, though. You could tell him when we see him later.”
We’re meeting Michael tonight for our standard weekly movie night. Usually, we do it on Friday or Saturday, but things have been a little hectic the last few days and I had to push it back. I guess tonight is as good a night as any to tell him.
Several hours later and the three of us are sprawled out in the movie theater with our popcorn while Emilia hums and haws over which movie she wants to watch. I don’t know why it’s such a big decision, she can always just pick the other movie next time it’s her night to decide—or more likely she’ll sucker me into picking it on my night.
On the plus side, it gives me the perfect opportunity to broach the whole Davenport subject with Michael. Emilia is the only other person I’ve told, and I’m a nervous wreck as I try to find the words to tell him. It’s strange because I didn’t feel this way when I told Emilia. Sure, I was nervous, but mostly because I didn’t want to lose her again, but with Michael, it feels different. I’m not sure why though.
“Uh, Michael. Can we talk for a sec?”
He looks up from where he was typing on his phone beside me, and I notice Emilia giving me an encouraging smile from his other side before focusing back on her movie choices, trying to give us some semblance of privacy. We discussed it earlier and she offered to sit out tonight if I wanted time to talk to Michael alone, but I feel more confident with her here. I worry I would have chickened out otherwise.
“Sure, what’s up?”
Biting on my lower lip, I swallow around the lump in my throat before continuing, “So, some stuff is going to come out tomorrow about me, but I wanted you to hear it from me first.”
“Okay,” he says hesitantly, drawing out the word as he looks at me with wary confusion.
“Uh…” I fiddle with a strand of my hair, glancing away from him. “This is kind of difficult to say, and I only found out a few weeks ago, so I get it. I struggled to wrap my head around it too. Honestly, I’m still coming to terms with it all—”
“Hadley.” His tone is sharp but soft, stopping my rambling as he places a hand on mine. “Just spit it out.”
“I’m a Davenport.”
His eyes widen before his brows furrow, confusion obvious in his brown irises.
“What?”
“I’m a Davenport,” I repeat. “Hawk’s my brother.”
“I don’t…How?”
I explain the craziness of the last few weeks to him, skipping over a lot of the details and leaving out anything that would raise red flags to the fact I’m dating two of the Princes—he definitely doesn’t need to know that yet.
“Wow, that’s insane,” he mutters, when I’m finished, still trying to wrap his head around everything I’ve told him.
“Yeah, you can say that again.” I chuckle awkwardly.
“Is that why they’ve been nicer lately?” His brows furrow. “But they’ve been acting different toward you all semester. How long have you all known?”
“Oh, well, the guys knew before they told me,” I blurt out. I don’t know why I lie. I guess, I don’t want him knowing I’ve known for two months and I’m only telling him now. We are supposed to be friends after all, but there’s no other explanation for the guys’ behavior.
“And they had some making up to do after the shit they pulled last semester,” Emilia tacks on helpfully.
Michael nods like that all makes sense, lapsing into silence as he mulls it all over.
“Okay, The Princess Diaries it is,” Emilia proclaims excitedly, having finally made her decision. I groan internally. Great, another romcom.
***
The dining hall falls into a deathly hush as we walk in the next morning. Eyes follow us as we stride toward the Princes’ table—can it really still be called that now? Pretty much every asshole in here was at the party, and whispers have been running rampant all weekend, so even the other scholarship kids probably know who I am by now.
Reaching the table, I stand beside Hawk, with Mason on my left, Cam on the other side of him, and West at the far end of the table.
“I’m sure you’ve all heard by now,” Hawk begins, his voice booming out across the otherwise silent room as everyone clings to his every word. “Hadley is my long-lost sister, Elizabeth.”
Just one more fucking thing I can’t get used to. Apparently, the change of name is non-negotiable. The school has already updated their system, and everything now says ‘Elizabeth Davenport’. I was even offered the top floor of the girls’ dorm to do with as I please—an offer I quickly refused, to the shock of the admin woman who couldn’t seem to understand why I would want to keep my room on the same floor as the scholarship girls.
“That means she’s one of us. No one is to mess with her.” He looks pointedly at Bianca, who is glaring daggers in my direction, steam practically pouring out of her ears as she vibrates with silent anger. I guess she’s feeling more confident today, surrounded by her friends and peers. “Or they will deal with us.”
Jeez, he makes it seem like I couldn’t handle any of these pampered pricks myself, and I have to hold back an eye roll at his words. I swear, I roll my eyes so much at the shit that comes out of his mouth, they are going to stick to the back of my head one day soon.
I’m so not done with Bianca though. After the abuse she has hurled my way all year, not to mention the shit she pulled at the Valentine’s Day dance, making me doubt Hawk and the guys, she is in for some serious hurt this semester. The fact I’m practically invincible now has a smirk curling at the corners of my lips as I smile darkly at her, causing her eyes to widen a fraction. That’s right, bitch. You better sleep with one eye open, ‘cause I’m coming for you.
“What about the girl of the month tradition?” someone calls out.
“Yeah, is she going to get to choose a guy?”
Whispers break out at that suggestion and I have to force my facial expression to remain neutral, not giving away how unappealing that idea sounds. There isn’t one sniveling idiot in this hellhole I’d willingly put up with for a whole month.
“No,” Mason growls, glowering in the direction of whoever spoke up. Based on the guys’ pissed off expressions the other night, they didn’t like the thought of me being included in their stupid tradition any more than I did, but we haven’t had a chance to actually discuss it—it kind of seemed redundant since we’ve decided to fuck the whole tradition. However, Mason’s sexy growling tone makes it obvious how muc
h he hates the idea, and I press my lips together to restrain my smirk at his possessive nature. What can I say, his jealousy makes me feel all sorts of sappy, girly feelings.
“There will be no more girl of the month tradition,” Hawk continues, speaking over the top of them and sparking an uproar of disagreement amongst the girls in the hall.
“Why?” someone shouts.
“This is ridiculous, you can’t just ignore tradition,” an angry voice calls out, and several others nod their heads in agreement before Hawk raises his hands.
“The decision is final,” he barks, glowering at the crowd with steely eyes, daring anyone to question him. “Things are going to change around here.” Whispers break out around the room as students share unsure looks with one another. “Everyone seems to have forgotten we are in charge. We are the Princes, and what we say is law.”
As the warning bell goes to tell everyone to hurry their asses up and get to class, his penetrating gaze roams around the hall, his cold expression enough to silence any other complaints.
“Get to class,” Mason barks in a threatening tone that has everyone jumping into action.
The hall is a chaos of noise, students gossiping and complaining to one another, speculating about the turn of events as they get up from their tables and head to class.
“Well, that was fun. So glad you talked me into all of this,” I grumble sarcastically, my attitude earning me an eye roll from Hawk which I promptly ignore, focusing on Cam and Mason. “English?”
“You two go on, I’ll catch up.” Mason winks at me, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to give Cam and I some time alone, or if he genuinely has something he needs to do before class. There’s no denying, things have been tense between Cam and I lately. There’s still none of his old flirty banter and easy conversation—which I miss terribly. Instead, everything feels stifled and awkward, but at least he’s no longer avoiding me, so I guess there’s that.
“Alright, we’ll catch you later.” Cam grabs his bag and with a final wave at the others, we head out of the dining hall.
As we make our way to class, everything is a complete one-eighty to how it was last week. Girls I don’t even recognize greet me by name—the wrong name of course—and guys blatantly check me out, giving me flirtatious smirks as I walk past.
“What the hell?” I whisper to Cam. “What is happening right now?”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Welcome to the top of the food chain. Now everyone wants to be your best friend, or date you.”
I scrunch my nose up. “No thanks.”
“Hey, Elizabeth,” some guy calls out as I reach the classroom door, giving me a typical dude chin lift greeting as he walks past.
“Who the fuck is that?” I ask Cam, confused.
“One of the many leeches that will crawl out of the woodwork and attempt to stick themselves to you.”
“Gross. Make them stop,” I groan, taking my usual seat and lifting out my notebook and tablet. I’m already not liking all of this extra attention.
Cam laughs at me, but I’m being serious.
“No can do,” he unhelpfully sing-songs as he sits down beside me, taking far too much pleasure from my pain. “It’s all part and parcel of being a Davenport. May as well get used to it, Elizabeth.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snarl, my sharp tone making him raise his eyebrows.
“It’s only a name.”
“My name is Hadley.” I snap out the words so it’s perfectly fucking clear for him. “Regardless of what other name these idiots call me, that is my name. It’s the name I chose. Hadley is who I am. Not Elizabeth, or anything else. Had-ley.” I spell it out for him loud and clear while he looks at me in bewilderment. He doesn’t get it, and why would he. He’s never had to live his life as someone he never wanted to be. I grew up being D. A fucking letter. The same as everyone at the compound. I don’t know if the D was for Davenport, or D for Dove, or if it was just the next letter in the alphabet when I walked through the door. It doesn’t even matter what it stands for because D is my past.
D is the scared kid who cried herself to sleep every night. D is the assassin who had to kill people to ensure her own survival. D is not who I am anymore. And I’m sure as fuck not Elizabeth either. After having so many rights withheld from me, the least I fucking deserve is to pick my own goddamn name. I picked Hadley. I am Hadley. The rest of these assholes can call me whatever the fuck they want, but Cam, and the others, will call me by my goddamn name.
He raises both of his hands in surrender. “Okay. Sorry. I was only teasing. Hadley suits you much better anyway.”
When he looks at me like I’m crazy, I realize I probably went a little overboard. He was only joking after all. Blame it on the stress of the last few days, and the complex I’m developing from carrying around so many different identities. After everything this morning at breakfast, and all the unwanted attention I’ve been getting, his little joke just sent me over the edge.
The rest of the day is the same. I swear more people try to engage me in conversation today than have spoken to me since I arrived at Pac Prep. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m fucking exhausted.
I’m not paying any attention as I order food at the kiosk and take a seat at my usual table. The Princes’ table is always free, but I’m more than happy to only sit there when I have to. I’ve had enough people staring at me today; I don’t need them all gawking at me while I shovel food in my mouth.
I drop my bag on the chair beside me, sagging back in my seat and closing my eyes, needing a moment to myself. They’ve only been closed for a few seconds when the sound of someone sitting down opposite me has me huffing out a breath. Assuming it’s Hawk, I open my eyes, scowling at him, but I’m taken by surprise to find yet another weirdo I don’t know slouching in a chair at my table with a cocky smirk on his face, acting like he fucking belongs here.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snap.
Yup, I’ve totally lost any control I had over my composure. Can’t I just eat a fucking sandwich in peace?!
His eyes widen at my sharp tone, but my closed-off expression and obvious fuck off vibes aren’t enough to get him to take a hike.
“You should come to the party with me this weekend, baby.” The guy leers at me in such a way that he’s obviously thinking about all the dirty things he’d do to me at the party—clearly, he has a death wish.
I pretend like I’m giving his offer some consideration, letting my eyes roam over his face before dropping down to take in his wide chest and muscular biceps. He’s attractive, but the stench of arrogance coming off of him is suffocating. I know Mason, West, and Cam all have that same air about them, but somehow it comes across as sexy and domineering. On this guy, it just makes him seem like a pretentious dickwad.
I scrunch my face up, letting him know I’m unimpressed by what I see and internally preening when his features tighten, and his jaw ticks.
“No, I don’t think so. Finishing the night unsatisfied is not my idea of a fun Friday night.”
His body tenses and he leans forward in his seat, losing his cool, calm façade as his hand, which was resting on the table, clenches into a fist. Rising out of his chair until he looms over the table in an attempt to cower me, he growls out in a menacing tone, “What did you just say?”
Unfazed, I lean back in my chair. The poor guy must have a hearing problem, maybe I need to speak louder.
“I said,” I begin in a much louder tone, attracting the interest of students from nearby tables, “even in your dreams, your teeny-weeny peen couldn’t get a girl off.”
Students at the tables around us snicker behind their hands as they watch us. The guy's face reddens with anger and he looks like he’s about to launch himself across the table when a large hand slams down on his shoulder, anchoring him in place.
“What’s going on here?” Mason demands, his usual impassive expression in place as his eyes dart between the two of us. The only hint that he’s angry is the dan
gerous gravelly tone of his voice as he spears the nameless dude with a cold enough look to have his heart stuttering to a stop.
“This guy was trying to get me to go to the party with him this weekend, and didn’t seem to like my answer.” I shrug innocently.
“You were being a bitch,” the guy protests.
He winces as Mason’s grip on his shoulder tightens to the point of pain, the move a silent demand for the asshole to watch his tone.
“You were being an arrogant asshat,” I argue back. “Next time, try getting to know a girl for five seconds first. And for god’s sake, fucking ask her, instead of acting like a cocky shithead.”
“Fuck off, Joshua, and don’t talk to her again,” Mason snaps, shoving the guy away from the table.
Stumbling over his feet, he glowers at the two of us before storming off, not daring to face off against a Prince.
“Why are you always pissing people off?” Mason huffs, sitting down in the now vacant chair opposite me.
“Me? He’s the one that came over here and was bothering me. Besides, if you’d had the day that I’ve had, you’d snap at some fucker too.”
He grins. “I might have something that will cheer you up.” I perk up at his words, curious as to what it could be. It would have to be something pretty fucking spectacular to get me out of my crappy mood.
“What is it?”
He leans forward in his seat so no one around us can overhear him. “There’s a fight night tomorrow. I thought you might like to come.”
Excitement thrums through me. Hell yes! Beating the shit out of some assholes is exactly what I need.
“You can’t fight, though,” he tacks on, pouring cold water over the happy light beginning to spark inside of me at the thought of slamming my fist into some idiot's face.
“That’s not any fun.” I pout.
“Babe.” He chuckles. “There’s no way any of the guys here would fight you after last time. And we can’t let you fight us in front of them.”
I tap my finger against my chin as an idea comes to mind.