Privileged

by Carrie Aarons

  “Funny, I thought it would be something stereotypical like Winston Churchill’s war journals or something along those lines.” Nora picks up a cool looking stamp set and places it back down.

  “But Clue, yeah? That film used to scare the bollocks out of me. The one with that wonky butler character.”

  Nora laughs as we head for the third floor. “Me too, actually. But I was always Professor Plum.”

  “Not Miss Scarlett?” My eyes heat as I obviously look her over.

  She actually makes contact and hits my arm slightly. “Brains always ruled over looks in my corner of the world, Frederick.”

  Tilting my head, sincerity pops out of my mouth before I can come up with a plotted phrase. “I think I like you more for that fact.”

  Nora’s eyes hold something akin to shock and endearment, and I’m speechless for one of the only times in my life. Because it’s true, I do kind of like her for all of the things that make her different from other girls.

  The third floor looks like pink and flowers lost its stomach all over the walls. Baby dolls, cartoon makeup, Barbie’s, Cabbage Patch Kids and every imaginable girl toy that could ever be shoved into a dollhouse resided on this floor.

  “Oh God, let’s get out of here please.” Nora heads right for the up escalator, and I’m surprised once more.

  “What, the princess doesn’t like princesses?”

  Her amber eyes flash. “According to you, I’m a peasant, not a princess. And no, I never was one for all of the flash and makeup.”

  She threw my words of our first meeting right back at me. “About that, I may have made a small clanger.”

  I follow the long waves of red off the moving stairs and onto the fourth floor, one with a random assortment of toys.

  “A clanger?” Nora looks confused.

  “A mistake, a misjudgment. I thought you knew everything, girl genius.”

  A blush tinges her high cheekbones. “You forget that we have different slang where I come from. If I asked you what jawn, youse, or jimmies were, you wouldn’t know, now would you?”

  Chuckling, she’s got me. “I suppose not.”

  Something must catch her eye, because she doesn’t bother to answer me.

  But at least this is going better than I thought it was. She may think she’s only giving me trivial information, but some of these likes and dislikes give me insight into her personality. Nora likes to read mysteries and thrillers, which means that she is attracted to complications and puzzles. Frilly, fancy things don’t hold her interest, and she’s smart as a whip. And through our meandering talk, I’ve picked up on all of her body language. The way her cheeks pink when I say something that makes her blood warm. How her eyes slant to the right when she’s trying to be cheeky, but I know she secretly likes to sass me. Every time she is in the vicinity of another person, she all but vanishes, skirting around them and trying to go as unnoticed as possible.

  All of these little clues, little quirks, will help me get closer to her. Help me insert myself into her life. And when I have her good and wrapped around my finger, I’ll get closer to crushing the one person who has made my life a living hell.

  “This is what I want.” Nora interrupts my thoughts as she holds up a box that is almost as big as she is.

  “That’s really what you want?” My face must be one of disapproving confusion.

  “You said whatever I want, and this was your idea in the first place. So carry this down and grant my wish.”

  I can’t help but take the innuendo she’s given me. “Oh, love, I’ll grant any wish you desire.”

  Again, her cheeks go scarlet with embarrassed arousal.

  But, I take the large chemistry set box from her hands and lug it down the escalators, out to the cash registers and pay for the thing. When I’d decided to take her here, it was the last thing I’d ever guess she would buy. Then again, it was why I’d done it, to try and anticipate more about her personality and actions.

  As we parted on the sidewalk and I put her in a taxi, I didn’t even try to kiss her. I pretended to be the perfect gentleman, putting the large box in the back and opening her door. Then I’d winked and she’d smiled and waved as the car drove off.

  I’d mark the day overall as a win in my book. But as I grabbed my own taxi home, I couldn’t help but feel a mixed sea of emotions swirling about in my stomach. I was closer to my end goal, but I realized as the car turned onto Downing Street, that I was actually coming to like Nora Randolph.

  And that was the last thing I needed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nora

  I’d gone soft as a hardboiled egg.

  For the first time in eighteen years, I’d let someone my own age, of the opposite sex, break through my tough outer shell. And I was just as surprised as anyone that it was Asher Frederick.

  But after the toy store, he’d finally worn me down enough to the point that I was letting him be seen with me in the hallways at Windsor. And walk me home after school.

  And kiss me up against the stone security walls surrounding Kensington Palace, the parts where no guards would see us.

  In the weeks since our impromptu hangout, Asher had managed to erase my initial thoughts about him. Okay, not erased. Because I was a teenage girl and I still went back to that first day in the hall, and the trip to Paris, and his intimidating nature. But at the toy store, he had been like a different person. An open, honest and friendly boy … one who talked about books and wanted to get to know me. One who joked about stuffed animals and what outfits were sexiest on Barbie’s. Which Harry Potter character he’d liked best growing up; Ron, surprisingly.

  And each day Asher revealed a new, better side of himself. On one walk home, he’d introduced me to Radiohead as we walked along sharing his earbuds. I’d actually flirted and been bold enough to reach out and grasp his hand since we’d been walking so closely together. At a coffee shop last week, he’d ordered me a chocolate croissant as I picked a table in the back. And he’d known to do that because I’d brought one for breakfast just two days earlier.

  I was finding that for the first time, it was nice to be noticed. Usually I tried to fade into the background, but with the attention Asher gave me, I felt like stepping into the sunlight. We hadn’t really done much of it in public—most of our interaction had been one-on-one or walking together but not touching at school—and I had started to think that maybe he didn’t want people to know about our … I didn’t even know what to call it.

  God, I was so becoming the kind of girl I used to loathe. Who cared what he wanted or if he had the need to hide me or what we were doing? Also, why was I concerning myself with this?

  Each time he texted me or smiled at me or met me somewhere to hang out, a tiny alarm bell sounded in my brain. Remember what he said before you softened up to him. And every time, I pushed it aside. London was turning me into a masochist. Maybe it was something in the water.

  Maybe it was just Asher Frederick.

  I didn't often watch romantic comedies or read romance novels, but the few I did always followed the same guidelines. Your life was perfectly average until the world put the ultimate wrecking ball in your way in the form of a man. The specific man designed for that specific woman, the one who would knock her knees out from under her and cause her to become a raving lunatic. But it was okay, because in the end they found love and the world was righted.

  Was I becoming that lunatic? And did he feel the same way?

  I shook my head to physically clear it as I walked through the front doors of Winston. And as I turned the corner, I spotted him. My stomach began to flutter with that nervous energy that only seemed to be honed by him. I took in every inch of Asher’s long, lean body. From the dark mop of styled hair, to the strong jaw and jewel-like eyes, so green they looked like the lush trees of rainforests I’d read about in books. My gaze traveled down his form, the rower’s muscles barely contained beneath the neat school uniform. And even though every other boy in school wo
re it, it looked like it had been tailor-made for Asher Frederick.

  He was the definition of a school girl crush. The boy that every girl had thought about when she listened to love songs in her bedroom and wrote in her diary. But he also had that bad boy lurking beneath the skin, the one you wanted to sneak out with and hide from your mother.

  I had never been the girl who’d attracted the attention from someone the likes of him, but miraculously, his eyes seemed to be glued to me as well.

  And so did his lips. My core flushed just from the thought of those lazy, dragging kisses he left me with at the end of our walks home. Asher hadn’t caught on yet that I was a virgin. And when I say virgin, I mean to everything. He was the first boy I had ever kissed.

  His eyes catch me staring, and he raises an eyebrow in greeting. I make it to my locker before I realize he is there beside me, leaning his back against the polished wood and looking all kinds of delicious.

  “And how are you today, love?” He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel the heat passing between us.

  I pretend not to sneak a glance at him as I pull out a book from my locker. “Oh you know, same old. There is some popular kid trying to get my attention.”

  “Is that so? In that case, I’ll have to bloody kill him.” He turns so that his massive shoulder leans against the lockers.

  Over the past month, I’ve become obsessed with Asher’s arms. They’re naturally long, almost freakishly so, but all of the rowing has practically turned them into weapons. I want to hang off of them like my own personal jungle gym.

  “Well, it’s not like I’m seeing anyone, so I thought I’d give him a call.” I know he loves it when I’m cheeky, and with Asher, I’ve somehow become versed in the art of flirting.

  Those green eyes go onyx. “We’ll just see about that.”

  He doesn’t kiss me on the cheek as he walks away, but I feel the need to reach up and fan my face.

  “I heard she polished his knob in the music room closet.” A few giggles come from across the hall as I see three pairs of eyes dart away.

  Huh?

  “Are you dating Asher Frederick?”

  Before I can even wrap my head around the rumor that just flew across the space between the lockers, I’m confronted by a tall blond girl standing in the space Asher just occupied.

  “Um, I don’t believe that is any of your business.” I can’t believe the defensive tone is coming from my mouth.

  She leans over to the girls next to her. “I told you they were just shagging. Thanks!”

  Her words and their malicious smiles feel like a full on slap in the face, and I haven’t picked my jaw up off the floor even when they round the corner out of sight.

  Is that what the other kids at Winston truly think? That I’m classless enough to be hooking up with someone I’ve known for barely three months? Not that it’s classless, but I don’t know. They don’t even know me. No one here knows I’m a virgin, and yet they’re gossiping about my sex life like it’s some big party and everyone is invited?

  “Oh, darling, don’t even let those silly slags get you down.” Eloise came up to my locker, only a tiny Chanel purse slung over her shoulders.

  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her or another girl in this school carrying actual books. What the hell was I doing wrong?

  “I … uh, is that what everyone around here thinks?” I shuffle my feet as I sling my book laden bag around a shoulder.

  She shrugs. “I mean, it is Asher, and this is high school. Albeit a very expensive, exclusive one. But the same things still go on here. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. But don’t worry, even if you are knocking knickers, I won’t spread it around.”

  “Oh, well thanks.” I roll my eyes. “We aren’t, by the way.”

  I don’t ask about the “it is Asher” comment, because I’m too afraid to delve into the history surrounding him that I’m sure is filled with dirt and ex-flings.

  “I’m all for whatever you want to do with your naughty bits, I encourage it.” She holds her hands up.

  “Eloise, seriously. We’re not having sex. I’m not even with him.”

  She death glares me. “Well, I said you didn’t have to tell me. But don’t lie to me, love.”

  I huff. “This is insane.”

  “You’re the one who decided to get caught in Asher’s web.” She walks next to me as I make my way to the next period.

  “You’re implying that he isn’t the one infatuated with me. Why couldn’t it be the other way around?”

  At this, Eloise laughs. “Oh, darling, don’t make me hiccup. You’re about as innocent as a church mouse, and he’s the Hugh Grant of Downing Street.”

  She clacks along in her non-approved black stilettos as I enter the door to my next class.

  Her words stay with me throughout the period though. Maybe there is a lot I still need to learn about Asher. And maybe I’ve been jumping way ahead of myself after all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Asher

  Being among the elite families and notable persons of Europe, not to mention the world, came with its duties. My father, and by extension me, had a packed social calendar filled with parties, ceremonies, openings and charitable events.

  While he attended one of these many boring functions almost every night, I was brought along to the most important ones as a way to show unity and bravado. He would walk me around like his pet, introducing me to new faces and schmoozing with old ones. I would one day be in his shoes, as he always reminded me.

  Tonight was no different. The opening of a brand-new opera at the Vienna State Opera, and everyone who was anyone in our circle was there.

  “I want to see you take another shot of Pimm’s.” Speri claps her hands behind me.

  Our merry band of teenagers has already commandeered a balcony away from the arse-kissing and politics going on in the main lobby. It’s like the Roman Colosseum down there, everyone is chummy until they’re forced to rip out each other’s throats.

  The chandeliers glint off of the velvet seats and cascading murals, everything about the opera over-the-top and opulent. Women in their ball gowns and men in their three-piece tuxedos, some sporting canes or pocket watches. It was all for show, pomp and circumstance the one thing that got you further in our world than any other attribute. Sure, wit and cunning counted for something, but what was that saying? Fake it ’til you make it? That was how half the people in this room had scored an invitation to this event.

  I take my hands off of the balcony railing where I’m observing the crowd below and instead turn my gaze to my friends.

  Drake and Ed are sprawled in red velvet chairs, nursing four fingers of scotch each. Two familiar faces to our crowd, but ones that usually don’t come out to these events, are Lillian and Alexander. Twin third years at Winston, their mother was the Secretary of State for Education and a big player in the world of the wealthy and powerful. They’re goofing around, daring each other to do childish things and generally acting like tossers. Speri is almost a bottle down, which she hides well. And Katherine, Eloise and Nora sit on a large chaise lounge, chatting.

  And Nora, my girl, she was legless. A laugh bubbled out of her mouth, and her eyes were sleepy with alcohol. I hadn’t really been keeping track of how much she had to drink, as I needed to keep my eyes off of her.

  If I looked straight at her, it would be like burning my retinas in the sun. Why she’d picked a dress the exact same color of the crushed red velvet the opera house sported was beyond me. Radiant. Breathtaking. Cock pummeling. I’d been sporting a stiffy all night, and each time I saw that fire-engine material stick to another desirable curve of her body, I had to bite my tongue in frustration.

  “Ugh, it tastes like poison, I don’t know how you all drink this stuff.” She leaned back on the chaise, her breasts pushing up at the top of the strapless dress.

  “It gets easier as you drink more. See?” Katherine downs another capful of the citrusy gin.

  I don’t
know what made Nora let loose tonight. Maybe since she’d been to a couple of events and hung out with us, she felt more comfortable. She shouldn’t, people like us weren’t ones to trust, but she was naïve and gullible. Maybe she thought we were more of a … thing, and that was making her feel like one of the group.

  Regardless, she was drunk. And was playing right into my hands.

  “Have another.” I wink at her for extra encouragement.

  “Okay, fine.” She whistles a bit and downs another shot, and I can see it burn as she makes a sour face.

  I will say, it’s rather brilliant having her around to play with these days. Sure, I may be pretending to be a gentleman—walking her home from school and escorting her through the halls, hanging out in coffee shops and buying her favorite snacks—but it was all for show. Underneath, I was trying little ways to have the paparazzi find her. They’d caught us at a hookah bar on Edgeware Road, and crashed our date to Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. Each time, I’d been sure to be holding her hand, or putting us out there in a certain way.

  Slowly but surely I was trying to get to Bennett McAlister. Ruin his reputation. Slash his chances of becoming an integral part of the government or ascending the throne. Bury his perfect little life six feet under.

  And getting the perks of snogging Nora and trying to get in her pants … well those were just bloody bonuses.

  Drake motions to Katherine, and they leave the secluded balcony. I guess I’ve known for a while now that they’re shagging, but they’re also shagging everyone else so it’s not a big thing. There are only a few couples at Winston who are actually faithful to each other, and our gang would never be caught dead hanging around with those goody-two-shoes.

  “Maybe we could go somewhere too.”

  A small, warm hand grips my bicep where it rests on the railing, and I move closer to Nora. She’s drunk and randy, and here is yet another perk of having her as part of my plan. I turn to gather her in my arms, the need to feel her close becoming an intrinsic action these days.