by Callie Rose
A sardonic grin curved my lips. Yeah, that sounded about right, even though I hadn’t really dated much myself. My dad had been a sadistic asshole, but for some reason, he’d also been really protective of me when it came to guys.
Maybe he just worried if they got me naked, they’d see the bruises. Who the fuck knows.
“Yeah? So where’s Prentice Hall then?” I cocked an eyebrow.
Leah sighed dramatically. “Over there.”
She pointed ahead to where two smaller apartment-style buildings sat, tucked into a small grove of trees near the wall that surrounded the entire campus.
“Oh. I see what you mean.”
“Hey, it’s not all bad!” she said encouragingly. “You actually get the best view. There’s like a little forest back there. It’s pretty.”
I smiled in spite of myself. She was like a used car salesman, putting a positive spin on every perceived flaw.
Then she peeked down at my schedule again, unabashedly nosing into my business. Not that I really cared. “Oh, awesome! You’re a junior too.”
“Yeah. Do we have any classes together?”
Leah beamed. “We do, actually. Chemistry.” She stuck out her tongue. “Ugh, good. You can help me study for chemistry, because…” She mimed blowing her brains out, and I laughed.
“Trust me,” I promised, “you don’t want my help with chem.”
She shrugged, recovering from her fake death quickly. “Girl, you cannot be worse than me. If nothing else, we can be partners in misery.”
I hiked my backpack higher. “Yeah, all right. I can do that.”
When we reached the dorm, I used the keycard that’d been included in my packet to open the outer door, and we took the lobby elevator to the third floor.
“Prentice Hall also isn’t as luxurious as the rest of them,” Leah said as we pushed into my room. “It should be okay though, I think.”
I blinked. This isn’t as good as the rest of them?
Maybe it was because I’d lived in a crap hole for almost as long as I could remember, but I had no idea what she was talking about. The place was huge. It was a full, self-contained apartment unit, and a hell of a lot nicer than anything I would’ve been able to afford even in Sand Valley.
The living room area was sterile but large, with a huge TV mounted on the wall and dark gray furnishings. A kitchen stood ready for use, and the bedroom was twice the size of my room in the old apartment.
I can’t believe people actually live like this. And this is just the tip of the fucking iceberg.
“The furniture’s kinda shitty,” Leah said, running a finger along the back of the couch, which looked perfectly fine as far as I could tell. “But, see? Awesome view, right?”
My room was a corner unit, so it had windows on two sides. One side faced the rest of campus, where the other dorms could be seen in the far distance. The other side faced the woods. The thick trees were interrupted by the perimeter wall and continued on beyond that.
She was right. It was pretty. And Prentice Hall might be removed from everyone else, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. I was used to it just being me and my dad and a bunch of neighbors who didn’t give a shit. Living in a super packed dorm might’ve driven me nuts.
“Yeah.” I ran a hand through my long hair, tugging it over one shoulder. “It’s great.”
“Yay!” Leah clapped her hands together. Then she tugged her phone out of her bag, grimacing. “Fuck. I gotta get to class, my free period is almost over. You’ll be okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks for the tour.”
“Anytime. See you around. I was serious about studying for chem together.”
Once she left, I lugged my duffle, which had been delivered as Jacqueline had promised, into the bedroom and unpacked it. Several more identical copies of my uniform had been delivered too, which was a relief. If I was going to be forced to wear this schoolgirl shit every day, I’d at least better be able to wash it.
I’d already missed the first class on my schedule, and according to my phone, second period was halfway over.
I should at least try to make it to my third class on time, I guess.
My enrollment was already a week late. I’d be playing catch-up no matter what, but I didn’t want to get any more behind than I already was. Especially since I had a feeling the classes would be a lot harder here than at my crappy, overpopulated public school back home.
No more delaying the inevitable.
I hefted my backpack again and set off across campus, holding onto my schedule with a death grip and trying to make it look like I knew where I was going.
Without the buffer of a friendly, talkative buddy, I quickly became aware that everybody I passed stared at me. The looks weren’t hostile, but they were curious and assessing, and my stomach twisted as I kept my gaze focused straight ahead. I fucking hated being the new girl. I hoped the novelty of me wore off quick, because this sucked.
I made it back to the main school building with no problem—I would’ve had to be blind to miss it—but once I got inside, my confident footsteps slowed.
Dammit, where is it?
Glancing down at the schedule, I compared the listed room number to the ones I walked past. I was supposed to have US History in room 304C. But there were no letters at all on any of the rooms nearby.
Fucking fuck.
It’d taken me longer than I expected to get here from the dorms, and I only had about ten minutes left before class started. I really didn’t want to walk in late if I could help it.
I stopped a guy who was rushing in the opposite direction, clearly late for class himself, and he pointed me to a set of stairs before vanishing.
Clutching my schedule, I slipped through the access doors and was about to start up the stairway when a voice on the landing above made me jump.
“Jesus Christ, Cole! You think this is fucking okay?”
Whoever was speaking sounded pissed off, and the sound of footsteps rang in the stairwell, like maybe he was pacing or something.
“No.”
The second voice was deep and almost deadpan, as if the owner couldn’t make himself feel anything but a sort of detached amusement.
“Good. Because it’s not. I can’t fucking believe—”
“Dude. Mason. Calm down.”
“You calm the fuck down! What are we going to do about this shit? It’s unacceptable.”
Yeah. Whatever the hell these guys were arguing about—or not arguing, I really couldn’t quite tell what the second guy thought about any of it—I didn’t want to get in the middle. Another thing my dad had taught me was how to recognize the hint of danger in someone’s tone, and both of these boys made all my red flags go off.
I pulled open the door to slip back outside, but as I yanked on it, the first voice called over the railing one flight up.
“Hey!”
Fuck. They better not accuse me of eavesdropping. It’s not my damn fault they decided to have their little confab in a public stairwell.
Reluctantly, I turned around—
And stopped short.
It was two of the guys I’d seen in the convertible the other day.
The one with chocolate-brown hair was taller than I’d realized, and his aristocratic brows drew together as he stared down at me, just like they had when he’d seen me checking him out through the back window of the town car.
His friend was the one with hair so black it almost looked blue in the fluorescent light. It was cut close on the sides and longer on top, the straight strands messy and spiky. He had a strong nose, a defined jaw, and his shoulders were broad as fuck. They were wearing the male version of the uniform I was, but he’d taken off his blue jacket, and his ripped shoulders and biceps filled out the fabric of his dress shirt like they might split the seams at any moment. His ice-blue eyes were kind of blank, almost a little scary, as he joined the other boy in staring down at me.
I realized belatedly that I was staring too, gaping at t
hem like I’d done in the car with Jacqueline. What was it about these guys that knocked me back on my heels like this? I was usually pretty quick on the draw, especially when it came to self-preservation, which for some reason, this moment seemed to.
It felt like I needed to get out of here as fast as I could.
As though sharing a small, confined space with these two boys, however gorgeous they might be, was hazardous to my health.
Slowly, I reached for the door handle, but the brown-haired boy’s voice whipped out again.
“What are you doing?”
I turned back toward him, releasing the door so it fell shut with a thud. “I’m looking for my classroom. I don’t want to be late.”
He was the first one I’d heard speak—the one the other boy had called Mason. I was sure of it. There was still a hint of anger in his expression, and he narrowed his eyes at me like I’d personally affronted him somehow by trying to use the fucking stairs. Then he stepped back from the railing, holding out his hand.
“Let me see.”
I could’ve just slipped back out into the hallway I’d come from, but the first kid I’d asked had told me I needed to go up these stairs—and I still didn’t know where to go after that. It was either deal with this guy or be late to class for sure.
So I walked up the steps toward him, clutching my schedule so hard I wrinkled the paper. His buddy leaned back against the wall, watching my approach with half-hooded eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets.
The stairs were broad, and there was plenty of space for all three of us on the landing, but as soon as my feet cleared the last step, I felt like all the oxygen had evaporated from my lungs.
Maybe it was because the tall guy who was too beautiful for his own good hadn’t moved back to make room for me, and we stood only a few feet apart. He smelled like cedar and spice, and I found myself licking my lips, as if I could capture a little of that delicious aroma on my tongue.
He didn’t miss it either. His gaze tracked the movement, and his eyes sparked with something like satisfaction, even though the anger in them still burned hot and dark, like a fire behind his irises.
“What class?”
His voice was low, and I had to blink and shake my head before I could get my mouth to work well enough to answer him.
“US History.”
“Let’s see.”
He held his hand out again, and I extended the schedule toward him. I expected him to take it from me, but instead, his large hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me even closer to him. I stumbled in surprise, and my heart slammed in my chest as everything about him invaded the bubble of my space—his breath, his scent, his tall form. The slightly crumpled schedule filled the small space between us, as if the two of us had our heads bent over a treasure map.
“304C. That’s in Hammonds. We’re in Craydon. It’s the building west of here.”
He didn’t release his hold on my wrist as he spoke, and I could feel his friend’s gaze on us. Cole, he’d called him.
“Okay. Thanks.”
I pulled my arm out of his grip, prepared to retrace my path out of the building, but he finally stepped back, gesturing up the stairwell. “Go to the third floor. Take a left. There’s a skyway between this building and Hammond at the end of the hall.” His lips tilted in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t be late.”
“Thanks.” I guess.
If I was late, it would be because he’d insisted on taking his sweet-ass time giving me directions, but I chose not to mention that. Whatever argument—or whatever it was—I’d interrupted clearly wasn’t done. I’d rather just get the hell out of here and leave them to it.
I pushed past him and hustled up the steps, taking them two at a time even though it made my knees twinge and probably flashed way too much leg to the guys still standing below.
It was only when I pulled open the door on the third floor and stepped out into the hallway that I realized my hands were shaking. The schedule still clutched in my grip quivered like a leaf in a breeze, and I folded it up, stuffing it angrily into a side pocket of my bag.
I’d been standing so close to Mason, the boy with the striking green eyes, that I was sure he’d noticed the effect he had on me—and for some reason, that pissed me off.
It felt like I’d lost something.
A game I hadn’t even realized I’d been playing.
Jesus. Get it the fuck together, Talia.
Chapter 4
Thankfully, whatever other weirdness might’ve gone down in the stairwell, Mason hadn’t been bullshitting me about how to get to my history class. I found the skyway to Hammond Hall, and once I was in the right building, it was easy to find the classroom.
I was still late though. Thanks a lot, dickhead.
After peering through the small window in the door, I braced myself and yanked it open, giving the teacher a tight smile that didn’t feel at all authentic. She responded by frowning and adjusting her glasses at me.
“You must be Talia Hildebrand.”
I nodded, wincing at the still-unfamiliar last name. I’d been Talia Parker all my life, up until a few days ago “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Well, you’re late.” She sighed, picking up a heavy textbook and a syllabus from her desk and handing it to me. “Find a seat and don’t make a habit of it.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
My gaze flicked over the room. There was only one available seat, toward the back of the class.
The teacher—Mrs. Gates, if I remembered right from my class schedule—resumed her lecture as I picked my way through the desks, and most people turned back toward the front to listen. But as I settled into my chair, a prickle of awareness made me look up, and my gaze landed on another familiar face.
The blond boy from the convertible.
He was sprawled in his seat on the opposite side of the room, about as far back as I was, and when everyone else had turned away from me, his gaze had remained. He was fucking built, maybe bigger than Cole, and his broad, muscled frame looked almost comically large crammed behind the tiny desk.
Shit, he looks like some jock wet dream. All golden hair, tan skinned, and light brown eyes, like clover honey. He looked like the perfect stereotype of what all girls craved, and I was surprised to find the look did it for me.
But it did.
It really did.
He was smiling, just like he had been in the car that day—as if he couldn’t not smile, as if life was all just one big, hilarious joke, too funny not to grin at.
I couldn’t exactly relate to that sentiment, but I had to admit, his smile was one of the most gorgeous things I’d ever seen. He had perfect white teeth framed by two dimples in his cheeks, and when he caught me staring back at him, his eyes sparkled with humor and… heat.
His gaze trailed from my face down to my toes in a slow perusal, and I could feel a flush creeping along my skin as my body reacted to his attention. He wasn’t exactly being subtle about checking me out, but it didn’t seem to bother him one bit that I knew what he was doing.
He tugged his full bottom lip between his teeth, sinking deeper into his chair as he spread his legs languidly, tapping the bottom of the desk in the row next to his with his foot. He’d loosened the tie of his uniform, and somehow he managed to make even the stuffy, uptight outfit look casual.
“Are we boring you, Mr. Whittaker?” Mrs. Gates called from the front of the class. “Eyes up here, please.”
He flicked his gaze up toward the front of the room briefly, but I got the distinct impression he didn’t do it because he had to. In fact, I got the impression Mrs. Gates couldn’t make this guy do much of anything if he didn’t want to—and not just because he was practically double her size. He had an air of easy confidence about him, as if the world had opened every door he’d ever stood in front of, and he had no doubt it would do so again and again.
Must be fucking nice.
I peeled open my book, flipping to the cha
pter number that was written on the whiteboard and following along as Mrs. Gates lectured. I didn’t look at the guy again, but I didn’t need to. Every time his gaze landed on me—and it happened quite a bit—I felt it, like a feather being dragged lightly over my skin.
When class finally let out, I made a break for it quickly, not wanting to give Mrs. Gates a chance to pull me up to the front and make me introduce myself or some shit like that. Not that she seemed too interested in that sort of thing. Everyone here was already a week into classes, and she clearly didn’t feel the need to slow down her lesson plan with “new student show and tell”.
And I’d been right about the curriculum being harder here.
This class was way ahead of where I’d been at Sand Valley High, and if all my classes were like this, I was going to have to kick my ass into gear to catch up—or at the very least, not fall any further behind.
Since I hadn’t actually made it to my first two classes, the next period after History was lunch. At least I knew where the dining hall was, thanks to Leah’s tour. I left my schedule tucked away in my bag, not wanting to look any more like a tourist and an outsider than I probably already did, and hiked across the quad toward the large cafeteria building.
It was done in the same style as all the other buildings in campus, with arched windows, white walls, and a red tiled roof. The look was actually starting to grow on me. Between that and the constant, relentless blue skies and sunshine, the whole place seemed to glow like it existed on some kind of ethereal plane.
I could understand why so many people from the fly-over states ended up making a break for the West Coast. It was fucking beautiful.
Wide steps led up to the dining hall entrance, and a sign out front declared it Astor Hall.
My stomach growled as I climbed the stairs. I’d been too nervous and distracted to eat breakfast before leaving my grandparents’ house, and now I was starving.
Like every other place at Oak Park, the dining hall was unnecessarily elaborate and luxurious. At its most basic, it was set up just like my old cafeteria—but in actual appearance, it didn’t look anything like that place. Food was served along one wall, and it looked like they either had it catered in or had some legit chefs on staff. There were dozens of options, including a full salad bar, and staff moved around the room, clearing trays from empty tables.