by R. A. Smyth
I take a step back, then another, refusing to turn my back on either of them.
“Come on, man,” Cam encourages, clapping his hand on Hawk’s shoulder. “We’ve got shit to do.”
It takes him another minute, but finally, Hawk seems to relent, giving a sharp nod and letting Cam steer him backward. His eyes never leave mine though, until the two of them round the corner, disappearing out of sight.
Jesus, fuck. Can I not just get to my room in peace?
That night, I’m working in my room when there’s a knock at the door. Expecting it to be Emilia, I answer in nothing more than an old pair of gym shorts and a ratty t-shirt.
“Michael,” I gasp in surprise.
“Sorry.” He looks embarrassed as he rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I know it’s late. I was craving some ice cream, and I thought I’d see if you wanted to grab some? I noticed your light was on, so I figured you’d still be up.”
“Eh, yeah. Sure. Just give me a sec,” I rush, caught off-guard and feeling flustered. Grabbing a baggy hoodie, I quickly throw it on over my top, grabbing my key and locking the door on my way out.
“How’s your first week going?” he asks as we head outside into the cool night air. It’s nearly midnight and there aren’t many students around as we walk over to the dining hall.
“Yeah, it’s going good. The workload is intense, but I’m slowly settling in.”
“Good, I’m glad. It’s been fun having you around this week.”
His words take me by surprise, as I wrack my brain to think of even one moment that he could maybe classify as me being ‘fun’, but I come up empty. I’ve hardly spoken to any of the other scholarship students all week, too busy with classes; and four assholes have been consuming my every spare thought.
Reaching the dining hall, he holds the door open, gesturing for me to go on ahead of him. Giving him an unsure smile, I step in, just as a hurricane of brown hair barges past, knocking me against the wall.
“Out of my way, bitch,” Bianca snaps as she storms past me, rushing out the door.
Turning to watch her, she power walks as fast as she can in her heels, racing back towards the girls’ dorms.
“I wonder what that was about,” Michael says, looking as bewildered as I do.
“No idea.” I shrug, casting my eyes around the room. The hall is empty, except for the four assholes themselves at the back of the room. Cam is stomping across the room toward them, his brows furrowed and a scowl etched across his face as he runs his hand frustratingly through his blond hair. Hawk’s storm-induced eyes zone in on me as soon as I step into the hall, like he has some sort of sixth sense that I’m here.
“Ice cream?” Michael prompts when I make no attempt to move from the doorway.
“Right, yeah.” Shaking myself out of the distraction, I try to ignore their magnetizing presence pulsing from the back of the room, screaming at me to look their way. Instead I follow Michael over to the freezer. I’m quickly pulled out of my thoughts by the vast range of flavors facing me. In front of me are tubs containing every flavor of ice cream imaginable. I couldn’t even tell you the last time I had ice cream. I remember eating it once as a child—some sort of fruity, berry flavour, I think. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever had.
Scanning the labels, I hum and ha for a good minute before deciding on a peanut butter one, grabbing the tub and sitting down at what I’ve come to discover is the designated table for scholarship students.
My eyes once again flick up, seeing all four boys huddled at the back of the room at their usual table, deep in conversation. Forcing my attention back to Michael, I pop the lid off my ice cream and, scooping out a spoonful, I bring it to my lips.
A soft moan escapes as my eyes drift shut, savoring the sweet nutty flavor. Oh my God, that is fucking delicious.
“Good?” Michael chuckles quietly, digging into his own tub.
“So good,” I agree, laughing too. “I, uh, don’t get to eat much sweet stuff,” I tell him, feeling like I need to explain myself.
“How come?”
“I, eh, grew up in foster care. You don’t exactly get offered many niceties.” Refusing to look at him, not knowing what sort of response I’ll get to that, I focus on making designs in my ice cream with the spoon, the lighter tone from a moment ago now gone, along with my desire for anything sweet.
His voice tells me nothing about what he thinks of my childhood. “That must have sucked.”
“Yeah.” I give a sad sort of chuckle. “You could say that.”
We lapse into silence. Great, I’ve managed to make it awkward already. How can I be so shit in social situations?
“I’m sorry,” I blurt when the silence becomes too much, “I didn’t mean to put a downer on things. It was nice of you to invite me out.”
“It’s all good. I asked you out ‘cause I wanted to get to know you…” His words drift into the background as movement at the back of the room pulls my focus, and I glance over his shoulder to see the Princes getting to their feet.
Cam still looks annoyed as he turns to face me, his eyes meeting mine and he freezes in place, obviously not realizing I was here. Something passes between us. I don’t know what it is; I don’t even know how to describe it, but I can feel it throughout my entire body. This visceral reaction to him, kind of like an electric shock, lighting up my every nerve, snapping me to attention. It’s more intense than anything I’ve ever experienced before. What the hell is this?
Someone knocks into him, breaking whatever weird spell that was between us, and I flick my eyes to find Mason glancing between the two of us, looking confused. He says something to Cam who shakes his head before the two of them take off, moving to trail behind Hawk and West as they leave the hall.
“—would you want to go? Hadley?”
“Huh?” I focus back on Michael, realizing I haven’t heard a word he’s said. “Sorry, what were you saying?”
He glances quickly at the door before looking back at me. “I was saying there’s a party tomorrow night, down by the beach.”
“Oh, yeah, Emilia mentioned it to me.”
“Yeah, all the scholarship students go, kinda like one final blow out before the workload piles up. I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go.”
“Sure,” I agree, nodding my head. “Can’t miss the first party of senior year, right?”
He’s got a huge grin on his face. “Great. I can pick you up.”
“I thought everyone went as a group?” I ask, confused.
“Well, I mean, yeah,” he stumbles, his cheeks pinking. I don’t know why he’s suddenly looking so nervous, though.
“It probably makes more sense to walk down as a group,” I reason, trying to ease whatever awkwardness he’s feeling.
“Right, of course,” he mumbles.
The conversation between us sort of dries up after that. I don’t know what happened or what I missed, but neither of us seem to know what to say to rectify things, and we soon call it a night and go our separate ways.
Chapter 5
“What was that all about?” Hawk asks, tipping his head toward where a pissed off Bianca just stormed out.
“Nothing.” The scowl on Cam’s face says otherwise as he storms across the canteen toward us.
“Things have been weird between you two all week,” I point out. He's been all over the place with her, like he can’t make up his mind if he wants her or not. Something that is never usually an issue for Cam. If she’s half-way good-looking with a decent set of tits, he’ll stick his dick in her.
“It's nothing,” he growls more vehemently, collapsing into the seat beside me, spreading his legs wide and slouching as he leans against the backrest.
Hawk gives him a once-over before glancing around at the rest of us, a serious expression on his face. “Who’s the new girl?” he asks. “What's her deal?”
“Hadley?” Cam's head snaps up, his ire from a moment ago forgotten. Hasn't Hawk been listening to Cam al
l week? I swear she's the only thing he's been able to talk about. I’d bet my left nut she’s the reason he’s all over the place with Bianca. He’s the only one of us who’s been looking forward to the senior year tradition of picking a girl each month—although Hawk and Mason seem to be enjoying themselves alright—and now it’s here he couldn’t care less. He thinks he likes the variability, the idea of always having a new girl, but really he loves the challenge of chasing after a girl. Now he’s set his sights on someone unattainable. He knows scholarship girls are never chosen. Besides, it’s not like our parents would ever be okay with us dating someone so far beneath us—their words, not mine. Personally, I have nothing against the scholarship students. If anything, I probably have more in common with them than the rest of the wealthy, vapid kids we go to school with. Certainly, they are my primary competition for the highest rank in the year.
“Yeah. Who is she? Why is she here?”
“Dunno.” Cam shrugs. “She's a scholarship student, why?”
“Why are we even talking about her?” Mason interjects before Hawk can answer, his pinched, closed-off expression taking me by surprise. What’s gotten up his ass? “We’ve more important things to discuss. West, have you found anything new?”
All eyes turn to me as I purse my lips, shaking my head in defeat. “Nothing,” I growl, frustrated with myself. I’ve spent hours upon hours trying to dig deeper, but every time I’ve come up empty. “The two organizations are being treated like separate entities. The only thing I could find in common was the logo.”
“That’s it?” Cam gawks, staring at me in disbelief, but what did he expect me to find? “No employee logs or property reports, or second bank accounts or anything?”
“No, Cam. Nothing.” He narrows his eyes, not appreciating my pissy attitude, but tough shit, I am pissed. I’m pissed at our parents for hiding all of this from us—hell, I’m fucking furious they’re even involved in any of this. I’m angry with myself for not finding out sooner and for not being able to get all the information we need now. I don’t even know how I feel about the fact the futures we were expecting to have are all lies.
Rubbing his hands down his face, Hawk sighs, staring at me intently. “Keep trying. You might come across something. In the meantime, we need to come up with another way of getting what we need.”
We all nod in agreement, all of us on the same page. We can’t do anything without more information, so for now we just have to sit back and pretend life as a Prince is nothing but easy lays and keg parties.
The next day, I’m sitting at the computer desk waiting for the rest of the class to filter in. It’s the last class of the week, and I can hear the excited hums of the students around me as they gossip about tonight’s party. It’s the first party of the year and it’s always a blowout.
I’m honestly too tired to give a shit. Between Cam’s argument with Bianca last night and all the other shit we’re already dealing with right now, we’re barely keeping our heads above water. Not to mention I’m already regretting the decision to go along with this whole stupid girl of the month thing. Next month, I have to pay more attention, instead of picking whatever random girl is closest to me. It hasn’t even been a week yet, and Brittany is driving me mad, hanging all over me at meals and seeking me out between classes. It’s completely insane. She’s become a clingy, psycho, stalker girlfriend overnight.
What’s even worse is that it’s not because she’s crazy in love with me or some shit like that. She sees me as a stepping stone to get to the others. All she ever does is ask me about them, and I’ve seen the way she ogles Mason. I get it. I’m not as buff or as in your face as they are. I don’t have the angry, smoldering look that Hawk has, nor Cam’s flirty charm. The girls even seem to like the whole silent, mysterious thing Mason has going on.
I’m the quiet, reserved one of the group, the nerd. I’m the guy the girls try to get close to, hoping to gain some insight into the others. At least, that’s how it used to be. They quickly realized I’m a vault.
Don’t get me wrong, I still get girls willing to settle for me. After all, any Prince is better than no Prince. Apparently. But there's something about knowing someone is only with you because of what you are and who you’re friends with that makes it pretty damn difficult to find anything appealing about them. It sure as hell doesn’t entice me to stick my dick in them.
So instead, while the others have been off getting their dicks wet on the regular, I’ve spent the last few years learning code and fine-tuning my programming skills. That’s how I was able to dig up dirt on our parents’ company. Dirt that changed our whole perspective on things. There’s so much about our lives, our families, we’ve been completely clueless about, until now. We’ve been running around being the entitled rich assholes everyone expects us to be, not giving a shit about our futures, while all this underhanded crap has been happening right under our noses. We’ve been too focused on getting girls and going to parties, but not any longer. This year is different. Shit has gotten fucking real.
The problem is, now that we’re aware of exactly what our parents are up to, we have no idea what the fuck to do about it. It’s been a point of contention between us, only made worse by all the petty shit we’ve had to put up with in school for appearance’s sake, and to keep our parents off our backs.
I’m barely paying attention to the room around me, too lost in the minefield that is our new reality, so I’m taken completely by surprise when someone sits down beside me. Everyone knows not to sit with us unless invited.
Turning my head, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see the new girl sitting there. Like I said, everyone else knows better. I watch her out of the corner of my eye as she checks out the whole setup; the computer screen, keyboard, and mouse, before hesitantly moving the cursor around the screen, clicking on the username and frowning at the screen in confusion.
She glances around the room, her frown only deepening when she notices everyone else is already logged in and getting on with their work. There is a teacher—if you can call him that—who oversees the lesson, but since it’s a computer science class, we’re pretty much left to our own devices. Each lesson plan is already uploaded for us to work through, and Mr. Hughes usually pops his head in once or twice during the hour to make sure we’re all behaving, but that’s it. Mostly, the students fly through whatever we’re supposed to be doing, then spend the rest of their time mucking around.
“Your login details will be on your tablet,” I tell her absently, not removing my focus from my screen. I normally wouldn’t get involved in other people's problems, but I tell myself I’m only helping her out because her mindless clicking of the mouse is already driving me bats.
“Oh,” she replies, darting a quick glance my way. “Thanks.”
She pulls her tablet out of her satchel and fumbles around on it. I try to tune her out, ignoring her sighs of frustration—I did my part, I helped her, I am under no obligation to do more—as I struggle to focus on my own work, something that usually isn’t an issue. Ordinarily, it’s the other way around, and I forget the rest of the world exists until the bell goes, or one of the guys pulls me out of my zone.
When it’s apparent I won’t be able to concentrate with her constant grumblings, I swivel around in my chair, turning to face her and snatching the tablet off the table.
“Hey,” she gives off, scowling at me as she tries to yank it back. Ignoring her, I tap away until I open up the document that has all her login details, handing it back to her without another word. She looks at me quizzically, hesitating before reaching out and taking it from me. I don’t know why she’s giving me that look. Sure, people give us a wide berth, but it’s not like I’ve done anything to her to make her so untrusting of me.
Glancing down at the screen, she gives me a final look before turning back to her computer and typing in the details. Watching her, it’s the most painstaking thing I’ve seen in a long time. She uses only her index fingers, taking forever
to find the next letter on the keyboard. I swear it takes her five full minutes to enter her username and password—it’s like she’s never used a computer before.
Once again, I try to ignore her presence, concentrating on my own work. I’ve already completed the advanced computer science course, but I had been planning on using this class to learn a new programming language, hoping it might help me find out the information I need.
“Um, do you know where I can find the lesson plan?” she asks, cutting through my thin veil of concentration. Ah, who am I kidding? I have no idea what I had planned for today.
This time, when I look her way, she's gnawing on her bottom lip, looking at me with an unsure gaze. The gesture captures my attention, drawing my eyes to her plump pink lips, the way the skin disappears between her teeth. I have this sudden urge to replace her teeth with mine. I wonder what she tastes like.
With her combat boots, and the way she keeps adjusting her uniform like it’s a straight jacket, restricting her movements, she’s a far cry from anyone else at Pac. Her mess of curly hair and sharp looks scream defiance and rebellion. I bet she tastes like trouble and every dirty thought I’ve ever had.
“Never mind,” she blurts out, her cheeks pinking as she waves me away, mistaking my silence for a refusal. “I can work it out.”
“It’ll be on your personal drive,” I rush out, shaking my head in an attempt to dislodge the dirty thoughts I was heading toward. What the fuck is wrong with me? It’s been quite a while since a girl has gotten that reaction from me. And a scholarship student? She’s probably only here to bag herself a rich husband. Definitely not the sort of drama I need to saddle myself with.
When she continues to look at me like I’ve spoken Klingon, I decide I may as well forget about my own lesson plan, and help her out. It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact she’s uniquely attractive or intriguing, but because it’s the polite thing to do.