by R. A. Smyth
“You’re so screwed,” Mary gasps. “You better keep your head down and stay out of the Princes’ way.”
“Why?” I don’t get it. Emilia has expressed concern several times, and begged me not to antagonize them, but seeing everyone else looking worried has me on edge. “He’s just one person. What can he possibly do?”
With wide eyes, Abigail shakes her head. “Nu-uh, if Hawk decides he doesn’t like you, you’re done for. Last year, Greg knocked into Cam while he and his friends were messing around on the lawn. He knocked him to the ground, but that was it. It’s not like he hurt him or anything, but all four of them ganged up against him, claiming he had disrespected them. He was gone by the end of the month.”
“What do you mean he was gone?” They can’t have that power. What could they possibly do to him?
“He left. Dropped out of school.”
As if that isn’t disturbing, Samuel adds on, “If you do anything to one of them or if one of them decides they don’t like you, the others will back him up. They support each other in everything.”
Remembering the way the others sided with Hawk over the whole water incident, and West's words about presenting a ‘united front’, their meaning is suddenly clear.
“I have no intention of pissing Hawk off any further,” I assure them all, making a mental note to try and stick to that promise. I plan on staying as far away from him as possible—we only have one class together, so it shouldn’t be that difficult.
We all settle in to watch the movie after that, but there's a tension in the air that wasn’t there before and when we’re walking back to the dorms, Michael, who hadn’t said a word all night, falls into step beside me.
“You need to be careful around the Princes,” he warns. “I don’t want them starting a witch hunt against you.”
I give him a soft smile. He really is a sweet boy, a good person, not at all like the complicated, convoluted Princes. If only I could be attracted to him like any normal girl, but I think the last of my sanity left me the day I entered Pac Prep.
“I can look after myself,” I assure him.
“I’m sure you can,” he agrees. “Just...don’t trust them. They don’t care about anyone but themselves.”
“I don’t,” I promise just before we part ways.
***
It’s late on Sunday night when the sound of my tablet vibrating from within my bag distracts me from the business homework I'm finishing off. Fishing it out, the notifications show a new message from Cam.
Everyone has phones here, but they seem to prefer using the school’s own messaging app on the tablet to communicate with one another.
Cam: Are you up?
I consider ignoring him. It’s after midnight, for all he knows I could easily be asleep by now, however the tablet goes off again, vibrating in my hand as another incoming message pops up.
Cam: I’m stuck on our English assignment.
He’s probably lying to get me to show up. We basically had the whole thing wrapped up last week, but it’s due tomorrow and I’ve put a lot of effort into my half of it, so I don’t want his annoying ass dragging my mark down.
Me: Meet me in the dining hall in 5.
It’s the only part of campus open at this time of night, and I’m sure as hell not going to bring him here. Stuffing my feet into my boots, I cast a quick glance in the mirror, my lycra leggings and hoodie more than sufficient, given the late hour. The tablet chimes again as I walk out of my room.
Cam: Already here.
Pulling open the door of the dining hall, the place is empty, except for Cam sitting at the Pricks’ usual table at the far side of the room. Going over to the coffee bar, I make myself a strong coffee and drop into a seat opposite him, taking a second to see what the view of the hall is like from here. I’m taken by surprise to see it looks exactly the same as it does from the scholarship table. I don’t know what I thought it would be like, but it’s disappointing.
“Not what you expected?” Cam asks, watching me closely.
“No,” I admit. “I thought it would be...different.” I guess I thought it would be more impressive? That I’d feel more important?
“Yeah.” Cam sighs. “Everyone thinks that.”
Turning to face him, he looks completely different than he does during the day. Sure, I’ve seen him and the others here late at night before, but I’m usually sneaking furtive glances their way, never really able to check him out this closely. His blond hair is rumpled, like he’s been running his hand through it all day, and his baby blue t-shirt strains against his defined muscles, giving me an up-close and personal view of just how ripped he is underneath his uniform.
“But if they knew what it was really like to be us, they’d quickly change their mind.”
His words remind me he’s not just a slab of meat for me to drool over, especially when he’s being strangely open with me. Looking past his insanely good looks, I can see how tired he is, like life has worn him down, but how can that be possible? Don’t guys like him have everything? I mean, look around us. He’s basically the king of this campus. He can do whatever he wants, get any girl he wants. His family is loaded, so it’s not like he ever has to worry about supporting himself or even finding a job. How much easier could his life get?
I really don’t have any sympathy for him, yet that haunted look in his eyes resonates with me, suggesting there’s something I’m not understanding, something about who he and the others are that I’m not seeing.
“What’s it like to be you?”
The corner of his lip tips up in a smirk as his barrier slides back into place, cutting me off from whatever it was I was seeing. “Let’s just say it’s not all parties and pussy.”
I don’t know what to say to that. From what I can tell, that’s exactly what it looks like.
Sensing he won’t tell me anything more, I change the topic. “What do you need help with?”
Without a word, he taps on his tablet, turning it around so I can see. “Can you just read over these few paragraphs, I’m not sure I’ve got it quite right.”
I’m taken aback, not expecting him to actually want to discuss homework, certain this whole thing was a ploy just to get me alone.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
Pulling the tablet toward me, we sit in silence while I read over what he’s written, becoming more impressed by the minute. Not only has he done the work, but he’s done one hell of a job.
“Cam, this is really good,” I praise him. “I’d maybe swap these two paragraphs around, but other than that, it reads really well.”
Nodding his head, he does as I suggest, re-reading it. “Yeah, thanks. That reads better.”
Sipping on my coffee, I nod in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. There’s something about him tonight. He’s different than normal. He’s dropped the flirty air and seems more vulnerable.
“Why did you come to Pac?” The question catches me by surprise, but of course, someone like him doesn’t understand the desperate need to escape your current situation, to want to be better, do something more with your life.
“I couldn’t live the life I saw unfolding before me,” I respond honestly. “I needed to escape, to find who I am and lay out a future for myself that I want, that I can be proud of.”
He nods, like he understands what I’m saying, but I don’t know if he really gets it or not.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Scanning his face, I see nothing but sincerity there.
“You and the others, how long have you been friends?”
“Our whole lives. Our parents are all friends, and our families co-own a business. We all grew up in the same community.”
“Huh. That must have been nice.”
“It was,” he agrees absently. “You might not believe it, but Hawk was a surly asshole as a kid.”
“No way!” I gasp in fake shock. “I can’t imagine that, he’s such a cheery guy.”
“
Ha, right?” Cam laughs, his face lighting up with whatever memory he’s thinking about. “When we were about nine or ten, I poured blue dye in his swimming pool.” He barely gets the words out between fits of laughter. “The asshole was blue from head to toe for nearly a month. He looked like a smurf.”
“Oh my God.” I laugh along with him, not requiring much imagination to picture Hawk raging up a storm.
“It didn’t matter what his parents did, they couldn’t get it to wash off. We were always pulling pranks like that on each other.” There’s a fond smile on his face as he falls into the past, recalling old memories.
“And your parents were okay with stuff like that?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “None of them are really around all that much. So long as we don’t publicly humiliate them, and agree to work at the firm when we graduate, they generally don’t care.”
“Do you want to go into the family business?”
“Not particularly. None of us really do, but it’s not something we can simply turn down.”
“How come? There are people out there that would sell their souls to be given such an opportunity.”
He releases a defeated chuckle. “God, I probably sound like an entitled jerk right now.”
“You don’t,” I assure him. When he just gives me a dubious look, I release a chuckle. “Yeah, okay, maybe a little.”
Barking out a laugh, he gives me a small, genuine smile that’s so much more enticing than any flirty grin he could throw my way. It’s real, and it feels like some sort of achievement, like, in a rare moment of openness, he’s showing me his true self.
“It’s just…” He trails off, struggling to find the right wording.
“Complicated?” I supply, recalling his words when he tried to explain why he behaved the way he did the night of the party.
“Yeah.” He sighs. “I know you don’t get it, and I can’t explain it to you. There’s a lot of pressure on us from our parents and we…” He once again trails off, sighing as he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, unsure of his next words.
Seeing how much he’s struggling, wanting to remain loyal to his friends, I shake my head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
Giving a sharp nod of his head, understanding passes between us.
“I guess I should let you get some sleep.” He gives me a soft smile, picking up his tablet and getting to his feet. Following him, we walk to the door, but he pauses before pushing it open.
“You know, you’re different from anyone else here.” That same raw honesty is clear to see in his eyes as they roam over my face, like he’s trying to memorize my features.
“How so?”
“I can guarantee you, if asked why they were here, none of them would say they wanted to become someone they could be proud of. They might not say it out loud, but everyone is here for selfish reasons. Whether it’s money, familial obligation, or to find a rich husband, not one of them would give me the answer you did.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I’m not sure I agree with him, I’ve gotten to know Emilia and she’s the least selfish person I know. She’s only here so she can provide for her mother. Isn’t that the same with all the scholarship students? Sure, I’ve heard some of them discussing how, thanks to Pac, they have acceptances to top line colleges, and talking about high-flying careers, but isn’t that all part of bettering themselves? They just seem to have more of an idea as to what they want to do with their futures. I know I don’t need a kickass career and money in the bank. I just want to be free to be me, to earn enough to be comfortable and be happy doing it, but beyond that, I haven’t really figured my shit out yet.
***
On Monday night, I once again find myself walking toward the dining hall. I’m telling myself it’s because I want some ice cream, but there’s this pathetic little part of me that’s hoping I’ll run into Cam. Despite how much I try to tamp it down, part of me can’t stop obsessing over him. That moment we shared last night seemed to change things, and today he was different. Don’t get me wrong, he was flirting away in his usual fashion, but it felt more genuine than it did before. Like he wasn’t just doing it because he’s ‘the flirty guy’, but because he had a true interest in me. I’m most likely reading way too much into it, but the riot of butterflies in my stomach and this incessant need to watch him won’t let me get over him.
Pulling open the dining hall door, I pause in the entrance. Cameron Rutherford is sitting at the scholarship students’ table. Skipping the coffee this time, I head toward him.
“Well? Is it what you expected?” I ask, reiterating his words from last night.
“No,” he admits, giving a small shake of his head. “It’s better.”
His words take me by surprise, something he must be able to read on my face, as he explains, “You’re more hidden back here. It doesn’t feel like you're on display the same way our table does. Back here, you’re just a faceless person in the crowd. There’s something to be said for not having people watching you all the time, judging your every move.”
I have nothing to say to that, but Cam doesn’t let us sit in silence for long.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.”
Licking my lips, nerves flit through me. I don’t know what we’re doing here, flirting with danger. Neither of us should be doing this—whatever this is. It’s asking for trouble.
“Tell me more about you and the guys growing up.”
“Why?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I give him the honest truth. “I never had siblings, or anyone to muck around with. I guess I wanna hear what it was like to have that.”
Nodding his head in understanding, he thinks for a moment before his lip lifts in a small smile.
“Our parents own summer houses up in the mountains, right by a lake. Every year the guys and I head up there for a few weeks, just to get away for a bit.
“A few years ago we were out swimming in the lake, fucking around as usual. West was always more hesitant than the rest of us. It would take forever for us to coax him into the water. He was terrified of getting caught up in the reeds.”
A sly grin crosses his face and I can immediately guess what he did. “You didn’t?” I chuckle.
Cam lets out the most genuine, carefree laugh I’ve heard from him yet. “Oh, I did.” He chuckles, bobbing his eyebrows. Everything about him screams mischief. I can only imagine he’s kept the others on their toes all these years.
“Anyway, we finally got him out to the middle of the lake and while Mason and Hawk distracted him, I ducked under, grabbing a hold of his feet. Man, he screamed bloody murder, kicked me right in the face too. I had a shiner for weeks after that.”
“Sounds like you deserved it.” I laugh along with him.
“I love that lake, it’s where I learned to swim. I’ve some of the best memories of my life up there.”
“Do you still swim?”
“Yup,” he says proudly. “I’m captain of the swim team. If all goes well, I’ll be heading to the State Championships this year.”
“Wow, that’s incredible.” I don’t really know what that means, but it’s clearly something he’s excited for and cares a lot about.
“Your parents must be so proud of you.”
“Yeah.” He snorts. “I’m sure they’re super proud.” The words drip with sarcasm, my eyes narrowing in confusion. How could parents not be proud of a son like Cam? He’s clearly liked, more so than the other Pricks. He does well in school and he’s good at sports? What’s not to be proud of?
“My parents couldn’t care less about me,” he admits after a moment. “My father is never around, unless it’s to come to my competitions, but it’s just so he can remind me that Rutherfords are winners.”
The lightness in his eyes from earlier is gone, his laugh lines faded, his face withdrawn as he stares glumly at the tabletop.
“I’m sorry.” My voice is soft as I reach across the table, giving his h
and a quick squeeze, ignoring the way his skin feels against mine and how even that simple touch causes my breath to hitch, my heart hammering in my chest.
For the rest of the week, every night at midnight, I pull open the dining hall door to find Cam waiting for me, even though every alarm bell is going off in my head, telling me I shouldn’t be encouraging this.
On Friday night, I step into the hall, once again expecting to find him there…only the room is empty. Huh. Grabbing a tub of ice cream—this time deciding to try a cookies and cream flavored one—I take a seat at the scholarship table, where I usually find Cam sitting, ignoring the sinking pit in my stomach at the thought of him not coming.
It’s nearly an hour later—I know, I shouldn’t still be sitting here, it’s pathetic—when the door creaks open, but it’s not who I was expecting.
Mason storms into the room, stomping toward the freezer, lifting out a bag of ice. Turning around to head back out, he freezes in place, spotting me. Yeah, I must look like a weirdo sitting here alone in the middle of the night.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, his voice coming out as a growl as I climb to my feet.
“Just enjoying some late night ice cream.” Holding up the empty tub for him to see before I deposit it in the trash, I glance down, noticing his knuckles are all scraped and covered in blood. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business,” he snarks, his temper clearly not much better than Hawk’s.
“Whatever.” I shrug. “But you’re going to have a hard job holding that ice to both sets of knuckles at once.”
He makes no effort to move or respond, simply continuing to stare at me with a mixture of hate and confusion. I can practically hear the static intensity of the energy around us, like an invisible force pushing us together.
After a moment, I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Come here.” Before he can refuse, I snatch the bag of ice out of his hand and grab some napkins, walking over to the closest table. Opening it, I wrap a few cubes of ice in the napkin, giving him a look that says ‘what are you waiting for?’ when he remains frozen in place. It takes a moment before he unglues his feet from the floor, coming to sit on the opposite side of the table, facing me.