Shelby folds her hands in her lap, “Okay, Harlow, but be careful.”
“I will,” I tell her and keep gathering my stuff. I finally find my birth control in one of my drawers. I shove them in my bag with the rest of my belongings. “I have my phone with me this time. I’ll text you.”
After a quick hug, I head for the door. I step out and find Banks leaning against the wall, his lips are pressed in a tight line, and his eyes look a shade darker. I close the door behind me before I ask, “Did you hear?”
“I did,” he says through his teeth. He takes my hand and starts pulling me down the hallway.
“What are you thinking?” I’m assuming he still thinks that Shelby is lying, especially now that she’s accused his parents. That’s why I’m so shocked when I hear what he has to say next.
“We had suspected that our parents had a spy, someone to keep tabs on you, even on us, but we didn’t know who it was, and we definitely didn’t know that they would go to such lengths and resort to threatening anybody.”
“Do you think… they want me dead?” I don’t know much about his parents or the relationship the brothers have with them, but the need to threaten Shelby for information about me has me terrified. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Banks’ face morph with pain. He looks angry and frustrated but above all, disappointed.
“I can’t imagine they would. I just can’t. They’re good people…” his voice trails off as we reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door opens, and two girls walk inside. I don’t think I know them, but they must know me, or at the very least Banks, because they both stop to stare at us. A sickening smile forms on one of the girls’ lips, her eyes narrowing.
“You can’t use the dorms as a place to whore yourself out, you know? Some people actually come to this university to get an education.”
She didn’t… yes, she did. This bitch just called me a whore.
I blink, literally shocked at her nerve. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she tsks, her eyes mirroring disgust.
Without even realizing it, I find my hands balling up into tight fists. I want to punch that look right off her face.
Banks shakes his head, his lips turning up at the corners.
“Ignore them, they’re just jealous that you managed to bag three of the hottest guys at Bayshore.” The way he speaks of them, with a smidge of snark, makes their words hurt a little less. The girls roll their eyes and carry on past us like nothing happened at all.
“Were you really going to punch them?” Banks asks, giving me a quirky look.
My shoulders raise into a shrug. “I don’t know. I just wanted to make them eat their words.”
When we get back to the car, Sullivan and Oliver seem tense. “What took you so long? We were about to storm up there and start knocking heads together,” Oliver berates.
“Shelby says that our parents hired her to spy on Harlow,” Banks announces as soon as we’re back in the car with all the doors closed.
“Son of a bitch,” Sullivan growls as he slams a closed fist against the dash. “It’s not surprising, not in the least, but I am shocked that they went to Shelby.”
Oliver speeds out of the parking lot, and we tell them the rest of the story, including the run-in with the skank squad in the hallway.
“I’m going to have a talk with Mom and Dad, and see if I can get to the bottom of this. And about those girls they’re nobodies.”
All I can do is shrug. I want to tell them that it’s easy to say something like that when they’re not the ones being called a whore or looked at with disgust. How am I supposed to let go of the things they said and did?
I know I shouldn’t care about what other people think… I know that, but that doesn’t mean I can just turn off my feelings or forget what they said.
“I’ll try, but it’s not that easy.”
“Forget them,” Banks assures me with a gentle hand, and something tells me it’s going to be a lot harder than just forgetting them.
26
Walking toward the front of the class, I hand in my essay to Professor Paulson, who gives me a curt nod as I exit the room. Oliver follows in stride right beside me, our fingers interlocked as we step into the hallway together. The brothers find their way into every single one of my classes, ensuring that I’m safe. Adjusting my backpack, I walk down the long hall with Oliver in tow. I’ve gone maybe ten feet when a hand lands against my shoulder, halting any further steps.
Seriously. I half expect it to be one of the stupid guards, so when I turn around there is nothing but barely restrained rage painted on my face.
“Hey, guys…” Caroline greets and immediately my features soften.
Not Bert, or Ernie, thank god.
“Hey, sorry, I thought you were one of the guards my father assigned.”
Oliver looks around us, scanning the area. “Now that I think of it, we haven’t seen either of them for a while.” He shrugs. “Hopefully they got fired. I mean, they did do a terrible job. We kidnapped you in broad daylight, and they couldn’t even figure out where you were,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
“I would definitely fire their asses if I was your father,” Caroline chimes in. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to get coffee or something?” My stomach rumbles in appreciation of her offer. It’s been nearly six hours since I last ate anything because I stupidly chose to skip lunch and finish my paper.
“Sure. I’m done with classes for the day, and I could use a cookie, and a coffee right about now.”
Caroline gives me a megawatt smile.
“You okay with that?” I direct the question at Oliver.
“Anything you want,” he winks and presses a soft kiss to my hand that makes my stomach quiver. At Oliver’s words, she leads the way, taking us to this little coffee shop a couple blocks from the library. We sit down at a small table near the window, and I watch as Oliver walks up to the counter and orders us some coffees and pastries. Our gazes clash when he catches me staring at him, and I look away, my cheeks heating instantly.
Caroline giggles softly, and then asks, “How’s it been going? Last I talked to Sullivan, he told me you were staying with them for now?” Her question has images of me curled up in Sullivan’s bed last night popping into my head.
“It’s been going good,” I grin. “Actually, it’s been great.” I already know I’m blushing up to my hairline, giving my indecent thoughts away but it’s not like I have anything to hide, least of all, from Caroline.
“That’s good, and how have classes been? I know the rumor mill started up again, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“Did someone say something?” Oliver’s voice cuts through the air, as he sets two cups in front of us.
“Yes,” Caroline pouts, “Tiffany and her stupid gang of barbie dolls are spreading rumors about Harlow again.”
Oliver’s gaze turns murderous, “I’m so fucking tired of them spreading lies about you.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he slams down into the seat beside me. He looks like a hungry lion, ready to strike down his prey. Placing my hand against his thigh, I give it a reassuring squeeze.
“It doesn’t bother me,” I lie. “They can say whatever they want. The only person who knows the truth is me.”
Oliver’s eyes move away from me and to something behind me. A moment later, a group of guys enter the coffee shop, their loud laughter and talk filling the quiet space. Sipping at my coffee, I try to ignore them, but it seems to get louder and louder.
“Dude, that’s Oliver Bishop, and Harlow, you know the one who likes to be double stuffed,” one of them snickers, and I can see the anger pouring out of Oliver like a river.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, even though it’s not. It’s not okay for them to say such shitty things, or to talk about me in such a degrading way like I’m not even here.
“No, it’s not,” Oliver growls, his leg bouncing up and down incessantly.
“Think he would share h
er with us? Let us take her for a spin?” Another guy laughs, his voice low and a little closer than the other guys.
“Never know unless you ask.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head. This is nauseating.
Caroline cringes. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be, none of this is…”
My words are cut off as a heavy body slams into the back of my chair, causing hot coffee to slosh out of my cup and onto my hand. A yelp slips past my lips, and I place the mug down on the table, before turning around in my seat, but there’s no point in scolding this guy because Oliver is already out of his chair, standing toe to toe with him.
“What the fuck, dude?”
“Sorry, it was an accident, not that it matters…” The asshole scuffs, like it wasn’t a big deal or rude as fuck.
“It matters, and you’re going to apologize for what you did.”
The guy’s eyes bug out of his head, and then he’s laughing, his voice bouncing off the walls inside my head.
“This prick thinks I’m going to apologize to his skank.” He elbows his buddy, who also joins in on the laughter. A knot of worry starts to form in my gut when I see Oliver’s balled up fists, they clench and unclench. Shit. He’s going to get himself into trouble for nothing. All because of some stupid idiots.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t notice Oliver moving until it’s too late. His fist connects with the loser’s face right as I’m getting up, the wooden chair clattering to the floor, drawing even more attention. But I don’t care. I’ve got to stop him before he gets himself into trouble. Moving fast, I curl my hand around his bicep and pull him back toward me, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. Pointless.
The asshole stumbles backward, his posse of friends catch him, as he holds a hand to his face, fury brewing in his eyes.
“Fucking prick just punched me, and all for some stretched out pussy.”
I don’t even let the words he’s saying affect me. They mean nothing, not a damn fucking thing. Oliver, however, thinks otherwise and lunges forward, hoping to get another punch in but I’m quicker this time and instead, put myself between him and the enemy.
“He’s not worth it. He’s just some idiot listening to a rumor that’s been spread more than Tiffany’s legs.” Wrapping my arms around his middle, I hug him tightly, resting my head against his chest, the sound of his erratic heartbeat filling my ears. His chest vibrates with anger as he makes the decision to stand down.
“Get out, assholes,” he growls.
“Whatever, she’s not worth it.” One mutters, and another says, “Keep the whore.” Again, I ignore them and hold on tighter to Oliver. The dinging of the door tells me they’ve finally left, and only then do I peel myself from his chest.
“I want to rearrange their faces,” Oliver snarls, looking devilishly handsome as he does so. My insides heat, my core pulsing with need. Damn vagina always getting in the way. A loud ringing pierces the air, and it takes me a minute to realize that it’s my phone that’s ringing. Pulling the device from my pocket, I look down at the screen and see Shelby’s face and name flashing across it.
“Hold that thought,” I tell Oliver, and press the green answer key.
“Hey,” I barely get out before Shelby’s voice cuts me off.
“Oh, my god, Harlow! Our dorm it’s been… it’s…” There’s muffled crying, followed by a shriek. Instantly, I stand, ready to make my way toward the door, needing to make sure that Shelby is okay.
“What happened, are you okay?” The words come out in a panic.
“I’m fine, but our room is not. Get here soon, please,” Shelby pleads.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” I hang up the phone and notice that Oliver and Caroline are both standing now. They look at me confused, and I know I have to explain.
“Shelby said something’s happened to our room.” Fear radiates down my spine like a never-ending trickle of ice water.
“What do you mean?” Oliver questions, as I grab my bag, and we walk out of the coffee shop.
“I don’t know,” I answer, my distress evident in the three simple words. “She just said something has happened to our dorm.”
“God, I have a bad feeling about this.” Caroline sounds like she might be sick.
“Me too.”
It doesn’t take long for us to make it to the dorm, and when we arrive, Banks and Sullivan are standing outside the building, waiting for us. Oliver called them on the way, and they got here in record time.
“What’s going on?” They both ask with equal amounts of fear in their eyes. Oliver opens his mouth, answering for me.
“We don’t know, but we’re going to find out.” Entering the building, dread fills my gut, and it only mounts with every step I take, until it’s damn near suffocating me. By the time I make it to the room, I think I’m going to vomit. I’m about to open the door when it is pulled open by Shelby, her tear-stained cheeks and somber face greeting me.
“Harlow!” She cries and pulls me into her chest, wrapping her arms around me. It’s then that I notice all of my stuff destroyed, my bed flipped over, my belongings thrown around the room. But nothing could have prepared me for what I see next; the word SLUT spray-painted across my mattress in bright red paint, the same color as the one that was used to make the banner. I remember seeing the same word… in almost identical writing before. Someone wrote it on my T-shirts when I was doing laundry.
“I think it was Tiffany and her friends, it has to be,” Shelby cries. “Look at the handwriting, the paint, it’s all the same.”
“Fuck!” I hear Banks say.
“Bitch,” Sullivan says at the same time.
“She will pay for this, no doubt about it. I’m going to make her life hell,” Oliver says next, but I don’t even feel the effect of his words. I know he’ll do exactly as he says, but right now I feel humiliated, so damn humiliated.
“I….” I pull from Shelby’s embrace, my chest rattling, as I suck air into my lungs. I’m angry, but I’m sad too. I hate these people. Say what you will about me, but don’t touch my things, and don’t mess with the people I care about.
“I’m sorry, Harlow. I don’t know how she got in,” Shelby says, and I can tell that this is all affecting her on a deeper level. “I’ve let you down,” she confesses a moment later.
“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” I tell her because I know it will be. “You didn’t let me down, never.”
“Should we call the cops? Or at least campus security?” Caroline asks.
“You think they would do anything? Investigate a prank, even if it was taken way too far?” Banks has a good point. What are the cops going to do?
“Let us clean this up, you and Caroline can go back to the house,” Oliver suggests, but I don’t want to leave yet. I want to help. I need to help. Those bitches may have hurt me, but they didn’t break me. I’m not going to go home and hide.
“No, I’ll help. Shelby needs me, she’s always been there for me, and I can’t leave her now, especially since it’s my fault our room got destroyed.”
“Okay,” Sullivan responds this time, and I can tell he’s unhappy with my answer but doesn’t push for me to leave. He knows I need this right now.
As we all clean up the room, I plot my revenge knowing someday soon I’ll make the bitch wish she never knew my name.
27
“Why can’t I just sit in this class?” Banks is basically yelling at this point, his hands clenched at his sides. The professor looks beyond annoyed, his almost always calm face starting to turn red with anger, while my own is becoming red for an entirely different reason.
“Because you are not enrolled in this class anymore, Mr. Bishop,” Professor Brown barks, his voice strained, like he’s about to lose his last thread of patience. “You need to leave my classroom now, or I will call campus security, and have you removed.”
His words come out as a threat, but something tells me
he’ll do exactly what he says. Not wanting the situation to blow up further, I turn to Banks.
“Hey, it’s fine. I promise I’ll be okay,” I whisper, trying to calm him down, all while he continues to scowl at Professor Brown. A few moments pass, and I worry Banks will push the matter, but then he looks over at me, his eyes softening as they connect with mine.
“Fine,” Banks growls, the single word dripping with suffocating disdain. “I’ll pick you up at the end of class,” he directs the words at me, before shoving out of his seat. Then he leans forward and gives me a quick peck on the lips before turning toward the door.
Once he’s left the room, I force a smile, but it’s not returned by the professor, or anyone else, for that matter. Well, at least Tiffany is not in this class. It’s a small positive, but I’ll take it either way.
Prof. Brown goes back to the front of the class, and a heavy silence blankets the room. Half-way through class things have finally settled down enough for me to actually learn something. I might not be able to pass this class, but I can pick up some stuff, at least, to make next semester easier.
When a loud knocking interrupts the professor’s speech about different research methods, I half expect the door to open and there to be one of the Bishop brothers. Instead, the door frame is filled with my two bodyguards, Ernie and Bert. At the sight of them, I slouch down into my chair, picking up one of my textbooks, lifting it and holding it in front of my face.
“Can I help you?” Prof. Brown sighs in frustration.
“Yes, we need one of your students to come with us immediately. It’s a family emergency,” Bernie says.
Family emergency?
“Miss. Lockwood…” He scans the room and finds me almost immediately. “Please, this is very important,” he urges. I’m waiting for the feeling of dread and worry to hit me. He said family emergency that usually means someone is hurt.
I should be worried and scared, but neither feeling comes. Instead, I feel… annoyed. Nonetheless, I gather my things up and stuff everything into my backpack, before flinging it over my shoulder, and making my way to the door.
The Bayshore Rivals: The Entier Series Page 25