HIDE (Boys Of Darlington Academy Book 1)

by D. V. EEDEN

  Ruby is sitting next to me with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning back on the back two feet of the stool and I am so tempted to push her over. I’m not that evil though, so my next though is I hope she doesn’t fall back and hurt herself.

  Damn, I’m too caring.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure?” I deadpan, folding my arms across my chest, which is clearly distracting the boys - I’m still in my sports bra, which shows a lot of cleavage. I should have gotten changed before coming down. Two sets of eyes stare at me with fire burning within, the dark holes drawing me in, hoping I can add some light. They look troubled and angry and I can’t figure why.

  Charles and Ruby are now distracted by their phones, not even bothering to look in my direction, as if looking at me is a crime and they would be punished, or I’m not even worth their time. You know what? I bloody wish I wasn’t.

  Hugo’s jaw clenches, the muscle ticking and bringing out his sweet dimples as he crosses his arms in front of his huge chest, his biceps straining against the tight sleeves of his shirt. I can pretty much see his veins popping out with how muscular he is. I wonder if he takes steroids to be able to get that big, but I don’t think he would be too pleased if I ask him that question.

  “Well, we thought we would be good friends and ask how your evening went, that’s all,” a venomous sneer shows up on Blake’s face, complimenting the venom in his voice when he speaks to me. He looks down at his phone before turning it to me. I cough, almost choking on my drink. He’s got a picture of me straddling Miles in the ocean and kissing but looking as if it were more.

  I raise my eyebrow, confused. “Why the fuck have you got a picture of me kissing Miles?” I ask, not giving him the satisfaction of retaliating just yet. His hateful sneer is still plastered on his face and he puts his phone back in his pocket. The other dickheads just laugh, apart from Hugo who’s silent but deadly, nonetheless.

  “Well, going by that picture it looks like you did more than just kiss,” he continues but I don’t want to bite just yet. “You’re such a disgusting slut, parading around having sex with all the boys, you’re fucking repulsive Africa,” he cringes, leaning forward as he says what’s clearly on his mind, not having a care in the world.

  “You’re kidding me, right? First you try and drown me, now you have a picture of me kissing Miles. You’re the pathetic one Blake,” I grind out through my clenched teeth. God, I wish I could punch the fucking cunt in the face right now.

  I’m so distracted by my standoff with Blake, my body goes into shock and a scream escapes my lungs as someone grabs a fistful of my hair, slamming my face into the table. I feel the blood spluttering out of my busted nose as she pulls my head back, forcing me to stare at Blake. The blood continues to pour until it hits my lips, and I taste the coppery tang.

  Blake forcefully stands, slamming his fists onto the table and bringing his face so close to mine that I can smell the malice radiating off of him. “Listen here, you tribal fucking cunt. I warned you about the hierarchy here and you just didn’t pay attention. You get what you deserve.” He puts a finger under my chin, lifting my eyes in defiance to look at him, Ruby still gripping my hair making my scalp sting in pain, but I won’t let them know that. He grips my chin even harder, the pain running through my jaw and I know for a fact it will leave a bruise.

  “I am sick of you thinking you’re better than us, so you will fall in line like everyone else does at this academy. Because bitch. This is our school.”

  Blake storms off with Charles and Ruby in tow, but Hugo waits a moment longer, handing me some napkins to clean the blood off my face. I stare at him with fury in my eyes, refusing to take them, so instead he throws them in my direction and leaves to follow his Satan of a leader. I pick up the napkin from the table, trying to clean as much of the blood off as I can.

  No one was in the dining hall to witness what just happened and the waiters were nowhere to be seen. I suppose they all have a blind eye to what the Royals do.

  Without eating my breakfast, I pick up my gym bag and run back to the dorms. I jump in the shower, spraying my skin with scolding hot water, letting it fall onto my aching scalp through to wash away all the blood. I watch as it goes down the drain. The tears fall and mix with the water. Unable to control my breathing, it hitches in my throat as my knees give way beneath me. I fall to the floor, crying and taking heavy breaths. The hot water washes away the blood and tears, washing away the semblance of a life I had here. Crouching in the corner, my head falls to my knees as I suddenly feel deflated.

  I sit there for god knows how long, but eventually I stop crying and pick myself off the tiled floor, turning off the shower and checking the damage to my face in the mirror. I have a bruised nose which I am sure will be more prominent tomorrow. Fear takes over my body thinking what father will say when he sees my face. I’m sure concealer can hide most of it, but I’m fairly sure my nose is broken.

  Tears prickle at the back of my eyes again as I stare at my reflection in the mirror. Anger takes over my whole body and I slam my fist into the mirror where my reflection is, glass flying out around me, leaving specks of blood on the mirror.

  Now it’s as broken as I feel.

  * * *

  I arrive at work an hour early, as I was not able to concentrate back at the academy. I walk through the doors and then through the foyer, feeling lethargic as I try to hide my face and hands from anyone seeing them. As I hang up my leather jacket on a hook, Samantha rounds the corner and her eyes go wide as she notices the damaged skin and bruises.

  “What the fuck happened chick?” she says, and within a few strides she’s standing before me, grabbing my chin in a gentle touch. Samantha tilts my hand from side to side as she inspects the damage. My heart is racing against my chest as I fear that this could get me fired.

  “Umm, my face was smashed against the table by some girl, and then I got angry and punched my mirror,” I admit, taking a gulp as I look towards the floor in shame. My eyes begin to water as I feel embarrassed to be seen like this. I tried my best to hide the bruises on my face with make-up, but nothing gets past Samantha.

  “Oh hon, how could this happen to you? Let’s get you cleaned up. I have cleaned a lot of cut hands so I know what I am doing,” she offers with a soft smile, one that she never usually exposes and I sigh in relief as the tension in my stomach settles. My heart rate slows down, and I manage to exhale a deep breath as Samantha guides me to her office. She is amazing, helping me disguise the bruises on my face and cleaning my cut knuckles so it’s hardly noticeable for when I work. When she said that she does this all the time, I am guessing she either means cleaning other people cut knuckles or her own.

  I get straight to work with the other girl called Lily, who seems to be on the timid side. I figured she didn’t talk to me much last time because she was either really busy, or she doesn’t like me. I help her in the basement, where the tunnel leads to, and I want to ask her about it, but I get a feeling she doesn’t like questions much.

  “So, how long have you worked here for?” I decide to ask her, thinking that it can’t hurt to try and get to know my co-worker.

  Lily doesn’t look my way when she answers. “Um, about a year I think,” she says, and I am grateful that I managed to make some progress in conversation.

  “Oh cool, do you enjoy it?” I continue, hopefully not pushing her buttons.

  “Yeah it’s alright, but you get some right bastards in ‘ere,” she shrugs, passing me a heavy box and directing me to put it by the old, crooked wooden door.

  This could be my chance to find out about the tunnel.

  “Hey, I don’t suppose you know where this door leads to?” I bravely ask and Lily cocks her head up from looking through a box.

  She chuckles under her breath before responding. “You ask a lot of questions.”

  “Sorry, simply curious. Looks old and I love history. Thought there might be some historical facts.” I give her a crooked smile, hopefully she
buys my little white lie. It is partly true; I am intrigued about the history.

  “Well, I think it’s some old tunnels that were built hundreds of years ago, but I never bothered to ask. Honestly, it doesn’t fascinate me.” She passes me another heavy box to stack up.

  I think that’s enough pressing for one day. I don’t want her to hate me. We finish up in the basement just in time to start work behind the bar before any customers saunter in. I clean a couple of the wine glasses with a hand towel and organise the bottles of liquor on the shelves. I suppose I might have slight OCD. Wish it were the case in my own room. With my back against the bar, I hear a slight wolf whistle behind me, the hairs on the back of my neck instantly standing up.

  “Hey Africa, what you are doing here?”

  I turn around with pursed lips, avoiding eye contact with the asshole.

  “I work here now,” I mumble to Royce, wiping the counter tops.

  “Oh, does that mean free drinks on you?” he chuckles sarcastically with a smile on his face. He pulls out the bar stool and takes a seat, folding his arms on the countertop and still grinning at me.

  “Can I get you a drink?” I ask as politely as I can. He is a customer after all, so I need to be nice. Even though he wasn’t there this morning when I had my face smashed to the table by Ruby in front of the other Royal pricks, he’s still friends with them and I do not trust anyone who is remotely friendly with them.

  “I’ll have a whiskey, neat but with three cubes of ice.”

  He ruffles up his perfectly styled caramel toned hair, looking kinda sad sitting here on his own and lacking his normal cheeky personality. I fix his drink up, handing it over to him before I serve the other customers rolling in. It’s weird seeing Royce sitting at a bar when I’ve had posters of him in my childhood bedroom, always admiring his movies. He hasn’t starred in a film since he started high school, expressing to the public in an interview that he wanted a normal school experience. Can’t blame the guy. His family is always traveling the world shooting films, clearly never spending time with Royce as he’s always here. I guess that’s how he gets away with his house being party central. But I am still wondering what his dad was doing here, of all places at my father’s house eating a three-course meal next to me.

  “Are you just going to stand there staring at me Ade?” Royce whispers, breaking the trance I was in, not even aware I was staring at him.

  “Sorry, I was actually staring behind you, wondering what the performance will be,” I say, hopefully that was a good save.

  Royce takes another sip of his whiskey, the ice clinks gently in the glass as he rolls it absently between his hands.

  “Oh, you wait and see. It’s magical.” His haughty expression glares my way, and he shakes his now empty glass in my direction, signaling for a top up. I roll my eyes at his arrogance, thinking he can order me around because I’m the one working behind the bar.

  I refill the glass with whiskey and three cubes of ice, exactly how he requested it earlier, and hand his drink over. He grabs the glass, brushing his elegant long fingers over mine, sending a jolt of electricity through to my limbs and making me feel numb. I quickly retrieve my hand, clearing my throat.

  He takes a sip of his drink, eyeing me over the rim of the glass, clearly aware of my reaction to that silly little accident of us touching skin to skin. I’m seriously fan girling in my head right now, I never want to wash this hand again.

  Well I will but still, it’s just an expression.

  As I load the empty glasses into the dishwasher under the bar, where its well-hidden, I can feel Royce’s glare penetrate my back. I turn around and find him staring at me with narrow eyes, his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Plucking up my courage, I finally ask him what’s been bothering me since he arrived.

  “What’s wrong, you seem … off?”

  Resting one of my hands on my hip as the other rests on the surface, tapping my fingers against the countertop. Royce stares at me absently, opening his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He scrubs his hand over his face, taking in a deep breath before bringing his sea green eyes to meet mine.

  “I am sorry,” he declares, and I’m taken aback. I raise my eyebrows at him as he takes a sip of whiskey, blowing out another big breath before continuing.

  “For what the guys did to you. Just know that I am not part of that,” he says, raking his eyes away from mine, landing over on the stage. My body steels itself as I’m taken aback by surprise and my stomach flutters from this revelation. My thoughts freeze and his cheeks flush red as he swivels on the bar stool, his attention now on the dais where the lights have been dimmed, only a spotlight now covering the stage. I guess the show is just about to start.

  The lights in the room go completely dark, leaving only the candlelight to illuminate the room, the incandescent flames dancing and creating shadows on the audience’s faces as their eyes gaze over to the stage. As everyone’s attention is at the front of the room, I stand behind the bar watching Royce, not even realizing the spotlight on the stage has come on. His eager expression lights up when the music starts playing, welcoming the first performer.

  The song ‘Pour it Up’ by Rihanna starts playing and the beautiful brunette woman is already on the stage, seated on a chair backwards, wearing a trench coat and not leaving any skin visible. While the music continues, the woman starts her routine by removing the trench coat, revealing the most stunning outfit I have ever seen. She’s wearing a black rhinestone corset which accentuates her big bust and small waist, matching black frilly knickers which cover her whole ass and six-inch black heels.

  I’m gawking at this beautiful woman on the stage, my gaze following every graceful move she makes, how she dances on the whole stage using the chair as her prop, looking sexual without removing any part of her clothing.

  This is mesmerizing.

  I keep watching the performances throughout the night whilst fixing up the drinks for the waiters to serve to the customers, still astounded by how sensual the routines are. I know this is supposed to be an erotic dance show or ‘Burlesque’, but unlike a stripper these girls don’t remove any part of their clothing, apart from their bra but even then, they are at least wearing nipple tassels. They make it seem so beautiful.

  I want to learn Burlesque.

  Royce spins around on the bar stool, requesting another whiskey. The performances are done for the evening, so a lot of the customers are starting to leave, but Royce stays behind. “Do you want me to take you back to the academy?” he asks.

  Do I go with him or should I get an uber? I mean, I know he apologized for his friends but what if there is an ulterior motive? “Um, if you don’t mind waiting ten minutes then yeah.” I smile at him; fairly certain he’s being genuine.

  Packing up my things, I slip on my leather jacket, meeting Royce back at the bar. He gulps down the rest of his whiskey then pulls out a wad of money from of his wallet, placing it on the bar for Samantha to take. I am fairly certain he’s overpaid for his drinks. We walk outside to the parking lot in complete silence, stopping at an all-black Aston Martin One-77 and I am in awe. This car is worth over a million fucking pounds and they only ever made seventy-seven of them, hence the name.

  I don’t know a lot about cars, but I have heard about this one.

  “Are you fantasizing about my car, Ade?” Royce teases as he opens the passenger door for me. I slide into the luxurious interior, breathing in the scent of fresh leather. Royce climbs into the driver’s seat and turns on the engine. The car roars to life and a slight squeal slips out from my lips. Royce chuckles under his breath, clearly aware of my reaction.

  “This is just … fucking amazing,” I admit, brushing my fingers along the hand sewed seams of the seat. He turns on the music from his plush steering wheel, slowly reversing out of the parking lot, driving onto the main road. I feel as though I am floating on air with how smooth the car drives, I can’t feel any bumps from the road and every turn Royce takes is
with ease.

  “How did you find the Burlesque dancers?” Royce asks, breaking the silence between the two of us. He hasn’t looked in my direction since we got in the car, which surprises me as he normally doesn’t care if I find him ogling. “It was hypnotizing, I’ve never seen anything like it,” I confess. “I didn’t even realize they did these performances when I took on the job,” I continue, turning my head slightly to look at Royce, but his eyes stay firmly on the road ahead of him.

  He frowns, the curve of his lips turned down. “Why did you take the job there?” Finally, he turns his head, bringing his dark sea green eyes to look at me.

  I shrug my shoulders, biting my lip before I answer him. “I wanted something to do, rather than sit in the academy all the time, plus I used to have a part time job at home so it’s nothing new.”

  I glance away from him, looking out of my window even though it’s dark outside and I can’t see a thing.

  We arrive at the Academy in record time with how fast Royce drives. He probably didn’t want to be in the car with me any longer than he needed to. We go our separate ways, saying goodnight at the stairs leading up to my dorm. I trudge all the way up to the third floor and head to my dorm room, finding another note stuck to the door. I rip it off the door, opening the envelope to yet another little letter.

  “We know your secret.”

  Who the fuck is sending me these notes?

  Chapter Twelve

  I arrive at my father’s house by half past eight in the morning, feeling exhausted by the lack of sleep last night, the note playing on my mind. I still can’t work out who would send that note or even what secret they may be aware of. Maybe they found out about my father, the truth that I’m in fact not an exchange student or poor as they think? Other than that, I have no secrets.

  I sit in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of coffee as Mrs. Blossom enters into the room holding a big brown box.