by D. V. EEDEN
Fuck them all.
I try to forget about how humiliated I should have been, but honestly it was the nicest thing they’ve done to me so far.
I’d rather the Royals disgrace me by throwing rotten food all over me than call me a murderer, forcing me to look at my mum’s post-mortem photos and drowning me. It sounds messed up, but I’m not easily humiliated. I’d take it a hundred times over again.
Chapter Seventeen
An entire week has passed with the whole academy calling me names and throwing food at me. Apparently Ruby has ordered everyone to throw rotten food at me every chance they get, and they truly do get me at every opportunity. The worst one was when someone threw rotten tomatoes at me, making it look like I was covered in blood, and called me a murderer. It’s sad that I have to admit that I’m used to the taunting and bullying from other students. Blaire and Maisie feel really guilty as the other students leave them alone and always make sure they’re either not there, or they are being pulled away.
I was stupid in thinking a make-over would make me feel more alive, but in reality, it painted an even bigger on my target on my back.
This afternoon, I’m spending my Saturday in the club. I offered to assist Samantha with clearing the storage room and helping with deliveries, due to the fact I’m taking tonight off to go and see ‘Nightfall’ with Miles.
Sitting on the bar stool, I complete the inventory while watching the dancers practice their performance on the stage for tonight. I can’t keep my eyes off of them, they look so free. All the girls wear wigs and masks to hide their identity when they perform so that customers don’t stalk or bother them for sex when they finish. Apparently, it’s happened a few times.
I want to be that free.
I inhale a sharp breath. “Samantha, how do I become one of the performers?” I finally ask, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I so desperately want to try and do this, and its technically good practice for my dancing.
Samantha side glances at me from behind the bar with a smirk on her face. She can see how I stare at these girls with desperation in my eyes.
“Well, can you dance, chick?”
My face lights up, ready to answer her question. “Yeah… I am studying dance for my degree,” I ramble on, shocked I never made her aware. I guess it’s never come up. She doesn’t really like the Darlington Academy students, she thinks they’re all posh twats with sticks up their asses, and she’s not wrong. Luckily, she likes me.
“Oh, well, I’ll book you a slot for an audition and then we will take it from there, yeah?” she asks.
I squeal in excitement.
My father would kill me if he found out I want to dance in Burlesque in front of an audience, but like I said, the girls hide their identity so how would he know?
Quickly sending a text to Miles, I tell him where to pick me up from so that we can go to the concert later. I haven’t told anyone that I work here, apart from Blaire and Maisie, so I’m unsure of how he will react.
Getting back to the inventory, I pick up my drink and take a sip. I’m drinking a rum and cola to get me into the mood for later tonight. I’m really looking forward to seeing and spending time with Miles as I haven’t really seen him unless it’s during dance practice.
He says he feels guilty about Ruby and her escapades and wants to make it up to me later. I’m grateful we get a night out to let our hair down.
The dance recital is in a matter of weeks and we have been non-stop perfecting our routine. I’m feeling more motivated now than ever and can’t wait for the whole academy to see me in my element, so I can show them exactly what I can do. I have been putting blood, sweat, and tears into this, to ensure that the routine is as perfect as it can be. I won’t let anyone take that from me.
Once the inventory and deliveries have been sorted, I go into the ladies’ room to get changed before Miles arrives. I decided to wear some leather trousers and a cute red crop top paired with heeled boots and a leather jacket. I even go all out and put on a full face of make-up with red lipstick. Now I’m ready to go and have some fun with my date.
We might even take it to the next level in our relationship.
As I’m roughing up my hair and admiring myself one last time in the mirror, my phone pings with a text from Miles to say he’s waiting for me outside. “Right, I need to go Samantha. I’ll see you next weekend?” I shout out just before leaving the club.
I walk on the gravel path to the parking lot and see Miles’ Aston Martin parked up, and the butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter. The nerves are creeping up my spine the closer I get to the car, knowing I’ll be seeing Miles on our second official date. I love the way he makes me feel when I’m round him. He makes me feel so safe and secure, even though his stepsister is a bitch, but Miles is different. I can feel it.
I know he wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone hurt me.
“Wow, you look… stunning,” Miles says as I hop into the car, my leather-clad ass scooting along his leather interior, which doesn’t bode well as I’m already sticking to the seat.
Already Miles has the music turned up high to get us in the mood for the concert and he even brought me a beer to drink on the way up. I look over to see his eyes haven’t strayed away from my outfit and I mentally give myself a high five.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, just in case he doesn’t actually like my outfit. But, to be honest, it’s so he can boost my ego.
“Hell no. I have just never seen you look so… different and sexy,” he growls, grabbing my face in the palms of his hands, bringing me closer to him as he parts my swollen red lips with his tongue. The way he kisses still mesmerizes me, it’s as if he’s always saying goodbye. I can’t quite put my finger on it.
He pulls away, giving me a cheeky grin before getting back to actually driving the car so that we can make it to the concert. I take a deep breath, clearing my throat as I flick open the beer can and take a huge gulp.
I am going to need it.
It takes around forty-five minutes to get to the venue, and the cars are already queuing to get in the car park. Miles booked VIP, so we get to go in straight away. It’s a bigger than a normal parking space, but I wouldn’t expect anything less with the car he has. With his VIP passes, we skip all the queues, so we’re straight into the actual arena. Miles got us standing tickets, as he says the experience will be a lot better in the mosh pit rather than sitting down and not having any room to move, and I agree. I’d much rather dance around with loads of other sweaty bodies than sit next to someone grumpy.
We queue up to get some drinks, which are an extortionate in price but lucky for me Miles insists on paying for everything, even though I always like to offer to pay for half. While getting our drinks, we leave our coats with the attendant who stores them in a locker for us, so we don’t have to carry them around as it’s going to be extremely hot. Usually I couldn’t think of anything worse than dancing with loads of sweating, gross bodies, but tonight, I’m up for new experiences.
We arrived a little later so the support bands are playing on the high-rise stage. Miles grabs my hand as he escorts me to find a great space near to the stage. He pushes his way through a load of already drunk groups of teenagers dancing, and they all look a little worse for wear already. People are stumbling into each other, sweat dripping off their faces as some sway from side to side, unable to stand straight. I have no idea how they’re going to cope for another half an hour before ‘Nightfall’ comes on and plays.
When the band takes to the stage to play the whole arena goes crazy, and as I’m a little tipsy, I do to. We end up dancing around stupidly together, enjoying the music, jumping up and down with the rest of the crowd and it’s exhilarating. For a posh boy, I’m surprised Miles would even attend a gig like this because it means he has to stand around with commoners. But he’s proven to me that he isn’t like that, so I guess not all rich people are the same.
We dance for a couple of songs before Miles offe
rs to get us another round of drinks. I offer to stay behind so that we don’t lose our spot. I carry on dancing, enjoying the music, not paying attention to who I’m even dancing with. I’m swaying my hips, not realizing just how tipsy I am, and when I stumble back, I hit a hard frame along with the drink that’s in their hands. I turn around and my eyes widen, staring directly into the green emerald abyss of Hugo’s eyes. I squint just to make sure it’s not the alcohol making me see things, and then I stretch out my hand to touch the muscular form before me.
Yup, he’s real.
I gasp, my hand cupping my mouth. “Oh god, I am so sorry,” I slur my words, clearly too drunk to deal with this situation but Hugo does nothing. His drink spilled down his tight black t-shirt, all the way down to his black ripped jeans, and he throws his empty cup into the crowd. “Do you want me to buy you a replacement drink?”
He doesn’t even respond to my question. Instead, he looks around the crowd before his eyes are drawn back to me. He turns around and without me noticing, grabs my hand and yanks me behind him, dragging me along.
Oh god, he’s going to lose his shit. Where the fuck is Miles?
Hugo drags me all the way to an outside smoking area that is filled with sweaty, drunk people, swaying to the music blaring through the speakers. To my surprise, Hugo lights up a cigarette and offers me one.
“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.” I wave my hand in front of me, turning away the death stick.
“You shouldn’t be here on your own,” he drawls, taking a drag from of his cigarette as his eyes take in my outfit. I suppose he hasn’t really seen me in anything other than my academy uniform and jeans, or that cute yellow dress which was ruined by pumpkin pulp.
I think he likes it…
I stand in front of Hugo, taking in his relaxed aura, which is rare. This is the first time I have ever seen him in anything but his posh boy outfit Instead, he looks normal and goddamn gorgeous. The tight t -shirt shows off his taut muscles and the ink covered skin of his arms and neck. He truly looks magnificent, even with a cigarette in his mouth.
Almost… intoxicating.
“Hang on, do you like rock music? Because I’m sure you always complain about how loud mine is…” I tease, cocking my hip out and folding my arms loosely around my chest. I haven’t got my leather jacket to wear so I’m exposed in just my red crop top, but I can appreciate the feeling of the cool air on my sweat soaked skin.
Hugo looks back down at me and considering how tall he is and how small I am, he has to dip his head to look at me. He blows out a puff of smoke before answering.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Africa,” he purrs.
I should be scared right now, standing next to Hugo, but for some reason I’m not. He has done some dreadful things to me but there is something drawing me into his sadistic, demonic ways and all I can think about is his beautiful body covering mine.
I bet he’s kinky as fuck.
“To answer your question, I’m not alone. I am actually here with Miles, he just went and got us another round of drinks,” I tell him, raising my chin as I gaze around at the other couples who are pretty much fucking each other on the benches. Sensing my discomfort, Hugo smirks at me, baring his teeth, looking cruel as ever and I can’t help but laugh.
Hugo’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“What are you laughing about?”
He takes another drag of his cigarette, finishing it off before stubbing it out in the ashtray. I stare back at him, realizing how dilated his pupils are, so he’s either absolutely fucking drunk or on some sort of drugs, but he is hiding it very well.
“You. You’re just so…” I start, tapping my finger onto my lower lip before I find the correct word to use, “Uptight and mean.” Now I feel like an idiot. Why the fuck did I just call Hugo mean? I need to sober up a little more. Shit! That reminds me, I wonder where Miles is. He’s probably looking around for me.
Hugo’s head rolls back, roaring with laughter, clearly amused by my comment. I can’t tell if it’s an evil laugh, where a villain cackles before killing his victim, or if he’s actually amused. His smirk switches to a frown in an instant.
“Wow Africa, you don’t know what mean is until you’ve crossed me,” Hugo says, baring his teeth as he takes a step closer. I try and take a step back, but the back of my foot has hit the brick wall and I’m trapped. My breath quickens and Hugo notices the rise and fall of my chest. He stands closer to me, his left hand rising as he places his palm on the brick wall above my head so I can smell the spicy aroma of his cologne.
“You might think Blake is the cruel one, but cross me, and you will find out just how much of a heartless bastard I really am,” he whispers in my ear, the venom from his lips caressing my senses, leaving me feeling tingly and slightly turned on.
His fingertips caress my left arm, leaving a hot trail behind. He takes a step back, and I can see the change in his eyes. They have turned into a black pool of nothingness. Nothing but a black hole, but they’re still sucking me in. Since I laid my eyes on him, from the very start, I’ve had nothing but sinful thoughts of this demon. I want more, but I know it’s impossible.
A guy like Hugo doesn’t go near girls like me. We’re not cut from the same cloth and it’s evident. My eyes go to the floor as I shuffle my feet.
“I need to get back inside,” I whisper, still affected by Hugo. I need to get back to Miles – my safe haven, a guy who actually likes me, and the one who I might finally let in.
Hugo turns towards the door, beckoning with his head for me to follow. So I follow. We end up back in the drunk, rowdy crowd, Hugo’s big frame pushing through the sea of people and they split. Just one look at him and people want to scatter. I know I would if I didn’t know him. He’s scary as fuck.
Luckily, he takes us back to the exact same spot and scares off the people that were in our place, but Miles isn’t here. I’m wondering if he went looking for me or if the queues are so awful that he still hasn’t come back.
Hugo whispers in some guys ear, who I am guessing is his friend who came with him to the gig.
“He hasn’t come back yet,” Hugo says in my ear so that I can hear him, and I am taking another guess that his friend knows who Miles is. I stand in front of him, deciding that I am still going to enjoy my evening and dance the night away. Even though Hugo is a prick, I doubt he would leave me alone here, unattended. After a while I start getting worried because Miles still hasn’t returned, and it’s nearly been an hour. My nerves start kicking in and I start feeling sick.
Turning around, I notice an emo looking girl with bright purple hair hanging off of Hugo’s arm. Maybe they came as a group and he’s fucking her? I decide not to tell him where I’m going. He looks occupied and I don’t want to be a cock block for anyone. I walk in the opposite direction to where we went out to the smoking area, bodies pushing me around and making me feel even more nauseous than I did. Hands grab me from every direction and I’m too drunk to really tell anyone to fuck off.
Stumbling back through the entrance to where the drinks queue is, I see Miles in the far corner, still waiting. I let out a big sigh, happy that he hasn’t got lost or murdered. I stumble my way over, and he immediately sees me and gestures for me to join him in the queue.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow and giving me a soft smile. I look at him in confusion, wondering how he didn’t realize how long it’s taking for him to get a stupid drink.
“You’ve been gone for a while and I got worried,” I tell him, snaking my arms around his arm to steady myself. Miles looks at his watch and curses under his breath. “Oh, I suppose an hour is a long time to wait for drinks. Sorry, babe.”
Aww he called me babe, that’s new.
As I’m in the queue waiting with Miles, I scan my eyes around the room and notice Hugo standing by the entrance doors, staring at me, his lips set in a thin line. He shakes his head before re-entering the arena.
What the
fuck have I done now?
Once we get back to the Academy, Miles has to carry me to my dorm room as I am too drunk and stumbling everywhere.
“Wow, you definitely are worse for wear,” Miles chuckles as we get to my room, and I fumble in my clutch bag, trying to fish for my keys. “Here, let me help,” he offers, taking my bag from me and in an instant, he finds my keys. Luckily, he isn’t as drunk as I am, otherwise we would be stuffed.
When he manages to open the door, he leads me through and guides me to my bed, which I instantly flop back onto as my eyes start to close from exhaustion.
“Are you going to be okay? Because I need to go. I am getting picked up to go to my father’s house,” Miles says, his large hand rubbing my leather clad thigh.
“Yes, you go. I will be fine, I just need sleep,” I mumble, waving him off with my hand.
Miles gives me a peck on the lips before he stands to leave, and within a few seconds I hear the soft click of the door once he is gone. My head feels dizzy, and even with my eyes closed the rooms feels as though it is spinning. Luckily, sleep takes over me rather quickly.
Waking up to a massive hangover after an eventful night, I’m lying on my bed, waiting for Steve to come around and pick me up from the academy. I awoke with my mascara and eyeliner smeared under my eyes, my lipstick still glued to my lips and still fully clothed in my leather trousers and red crop top. I have no idea how I managed to fall asleep in the tight leathers, but it somehow worked, and I slept like a baby.
I scrubbed my skin in the shower, removing any of the remains of last night still stinking of alcohol. I blow dried my new hairstyle, curling the ends and put on a full face of make-up, trying to look alive and presentable before going to my father’s house. We have another stupid dinner party tonight and I’m really not looking forward to it.
My phone pings with a text. I open it to see that Steve is outside waiting for me, so I pick up my shoulder bag and head straight out to the courtyard. Forty-five minutes later, we roll up onto the drive of my father’s house and as always, the front door is already open with Mrs. Blossom waiting for my arrival. I climb out of the black Bentley and make my way into the house while Steve drives off to park the car.