by D. V. EEDEN
Somehow this feel sensual. I’m being watched as my lips are around Charles, and as soon as he removes the thumb, his other hand comes up to the other side of my face. He cups me in place before he places his fine lips on mine, inserting his tongue in my mouth and tasting the bittersweet drug on my tongue.
He leans back, chuckling under his breath. All of a sudden, my anxiety spikes up. I bring my hands up to his hard chest, pushing him away from me. I quickly stand, looking at the rest of the table and scurry away without another word.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I wake up on Sunday in the afternoon, as I only got back to the academy at half past four this morning. I wake up with hot sweats, still hyperventilating after last night’s events. I can’t decide what’s worse. the fact that I tried drugs for the first time or the fact that Charles kissed me, and it was the biggest turn on.
I basically cheated on Miles, and my stomach roils as the prang of guilt ripples through me.
Scurrying out of bed, I rush to the bathroom, taking a cold shower before getting dressed in my yoga pants and sports bra. I need to relieve some stress and right now, dancing is the answer.
I stride into the dance studio, and thankfully it isn’t occupied like it usually is at this time. I throw my bag on the floor, putting on the most relatable song I could think about.
‘Popular Monster’ by Falling in Reverse plays and I dance to my heart’s content.
Dripping in sweat, my limbs ache, growing numb. I fall to the floor, my body trembling as the tears stream down my face, my chest heaving. I don’t even know why the fuck I’m crying. I wasn’t high on the fucking drugs last night, but I am high on the fucking misery caused by the royal dicks.
Standing back up, I push my body to the point of exhaustion, carrying on dancing around the room but the tears don’t stop. As I carry on, another one of their song plays, ‘The Drug in me is you’, and I bruise the tips of my toes as I carry my weight round the room, spinning and twirling. My body welcomes the ache I force upon it as I drag my limbs around, finding new ways to create pain to distract me, but a shadow brings me out of my depressive state.
A slender, muscular form stands, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. The golden-brown eyes watching me as I move, but I carry on until the song finishes.
I pretend that I haven’t noticed Royce. He always knows where to find me, and whatever mood I’m in, you’ll find me in the dance studio. As soon as the song comes to an end, I grab my hand towel and wipe the sweat from my face, chest, and arms. My whole outfit is soaked from top to bottom. I sigh, “What do you want Royce?”
Uncapping my bottle of water, I stare at Royce through the mirror, gulping half of my water in one go.
He takes a few steps forward, cocking his head to the side as he studies my skinny form. “I just came to check if you’re okay after last night. You left in such a rush,” he says, putting both hands in his brown chino trouser pockets, shuffling his feet. I turn around, now facing the posh actor in front of me.
Why the fuck is he here, asking if I’m okay?
I bet it’s another game to him.
“Yeah, why?” I reply.
A frown takes over his face, the worried expression fading away from his perfectly symmetrical features. “Well it doesn’t seem that way, I can see that you have been crying,” he grits, his nostrils flaring in annoyance. Taking his hand out of his pocket, he scrubs the palm over his tired face, sighing. “Look, I know I’m the last person you ever want to talk to, but I’m not part of whatever the guys are doing… trust me,” he pleads. Concern has edged onto his perfect face.
Shaking my head, I let out a sarcastic laugh, not believing a word he says to me.
“Okay Royce, whatever you say.”
I pick up my bag, throwing my towel around my neck to soak all the sweat. I barge past him, leaving him alone in the dance studio. I can’t be fucked with people who try to ruin my life or break my trust anymore. He sounded so sincere, but this is where I went wrong in the first place, and it broke me on the inside.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The whole week has passed in a blur, and soon enough, Miles and I are standing behind the curtain on the stage, getting ready for our dance recital to the whole academy and any parents who have attended. I know for a fact my father hasn’t turned up. I did invite him, but he says dancing is a waste of time.
The recital is being held in Stonewall auditorium and anyone was able to purchase tickets to watch the Darlington Academy recital. My nerves are kicking in, I haven’t danced in front of crowd in such a long time, and the fact I’ll be on display in front of all my bullies makes me more nervous.
“Hey, you’re going to do great. Our routine is amazing and so are you,” Miles consoles, rubbing my shoulders as I shiver. It doesn’t help that my outfit is minimal. I’m wearing a traditional ballet outfit but in black, with smokey eyes and red lipstick. My hair is gelled back into a perfect bun on top of my head. We’re on last as we have the longest routine, mixing three songs and three routines into one, so it’s a lot of pressure.
I do my breathing exercises, breathing in and out, but I peek out to the audience through the blue velvet curtains and it’s heaving with bodies. The Royals are all seated in the front row. I’m not bothered if Royce watches me as he’s watched me before, but the others haven’t.
I’m hoping they don’t throw this in my face, otherwise my dreams will be shattered too, and I don’t take criticism well. Luckily, after tonight, I don’t need to see their faces for a few weeks while on Christmas break. I’m looking forward to relaxing.
I watch the last act of the evening and then it’s our turn. Every routine has been amazing, but I can confidently say they won’t beat ours. As soon as they’re finished, they bow to the audience and Miles takes my hand, squeezing it tightly to assure me everything will be alright. I had to take anxiety tablets before this evening, and I don’t feel like they have kicked in at all as my breath is all over the place.
The host of the evening announces Miles’ and my name to the audience, so I take a deep breath, following behind Miles. The curtains are closed as we get into position, and once we’re ready, the curtains open, revealing a pitch-black audience. The only light available is the orchestra at the bottom of the stage. The first song, ‘Swan Lake’ starts playing and the spotlight gleams on us, displaying us to the audience.
Silence fills the room as the violin starts playing, and we ballet dance for the first verse before the music transitions to ‘I don’t care’ where we modernize the ballet, adding jumps and more twirls. It’s very romantic and perfect, smiling at each other the whole way through the song and routine. My nerves have eased slightly due to not seeing the audience, but I can feel their presence and their eyes boring into our souls as we dance.
The lights start to change as the song continues, revealing the audience and the orchestra. As Miles leans me back, my head upside down, I’m facing the four Royals, whose perfect faces hold no expression. They look bored.
Fuck.
When the lights turn off, the curtains close for a second whilst the orchestra still plays the violins and as quickly as possible, I put on a tight black dress that hugs my torso but flares out at the bottom for movement and a pair of four inch heels before our last piece of music plays. As soon as ‘The Kill’ by 30 seconds to Mars comes on, the curtains open and the lights shine back on me and Miles. The audience cheers at the new outfits before settling down. Our hands are clasped together as my other hand rests on the top of his shoulder. My gaze constantly fixates to the right of me as we take on our own form of the Tango. Miles spins me around the stage, twirling me round so that my dress lifts in the air, my bodysuit covered ass on display.
We cover the whole stage, and my gaze catches onto the Royals again. Royce has a massive grin on his face, but the other three still look bored as fuck, leaning low in their seats.
Great, they are so going to degrade m
e over this. We finish our routine, my heart pumping out of my chest and we bow to the crowd, the applause blanketing the whole auditorium and I honestly feel amazing. I smile and wave to the audience before taking another bow and then running off the stage with Miles.
“Oh my god, that was amazing!” he lifts me up in the air, twirling me round as we both laugh from the adrenaline. My body is shaking from pure ecstasy and I feel on top of the world. I forgot how much I love performing on stage for people and how much it made me feel. You know what? Fuck what the Royals say, and their pet bitches. We were amazing and I know for a fact we will get amazing grades for this.
We make our way to the changing rooms where I can finally get out of these uncomfortable outfits. A few of us are going out tonight to celebrate our amazing night, and I cannot wait to have a drink.
I pull out the tight bun on my head, brushing out the hard gel in my hair until I’m pretty much left with a bird’s nest. My make-up is still on point though, so all I have to do is get changed into my clothes. I slide on a red mini skirt, and pair it with a black turtleneck and knee-high boots. I slip on my leather jacket, grab my bags and leave to meet Miles and the others at the front of the auditorium.
We end up going around on a pub crawl down the main strip, pushing down shots at every bar and pub until I start to feel tipsy from all the alcohol consumed. We’re at the last bar of the evening. Miles has had to leave, as him and Ruby going on holiday to ski. I wish I had plans like that over Christmas, but I doubt father would want to do anything fun.
I’m sitting in one of the booths along with my classmates, sipping on a rum and cola, when I see Zach walk in towards the bar. My eyes follow his movements, studying the dark blue jeans and navy-blue jumper making him look less surfer dude, but less posh twat too. He’s somewhere in between. He’s with a few people I haven’t seen around before, and one of the girls latches herself onto his arm, sending a pang of jealousy through my gut. Her dark purple hair is down to her butt, her pale skin looking as if she’s never seen the sun, paired with heavy black make-up.
Hang on, that’s the purple haired girl that sucked Hugo’s dick. Wow, is that his type?
Zach’s eyes wonder around the room and stop when he sees me sipping on my straw in the booth, the corners of his mouth curling up into a smile as he gives me a little wave. I wave back, quickly averting my gaze back to my group and away from him. I can hear his roaring laugh from the other side of the room, the beautiful sound making me quiver in my seat. A band starts playing on the other side of the room, and that is a cue for everyone to stand around them and dance. The girls all stand up, squealing and grabbing my hand to join them.
When the band starts, they sing songs that I haven’t heard before, but it’s still fun to dance to. I’m swaying my hips, enjoying myself with the girls, dancing for a few songs. I head back to take a sip of my drink to hydrate and find Zach leaning his back against the bar, grinning at me. He winks as soon as I look at him, a red flush taking over my face. I give him a sweet smile, and gesture with my head to come over and join us. He gestures with his hands he will be ten minutes, so I shrug my shoulders in response, getting back to dancing.
The band starts playing familiar songs and it isn’t until ‘Mr. Brightside’ starts playing that everyone freaks out. Everyone standing jumps around to the song, singing their hearts out. As I’m jumping like a crazy woman, I feel two hands grope my hips, and I know it’s Zach because whenever he’s near me, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, acknowledging his presence. I haven’t spoken to Zach since the night they found me at the club when I shouldn’t have been. I’ve been ignoring his texts, feeling bad about talking to him when I should be with Miles.
I’m still swaying my hips, but this time it’s against Zach’s pelvic region. The strongly tanned, rough hands still on my hips, the long fingers brushing against my knicker line. I can feel the bulge in his jeans, the fabric in the way of our skin touching. I should feel nervous next to him, but this guy has seen me in my underwear already and with a bloody, bruised face, so I feel completely myself around him.
“You carry on rubbing that sweet ass of yours like that against me, I’ll have to bend you over my car,” he whispers in my ear, one hand stroking my long hair away and exposing my skin between my ear and neck.
I feel the tip of his nose nuzzling that sweet tender spot and it’s doing bits to my insides. I want to turn around and kiss this Viking god in front of everyone, claiming him to be mine, but that’s wishful thinking.
Unable to respond to Zach, I carry on dancing, rubbing my ass against him. I know it’s provoking him. I can feel the growl of frustration from his hard chest against my back, and it makes me smile. I feel sexy right now, which I haven’t in a while. Miles makes me feel safe, content and wanted… but Zach makes me feel sexy and possessed.
When the pub signals its last call, the room starts to empty, and we all shuffle outside into the crisp, cold air, waiting for an Uber to arrive and take us back to the academy. Zach follows, grabbing my hand and dragging me somewhere else. “Come on, I’ll take you back. I haven’t drunk any alcohol tonight,” he grins.
“Does your father know that you’re out galivanting in town tonight?” I tease as we get to his black Ferrari, parked along the sea wall.
“He does, but I bet your daddy doesn’t,” he smirks, lifting a teasing eyebrow. Okay, he got me there. I think my father would kill me if he found me out galivanting in Stonewall, especially in a pub. Sliding into his car is a task, considering how low it is and how high my high heeled boots are. I plop my ass down in the luxury seats, and Zach starts the engine with a button and roars off.
“I must admit, I really enjoyed your recital tonight,” he says, eyes still on the road but the cheeky smirk hasn’t left his flawless face.
I tilt my head to him, gasping. I didn’t know he went to that. I don’t think I even told him about it. I quirk up my eyebrow, scrunching my nose as I look at him in confusion.
“I didn’t see you.”
He chuckles, turning his gaze to me for a sweet second, the headlights reflecting on the side of his face and showing off the perfectly sculpted cheekbones. “Oh, I was there, that last outfit… it got me going,” he winks, and I cover my mouth, smirking and laughing. I forgot how much fun I have with Zach, but once again something is telling me it’s all wrong. This is too good to be true. The happiness drains from my face, turning into a frown and Zach can see the change in my mood.
“I will tell you everything when the time is right, Ade,” he consoles, placing his warm hand on my thigh. Looking down at his calloused hands in admiration, I take in his worker hands from where he deals with the surf boards. Not hands that show he’s a posh twat who doesn’t lift a finger - now if only that hand would slide up a little further…
I clench my thighs to get rid of the pooling ache between them as his hand stays put.
My breath is ragged as I try to breathe. He knows exactly what he does to me.
The tea party is an absolute fucking bore. I’m sitting around an oval table, sipping on my beverage from a little teacup that holds one gulp. I’m taking the tiniest sips to make it last. Ms. Veronica is sitting on the left of me, cackling to whatever the woman has just said to her. I pick up another little slice of a sandwich, the only filling is a fucking cucumber, and I finish it in one bite.
This is boring as fuck.
Classical music plays in the background. The hall is extravagant, ivory walls with historical paintings surround the room. Crystal chandeliers hang low from the ceiling, brightening the vast space. The tea party is held at an old stately home outside of Stonewall. It has its own tennis court, stables with horses and three swimming pools, but no one lives here. It’s a waste of space in my opinion.
Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I try pulling the hem of my skirt down as it keeps riding up. I’m wearing a matching skirt and blazer suit in the colour of sage green, with a white blouse underneath and nude four-inch he
els? My hair is curled - a half up, half down look - the top teased and backcombed into a slight beehive, pinned with pearl clips, the mix of dark brown and caramel strands resting on my padded shoulders. Fucking padding.
My make-up is minimalistic with a boring nude lipstick. I look pale, like a vampire drinking fucking tea, when I want to be drinking the blood of the dickheads that put me here.
“Oh dear, you look so delightful,” a woman says to me, her lips not moving when she speaks, but I smile sweetly at her and mutter a thanks. Around the room are a few young ladies around my age, all going through what I am. The torture to be perfect.
This is the first event leading up to the debutant ball next Christmas, where we will be introduced to some suitors who will escort us from being girls to being ‘Ladies’.
I couldn’t think of anything fucking worse.
My gaze scans around the room, watching the robots that surround the beautifully organized tables. The soft, ivory tablecloths, porcelain crockery with gold trimmings, and the cutlery that apparently is real silver, polished so there isn’t even a speck of dust to be found. The grand flower arrangements of peonies and roses are the centerpieces of each table, placed in a blue and white china vase, so tall you can’t see who’s sitting opposite you.
I stuff my face with tiny Victoria sponge cakes and biscuits as the chitter chatter fills the room. I haven’t spoken to any of the other girls here, not really interested in their lives. Ms. Veronica has been babbling on with the lady next to her for the past hour. Literally, I thank the lord in my head when it’s announced that the tea party is drawing to a close. I am the first one to stand up from my seat, eyes on me as I walk out of the grand room. I mentally stick my finger up at the ladies behind me as they watch me leave.