Page 57 of King

Clara is helpful as usual, but I hardly hear her praises. She lets me use her headphones to listen to my favourite station on StreamTube. EBSM Music. Zoning out with the beat, my brush strokes along the canvas as I let my thoughts clear.

I'm feeling free. Luca, Damien and Zane no longer on my mind as colours blend in front of me.

The bell rings, signalling the end of my zen, and when I finally take a step back from the canvas, a gasp escapes my lips.

I’ve painted eyes. One blue. One grey.

Fuck.

Startled by my creation, I flip the canvas around before grabbing my backpack off the floor. A muffled chime comes from the front pocket. When I reach in, pulling out my phone, a woosh of flutters greet me.

Unknown: Luca won’t bother you anymore. That’s my job.

Spacing out at the coffee machine, Damien's text replays in my head.

Luca won’t bother you anymore.

I'm at my shift at MOCHA the next evening and I still don't know what he means by that. He’s like a goddamn puzzle with no photo reference.

Damien, Isaac, Beth and Georgina are sitting at their usual booth with some of their friends. They're all still in uniform, their orders already filled with no complaints. And Damien still hasn't looked my way. No matter how many telepathic signals I send.

It's clear Isaac told his best bud what happened, but are they actually going to do something about it?

The sound of the door closing turns me around, expecting new customers. When I see Luca heading towards me, my hand grips the counter.

He’s approaching me and I tense, but my grip lightens up on the cloth in my free hand as he comes closer. His face looks fucked. And I mean fucked. He has bandages across his nose, a black eye that can't open and his lips look plump, battered and bloody. Dude even has a limp.

“Jo?” He glances over at Damien’s table before he attempts to make eye contact with me. “I’m sorry. I’m a pig. I’m turning myself into Headmaster Beckett and my parents know. I deserve it. I hope you can forgive me.”

My brows knit, words unable to escape my lips and before I can answer, he scurries away. Luca hoofs it out of the cafe with another glance towards Damien’s table. Isaac waves with a smile before the door comes to a close.

Everyone at the table bursts into laughter except for Damien. He leans back in his seat, his eyes finally on me as he brings the coffee I made him to his lips.

Willow still doesn’t know what happened, and I'm still unsure whether to tell her.

I’ll definitely make her aware of who she should stay away from, but it’ll have to wait. She’s becoming quite the socialite with her new squad of friends. That’s where she is tonight, at another ‘study group’ with Bella and Jordan.

I've been trying to figure out why Damien or his group of jocks would come to my defence. Not sure why they’d care to. They left shortly after Luca so I didn't have a chance to grill Damien. But there’s a reason Luca Ferraro apologized for what he did and it isn't because he had a change of heart.

The door closes and I call out the usual while wiping stray beans off the counter, “We’re closed."

Sweeping and taking the trash are my final tasks and I’m free. I’m a little behind on Algebra and tonight is my night to make up for it. Once I’m home I’m locking myself in my bedroom to figure out what the fuck ‘x’ is.

I don’t hear the sound of the door again, so I call out a second time in case they didn’t hear me, “I said we’re —”

“Closed?” Damien's voice is by my ear and I’m starting to think this is his favourite spot. “Your legs weren’t a few nights ago.”

Turning around to face Damien, my chest almost hits his. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t move when I scoot around him, straightening the syrup bottles on the counter.

“I own this town, Medusa.” He leans against the back counter, watching me as I complete my closing duties. He's changed out of his uniform, swapping it for a grey sweater, his usual dark jeans. He doesn't look drunk or high. His hair is even more in place than usual. The lights above highlight his smooth, chiselled features. Rigid jaw. High cheekbones.

I wait for him to tell me why he’s here but he doesn’t. He just watches as I sweep. I’d be lying if I said his presence wasn’t overwhelming and yet, I’m starting to crave it. Starting to want his attention, the little he gives when he seems fit.

Putting a cloth under warm running water, I glance at him to my left. If he's going to stand there he could at least make himself useful. Wiping the counter next to him, I'm mustering up the courage. I'm not afraid to ask, more afraid of the answer. “Did you do that to Luca Ferraro?”

“So you really don’t know anything about the Huangs?”

I look up at him, the mention of the Huangs distracting me. “Do you?”

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