Page 113 of Knight

Her words sting but I try to remind myself she’s hurting and mad. When she turns to walk away, it’s like a knife in my stomach. Heading down the hall, I try to push it out of my mind, at least for now. I have to win Clara back and I need that art mark to be scholarship worthy.

When I get to the class, Clara’s sipping a cup of tea across from a red-haired man leaning against her desk. He’s in a green suit, striped tie and hair combed in place.

“Jo! I’m so happy you took my offer to redo the finals. Had I known what happened, I would’ve given you the option sooner. Those boys get away with too much.” Clara walks over to me, resting a hand on my shoulder. “You can always talk to me, Jo.” She gestures towards the gentleman, his cup in hand. “This is Elliott. He’s from the Department of Art and Film at Harvard.”

Ho-lee shit.

I can barely speak when he reaches out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Jo. I’ve heard great things. I’m excited to see what you have for us, Clara insisted I be here for the big reveal.”

So she does believe in me. That prank must’ve done a doozy on her if she thought I let her down so easily. I try to steady my breath as I take his hand. “Thank you.”

He smiles as Clara gestures to the easel and I approach it, taking a beat while I put it in position.

This is it.

My time to shine.

* * *

An A-plus.

An A-fucking-plus.

This might be the first A-plus of my entire existence.

And I’m stoked!

Damien’s been sending his limo to get me from school but when I get outside this time, he’s right there waiting for me. He’s sitting on the hood of his car like this is some sort of teen romance movie in his leather jacket. It’s open, black shirt clinging to those pecs and with those aviators on his eyes, he looks ready for a closeup. From me.

Girls glare as I walk down the steps but my eyes stay on him. Only him.

When I get to where he stands, canvas in hand, backpack on, he smiles before he lifts his shades and pulls me into a long deep kiss. It’s cold but he’s warm, my cheeks heating the longer our lips stay together. Like at that dance before everything changed, he doesn’t care who sees it.

My feet are off the ground and I let out a high-pitched noise before I demand an answer, “What are you doing?” He wraps my legs around his torso before he’s climbing the stairs with a stupid smirk on his face. When we reach the top he keeps me up with one hand, the other pulling my head in for another heart-melting kiss.

He breaks only to say, “I want everyone to know who you belong to.” I’m still hanging on when he clears his throat, his voice a boom, even in the cold winter air. Looking around I realize how many people are around us. It’s at least half the school, all chatting before heading home or to extracurricular activities. “If anybody lays a breath on Rowland, you’re dealing with me!” He looks at me with a lustful, hungry gaze. “She’s mine! Understand?” With a pull on my lip, his teeth sink in my skin. He makes me his once more, his lips like sweet kryptonite.

I hear a couple of hollers from whoever’s around us but it’s all a blur, my lips and my eyes on the King. My King.

“Ugh. Are they back together?”

“He’s never done that to anyone.”

“What’s so special about her?”

The voices of snobby girls only make me pull my arms around him because he’s mine as much as I’m his.

“Ew,” Nate’s voice comes from behind and he brushes my backpack as he walks away.

Guess he got word of my altercation with Allie.

Damien tries to hide his laugh as he lowers me to the ground, but I see it. He speaks first, “Quinfrey and Allie still upset with you?”

“Oh, you couldn’t tell?” I say, trying my best to make light of the situation. Now that I’m done with this project, I have the mind-space to try to mend whatever relationship I have left with my friends. For now, I brush it off, pulling on his shirt for more of his sweet toxin. Those lips. “I’ll talk to them later.”

“Mhm.” He pulls me in for another kiss, pulling me to the side of the steps where he usually stands with his crew and I can’t help but think this is our new spot. “Wait, you gotta tell me how you did. On your Picasso shit.”

Talking art is one of the only things that’ll get me to pull away from him now. “My art project? Is that why you’re here?”

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