Page 3 of Hate To Love You

His face is bright red and the air outside which was warm before turns scalding as my skin starts to burn with heat. “If you want any chance at a successful future with The Steele Corporation, you need to start taking this seriously,” I can’t help but roll my eyes.

A successful future? Is he for real right now? It’s one class. I’ll get my grade up, graduate, and get the hell out of town right after. No one said anything about needing a 4.0 or anything.

“It’s only the beginning of the semester. Don’t worry, father. Your perfect reputation won’t be tarnished. As long as I graduate, your legacy will live on,” I say with a sardonic tone. My father lays both arms on the table as he leans in to get closer. He speaks in a low, harsh tone that only I can hear.

“That’s the thing, son,” he grits out the word like it’s hard for him to even say aloud. “If you keep going down this path, you won’t be graduating, and I will not use my power to help you.”

As if I would even ask him to. I don’t need his help. I never have.

“You haven’t been to see your academic advisor in weeks. You’ve missed more than half of your classes doing God knows what.”

He takes a deep breath, looking like he’s trying not to strangle me in front of the crowd of students walking by. Sitting back in his chair, he straightens his tie and buttons his suit jacket.

“You need to get your shit together, and fast,” he clears his throat. “You will attend your classes, every class, and you will get nothing short of a B plus in each of your courses, or so help me god, I will-”

“You’ll what? What will you do, father?” I ask, pushing him to finish the sentence. There’s nothing he can do. He glowers at me before standing and grabbing his coffee cup and paper off of the table.

“You don’t want to find out, Ryker.”

With that, he leaves me sitting there, watching him walk away, too stunned to move.

Chapter 3

Ryker

A few hours later, I’m sitting at the Ellington Elite mansion with Patrick, Holland, Logan, and Mason. We all share the house and mostly everything in it other than our rooms, thank God.

I never had to deal with that dorm shit since I’m part of the Ellington Elite and any member of the Elite stays in the house. There are a few other guys that live in the house on its third floor, but we don’t really talk to them much unless we’re having an Elite meeting which usually consists of fucking around and not getting anything done.

My brother Logan is one of them. We don’t get along much, but I do try to look out for him. Logan has never experienced our father’s disappointment or foul attitude. He’s the golden child, and he can do no wrong. I’m the first born, I should be better.

Where I couldn’t give a shit about what our father thinks of me, Logan lives to impress him. Logan didn’t want anything to do with the Elite, but father didn’t give him much of a choice, and Logan didn’t argue. He attends meetings and participates in events and parties, but he doesn’t get into trouble.

Holland and Mason sit on the couch, arguing over who should have won their last game of… whatever the fuck they’re playing. I don’t do video games.

Patrick sits at the small table in the corner of the room with Logan across from him on his phone. There are books spread out on the table and Patrick’s head is crooked down, reading quietly while I sit in the chair diagonal from the couch scrolling through my phone.

Logan’s only a year younger than I am, making him and Holland the same age, and the youngest of our group. Mason, Patrick, and I are seniors, and Logan and Holland are juniors.

I’d say Patrick is definitely the smartest of us all. He’s studying to be a doctor, no, not just a doctor. A damn neurosurgeon. I don’t get why because his family is even wealthier than mine and he could easily just get a job at his family’s company. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to be stuck in an office all day, following orders from his father and not having a say in his life. That, I do understand.

Patrick and I have been friends since grade school. We grew up in the same circles and we hit it off pretty early on. Both of our fathers were part of the Ellington Elite, meaning we’re both legacies, which is why we had no choice of any other school. We had to attend Ellington University or nothing at all.

Mason and Holland are cousins, so they came together. Holland’s twin sister Ellie attends the university as well. She’s cool, she goes out with us sometimes with her friend Lainey. Their dad’s part of the fucking mafia or some shit like that. I never really cared enough to ask. Mason and Holland are chill, and we all get along pretty well which is a plus.

The Ellington Elite is like a secret society that isn’t a secret, and everyone knows about it. Most of its members come from rich and important families. More than half are legacies, and the others earn their way in.

The Elite are the big men on campus. The ones every guy wants to be and every girl wants to fuck. We don’t do anything illegal, just throw some big ass parties and mess with people a little when they deserve it.

We’re pretty much untouchable due to how much money our families shovel into the university and the questionable positions some of our parents hold in society. Most professors let us skate by since a lot of them get paid off.

I guess one of my asshole professors didn’t get the fucking memo, because I’m failing. Of course, I haven’t really been to class in a bit. While I enjoy literature, I’d rather read stories that I enjoy, ones that interest me. Not ones I’m forced to read and then write eight-page essays on. That may be fun for some people, but it’s not for me.

Professor Whitely has it out for me, I swear. Even when I do show up on occasion, she’s a total bitch. She’s hot though, and I don’t doubt there’s some blackmailing material to dig up on her.

Patrick looks up from his book to watch Holland and Mason’s game, and his gaze slowly creeps over to me. I can feel his stare burning the side of my face.

“Can I help you?” I bite out. He shrugs, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

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