Page 18 of Lost Paradise

She crosses her arms over her chest and nibbles nervously on her plump bottom lip, her hesitation obvious.

This trip promises to be the highlight of my time at Hawthornes, perhaps the most intriguing event yet. Judging by Mr. Coldwell's deliberate avoidance of meeting Eve's gaze, it's evident that the dynamic is about to shift dramatically, with five Adams and only one Eve in the mix.

Chapter 6

After handing my bagto the crew, I make my way up the stairs and head into the college’s privately owned jet.

Despite my upbringing and background, I’ve never had the privilege of flying like this, not like my father, his kids, his wife, and everyone else who is semi-related to me.

I was sent abroad for two years before attending Hawthornes because I finished my A-levels two years earlier, and the college wouldn’t take me.

An institution hidden away on an island in the Highlands, far from prying eyes, was exactly what my father had in mind for my education. I graduate in a couple of years, and then I’ll be twenty-one, which means I’ll have access to the private trust fund he’s arranged for me since the day I was born. All I have to do is sign an NDA about my paternal lineage, and I can fuck off with twenty million pounds in my pocket and go off on my own in the world.

No one at Hawthornes knows who I am. Well…except Emily, and that’s because she’s my second cousin, but she wouldn’t dare tell anyone she’s related to me. She’d rather snub me and pretend I don’t exist, which is ironic because she was all over my roommate, Zane, at the party.

Except he’s got eyes only for her friend, Eve Winters, and one must be visually impaired and utterly oblivious to not notice that phenomenon. The fella is literally panting and wagging his tongue around her. And I’m sure it was Emily who fed those stinging lies to Hawthornes’ resident gossip about Eve.

Although, what exactly happened between Astro and Eve that night at the party is hazy. Neither have declared much other than theobvious sexual tension between them. So it’s fair to say they haven’t had sex. Yet.

It’s still a toss-up between Zane and Astro, who will be the first to jump into bed with Eve. Her announcement yesterday about avoiding romantic entanglements had only served as a catalyst and an irresistible challenge for any male within earshot. Even if Eve’s intentions were unwarranted, she just challenged every male to break through her defenses.

I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours with my roommate, and unfortunately, I’ve also had to put up with how messy and unorganized he is. The bloke dumps everything everywhere without any systematized purpose. But he’s an easy character to figure out if one can get past his chaotic side of the room. Zane's competitive nature isn't limited to a sports arena; it extends to every aspect of his life. As an athlete, he thrives on challenges, and Eve is the ultimate prize—a gold medal waiting to be won.

Astro, on the other hand, operates according to a different set of rules. As a cocky gangster with a calculated demeanor, he’s accustomed to claiming what he wants without hesitation or regard for convention. He sees Eve not as a prize to be won but as a conquest waiting to be claimed. Playing by the rules is never in Astro's nature; he thrives on bending them to his will, using his charm and cunning to get what he desires.

This trip will serve one purpose, and the rivalry between Zane and Astro will intensify. It’ll be interesting to see how they’ll fail.

Because they will.

While Zane and Astro may be the frontrunners in this love war, they grossly underestimated the determination and cunning of their competitors. There are five males in this group, and all are interested in acquiring a piece of the pretty blonde lady who has just settled into the black leather armchair opposite me.

She’s strategically taken a single seat, making sure no one has an opportunity to sit too close to her. I’m the only one sitting near her, and she deliberately chose me because she thinks I’m the only one who won’t try to vie for her affection.

Of course, there’s Jack, who seems like a safe zone from the outside, but as much as that lad pretends to be dead to the world with his nonchalant penchant for blending into the background, he can’t takehis eyes off Eve.

And Mr. Coldwell, who doesn’t seem that much older than us, can’t help but be drawn to Eve, his eyes lingering on her despite his attempts to appear friendly and neutral as he would with any other student. But there’s that code of conduct between the teacher and the student. Considering all his athletic achievements, he must maintain a strong mental and ethical discipline that will prevent him from acting according to his desires. But he’ll make sure to keep Zane and Astro’s paws off her even if he can’t have her for himself.

That leaves me.

The wildcard.

Unassuming and underestimated, I possess a keen understanding of the dynamics at play, observing the competition with a cool detachment. I’m the one no one’s taken into consideration as a possible rival.

While Zane and Astro may dominate the spotlight with their overt displays of competitiveness, Jack’s too busy blending into the shadows, and Mr. Coldwell is keeping the obvious two at bay. I’m biding my time, quietly confident in my ability to make a lasting impression on Eve.

I’ll be the one standing on the sidelines, ready to step into the fray and stake my claim when the time is right and steal her from right under their noses.

My thoughts are interrupted as the co-pilot pulls the door closed and turns the hatch to lock it. I watch him go back into the cockpit and shut the door behind him. Despite this being a luxury jet, there are no flight attendants or anyone other than the two pilots servicing this plane. Hawthornes Insititute made it very clear that this trip isn’t a holiday and we won’t be catered to.

The pilot's voice comes onto the speaker, giving us information about our flight and announcing that we’ll be making one refuel stop in Tunisia before reaching our final destination. As he’s talking, I’m observing Eve before me. She scowls to herself as she scrolls through her phone, no doubt checking her social media feeds for the latest updates.

“You know, if you just give everyone radio silence for two weeks, they’ll get bored and move on to someone who’ll feed into their obsession with public humiliation.”

She looks up from her phone, her bright blue eyes sparkling like titillating diamonds. I can’t help but notice there’s a certain sadnessthey hold. Eve keeps many of her inner struggles to herself, and I believe she harbors a significant amount of unexpressed turmoil.

“That’s social suicide,” she says in a tone as if I wouldn’t understand her.

“You’ll be damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” I reply. “The question is how much attention do you need and how much can you live without it?”

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