Page 6 of Frosted Hearts

"Ah, I think I read that somewhere. My bad. After you, Princess," he holds the door open and dramatically waves his arm to prompt me forward.

I'm shocked he had no remark to my nickname, but I'm sure it'll come eventually. Steel seems to be the type who will never back down from a fight. Walking past him, I head straight to the elevator to go up to the third floor. I'll take the stairs down, but I am not walking up them unless I have to. I'd rather get my workouts in when I'm doing an actual workout, not from going up the stairs in winter gear, carrying my backpack full of books. Steel follows behind me, even being kind enough to place his arm in front of the elevator door when it opens. Weird, but okay, it's not like the door was going to close immediately after opening.

"Before we get to the classroom, you should know that I'll be sitting in the back to give you space. No one needs to know that you and I are connected, at least not on day one. I told you I don't want to interrupt your routine completely. I'm here to watch and listen," he explains quickly before the elevator door opens.

The second he stops talking, the elevator chimes, signaling we've reached our floor right as the doors begin to open. Instead of answering him, I nod so he knows I understand. Together, we walk off the elevator, me moving to a small study alcove in front of one of the windows next to the classroom. He takes a seat opposite me on a bench along the wall. His position allows him to see me at all times while also keeping an eye on the hallway. It's not ideal, in my opinion, but he is doing what he said and keeping some semblance of distance. I'll accept it for now because I really need to study for a little bit longer. Setting my bag on the table, I pull out my notes from our class's study session last week. We did a review of all three books, looking at the similarities and differences between them. Dracula was always one of my favorite books, but I struggled to get through Frankenstein. I thought I would love it, and it was a good read, but it didn't hook me the way I had expected. I suppose we can't love every book that we read, but I was disappointed I didn't love that one. I knew it was the one story I needed to focus the most on while studying.

"Illeana, the class will be starting in ten minutes," Steel's strong voice rings out as he knocks his knuckles against the wooden table I'm sitting at. I was so consumed in my notes, I forgot about paying attention to the time. His voice startles me and causes me to jump as I lift my gaze to his, but he isn't looking at me. His back is to me as he looks down the hallway.

"Thanks," I mumble, shoving everything into my bag and getting up from the table. I wait for a couple of other students to pass and then I cross the hall and enter the classroom. Steel is behind me as we pass through the door, but once he steps inside, he breaks off to take a seat in the back of the classroom while I continue forward to my seat in the front.

Since the English and Cultural classes are in the same building, the classroom has a Scandinavian look to it. The wallsare a light brown wood, and the desks are made out of the same material. The front of the classroom has a chalkboard built into it with a whiteboard hidden behind movable wooden panels for easy access. Both sides of the room have bookcases built into the walls with glass doors covering them to protect the books inside. All the doors are locked, of course, but it would be amazing to be able to open them. In fact, almost every classroom in this building represents a different culture. It's one of my favorite parts about attending this school and a reason that I fell in love the second I toured the campus during my senior year of high school.

"Good morning, class," Mr. Scott calls out, clearing his throat. He stands at the front of the classroom behind a wooden podium that is off to the right side, so it doesn't block the boards. Today, he's wearing a white shirt, black trousers, and a purple tie. His brown hair is slightly graying. His glasses, perched on the edge of his nose, as if he doesn’t even need them to begin with. In all the classes I've had with him, I've never seen him wear that tie. It's pretty cool, actually, with silver designs on it. "I hope you all studied over the weekend for the test today. Don't expect it to be easy. I want you to use your critical thinking skills to answer the essays. Even some of the multiple-choice questions are meant to trip you up. Take your time and don't rush. You have the full seventy-five minutes to complete it. Good luck." Moving around from the podium, he grabs the stack of tests and begins counting out the amount he needs for every row before passing them to the person at the end of every row. It doesn't take long before the stack reaches me, and I take my own before passing it to my neighbor.

Flipping the test over, I begin. Question by question, essay by essay, I work my way through the test, focusing on what I know best. A few questions I skip, marking them to come back to after I answer the ones I know better. It’s something I learned to dowhen I was younger, not wanting to get hung up on things I wasn't sure of and then losing time. This way, I can spend more time on the questions and essays that need it rather than feeling rushed at the end to complete everything. Before I know it, I've finished reviewing my work. Standing up, I grab my bag and make my way to the back of the classroom where Mr. Scott took his place to collect our tests. He told us on day one that he likes to sit back there to watch us and make it easier to collect our test on the way out. Makes sense.

I hope that Steel is finished with his as well because I will not be waiting for him. It's his job to follow me around, not mine to wait on him. Handing my completed test to Mr. Scott, I take a quick peek out of the corner of my eye to see Steel flipping his test closed as well and grabbing his backpack. I guess he is done. As I open the door, Steel's arm reaches over my head to push it open for me. Tilting my head back, I look up and glare at him before stepping outside. "I'm not incapable of opening a door," I hiss, not wanting to raise my voice too much and draw attention to ourselves.

"Never said you couldn't. Gentlemen open doors for ladies, it’s the polite thing to do, Princess," he grunts, falling into place behind me when I turn and head toward the nearest staircase. I have one more literature class for the day, but it isn't until this evening. It's only taught once a week, making it a long two-hour class. I'd prefer it wasn't, but I needed the class to graduate, and it was the only time it fit into my schedule. Which means I'm, or I guess we, are going back to the dorms for the afternoon.

I have every intention of taking a nap and then Facetiming Grace to make sure she gets her homework done. She doesn’t really need me on Facetime while she does the work but we both find comfort in the move and if she gets stuck I can usually help her pretty easily.

Thankfully, Steel doesn't say a word as we walk across campus. I guess he decided it was easy to watch me by following me instead of trying to hold a conversation with me. Fifteen minutes later, we finally make it to the dorms, and it looks like Steel can be taught a thing or two as he swipes his student badge to let both of us in the building. He holds the door open for me again, which I'm starting to think is a move ingrained in him. It's definitely something I'm going to need to get used to because I've never had a man hold a door open for me except for my own father when we are at public events, and that's only to put on a show.

Both of us swipe our badges on the next door, so security knows we belong here before we enter the rest of the way into the building and move to the elevator. Most dorms have five floors, including this one. The freshman dorm is the only one that has ten floors to accommodate all freshmen living there their first year. My room is on the third floor, room 305. It's actually a suite-style room that I share with my best friend. The room allows both of us to have our own space, but we still have a small living room and a shared bathroom between our rooms. We even designated a corner to be a little kitchen area, so we don't need to eat at the cafeteria for every meal if we don't want to. Since it's Tuesday, I know she should be in our room for the afternoon, having completed her dance classes this morning. Her focus is on contemporary and hip hop, but she can dance every style out there and is actually very good at it.

"What time are we leaving for your next class?" Steel inquires when we reach my floor, or I suppose it's our floor now.

"It starts at six, so probably around five thirty, unless I decide to eat in the cafeteria. I can knock on your door when it's time to leave." It's the best I can offer him, to try to keep the peace, well that's if I remember to knock on his door. Would it really be that bad if I didn't?

"Give me your phone," he holds out his hand, waiting for me to comply. I just stare at him dumbfounded, refusing his request. That is no way to ask for something from me, and there is no reason for him to have it, anyway. "Please, Illeana," he sighs, exasperated. "I'm just going to put my number in your phone and you can text me when you're ready to leave."

"Pretty sure you don't deserve to have my number just yet, Big Boy," I grin, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "Like I said. I'll just knock. Be ready at five thirty." Turning my back to him, I quickly unlock my door and step inside, shutting the door behind me.

"Illeana!" Steel growls, slamming his fist against the door. I can't help but laugh as I toss my backpack on the ground beside the couch and shrug out of my jacket, hanging it on the hook beside me.

"Who is that?" Morgan asks, placing her laptop on the coffee table as she turns to look at me. "And why are you so entertained by that exchange?"

"That is a long story," I sigh, kicking off my winter boots before I move to join her on the couch.

"Is he a problem I need to take care of?" she asks, concerned, her back straightening as she watches me. That is exactly why I love her. My best friend would go to war for me, no questions asked if I needed her to. She may only be five foot three, but she's feisty and never backs down from a fight. She must have just recently gotten back to the dorm because she's still in her dance clothes with her black hair pulled back into a neat bun, bobby pins holding it in place.

"He's one that I'm stuck with until my father changes his mind," I answer begrudgingly. "My father has it in his head that there is some sort of threat to the family, so he hired a private security company to keep an eye on me. That guy is my babysitter."

"Wait, what?" she asks, shocked, as she turns her whole body to face me. "Wait, is this a conversation that requires wine? I think we still have a bottle or two in here."

"It's lunchtime," I laugh, shaking my head. Only she would want to drink at this hour, despite the fact I know she also has a night class this evening. "No alcohol for me."

"Boo, you're so boring. Fine. Then tell me what is going on with that man. Does he have a name?" I can see the wheels spinning in the back of her mind, and I know I need to give her something before she comes up with her own theories.Ugh.

"His name is Steel, and he is a pain in my ass. He will be following me around constantly, no matter where I go or who I am with. So sorry in advance for that. I'll try to make sure he doesn't cramp our style too much. My father, however, well, him I need to find a way to speak to about this. My pleas fell on deaf ears this morning at the house. He wouldn't listen to a single argument I made and told me to be on my best behavior for my security guard or he’d pull me from school." My tone does little to hide my annoyance at the whole situation.

"I know it sucks and is a shitty situation. You came here to live a life outside of your father's shadow. I'm pretty sure outside of the faculty, I'm the only person on campus who knows who you really are, but maybe your dad has a good reason for this. He's doing it because he cares about you. I know losing your mom in a car accident was hard for you. Imagine what it was like for him. He just wants to protect you. Remember, not all of us have that life," her voice hints at a little bit of pain, but her expression only shows worry for me.

Shit.I'm such a shitty friend. Morgan and I met during our freshman year when we got placed together to share a room. It took almost a whole semester for her to warm up and let me in. That's when she told me that her mother died and she wasn't super close with her father. He was more of a dictator parent,even worse than my father, than a real dad. Her coming to this school was an escape for her. The loss of our mothers was the thing that helped bind us and our friendship together. We both knew what it was like to grow up without a parent.

"I'm such a shitty friend," I murmur, leaning forward to wrap my arms around her shoulders. "I'm sorry. Here I am bitching about my dad being overprotective when I know what your dad is like. I should have chosen my words more carefully."

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