Page 69 of Royal
“Oh, yeah. For fucking sure. They’re like bros, but they don’t hesitate to mess with each other, either. I think it’s all in good fun. Anyway, what’s the deal?”
I can only imagine they were afraid someone would say something to me about Royal and his good fuckingbuddies,Beckham and Wilder. My teeth clench together, and I exhale harshly. “I met them at the bonfire. I just—” There’s no way I’m admitting to anyone just yet thatWilder and Beckhamfucking lied to me. They’ve been playing me all this time. Acting like they liked me. Pretending to be my friends. They let me believe they were totally into me. My stomach roils at the thought that I just gave it up to someone other than Royal. And it was all a lie. It was all a total fucking lie.
From the kitchen, Royal’s voice raises, and it’s all growly and deep as he bites out, “I asked you to watch her. To fuckwithher, notfuckher!”
I squeeze my eyes shut, twin spikes of humiliation and fury rising within me. My lip trembles, and Freya tries to say something to me, but I can’t deal with anyone else right now. These fuckers. This is the last time they play me.
THIRTY-THREE
ROYAL
Blood roarsin my ears as I stare at my so-called friend. I’m furious. Wilder fucked Echo. Literally right here at this party, while I was in the house. I don’t fucking care if he couldn’t find me. That didn’t give him the green light to just take a crack at her. I stare into his eyes, my entire body bristling. He’s got a motherfucking death wish. And here he is, shaking his head, as if he can’t understand why I’m pissed off.
Beckham runs a hand down his face, his eyes darting between us. Because, yep, he’s caught right in the middle of this. Sort of. I haven’t fucking forgotten about his stunt the other day. Don’t want to think about what he did in her room. Could he have fucked her, too, and kept quiet about it? What the fuck is going on around here? Has Echo just been spreading her legs for every guy who’s come sniffing around? I huff out a breath, my jaw clenching so hard I think my teeth will crack.
Wilder’s brow lifts as he eyes me. Finally, he throws out his arms in agitation. “Okay, so what do you want to do about it? Do we need to have it out since you don’t have anything else to say? Take your frustrations out on me, then. I’m game.” He shrugs, patting his cheek like he’s done so many times before. “Anytime you’re ready.”
I don’t get a chance to respondorthrow a punch because a second later, a certain flame-haired female storms into the room.Oh, fucking hell.I thought Wilder said Echo had gone back to the sorority house. But she obviously hasn’t. She’s right fucking here.
Her bold green eyes flash at me, anger and hurt radiating from her. She’s all fired up and plows through the crowd until she’s facing the three of us. Hands on hips, she aims her death glare at me. “Oh, fucking no, you don’t get to respond like that. You aren’t the injured party here, so let’s not pretend like you are.” She draws in a breath, and her body positively shakes with rage. Her lips press together for a moment before she unleashes. “You told these guys about me, gave them the go ahead to mess with me. They were right there the first time we ran into each other. You’ve been fucking with my life since the moment I arrived at KU, when all I’m trying to do is start over.” Her chest jerks, and the pain that slashes over her face will for sure be my undoing.
She spins on her heel and jabs her finger, first at Beckham, then a second time at Wilder. “None of it was real with you two. Not a single second. Got anything to say for yourselves?” Before they can say a word, she waves her hand in the air and gives a quick shake of her head. “No. Don’t answer, I don’t want to hear a fucking word from your lying mouths. You befriended me on purpose to get to me. Forhim.To what end? What was the plan? What’s the endgame?”
I’ll give my boys some credit. They stare stonily at her, and as requested, they don’t say a fucking word, even though she’s continued to spew questions at them. There are way too many people watching this go down. Way. Too. Fucking. Many.
“Echo, let’s go outside,” I grit out, staring coldly at her.
Turning back to me, she narrows her blazing eyes on me. “Oh, please. Fuck you. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want. You don’t own me, Royal.”
Her words prick at my brain and dig themselves in. She’s fucking wrong about that, and I’ll eventually prove it to her all over again.
The sound of muffled laughter and murmuring from the crowd that has begun forming grates at my nerves. Fucking nosy assholes. No one has gotten too close, but they can hear every angry word she’s saying.
She sucks in a breath and continues her rant. “Don’t ever speak to me again. Do you hear me? Fuck you for all of this.” She cuts her arm through the air before whirling around to Beckham. “Fuck you,Beckham. I thought you were my friend.” His eyes crash shut, and he rubs his hand over his mouth, kinda like he can’t believe this is happening. She moves on quickly to Wilder. “And you,Wilder. Especially, fuckyou.”Her hand darts out, and she slaps him. Hard. The crack practically echoes through the room. He takes it, his jaw hardly twitching, even though there’s a definite red handprint already springing to the surface of his skin from the force of it. “I hate all three of you.” Storming out of the room like some sort of beautiful avenging angel, she flips us twin birds over her shoulders.
And then she’s gone.
Fucking hell. How did that happen?
There are some hoots of laughter that stop the second I look at the perpetrators. My jaw works to one side, and I shake my head. “All of you can mind your own goddamn fucking business.” Correctly sensing that the show is over, most of the people who’d watched the violent eruption of Echo’s fury go back to what they were doing. We’re a bit of drama. Something to gossip about. And that’s the last thing I want. I don’t need people fucking poking around to find out more about me.
Wilder scratches his head, his gaze unmoving from the doorway Echo exited through mere seconds ago. “Shit.” He grimaces, continuing in a low voice, “She said she wasn’t coming back upstairs. She said she was going. I swear to you, I didn’t know she was still here.”
“Do you want me to try to talk to her?” Beckham eyes me cautiously, like I’m an already-lit stick of dynamite.
“Fuck no. Bad idea.” I turn on my heel and barrel from the room, exit the house, hit the porch stairs, and don’t stop until I’m all the way in the middle of the street. If a truck could come along and run me down right about now, I might not even feel it. I’m numb.
I don’t have any fucking clue how long I stand out there, angry at everything.
When Beckham approaches me, though, I shake my head and hold my hand palm out. “No.” I’m way too twisted up over what happened to discuss shit right now, and I would have thought he’d know that.
But the fucker keeps right on coming. “Royal, I know you’re all fucked in the head, but—”
“I said no. I’m not talking about it right now.” The muscle in my jaw jumps and twitches hard.
“Fine.” Beckham shrugs. He walks several paces before I hear him mumble to himself, “I’ll just take this back to Echo myself, then.”
My head jerks up, and my eyes flick to Beckham’s hand. He’s carrying something, whistling as he walks. I squint in the dark. Unwinding a strap of some sort, he begins to swing a rectangular object around. It’s a tiny handbag. It’s Echo’s. She had it at her hip when I grabbed her earlier tonight.Motherfucker.“Stop.”
