Page 28 of Royal
Outside, I hike my backpack onto my shoulders and hope like fuck I played it right by letting those bitches have their catty girl talk. I’m almost one hundred percent sure they knew I could hear them. They probably thought they were being fucking hilarious. But it’s fine. Now I know who to have my eyes on so I don’t get stabbed in the back. They think I’m weak, but I’ll get my chance to laugh when they realize I’m anything but.
I hit the sidewalk and make a right, heading toward the main part of campus. Greek Row isn’t far from where my first class is. Like I told Freya, I have a math class first thing, then a psychology class that I’m excited about, with an art class rounding out my day.
As I pass by, I glance at the building that houses the SIN brothers, and my heart thuds hard in my chest before picking up and racing around behind my rib cage. Because right there on the steps is Royal. He’s staring at me, looking for all the world like he’s pissed to see me. I calmly give him my middle finger. As if he didn’t know I was here. And I haven’t done anything wrong. I keep walking, hoping if I don’t engage further he’ll leave me alone.
I don’t have a clue why I thought that would be the case. From the corner of my eye, I see him thunder down the steps and stride to the sidewalk.Shit.Is he going to follow me?
He remains about six paces behind me, saying nothing at first. But I feel him back there, along with every ounce of animosity that oozes from his pores. It makes me want to run from him, like I always have. It used to be a game to us. I had such a crush on him. Fuck. “Leave me alone, Royal.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who showed up atyourfight last night. I also wasn’t the one prancing around with mycunthanging out.”
Whirling around, I stare into his pale-green eyes, the same ones I’ve gotten lost in so many times. It slices my heart to pieces to have him look at me with such distaste and utter hate. I know he was angry with me the night our world went to shit, but what he did was so much worse.
I wrench my mind from the past that can’t be changed to focus on the present. “I didn’t ask to be your cage girl, Royal. If they had told me, I’d have refused.”
“I don’t know why you’re here, but know this—if you run, I will chase you. If you hide, I will find you. And if you insist on staying, I will make you regret it.”
“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, Royal. I don’t belong to you. I never did. I’m my own person and can make my own damn decisions. Just like I always have.” At the way his head cocks to the side, that may have been one step too far.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I will bend you to my will before we’re done here, princess.” He narrows his eyes on me, then nods toward the academic buildings up ahead of us. “Better run along now. You’re going to be late to class.”
My heart clenches, squeezing tight in my chest, my mind hurtling into the past.Wait.Does he mean—
“Yes, little liar. You’d better fuckingrun.”
And there, in broad daylight, my heart rams up into my throat as I spin away from him, taking off like a shot.
“You’re out of practice.” The pound of his footfalls sounds behind me, and I hear every last one of his breaths as he gets closer and closer to me.
I grip the straps of my backpack, looking frantically around, but it seems like everyone thinks we’re playing a game. I suck in a breath, getting ready to scream for help, but when I hazard a look over my shoulder, he’s gone.
FOURTEEN
ECHO
After the encounterwith Royal this morning, I had trouble concentrating on anything my professors were saying during my first two classes. Fortunately, it was mostly just going over what to expect, grading scales, credit for late work, and exam schedules. The calculus professor did a review of some key concepts. In psych, though, we’d had a great discussion about the importance of studying psychology. I spend a lot of time pondering why people think and act the way they do, so it sounds like it’s going to be an interesting class.
Staying afterward to introduce myself to the professor had been a mistake, though. I bite my lip as I throw open the door to the university bookstore. I need a sketchbook and drawing pencils. The info on the syllabus for my art class had been very specific that we’d be using them during the first session. I totally should have picked everything up this weekend but getting situated at KU had thrown me big-time.
After finding what I need and completing my purchase, I hightail it back out the door, jogging across campus with my art supplies in my arms. I try to tell myself it’s okay that I’m running a little late to my final class, after all, it’s the first day. I can’t imagine freshmen don’t get lost all the time. But dammit, I hate not being on time, and this was poor planning on my part. All my fault.
Even worse, as I race along one footpath after another toward the art department building, I’m assaulted by memory after memory. It’s overwhelming. The Kingston University campus has always been one of my favorite places. When I was young, my mom and dad used to bring the three of us kids to this big grassy square in the middle of all the academic buildings for picnics. We’d run around playing hide-and-seek behind the hawthorn trees. It’s sad to think those happy times are long gone… and I’m unsure if the memories that this place invokes are going to help or hurt.
On my approach to Brandywine Hall, I find there are hawthorn trees here, too, along a pebbled path behind the building. There’s even a bench situated under them. I wish I had time to stop and sit for a few minutes, calm the frantic beating of my heart, but I just don’t.
Hurrying in the rear entrance, I quickly scan the room numbers listed beside each door as I stride down the hall. I’m looking for Studio A… but how am I supposed to find a room that doesn’t have an actual number?
I stop, hating that I’m turning in circles and becoming more agitated by the second that I’m in the right building, but somehow still lost as can be. A moment later, the same door I came in opens and clangs shut again. A guy with a nose ring and surprisingly good hair for a dude ambles slowly toward me, seemingly taking his time even though class started five minutes ago. He glances at me from under a full fringe of lashes, nodding just slightly before he continues on.
Shit.“Um. Hey, could you help me?” He turns back toward me, brows raised.Oof.He’s intimidating as hell, his dark eyes pinning on me. But his grungy jeans and charcoal stained T-shirt scream art major, so, I put on a brave face. “Studio A? I’m late.”
He jerks his head and gestures that I should follow him. We turn a corner and walk down a long hall, traversing the entire building. Of course, I’d come in on the exact opposite side from where I needed to be. “That’s it right there. Good luck.” He brushes his hair out of his eyes, a slight smirk teasing at his lips.
“Thanks?” I murmur, but he’s already walking away, so I turn and let myself into the classroom. The professor, Dr. Kinman, has already begun speaking, and with the setup of the room, all eyes are on me. I’m center stage, quite literally, where it’s obvious either props or actual models stand for our observation. Shit, shit, shit.
I don’t even know how it happens, but one minute, my sketchbook and box of drawing pencils is in my arms, and the next, they’ve clattered to the tile floor. I stare down, dumbfounded at the turn of events, and unable to understand how it happened.
Lifting my head, I meet Dr. Kinman’s steely gray eyes. His jaw is twitching.Oh, shit.He’s definitely not happy. “You’re late. Your punctuality is important. Pick up your things and find a seat. Don’t be late again.”
