Page 8 of Vicious Desire (Fallen Royals 4)

Just carry on your business, Riley.

It’s still terribly early when I get to school. I’m the first car in the parking lot.

I close my eyes for a moment, trying to hear the laughter I heard.

My thoughts snag on Eli for a split second, then I shove him away. There was a time when he was all I could think about, or focus on, but not anymore.

I grab my keys and beeline for the school doors. Amy, my cousin, gave me keys to the library halfway through my sophomore year. She felt bad about the bullying and wanted to give me a safe space.

Unfortunately for her, she put a little too much trust in me. When she was gone one afternoon, I made a copy of her master key. It’s been my dirty secret. So far, though, I’ve managed to stay out of trouble. Just an early morning hideout in the greenhouse, for example, or avoiding locking myself on the roof.

What kind of roof door locks from the inside?

It isn’t like burglars will try to break in through the roof.

Getting locked up there only had to happen once for me to safeguard against it happening again.

The greenhouse doesn’t hold appeal today—and neither does the roof.

I consider my options, then make my way to Mr. Jenkins’s classroom. Margo’s foster dad has always been kind to me. Even though he’s not here, the room itself is comforting.

I step into the dark room and close the door. A bit of light comes in under the shades and from the vertical window in the door, enough that I can pick my way over to the back wall.

The wall of achievement.

The portrait Caleb did of Margo hangs alongside other impressive pieces of art. He managed to catch the tortured gleam in her eye, the slight hint of a smile on her lips.

How did he do that?

How did he see her so thoroughly?

Margo’s image seems to glare at me in warning. Like there’s something bound to happen, and I haven’t yet realized it.

My chest tightens, and I have to turn away.

At one point, I thought Eli looked at me the way Caleb saw Margo.

We had an all-consuming relationship—and it did consume everything.

My morals included.

Now… now, I just need to find a way to get them back.

4

Eli

Confession: I didn’t do college right.

I didn’t live up to the immediate expectation of success. College classes are hard. There’s more reading, more studying, more independent learning. My professors were assholes.

Instead of buckling down and accepting the sucker punch, I did what no respectable Black has done in the history of our family. Probably.

I dropped out.

Dad was pissed, but the deed was done. I told the university in Maine to fuck off as I was on my way out, effectively burning any bridge for readmittance.

“A gap year,” Dad says, rubbing his temples. “That’s what you call it when you apply to new colleges. And so help me God, Eli, you need a job.”

---