Page 17 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

“My answers aren’t free.” I know it’s an odd thing to say, but I can’t help but feel like people take a piece of me with every answer I give. It’s always been like that. I glance down at the sandwich on my plate, suddenly not hungry. “Why are you so curious?”

He lifts one shoulder. “To be perfectly blunt, you’re intriguing. It isn’t just your hair, either, which I know was a crass way to start a conversation. And you have a reputation.”

Oh god.

I swallow. “A reputation.”

“Everyone watches you like you might explode,” he says. “I guess that’s what I mean.”

I should be shocked that he’s saying these things to me. That he probably sought me out before class just to ask me these questions, to get to the heart of the intrigue. I’m not shocked, though I am insulted.

I stand. “Right, well, I wouldn’t want to detonate on you.”

Idiot. I know I’m overreacting, but I can’t reel it in. I snatch my bag and rush away. I shove past people, forgoing the elevator for the stairs. By the time I get to the second floor, I’m out of breath. I drop onto the top step and put my head in my hands.

A story below me, Mitchel is probably wondering what the fuck just happened. I wish I knew, but… does everyone think I’m a bomb about to go off?

They’re referring to the time I snapped… approximately three weeks after my video went viral. There were reporters on campus in disguise as students, and one had already got me to open up before I realized their line of questioning was fishy. That was the height of rebellion around campus. When I realized who they were…

I had to meet with the dean of students, but Liam’s warning was clear. I kept my mouth shut, lying about not remembering.

They can’t make you tell them what you don’t know.

I jolt.

Someone told me that. The memory of them whispering it in my ear is crystal clear, but I don’t know who said it. Or why.

I shiver and haul myself up. I can go be a time bomb in class, not wasting time in a stairwell. Exiting onto the second floor, I take a quick look around and skirt the lounge. There’s a group of girls doing homework in some of the cushioned chairs, bags and notebooks sprawled out everywhere. In another cluster, guys are laughing and joking.

Liam is with them.

I can’t help but slow down and watch them for a moment. He sits closest to the window, slouched back. He’s quiet—and somber, it looks like. None of the guys give him shit, though. And when his gaze swings to mine, it only takes a moment for the rest of them to spot me, too.

I duck my head and keep moving, intent on getting to the stairs that’ll take me to the third floor. This building was originally two separate buildings, and they connected it by adding an addition on the first floor—the dining hall and gym. The side with the elevator goes to professors’ offices and the financial aid department.

“Hey, Skylar,” one of the guys calls. “Come here.”

I walk faster.

“Where you running, Buckley?” another yells. “Scared to talk to us?”

Time bomb.

Why didn’t I just turn Liam in that day in the dean’s office? Confess to going to an illegal fighting club?

Deep down, I know the real reason wasn’t fear or Liam’s intimidation. It was a misguided…

It was just misguided.

“Hey,” Liam says, his hand landing on my shoulder.

I whirl around, eyes wide.

“What’s wrong with you?” I whisper. “You can’t just grab me in public.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I can’t just grab you in public,” he repeats. “Okay.”

“That’s assault,” I continue. My voice is getting louder. “Which is something you’re—”

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