Page 11 of Spearcrest Knight

“I saw you talking to Sophie Sutton.” Her tone is light, but Sophie’s name in her mouth makes my skin crawl. “She’s always so fucking stuck-up and miserable. Just looking at her face sends me into a depressive episode.”

Her arm is still around my waist and for a second I have the urge to throw her away from me. But Luca’s eyes are on me, and at his side, Giselle is watching me closely. Giselle, who spent much of our time together asking me why I’m so obsessed with Sophie. Even Iakov and Sev, who are in a corner talking, have looked up.

They all look at me, waiting for my reaction.

I shrug and squeeze Rose’s waist, drawing her closer even though I would have rather pushed her away.

“No matter what she thinks,” I say lightly, “a prefect badge isn’t going to make her one of us. She’s just desperate for us to forget she’s just a Spearcrest charity case. She’s not worth the depressive episode—come on—let’s dance.”

She smiles in quiet triumph. I swallow back a lump of fury. Luca’s cocky smirk, Iakov and Sev’s shrugs, Giselle’s little satisfied smile—I do my best to ignore them all.

In reality, they love this. They love that I can’t approach Sophie any more than she can approach us.

The Young Kings can have anybody or anything they like in Spearcrest—but no matter what, Sophie is out of bounds.

And even though I spend the rest of the night dancing with girls and laughing with my friends because that’s my role, in the privacy of my mind, I can do what I want. I can think about nothing but Sophie, for as much and as long as I like—however I like.

I picture her, with her long dark hair and her serious mouth and her brown eyes. She’s probably gone back to her dorm.

What is her dorm room like? What pictures and posters does she have on her wall? Probably revision timetables and terminology lists. She probably has a tidy desk and impeccably organised stationery. Paperbacks lining her windowsill.

She’s probably going to take a shower, brush her hair until it’s so straight and smooth it falls like silk around her head. What does she look like, stripped of the armour of her school uniform? Stripped off her badges and glasses? What does Sophie Sutton look like, naked with her wet hair gleaming on her shoulders?

What does she wear to bed? She’s so serious all the time, I bet she wears matching pyjama sets, trousers and long-sleeved tops with contrast piping along the collar and sleeves.

Or maybe she wears nothing at all when she gets in bed.

And when I picture her getting in bed, it’s my bed I imagine her crawling into. I don't know why, and I can’t explain it. But I picture Sophie, with her long hair falling forward, climbing intomybed, her long limbs sliding againstmysheets.

If Sophie Sutton were in my bed, there would be no cuddling, no tenderness.

I’d have her by her throat, on my cock, taking me. Her arrogant face twisted in pleasure and pain. Her hands clutching my chest, fingernails digging into my muscles.

Sophie’s a prideful, stubborn little thing. How hard would I need to fuck her to get her to beg, to break, to scream?

The thought of it brings a smile to my mouth. Breaking Sophie Sutton is a game I never get tired of playing. Imagining all the ways in which I could break her brings me so much satisfaction, it’s almost better than sex.

But breaking Sophie hasn’t been easy—and this is my last year to do it.

Guess I’m going to have to get real creative with it.

Zero Tolerance

Sophie

Iusuallystayatschool over half-term while everybody goes home because my parents work on campus and don’t have a holiday until Christmas. Most of the time, I end up spending most of my time curled on my bed reading a book. But this year, it’s different. A lot of students, under the pressure of university applications, are staying on campus too.

Araminta and Audrey are both staying for half-term. It’s a rare and precious opportunity because we’re all usually split up over holidays.

Sixth-formers are allowed to go into town during the half-term breaks, so we take the opportunity to go out for strolls, or to shop and catch films. It's a much-needed break, and, crucially, a much-needed distraction.

Between my weird encounter with Evan in the study hall and the mentoring programme approaching fast, my anxiety is ramping up.

Unfortunately, having to mentor Evan is not my only source of anxiety. Aside from worrying about my grades and university applications, I’ve also started to worry about money.

At Spearcrest, my living costs are absorbed by the school. I live on campus and spend most of my holidays here too. My parents give me a small allowance for food, clothes and books, and that’s more than enough to get by on.

But now, the reality of money is settling in. Even if I can get loans or scholarships for my tuition, I’m going to need money. Money for travelling, for rent, for food, for bills. Money for everything—more money than my parents will ever be able to afford.

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