Page 27 of Spearcrest Knight

Evan

KeepingSophieandhersecret boyfriend out of my head is a struggle, but it’s a little easier in Spearcrest, especially now I don’t see her as often.

The other Young Kings all seem to be having their own thing going on. Iakov, as usual, is having problems with his dodgy family and their fucked up relationship. Sev, who came back to school suddenly engaged, seems to be trapped in some one-sided powerplay with his brand new fiancée. Zachary is busy with some special academic programme for the smartest kids in Spearcrest, and, as always, obsessed with his unhealthy rivalry with Theodora Dorokhova, the Ice Queen of Spearcrest.

Only Luca remains cold, untouched and unconcerned, but being around him doesn’t make me feel better—the opposite.

Because Luca is part of the reason why I can never get any closer to Sophie than I am.

Normally, I can cope with this. I can slap on my careless grin and rip into Sophie for the entertainment of everybody else just so I get to be close to her. In my head and in my heart, I can think about her however I want. And that’s fine.

But nowadays, that’s getting more and more difficult to do.

Up till now, I never had to worry about anything. Up till now, it felt as though Sophie would always be in my life. But now, she’s slipping away. Our time at Spearcrest is slowly but inevitably coming to an end, and Sophie apparently already has one foot out of the door.

How the fuck did she manage to get a boyfriend?

I was so fucking careful to keep her alienated from everybody at school it never occured to me I would push her straight out into the arms of boysoutside. The thought of it sickens me—and it’s all I can think about.

Everytime I close my eyes or stop to think, Sophie is in my head, sitting next to some anonymous boy—some nameless, faceless nobody. Everytime I close my eyes, she’s with him, smiling at him, talking to him the way she used to talk to me back in Year 9. Earnest, self-assured, and a little too serious.

What if he holds her hand and touches her and kisses her cheeks, her mouth, her neck? What if he gets to see what’s under those black tights and grandpa sweaters? What if he gets to take her back to his, to spread her on his bed all bare and soft and needy?

My stomach twists and my fists clench at the thought.Idon’t get to touch Sophie—why should anybody else?

Since I can’t say any of this to anybody, I end up stuck in an endless loop of imagining scenarios and repressing my anger and frustration.

I must have underestimated the effect this is having on me, because it all comes out explosively the next Monday at school. I’m sitting on the steps of the Old Manor—the central and oldest building on campus—with the other Young Kings, the giant column-born roof shielding us from the rain. Iakov is chain-smoking as usual, filling the air with tendrils of smoke, and Sev is, as he so often is these days, ranting about his fiancée.

Out of nowhere, a voice reaches us. “You all need to get up and leave. Now.”

My head turns so quickly I almost give myself whiplash. At the top of the steps, standing in the doorway into the Old Manor, is Sophie Sutton. Her hair is tied back in a low ponytail, and she’s holding her clipboard to her chest like some sort of protective armour. Her eyes are hooded and her expression is about as unhappy as someone walking to their certain death. My heart leaps in my throat.

I force myself not to sit up from where I’m lying back, propped against my backpack. But my eyes find Luca; he’s not made an attempt to hide his sudden interest. He sits up slowly, his pale eyes raking the length of Sophie.

Spikes of ice pierce my skin. I speak before he can.

“Here we go again, everyone. Sophie Sutton, looking for whatever scrap of attention she can get.”

“Mr Ambrose sent me,” she says icily.

“Oh don’t worry,” I smirk. “We all know you’re his special little kiss-ass. Does it get you off, Sutton, doing his dirty work like this? Does it get you a nice little pat on the head for being his good littlebitch?”

Her cheeks darken, but she doesn’t even deign to send a look my way. She looks at everyone but me, which only infuriates me more.

“Couldn’t you all find somewhere smarter to smoke and save us all the trouble?” she says, voice low with anger.

“Ta gueule,” Sev mutters under his breath. Then he waves a dismissive hand at her. “Get fucked, Sophie. I don’t have the patience for your shit today. Christ, you Brits are so fucking horny for rules.”

“I don’t think it’s rules Sophie’s horny for, Sev,” Luca drawls. “She’s clearly come here looking for something—why don’t we give it to her?” He raises an eyebrow at Sophie. “Craving some attention? Do you need one of us to shove a cock down your throat, Sophie? Is that the only way to shut you up?”

I taste bile in my throat. Luca doesn’t even hate Sophie—not really. He just loves playing with what’s mine. Her name probably tastes delicious to him because he says it and I don’t—not anymore.

The thought of his cock down her throat makes me see red. If his cock goes anywhere near her lips, I’ll rip it off his body myself.

But I can’t say any of this. I can’t let him know I care.

“If Sutton wanted a cock down her throat,” I say, moving my eyes over Sophie’s black tights, her knee-length skirt, her blazer, “she would make a bit more of an effort. Those bushy eyebrows and big teeth aren’t going to make anybody hard, especially when there are so many hot girls here. Nobody wants to fuck a dog when they could fuck a supermodel.”

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