Chapter 9
D espite Ever’s complaints, it doesn’t take me long to find a parking space. Littoral University is extravagant but smaller than I expected. The campus consists of a handful of Gothic buildings clustered around a large lawn area. All are made of stone. Some have stained glass windows. And the center one, the tallest, has a tall clock tower I’ve only seen from afar.
Ever doesn’t move to get out right away, just gives me an expectant look, reminding me Her Majesty requires certain assistance when exiting a vehicle. Allegedly. Suddenly. Yesterday she didn’t have such demands. Yesterday she was a pain in my ass. Today she’s a royal pain in my ass.
Visibly sweeping the area while walking over to her side, I open Ever’s door for her. She gets out without thanking me. Or acknowledging me.
I assumed her outfit was some sort of school uniform, but looking around at the other students in the parking lot, either everybody else is in violation of the dress code or there isn’t one.
In addition to the high-waisted hunter-green plaid skirt, she’s wearing a cable-knit sweater with a turtleneck underneath, the white collar doing a good job of hiding the hickeys on her neck. Her high heels make her look more woman than girl as do her taut calf muscles.
Needless to say, Ever pulls off the schoolgirl outfit well. Very fucking well.
Even if her skirt is still too short. She might’ve pulled it up higher since I told her so. I can’t be sure. I’m trying very hard not to stare at her hemline.
I wish I would’ve thought of that before I threw her on a bed.
“I’ll meet you right here after,” she says, eyeing the hat now on my head.
I could let her walk in by herself. It’d be easier. There’s gonna be a lot of people. There already is.
But…that’s not what’s best for Ever.
With shaky hands, I close her door, then grab my coat from the backseat. I have to jog to catch up with her but what’s new? At least this time, I actually do.
I stick to my protectee’s right, no less than an arm’s length away…just like I read how to do last night.
Ever stops in her tracks the moment my coat touches her shoulders. “What did you put on me?”
“My coat. It’s cold out and you’re not wearing…a lot.”
With a flick of her middle fingers, my coat falls off her shoulders to the ground.
“I don’t wear that brand.”
She doesn’t know what brand it is. I don’t even know what brand it is. I think my dad got it for me a couple Christmases ago, and the thought to check the tag never even occurred to me. I don’t give a shit about those kinds of things.
I scoop up the coat with a tight, “Fine.”
Neither of us moves.
“Well… Leave.”
“I can’t. I’m accompanying you to class.”
“Why?”
“Mr. Munreaux wishes to ensure your studies remain a priority.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
I remain silent. Arguing is pointless. She doesn’t have to wear my coat, but I’m walking her to class.
“Ugh.” She resumes her strut. “Also, you sound like Edwin and you look lost.”
I feel lost. The last time I was on a campus was the summer before senior year when my parents and I started touring some of the colleges that were trying to recruit me.
We cross the quad, Ever’s heels clacking against the concrete, drawing every eye in the vicinity our way. Is this how it always is for her? Everyone constantly watching her?
Or is it me?
Instantly, I tuck my chin.
The stares don’t stop.
I hang back several feet as a test, but my proximity doesn’t seem to affect anything. It’s not my presence that has people fascinated. It’s hers.
Not that she notices.
I fall into step with her, causing her to groan as she increases speed.
I duck my head even lower, tugging on the bill of my hat. I know why she’s embarrassed to be seen with me. I don’t want to be seen either, especially not here. This is the upper echelon of Sea Haven.
Right in the center of the lush landscape is a cluster of contemporary art sculptures shaped like…snakes? They’re long and rope-like. While a couple of them appear to be coming out of the ground, others are mid-slither. Lounging against one of them are some people dressed similarly to Ever.
Not similarly. Identically.
Both girls look like her carbon copies and all three guys are in dark suits, stark white button-ups, and ties.
I take in the rest of the student body. Jeans, leggings, hoodies, puffer coats—all clothing you’d expect to see on any campus in America. I can tell by the stiff fabrics and bright colors, the brands are more expensive than what I’m used to, otherwise, everybody looks…normal.
That’s why Ever had everyone’s interest as soon as she stepped foot on campus. She’s one of the elites. These six are probably the wealthiest and most influential students here.
One of the girls gets to her feet the second she spots Ever and points in our direction, demanding, “What is that?”
Immediately, I check over my shoulder for the threat. Seeing none, I return my attention to Ever. She’s doing the same thing I just did, but jerks back when our gazes collide like I’m the last person she was expecting to find. Like she forgot I was here.
Again?
Unless she has amnesia, there’s no way she could’ve forgotten that quickly. She just tried outrunning my ass.
Her sky-high heels are the only reason she couldn’t.
“Goddess, why are you so close?” she asks me loudly, obnoxiously. “Can you back up? You’re ruining my aesthetic.”
Her aesthetic? She didn’t… She didn’t just fucking say that shit.
Scowling, I lace my hands together in front of me, not backing up so much as an inch. Fuck her aesthetic.
She huffs before turning to her friends.
“Father has a stalker, and out of an abundance of caution, he’s burdened me with a bodyguard until authorities can apprehend the madman,” Ever says, lying through her impeccably straight teeth.
So she doesn’t want her friends to know she’s out of control.
It is pretty fucking embarrassing. I’d lie my ass off, too.
“I want one.” Her double pouts, looking me up and down like I’m in the window display of her favorite boutique.
All at once I realize she was talking about me. I’m the “that” she was referring to. And she didn’t ask who is that. She asked what is that. I’m nothing more than an object to these people. A tool for hire.
“No. You. Don’t,” Ever bites out like I’m the biggest inconvenience anyone could possibly be saddled with.
For the next several minutes, I have to stand here and try to ignore every vapid word coming from Ever and company’s mouths. Some topics are easier to tune out than others. Yachting. The Masters. Charity auctions—that shit might as well be another language to me.
A gala though, that’s just another word for party, and that piques my interest. Not for my sake. For my protectee’s.
Taking place this Saturday, Ever’s friends couldn’t be more excited for the gala. “The event of the season,” they keep calling it.
“What time will you be making your grand entrance, Munreaux?” the blond guy asks lazily.
“I’ll have to let you know. I have something beforehand.”
He perks up. “Pregame?”
“Without us?” the first girl, Paris, practically whines.
Ever mumbles, “That’s rich.” Then louder, she adds, “It’s for cheer.”
The group, minus the blond, erupts in groans.
“Didn’t you already have your little show?” Paris asks.
“You mean Nationals? It’s a competition, the biggest one of the year. And yes, we competed on Saturday. We won fir—”
“So then why is it still going?” the blond interrupts to ask.
“It’s not even football season anymore,” another guy says.
The third one adds, “And basketball ended weeks ago.”
“The season is over, it just…”
I thought she told Arthur it wasn’t over.
When Ever doesn’t continue, I twist imperceptibly so I can see her fully. Ignoring the double takes her friends give my face now that it’s on display, I focus on Ever. She’s lost in thought and standing in a way I’ve seen her do a couple times now, with her hands behind her back.
Nervous habit maybe? What is she nervous about? Is it something with cheerleading?
Or is it these people?
They bother the shit out of me.
“So you can skip it?”
Ever releases her arms back by her sides. “No, I can’t. We’ve been asked to perform our winning routine at the Flower Fest this year.”
No one says a word, making Ever’s scoff hard to miss. They all act like they do though.
“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way,” she tells them with a shake of her head.
There’s a collective sigh of relief.
I return to my previous stance of my left side facing away from the elitist group, grateful I don’t have friends because what the fuck are these people?
After that, the discussion turns to fashion, specifically what everyone’s going to wear to the gala, so I zone out until Ever passes me, then I’m hustling to keep up with her again.
She stops in front of the tallest building to face me. “You’re not going into my class with me, are you?”
I shake my head. I wasn’t planning on it.
“Are you just gonna sit out here and wait?” Her tone isn’t as cunty as when she was around her friends, but it’s still got a superior note to it.
“I’ll be right here when you get out, miss,” I assure her.
Her face screws up in irritation.
“This class is three hours long.”
I nod, already aware.
“So, what are you going to do the whole time?”
“I’ll figure something out, miss.”
More annoyance.
It’s ironic, how worried she is about public perception when her disregard for it is what led to me being here in the first place. What does she think, I’m going to be out here holding up a goddamn sign broadcasting who I’m here for? I may be new to this gig, but I’m not that fucking inept.
“Here.” She hands me a keycard without making eye contact. “This is for the library. You can go in there and stay warm.”
One of my eyebrows cocks all on its own. Is Ever Munreaux concerned about my wellbeing? After shitting on me for caring about hers?
“Thank—”
She disappears through the double doors before I can finish thanking her. I wait until the line of students heading inside thins out to ask someone where the library is.
Two and a half hours later, I’m just leaving the library when I spot Ever coming right at me.
“What are you doing? Why are you here?”
She jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “I got let out early.”
“I said I’d meet you where I left you.”
“Yeah, but you weren’t there. I checked the parking lot first, and when I didn’t find you there either, I figured you took my suggestion.”
She walked all over campus without me? What the fuck? She could’ve just left. Or been fucked in a broom closet. There’re probably hundreds of guys around here wanting a taste of Queen Ever.
“You should’ve called me.” My voice comes out more strained than I intended.
She studies me carefully before shrugging. “Next time I will.”
I open my mouth to argue, then realize she didn’t fight me. She…agreed…with me.
“What?” I ask, needing her to repeat it to be sure.
“Next time I get out early, I’ll text you.”
“I said call me,” I argue because it feels right. Better than us getting along. Are we getting along right now?
She rolls her eyes and chuckles, the sound light and twinkly as she approaches. I open the door wider for her, spinning to follow her back inside.
“Nobody calls anyone anymore.”
“My mom calls me all the time,” I admit, then regret it.
“She does?” Ever stops to face me. “Why? Don’t you live with her?”
“Yeah…but that doesn’t stop her from caring about me whenever I’m not at home.”
“What is that like?”
Students try to get by us since we’re posted directly in the middle of the aisle, so I grab Ever’s elbow and guide her over to the side.
“What is what like?”
“Having someone care about you.”
My lips spread into a smile until I realize Ever’s don’t. She’s serious.
“Uh. A little overwhelming at times. Mostly nice, but…” I smooth out my left eyebrow with my middle finger. Twice.
Ever pulls my arm down and meets my eyes. “But what?”
I glance around just to break the tension. She’s so intently focused on me, it’s like there’s no one else on earth except me.
“You know, it’s like with all nice things, you kinda forget to appreciate it.”
Those azure eyes drop to my chest, then the floor, her eyebrows scrunched over them.
“I don’t.”
“You don’t…what?”
“Know. You said, ‘you know,’ but I don’t. That’s not something I’d ever forget to appreciate.”
“Seems like you already did with your dad—”
“My father only cares about Munreaux Motorcycles,” she says with a noticeable bite. Glancing at me again, she plasters a smile on her face to ask, “Are you hungry?”
Before I can even answer, she immediately follows up with, “Did you try out the café?”
I shake my head, making her eyes widen.
“You have to. My treat.”
She latches on to my arm, the act taking me by complete surprise, then almost runs into one of her look-alikes. Her hand falls from my forearm instantly and her spine elongates.
“Okay, spill. Where were—”
“Where were you ?” Ever counters, getting in Paris’s face. “You just took off without me last night.”
Paris blanches. “You were taking forever and I wanted—”
“You didn’t even text to see if I was okay. I could’ve been hurt.”
“Well, you have him to protect you, right?” Ever’s friend gestures at me.
“Yes,” I say at the same time Ever says, “No. I have him to make sure I’m not kidnapped and held for ransom. I can still go to a party if I want to.”
Um, no, she can’t.
Paris tilts her head. “I’m sorry, okay?” She doesn’t sound sorry. “It was—”
Ever singsongs, “Major, can you escort me to the café?”
My head on a swivel, I’m scanning every face around us. Who the fuck is Major?
But when I return my gaze to Ever, she’s blinking at me expectantly. Me? I’m Major?
“Sure…right this way, miss.” I lead her away from Paris with a mumbled, “Excuse us.”
What the fuck is happening? First, Ever is nice to me. Now, she’s calling me Major and asking me to escort her somewhere.
“For the record, I’m not a major,” I tell her once we’re clear of her friend. “I didn’t even serve.”
Ever keeps her eyes straight ahead. “I thought I read that most executive protection agents were soldiers.”
I don’t remember that being on my phone’s screen this morning. Did she read that somewhere else?
“Are you sure it’s not because you want your friends to think I’m more qualified than I am?”
With a scoff, she peeks at me out of the corner of her eye. “Those aren’t my friends.”
“What are they?”
“Clones.”
They certainly try to be. None of them come close though. Even dressed alike, Ever stands out among her clones.
Getting in line, we study the menu.
“It’s my treat, so get whatever you want.”
When I side-eye my protectee, I find her grinning at me and feel myself return it. Three years of this won’t be so bad.
What’s got her so happy?
“Did you catch some dick in a broom closet or something?”
“Not a broom closet, no. My professor prefers we use his office.”
There goes my good mood.
And my plans to let Ever attend her classes without me.
“You better be fucking with me,” I grit, but she only shrugs innocently.
We don’t speak again until we reach the front of the line.
The cashier is already talking when we step up, his gaze locked on the tablet on the counter. “One unsweetened matcha lemonade… And what can I get you?”
I wait for Ever to speak, but the cashier looks up at me.
“What would you like?”
“She’s first—”
“I already got her usual,” he says.
Must be good then. If the queen orders it.
“Then I’ll have what she’s having.”
The cashier says, “Of course,” but not in a professional way, in an apologetic way.
Ever’s lips pull down at the sides as she taps her credit card on the tablet, then presses the button for a custom tip. She types so fast I only catch her entering two zeroes at the end, in front of the decimal point. She tipped at least a hundred dollars on a fourteen-dollar order.
“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” I tell her when we make our way to the other end of the counter. The pickup area clears out almost instantly.
“Or maybe I’m worse. Maybe I’m trying to give my father a heart attack,” she deadpans, without an ounce of emotion. Or humor.
Even though no one’s within earshot, I drop my voice to ask, “Is that why you act out so much? To get Daddy’s attention?”
“I act out because letting someone’s son make me speechless is a lot more fun than talking about my feelings in therapy.”
Speechless myself, I study her profile for a full minute until our drinks are set in front of us.
“You’re the horniest chick I’ve ever met. You’re basically a guy.”
She swirls her green lemonade vigorously.
“It doesn’t sound like you’ve talked to any of the women you’ve ever met. If you had, you would’ve learned they’re probably all just as horny as I am. Guys aren’t hornier than women, they’re just more open about it because society expects them to be.”
“That’s…” Somewhat accurate. I know from experience the part about society not only allowing but expecting men to be super sexual at all times, is true, but the first part is…not inaccurate. I don’t talk to anybody enough to get to know them like that.
Maybe Ever’s sex drive is normal.
Still, she should be able to go a day without getting fucked. Right?
Unless her professor’s the one I saw in the pool house.
“Are you in a relationship with your professor?”
Ever barks out a laugh, making the entire café go silent.
“I doubt her husband would like that very much.”
“Her? But you said ‘ he prefers his office.’”
“Maybe I’m trying to send you to an early grave, too.” She chuckles again, her blue eyes sparkling. “You make it too easy, Major. I was annoyed by your insinuation that I can’t go three hours without having someone’s dick in me, so I bit back.” One of her eyebrows quirks as she glances down at the hand she bit yesterday. “This time verbally.”
“Brave considering I told you I bite, too.”
“You did when you compared me to a man. Worst pain I’ve ever felt.”
“I thought pain was nothing to you,” I counter, feeling some of that block of ice between us melt. Actual honesty but some joking mixed in there, too? I can do that.
But then Ever says, “Physical pain,” and I’m not sure which category that falls into.
“If I’ve caused you any pain, physical or…otherwise, I’m sorry.”
Her eyes search mine before she whispers, “Thank you. And same.”
She didn’t hurt me, but I appreciate the sentiment.
“Can we start over?”
“I’d be okay with that.”
“Yeah?”
The corners of her lips pull in opposite directions, and she nods.
For a moment, I forget my surroundings, my job, my name. Her genuine smile’s so goddamn hypnotic, it could stop traffic. Or my heart. Am I dead? And she’s my angel?
I blink and reality comes back into focus. Café. Bodyguard. Ever Munreaux, head bitch on campus and flyer, whatever the fuck that means because I passed out before I could look it up.
Shit. I need to build up a tolerance to her soft side and fast.
Clearing my throat, I tap her cup with mine, rasping out, “Cheers.”
Cheers? What the fuck?
I’m about to send myself to that early grave.
I quickly gulp lemonade like a dehydrated man before it almost comes back up, a whole-body shudder rolling through me.
“It tastes like seaweed water,” I somehow choke out.
Setting her drink on a nearby high top, Ever pulls out her phone and says, “Yeah.” Her expression matches how my taste buds now feel. “It’s not good.”
“Why do you drink it?”
“I don’t. Matcha’s disgusting and I hate citrus,” she says without looking up.
“Why do you order it at all?”
“Because that’s what the clones like to drink. It’s the moment.” The last sentence is said with a tone meant to imitate the clones but sounds similar to how Ever spoke with them this morning.
“But why do you have to order it?”
“If I don’t…” Her eyes lift to mine. “…then they won’t.”
I think back to their conversation this morning, the bits I actually paid attention to. It’s true. Ever’s their leader. They rely on her for everything.
“Even when they’re not with you?”
She fans her fingers out around us, at all the eyes aimed our way. “I’m always on duty here.”
That cashier didn’t even ask Ever what she wanted, didn’t even give her the opportunity to say, just assumed.
“If you weren’t, what would you order?”
“Doesn’t matter because I am.”
“Red peppermint mocha? Lavender…uh…cappuccino?”
Her head shakes as she tries to hold back a smile. I release mine though. I don’t know all the names.
“Come on. If we’re gonna start over, you gotta let me get to know you a little bit.”
Even focused on her phone again, I catch her rolling her eyes, but she says, “Iced chai latte with almond milk and three pumps of pumpkin brown sugar.”
I seek it out on the menu board. The chai latte is one of the few options with a picture next to it. I examine the green liquid in our cups, an idea forming.
“How long have you known the clones?” I ask her.
“Since preschool. Except Paris. She moved here in middle school.”
“None of them have figured out you hate citrus yet?”
“They haven’t figured out much about me,” she mutters.
“Do you drink the lemonade around them?”
“Only when I have to.” She looks up at me suddenly. “Ready?”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping.”