Chapter 5
When I lay in bed, I thought of him lying on the grass in the garden and was tempted to return and offer to open the door for him.
I guess I was being mean because, after all, he did wash our dishes, then basically accused me of being tardy.
But I had to be tough and let him know that he couldn’t use me to play little games.
He’s an adult; he can look after himself.
Besides, he seemed to know his way around this hellhole more than I did.
Anyway, I slept well—better than I expected in this strange place of hooting owls and whistling winds.
At one point, I thought someone was in my bathroom, so I got up and turned on the light, only to discover that I had a leaky faucet.
I made a mental note to call maintenance, as there were also waves of a foul smell that crept up my nostrils, like something dead was underneath the floor or somewhere.
After I finished showering, I heard tapping on my window. With a towel wrapped around my breasts, I looked out and saw that guy from last night standing on the park below—the door knocker.
Hesitating, I opened the window and stuck my head out. “What?” I snapped at him. “Did you just throw something at my window? Lucky you didn’t break the glass.”
Ignoring my scolding tone. “Can you open the door for me?” he asked nicely, but not nicely enough.
“Did you lose your manners on the way over?” I hissed, and a little smile spread across his face. I then realized how attractive he was. Not handsome like the Warwick brothers, but more interesting-looking—weathered and edgy. Or maybe that was because he had spent the night sleeping outside.
Nostrils flaring, he swept his unruly black hair back with his fingers, then rubbed his unshaven jaw with the back of his knuckles. “Please.”
“Sorry, I can’t hear,” I said, placing my hand by my ear and almost dropping my towel.
“Please,” he said louder as a group of jocks appeared dressed in sweats, wet hair, chewing on protein bars, footballs in their hands.
He glanced back at them and didn’t seem too concerned, even though they weren’t his tribe, then turned his back on them.
I’d never turn my back on jocks, especially when they’re holding balls that could hit me on the head.
Yes, that was an experience I had all through high school.
It was a mystery that, of all people in a crowd, it was always me that a stray ball or bottle of water smacked in the head.
I wasn’t particularly tall or a loud attention seeker, but still, that ball would find my head.
“Fine. Give me two minutes to put some clothes on,” I told him, and a twinkle flashed in his eyes.
“No need,” he replied, finding some charm in his ominous demeanor. “You can come down like that. The towel is fine.”
I shot him a scowl that made him smile wider, even though he tried to hide it, and I stepped away from the window, drew the blind, and quickly dressed.
I ran down the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the space, and I figured that by tonight, the rooms would be filled with students when the next trainload arrived.
His tall figure was visible through the stained glass in the long, narrow windows cut into the door.
My feet paused for a moment as nerves fluttered in my chest before I pulled myself together, scolding myself for being silly.
As soon as I unlocked the door, “Did you sleep well? On the grass.”
“Best sleep ever,” his chocolate eyes twinkled. “Black Sabbath or Metallica? Or maybe Deftones? No, not Deftones.”
“What are you talking about?” I was confused, although I did listen to those bands, but I wasn’t a fanatic. I wasn’t a big fan of any band or genre of music.
He wiggled his finger at me. “Black on black. Metalhead? Metalcore? Definitely not Deathcore.”
“I…don’t know,” I replied, cautious about opening up to him, but finding it odd that he’s firing these questions at me. “I listen to all sorts of music.”
“Yeah, like what?” he pressed, as his stride stepped in line with mine up the stairs, as I caught his eyes sweeping over my face, and I instantly felt self-conscious.
“I don’t know…I’ve been listening to Prince and ABBA lately,” I replied, expecting him to scoff at my taste.
“Yeah, Prince has a mean riff on Purple Rain,” he sounded enthused and friendly, and I was starting to like him.
“What about Dancing Queen? Does that song have a good riff?” I asked him as another gorgeous smile appeared on his face. His whole face lights up and almost turns him into a different person.
“Maybe I’ll listen to that tune later.” I didn’t believe him because even the name Dancing Queen didn’t seem like his taste.
Once we reached the landing, something had shifted behind his eyes, and he became distant and moody. “I’ll see you later,” he said and turned away from me, walking in the opposite direction.
Pausing to watch him disappear into a room, I was surprised that he was only two doors down from mine. Maybe he and I could become good friends, since he seemed alone here, like me.
As soon as I opened my door, I was hit with a disgusting smell coming from my room.
It wasn’t too strong yet, but enough to drive me crazy until I found the source.
It was definitely coming from my bathroom, so I opened the cabinets and drawers and found nothing.
Then I crouched over the shower drain, but the smell had faded, so the cause wasn’t in there.
Outside my window, I could hear students chatting as they walked to the hall for breakfast, but the smell turned me off food for a while. Nothing kills my appetite like the stench of dead things.
I gave up searching for the dead thing for now so I could take a shower and get dressed, but first I messaged Mila to see if she wanted to go orienteering to find our way around campus.
She didn’t reply before I jumped into the shower, and once I was slathered in soap and shampoo, I couldn’t smell the dead thing rotting under the floorboards or wherever the hell it was.
The scent had faded a little after I bathed and dressed, and I wondered if it was the smell coming in through the window or from the next room, or maybe my senses were just getting used to it.
Mila had declined my request to explore campus because she wanted to go straight to the music studio to meet a friend there. Jealousy stirred in my stomach. Mila had a friend, and I had something dying under my floorboards. But that’s okay, I didn’t mind going it alone.
I packed my bag because I suspected that I’d be gone for most of the day, and as I left my room, my eyes glided to the door at the end of the hall, wondering if he was still inside.
He didn’t tell me his name, so perhaps I should tap on his door and ask him.
But as I approached his room, I heard him talking to someone on his speaker phone and a female voice replying.
My heart sank, so I turned away and trotted down the stairs, trying to lift my spirits.
My father hadn’t replied to the message I sent yesterday, so I sent another, just stating that I had arrived in one piece and thanks for asking after me.
The last comment was sarcasm, of course.
But he was becoming more distant ever since he married my wicked stepmother, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I trotted down the stairs as hunger pangs struck after being in my room with the smell, so once outside, I turned left toward the dining hall, hoping they were still serving breakfast. The scent of coffee and toast warmed my heart, and I grabbed a cup and a slice of wholegrain bread to toast, then spread peanut butter thickly.
The dining hall was only a third full of students who looked as if they’d been there for a while, but I slotted a lid on my cardboard up and sat down at the same table from last night and studied my map of the campus.
Castlehill School of Business looked as though it was on the side of a forest-covered hill on the far east side of the large campus.
I estimated that it will take me about twenty minutes to walk there and about seven minutes by bus.
It was a fine day, no sign of rain at that point, even though the temperature and weather could change at any moment on the side of a mountain.
My father finally replied to my message, thank goodness, with: Glad you’re safe and sound, A.
What a bizarre answer! I reread the message I sent him: Why have you sent me across enemy lines? There are people who hate the Boleyn family here. Are you trying to kill me?
Me: The Warwicks are here. Did u know?
Dad:
Me: Specifically, the sons of the actual man who did you know what.
Dad:
Me: His sons. Nikolai and Ezrah are their names. Is it wise for me to stay here?
Dad:
Me: Dad, they know who I am. I don’t feel safe here.
Dad:
Me: Should I come home?
Dad:
Me: I really think I should come home.
Dad:
Me: The next train arrives today, I think, so I can take that one back home.
Dad:
Me: Is that okay? Are u okay with me coming home? I hope so.
He was paying for my tuition, so he did have a say, unfortunately, in where I studied, but surely, he’d understand how dangerous it would be for me to be here.
I waited a few moments for a reply, and when silence greeted me, I left the dining hall to explore.
The train won’t arrive until later on this afternoon, so I went to the admin hall that was in the main castle and waited to be served.
When it was my turn, the woman asked me my name, tapped away on her keyboard, and then asked what I needed help with.
“I need to get back home, so is there a train coming today that I can board to get back to civilization?” I said to her, and she made a face, and immediately my heart sank.
“I’m sorry, Adina, but you can’t leave until the investigation is over,” she replied sympathetically.