Chapter 5 – Ava Jade
AVA JADE
L ate on the first day.
Joy.
Even though Becca warned me she wouldn’t be there in the morning, I had to admit I was a little disappointed to find the flat empty when I returned from my run.
I wanted to ask her how to get to my homeroom and where I needed to go to wash my sheets.
Tucked away in the pamphlet and massive rulebook my aunt gave me before carting me off here had been a map, but I couldn’t find either in my things.
I was pretty sure I left them in her town car after I hopped out in the middle of the street.
She hadn’t called, and I wasn’t going to be the one apologizing. She only said I needed to finish the year and be well behaved at Briar Hall. She said nothing about sitting there mutely while she badmouthed my father before he was even cold in his fucking grave.
“ Where is it ?” I muttered to myself, searching the entryway of the school for any sort of map. Of course, the office was completely vacant even though the bell had rung for first period five minutes ago.
“You look lost.”
The voice was deep and gruff but playful. When I spun around in the corridor, I found him leaning against the wall in the mouth of the darkened corridor labeled North Wing.
I spluttered for a response, taking in what was surely not a high school boy but a combination of my best dream and worst nightmare all wrapped into one.
With lips clearly stolen from a Greek statue and a square jaw sharper than a razor’s edge, his allure was undeniable.
But painted over his knuckles and poking out from the top of his black shirt were tattoos.
I was willing to bet that beneath the jacket concealing his arms, there was even more ink to be found.
That, combined with the dark gleam in his eyes spelled trouble in big ass bold letters.
His teeth bit lightly at a lip ring at the edge of his mouth as he watched me curiously. Like one might watch an ant before busting out a magnifying glass to sear it into the pavement.
“Do you know where room 701 is?” I finally managed around the lump in my throat, lengthening my spine.
It didn’t matter that in my rush to shower and get to class I’d had to forego my usual five-minute makeup routine in favor of some hastily applied mascara.
Or that all my clothes were wrinkled to shit from being stuffed haphazardly in my suitcase.
At least I had my baggy black sweater to cover most of it up, though that wasn’t exactly pretty either.
It didn’t matter one little bit.
“701?” he repeated, making me wonder if he was daft.
Someone as gorgeous as he was had to have some sort of flaw.
As he slid his tatted fingers through his damp dark hair, I noticed the word inked into his knuckles was, in fact, ROOK and that his knuckles were bruised and cut.
I also noticed how his left cheek was blooming with a patch of red that looked suspiciously like a handprint.
“That’s what I said,” I snapped and then remembered myself. Play nice, Ava Jade. “Could you tell me where it is?”
“I’ll do you one better.”
Without another word, he brushed past me, a nasty vanilla scent trailing along with him that made my nose wrinkle. I assumed he meant to show me instead.
I considered saying fuck it and finding the room myself, but in a building this massive, it could take me all day. So, instead, I caught up to the guy, brushing the stray hairs that’d snuck out of my messy bun back behind my ears.
“Won’t you get in trouble for being late?”
If the rules were as archaic as the old building, I was willing to bet they beat you with rulers for a tardy.
He seemed amused by my question and his lips tipped up into a crooked grin. “Nah.”
We fell back into silence and that suited me just fine. I wasn’t about to make friends with a guy who looked like he might be here to stage an attack on the place. Though I did do a sweep over his hand and neck tatts again, checking for any discernible gang ink.
Finding none, I was satisfied for the moment.
We passed several classrooms where teachers prattled on to the whispered drone of student conversation until I noticed the pattern of the numbers.
“I think I can find it from here,” I said, eager to leave the guy behind in the hallway. His nearness was setting my teeth on edge, and not least of all because he kept sneaking glances at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
I called back a hasty thanks before rushing forward to room 701 which should be... ah. Right there. I shoved my way inside, pulse thrumming in my ears. My sigh of relief turned to something entirely different as the teacher halted mid-lecture, his gaze piercing me in place.
My eyes skimmed over the class, searching for one specific face, but not finding it. No Becca. Great.
“I, uh, I’m Ava Jade, I just started?—”
“You’re late,” came his sharp reply, and my first instinct was to snap right back at him with a comment about his Harry Potter wannabe glasses, but I smothered it with a forced nod.
“Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t. Late students aren’t welcome in my classroom, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well don’t just stand there, find a seat.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and surveyed the rest of the class, face heating as I realized all eyes were on me. Eyes ringed in false lashes and faces framed in too-perfect hair. Clothes that looked like they were stolen right off the mannequins at Prada or Chanel.
The door bumped into my ass as it reopened at my back, sending me staggering forward toward the two empty seats in the room.
“Sorry,” I muttered at whoever’s way I was in, gaping when I saw it was the guy from the hall.
“Rook,” the teacher said, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Glad you decided to grace us with your presence.”
What?
Was he seriously not going to give the guy hell for being late after basically just verbally bitchslapping me for doing the same? Awesome, so the school was sexist as well. Why wasn’t I surprised?
“Of course, Mr. Jameson.” Rook tipped his head to the teacher, giving a little salute and absolutely no excuse as to why he was late.
He shouldered past me and took his seat, leaving me only one option: the desk and chair in the absolute center of the classroom.
Rook had taken the seat behind me and to the right, but he wasn’t who I couldn’t seem to peel my eyes away from.
Directly behind the empty seat was a guy who was staring at me like he was contemplating murder.
If it weren’t for the scowl twisting his face, I might have said he was handsome. With a whisper of dark blond scruff on his jaw and menace in his bright baby blue eyes. The guy was big and thick through the shoulders, though not as big as his pal Rook, who was whispering something into his ear.
“Take your seat!”
I shot Mr. Jameson a glare before rushing to sit down.
I didn’t have to turn around to find out that the guy behind me was still staring.
I could feel his eyes on the back of my head as if he were leaning into me, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand on end and my hand twitch toward the blade strapped to my ankle beneath my bootcut jeans.
Mr. Jameson launched back into a lecture on something I had absolutely no hope of absorbing, but at least I could try to take notes for later. I dug into the desk, ignoring the whispers and stares all around me, but my hands came up empty. I thought…
I thought the handbook said I would be provided with textbooks and study materials and supplies on my first day. Entirely unwilling to raise my hand in this den of vipers, I resigned myself to just sitting still, which was a feat of its own.
As Mr. Jameson lifted a piece of chalk to scrawl something in unintelligible handwriting on the blackboard, someone tapped my shoulder.
I glanced back, finding the guy who I’d briefly seen sitting to the other side of the psycho-looking one. He was holding out a few sheets of paper and a pen.
“The fuck you doing Grey?” the one in the middle hissed to the one holding out the shit for me, his voice dripping venom.
“ Umm ,” I muttered, glancing back and forth between them. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Just take them,” the one called Grey insisted, shoving them at me. He didn’t look like he belonged with the other two. Where they were all dark and edgy, he was an All-American stud. With one of those short on the sides and long on top haircuts in a brassy gold too shiny to be dyed.
A winning smile split his face, and he wielded it like a weapon, slashing away any hope of my being able to deny him.
“Okay then.” I cleared my throat as I spun around in my seat, paper and pen in hand. I caught the girl next to me glaring in my direction as I began to try and decipher what Mr. Whatshisface wrote on the board.
I gave her a the-fuck-do-you-want look, eyes bugging out of my skull in question until she finally looked away, her barbie pink upper lip curling in distaste.
She had long blonde hair flowing in a perfect wave down her back with a solid gold pin keeping it tucked back behind her ear.
Her outfit screamed money and her unblemished skin told me she hadn’t had to work for a damned thing in her entire life.
There was no way those tits were real, either.
Fake bitch.
She gasped, and I realized I’d muttered the words aloud and clamped my jaw shut, redoubling my efforts to focus on the lesson and not on all the eyes watching the new girl.
Once they got their eyeful and made their judgment, they’d move along.
“Are you just going to let her talk to me like that?” The girl hissed in a low voice. Unable to curb my curiosity, I tilted my head to the side to see her baring her pearly whites at Grey.
His eyes lifted to the ceiling as he leaned back in his chair, looking bored as hell.