7. Cin
Cin
“What’s his problem anyway?” I ask Cody as we wait for the teacher to come in. He shrugs and gives me a vague answer about not being loved as a child. I can’t imagine my life without my mom.
She’s a gem, and always tries to put me first.
I stare at the back of Talon’s annoyingly perfect shaped head. His dark golden hair looks more rumpled since the last time I saw him. I tell myself I don’t care what his problem is, and focus on Mr. Demus’s lecture.
Numbers and I don’t always have the best relationship. I’d rather write a paper than do calculus worksheets.
I’ve handed in three of my stacks of work by the time my last class is over, and each teacher gave me the same stern look and spiel. I know my work is good, I’m not worried about their warnings.
Deciding to get an early dinner I head toward the dining hall. It’s in the main administration building, which shocked me when Cody brought me in here for lunch earlier. The room is huge, rightfully so, with wooden circular tables and chairs covered in dark green linens.
The walls are painted a muted gray, a lot like the dorms. Serving lines run the length of both sides of the room with doors at each end leading outside. It’s accessible only to the outsides of the building. The design doesn’t seem well thought out, but it serves its purpose.
Grabbing a tray and greeting the ladies behind the counter, I order a grilled cheese with mayonnaise and kettle chips. They laugh and dance to music that blares from invisible speakers. I assume the music comes from the kitchen, but can’t be sure.
They hand me my food and I make my way to an empty table. Setting up my laptop and readying it for the next round of essays I have to tackle, I take a bite of the gooey-cheese and bread. They buttered it perfectly, and the crisp crunch makes me hum in pleasure.
“I guess we’ll have to add pig to her list of attributes next,” I hear a girl across the room shout.
I don’t waste my time looking up, whoever it is, obviously doesn’t know anything about pigs. They definitely don’t moan.
Instead I type up all of my notes into a doc and get a rough outline. Just as I’m finishing up a hand crashes down on my computer, shutting the screen and spreading out their palm. His fingers are ridiculously large for a young man, long and thick.
“I believe someone was speaking to you, Cinnamon.”
I whip my head up, eyes clashing into Talon’s ocean ones, “the fuck did you just call me?”
His lips tip up in a devilish way, eyes squinting and narrowing on my face.
“Your name, Cinnamon,” he laughs, speaking louder so everyone can hear my full first name, “right?”
I run my tongue between my bottom lip and teeth, willing my temper to subside. Everyone was staring now, especially at the name. Some people laughed, some snickered behind their hands.
My eyes grow taut with irritation, as I breathe through my nose, struggling to keep my temper in check before I flatten him on his ass once again. Tracking his every movement, he comes around the table so he’s close enough to my face I could purse my lips and touch his.
“Back up, Fish Boy.”
“Aw, what’s wrong, Spice?” He croons. “Didn’t want anyone to know your dirty little secret?”
I huff in amusement, if that’s what he thinks are dirty secrets, he’s got another thing coming. Planting my hands on the lacquered wood, I stand, forcing Talon’s back to stiffen to his full height. Softening my features, as if I’m going to cry, I allow him to believe he’s hurt me.
Nothing like a girl about to cry makes a boy want to run quicker.
But not Talon. No, Talon doesn’t run. He locks in, doubles down, and shouts, “Cinnamon Morgan, everyone.” Then slowly, he bends slightly and whispers in my ear, “welcome to Ravard Prep, fish food.”
Gasps and murmurs fill the room as Talon leaves, arms thrown wide. Walking backward to the door. I don’t bother looking around, everyone has their eyes pinned on me and what I’ll do next.
Like some kind of social experiment.
The new girl against the golden boy.
And I’m pretty certain he just declared open season on my ass.