9. Felicity
CHAPTER NINE
felicity
“Ihope you’re keeping your head down.” My grandfather’s disapproval oozes down the phone, and I sink back against the trunk, feeling the dampness of the bark seep into my clothes.
It’s quiet out here with almost everyone at classes or getting lunch.
I couldn’t stand the idea of facing the eyes in the dining hall today, so I escaped outside to get some air instead…
right in time for my phone to start ringing.
My grandfather has always had a keen sense of knowing the perfect time to dig his claws in.
“I haven’t heard anything,” he continues, “but I know it’s only a matter of time. You are your mother’s daughter, after all.”
“I’m just going to classes,” I protest weakly. “No more drama, I promise.” My tone is subdued, supplicant, and I hate myself for it.
He scoffs. “Yes, well, that’s not a promise I thought I’d need to extract from you. Yet here we are.” He pauses, letting the silence fill with thick tension. “Your mother said she mentioned the Thorntons to you.”
“Yes.”
“The deal I’m curating with them is crucial to my career and our family’s political standing. Connor Thornton might not be their heir, but his father has made a point to mention your name specifically.”
A chill skitters down my spine. “Why?”
“I don’t presume to know how shifter minds work, Felicity.” There’s an undercurrent to his voice, one that speaks back to his prejudice against shifters. Except it isn’t just shifters, but every species that isn’t human. “Have you spoken to Connor?”
Apprehension is a weight on my chest, leaving me unsure about what I should say. He and my mother are both aware of Connor’s involvement in what happened last semester, but neither of them seem overly concerned about his breaking and entering attempts.
It makes me wonder how they would’ve reacted if something had actually happened, because there was no good reason that Connor could have had for breaking into my room that night.
Just like there is no good reason that, every time I’ve turned around in the last week, ever since Selena attacked me, they’ve been there.
One of them, or both; their eyes always on me, following my every move. They’ve lurked in classes they aren’t enrolled in, leaned against walls in hallways they knew I’d be passing, and hovered outside the front door to my dorm building.
They haven’t approached me, but they aren’t giving me space, either, and I haven’t worked out how I feel about it all. One of the reasons I escaped outside this morning was to get away from them and their constant stares.
“Felicity,” my grandfather says sharply. “I asked you a question.”
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I’ve spoken to him, but I’m not sure what you want from me.”
He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Always having to do the thinking for you, hm, Felicity? Not sure the money I’m giving the school is worth the return.
” I wince. His words always cut deeper than my mother’s, for some reason.
But I know there’s nothing I can do to endear myself to him—not when he doesn’t see any value in me other than trading me in his deals.
Maybe if I’d been born with a dick, things might’ve been different.
I overheard him once talking to one of his pompous friends about how his next hope would be either finding a new wife—someone younger and breedable—to give him a son, or marrying me off and taking my son, raising his great-grandson in his image.
If I have kids, that will never fucking happen.
My grandfather might think I’m an airhead who doesn’t know anything, but once I have my trust fund, he’s never going to see me again.
He makes a low sound of annoyance in my ear. “Just see that you don’t do anything to jeopardize my partnership with the Thorntons, Felicity. You’ve already done enough to tarnish the Hamilton name, don’t you think?”
I murmur a quiet agreement, but I don’t think he hears it, the click and dead air telling me he’s already hung up. Asshole.
These check-ins always leave me disquieted, like I’ve been shoved into clothes that don’t quite fit. I should probably be used to it, but I still want to scrub a layer of skin off.
“You okay?”
I startle, my head jerking up so quickly that it smacks into the trunk I’m leaning against. The tender spot at the back of head throbs, making me think of swirling golden eyes and a mocking smile.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, rubbing the twinge away, glancing over at the girl standing next to me. She’s dressed in a flouncy pink top and blue jeans, her blonde head cocked to the side as she watches me.
“Don’t be offended, but you don’t look fine.” She doesn’t seem put off by my silence, giving me a small smile. “I’m Florence, by the way.”
She inches closer, ignoring the look I slide her as I mutter, “Felicity.”
“I know who you are,” she interjects. “You’re pretty infamous around these parts.” Her eyes are twinkling with amusement, and I huff.
“That’s not such a good thing.”
Florence shrugs. “It can be sometimes.” She narrows her eyes, considering me. “You look like you need to let loose a little. Are you coming to the Halloween party tonight?”
“What party?”
Her mouth pops open. “You’re kidding right? It’s only the biggest party of the semester.” She tips her head toward the woods, in the direction of the cemetery. “I’m going with my roommate. Why don’t you join us?”
I don’t have much experience with girls like this being nice to me—not without some kind of agenda—so I narrow my eyes. “Why?”
Florence lifts perfectly shaped eyebrows, her pink-glossed mouth pursed.
“Because you’ve had a shitty year”—my cheeks flush at her candor, but she doesn’t stop—“and you look like you need a friend.” She waves a hand at herself in a ta-da gesture.
“I am volunteering for the position. And I’m gonna voluntell my roommate, Ada. ”
I’m not really sure what to make of this girl. “I’m not in a party mood.”
“Well, get in one,” Florence says brightly. “You no longer have a choice.”
I inhale slowly through my nose, staring at her. She doesn’t look away, her smile never fading. “You know who I am,” I say. It’s not a question. Still, she tips her chin down in confirmation.
“I do.”
“So, you know why spending time with me is a bad idea.”
Her expression doesn’t falter. “There are a few things in this world that scare me, Felicity, but your family isn’t one of them.”
When there’s a knock at my door later that night, nerves flutter in my stomach. For the longest second, I just sit on the edge of my bed, hoping she’ll go away.
A series of knocks, each louder than the last, immediately dashes that hope.
“Felicityyy!” Florence sings through the door.
“Your entourage is here!” Before I can move, there’s a muffled conversation.
The words are impossible to make out, but it sounds like she’s arguing with someone.
And then Florence bursts out, “Ada, I refuse to let her waste away in her room because other people suck. You haven’t been here, but I promise you, if anyone needs a friend, it’s this girl.
” There’s a pause, and then, “Felicity, if you don’t open this door, I’m gonna go tell your RA there’s a gas leak! In three… two—”
I rush across the room and fling the door open, crying, “Don’t you dare!”
She’s standing there, dressed as an angel in a see-through dress. Her lacy white underwear is on full display, the cups of her bra doing God’s work, pushing her breasts almost up to her chin. My mouth drops open, and I know I’m staring, and by the time I drag my eyes up to her face, she’s smirking.
“See, Ada?” she tells her friend, who rolls her eyes. “This dress was the perfect choice.”
Ada’s wearing a leather minidress, and she looks anything but comfortable as she fidgets with her devil horn headband. “Hi,” she murmurs quietly, eyes flitting between me and Florence. “Look, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Florence squints at her. “Whose side are you on, roomie? She absolutely does need to come.” She turns back to me. “But you can’t wear that.”
I frown, looking down at my hoodie and jeans. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Babe, we’re going to a Halloween party,” she says. “You need to dress the part. Not to worry. I have the perfect thing.”
Florence turns and skips back down the hallway, presumably going back to her room to retrieve the “perfect” item, leaving me and Ada standing there in shell-shocked silence.
After a beat, she lifts a champagne bottle I hadn’t noticed before, a wavering smile lifting her lips. “Wanna drink?”