Chapter Thirteen
Amelie
I love you. I love you. I love you. The words I dreamed I heard on Sawyer’s lips the other night still swirl around and around in my head. I know it was only a dream, but it was one of the best.
I sigh as I struggle to do my damn bow on my uniform, over a month away from the school has made me rusty at it. I got up extra early to get ready today, needing to show the world – or Knox Academy at least – that I’m fighting fit. Fake it until you make it, right? That’s what I’m telling myself.
In all honesty, I feel shaky. I’m nervous about today. Worried that I’ll have fallen behind in my studies. Wondering how I’ll cope in the classes I don’t have with Elsie. How will I face music with Slate? Oh god...I have lessons with Onyx too! How could I have forgotten that?
And of course, there’s them to deal with.
The other kids. Since returning to the school I’ve only managed to leave my room a handful of times, and each one has ended in some sort of painful disaster for me.
I’m not stupid enough to think that those were isolated incidents, carried out by a few bitter individuals holding a grudge.
No, I suspect it was more like a preview of what’s to come.
Especially if Sawyer’s insistence on my need for protection ends up being anything to go by.
I need to watch my back.
Put my game face on.
Don’t show them that I’m hurting.
“Fuck off,” I quietly say under my breath when there’s a knock at my door.
It has been happening all weekend, at all hours of the day and night.
They knock, I answer, no-one’s there. Mature.
But annoying as hell when every step to get my ass out of bed makes my body scream in protest. I sigh, make one last pathetic attempt at the bow, and grab my bag.
May as well head out and grab some breakfast.
When I open the door and step out – because I already expect the knocker to be long gone – I collide with an unexpected body with a soft “ooof”.
“Kalen?” I scowl. “What are you doing here?” I’ve managed a stellar job at avoiding him until now. Damn it.
“I’m your escort,” he replies, taking my bag from my hand and slinging it onto his back. “Here, let me help you.”
He steps in close and damn him, his scent intoxicates me as he carefully fixes my bow for me.
“There.”
“Th-thank you,” I whisper, a lump in my throat.
He’s so close. I long to reach out and close the space between us with a kiss, a hug, anything.
But I can’t. Every time I close my eyes and picture his face, it’s the impassive, immobile stranger lying on the bed beside me and refusing to take action against his brothers.
He broke something between us, and I don’t know how to let him fix it.
“No problem, sis. Let’s get this day started. Breakfast?”
I nod and let him lead me to the dining hall. There’s absolutely no point in arguing with Kalen about this escort, and I’m not fit enough yet to punch him and run. Besides, he has my stuff and I can’t turn up to class without it. Not if I want to avoid a dreaded blue slip anyway.
I wonder who will run early morning Saturday detentions now?
I hope I don’t get one to have to find out.
I hated being up so early at first, even for the pleasure of ogling Sawyer.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach. He should be here, enjoying his first day, doing what he loves.
I remember the night we met, how he spoke about teaching with such passion, and I feel like dirt.
I ruined his life and yet somehow, he forgives me.
He wants a relationship with me? I don’t deserve it.
I love you...As if he could ever really love me after what I did. Dream on, Amelie.
Elsie’s voice pulls me from my downward spiral of negative thoughts, and I cross the room to sit with her. If Kalen’s so hell-bent on being helpful, he can fetch me my breakfast.
“Hey, how are you? You look good.” Elsie whistles the last part and I smile.
“Thanks, not bad, it’s all makeup,” I laugh. “No way near as good as you though.”
“Shame. If we were roomies I could teach you a thing or two.”
“If we were roomies, I’d make you my own personal stylist every day.”
“You couldn’t afford me.” She laughs.
“True.” On impulse I reach out and hug her.
“What was that for?”
“I missed you. Sorry I ruined the party of the year.”
“Please, it was a Knox party, there’ll be others.”
Just then Kalen interrupts by placing breakfast down in front of both of us. Okay, I’ll give him bonus points for that. Begrudgingly.
“Thanks, Kalen.” Elsie smiles at him as she tucks into pancakes that smell so good, I’m drooling.
“Thanks, you can go now,” I tell him with an insincerely sweet smile. Am I being a bitch? Yes. Do I mean to be? No. It’s a self-preservation thing. I don’t want my resolve weakening around him. And some sexy cologne and pancakes for my bestie are not enough to make me forgive him.
“I said I’m your escort, not your slave.”
I can’t help it, my mind goes there: to that sexy dark place where Kalen is a willing slave...in the bedroom. My thighs clench and my cheeks heat, which of course Kalen catches, and he smirks at me.
“Naughty, naughty, sis.” The bastard tuts at me.
I finish my breakfast lightning quick so that I can get out of here, and I spy my opening when Baxter enters the dining hall.
Shooting to my feet, forgetting my injuries and yelping like a damn dog that just got kicked, I tell Kalen to take my bag to assembly and then I flee from him and race over to Baxter.
It’s more of a pained hobble, but the intent was there.
“Hey,” I pant. Whoa I’m seriously out of shape. I need to start running again. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?”
Baxter gives me a funny look, but nods and leads the way back out of the dining room. I follow him along the corridor and into a deserted classroom.
“Shoot, little sidekick, what’s the problem?”
“I want to ask you about your tattoo.”
“Which one?”
“You know which. The Celtic Knot.”
“Go on…”
“Tell me about it,” I press. Baxter takes a deep breath and starts rattling off some generic bullshit facts about the symbolism of Celtic Knots. “I can find all of that out on google,” I snap.
“Then what do you want to know?”
“Why do you, and all of the Knox brothers have the same tattoo? Sawyer said it was a family thing, but you’re not family.”
“It’s a symbol of belonging to something bigger than this.”
“What?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why did Sawyer lie to me?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“Why did he freak out when he saw this?” I demand, yanking my pendant out from under my shirt. Baxter’s eyes widen infinitesimally, but other than that, he gives no reaction for a moment.
“May I?” he asks, a strange tone to his voice. I nod. He reaches out and runs his thumb over the knot, before pulling down his shirt collar to show me his tattoo. It’s an exact match, not a similarity like I first thought.
“What does it mean?” I ask, awed by the way Baxter is caressing the pendant with reverence.
“I can’t tell you. I like you, Amelie, but it would be more than my life’s worth. If you want answers you need to find Debbie Doyle.”
I smirk because this has to be a wind-up, right? Who in their right mind would name their kid Debbie Doyle?
“You’re joking, right?”
Baxter drops the pendant like it’s burnt him and steps away quickly. Turning his back on me he leaves, calling over his shoulder, “The next time you want information from me, it’ll cost you.”
What the actual fuck?
The bell rings for assembly but I decide to skip it in favour of doing some research in the library. It proves fruitless though. All I find is an old death announcement that some woman died during childbirth. I dismiss it as nonsense and decide that Baxter must be fucking with me.
The bell rings again, and I head off to my first period class. When I get there I’m surprised to see Kalen standing outside, swinging my bag back and forth on his outstretched hand.
“Didn’t see you in assembly.”
“Something came up,” I say, evasively. Kalen frowns and his gaze scans my body. When he sees that I’m unharmed, his eyes darken with desire and I swallow nervously. I need to get to class. Being around Kalen is not good for my health or my panties.
I snatch the bag from his hand and duck through the door, quickly selecting a seat in the front row. There’s very few seats left, but at least I’m not late. The final bell rings and Kalen ducks into the class and slips into the free seat beside me.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Escorting.”
“Congratulations, you’ve succeeded. You’ve successfully escorted me to my location. Now leave.”
“Not that kind of escort, sis.” He winks at me and I groan.
“Mr Knox!” Our interaction has drawn the attention of the teacher, whom I don’t recognise. My heart pangs when I think she might be Sawyer’s replacement. “You are not on the register for this class!”
“Surely there's been some sort of mistake, Mrs…?”
“Evans,” she replies in a no-nonsense tone. Good. Maybe she’ll be able to get Kalen under control.
“And it’s Miss, not Mrs, thank you.”
Maybe not. Internally, I groan. Kalen’s eyes land on mine and he must easily read my expression because his face lights up in challenge.
“That’s a shame, Miss Evans. I bet there are plenty of guys desperate to put a ring on it.”
Ugh. I can’t believe he’s flirting with the teacher to wangle his way into staying! Worse, the teacher flushes and bats her eyelashes at him! Gag. It’s disgusting. Unwittingly I think of Sawyer...that was not the same, I tell myself stubbornly.
I tune back in to the Kalen/Cougar exchange and discover she’s already moved on. Somehow Kalen’s managed to finagle his way into staying! He shoots me a victorious, smug grin, and I kick him. It makes me feel better when he winces.
And so it continues, all day Kalen follows me to class, and stays.
And every single time he finds a way to get away with it.
Sometimes he flirts, threatens or bribes the teachers to turn a blind eye.
Other times he simply ignores them until they give up and get on with teaching the lesson.
He stalks me at lunch, fetching my food and sitting with me and Elsie, driving me to distraction humming and tapping.
I just about reach breaking point by the time my final class of the day rolls around. Music.
I sigh.
Why the hell I have music with Slate now is beyond me; we’re not even in the same year group. The one small saving grace is that Kalen doesn’t show up, obviously trusting his brother to watch over me. It’s not quite heaven, but it’s a small respite I’ll take while I can.
I enter the room and take a seat as far away from Slate as I can.
That was pointless. As soon as class starts, the teacher puts us into pairs and assigns us a duet to work on this week.
Yep, I’m paired with Slate. Fuck my life, I can’t catch a break.
I’m fairly certain it’s pointless to ask for a different partner, but I try anyway.
She shoots me down in flames, gushing over how amazing we were together at the winter concert and how pleased she is that I elected to swap to music.
Like I had a choice. I don’t correct her and burst her bubble by telling her that I didn’t opt for this.
Sighing, I take my new seat beside Slate.
“Do I at least get to pick the song?” I ask wearily.
“Nope.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “The teacher already picked.”
“Great. What have we got?”
“Flashlight.” I stare blankly at him. “You know, the Jessie J song?” I blink. He sighs. “From the film, Pitch Perfect 2?”
“Nope. I got nothing.”
He groans and rests his head on the desk.
“Do you live under a rock? Have you at least got your tablet on you?”
“Susan? Sure.” I pull her out and hand her over to Slate, reluctantly. “Be gentle with her.”
He snorts then pulls up my Spotify account and types the song, adding it to a new playlist entitled “Slate lines get blurred so damn easily, and I won’t be one of those girls who falls at a guy’s feet because he says sorry.