Chapter 6 #2
"Chris passed the bar this summer." Ella continues. "He's not around anymore either. Wren’s starting his bioengineering postgrad. And Achilles"—my heart skips a beat, and I have to force my eyes to stay on Ella—"is starting med school."
That I knew, but I keep it to myself because there are some things I don't know, so I get to pretend I'm a normal person who hasn't been stalking that man online for years.
"What does he want to specialize in?"
Peach makes a face, something between fear and laughter. "Psychiatry."
My head rears back before I look at him again.
A girl made it to his lap, and she's wrapping her arms around his neck as she whispers something in his ear.
His beautiful eyes are on me, but there's still a challenge lingering in them rather than interest. I'd go as far as saying that there's contempt, too.
"I know, right?" Ella laughs. "We're all fucked if a psycho like Achilles becomes a psychiatrist."
"His clients are as good as dead." Peach snorts.
Even the sweet girl of their group has something to add.
"They'll all end up in a psychiatric ward," Alex concludes, rolling her lips.
"Wow, okay." I try to digest everything that was just thrown at me, and to help, I sip more of my drink. "He's that bad, huh? It's still not stopping all those girls from being all over him."
I would be too if I had the courage. He might be insufferable, but shit, it's Achilles Duval.
"He has a lot of groupies—" Alex cuts herself off when she realizes she's probably talking to one of said groupies. "You're a musician. You know how famous he is."
"Exactly how big of a fan are you?" Peach asks as her eyes narrow slightly.
"Uh…" I chuckle awkwardly, suddenly feeling the need to hide behind my solo cup. "As you said, I'm a musician, and he's truly a musical genius. Us violinists have all been waiting for his next work like the Messiah. No violinists perform their own concerto at seventeen."
That should do. Keep it related to his art. It makes sense. It doesn't make me creepy.
"Oh yeah, I remember that," Alex says. "That was before he moved to France. God, it was so boring." She gives me half a smile. "Sorry. We had to be there out of obligation because it was a big deal, but I'm not really into classical music."
She doesn't even realize what she witnessed. I would have killed to be there.
"Forget about the other musicians." Peach keeps going, curiosity bringing the subject right back to me. "How big of a fan are you? We need to assess how much danger you're in."
I gulp. "I don't…really know him, I guess."
Her eyes are slitted now, observing me so closely I feel like I should run away.
"Listen, there are three things you should never forget about Achilles," she insists sternly.
"First of all." Ella puts a finger up. "Never sleep with him.
He's a powerful, famous fuckboy who gets whoever he wants.
The pool is endless to him, and he will fuck you and ignore you the next day.
We've known him since way before he started having sex.
So trust me, we've seen it happen countless times. "
"Secondly," Alex jumps in. "He lives to rile people up. Don't fall for it. It's not him showing interest, and it's not cute teasing. He's a psycho who only gets excited when he's finally pushed people to their limits."
"This is starting to sound scary." My awkward laugh doesn't stop them.
"And finally." Peach leans closer to me. "Never, ever tell him any of your fears. Do you understand?"
That has my stomach twisting. "My fears? Why would I—"
"Do you understand?" she insists, her expression turning ominous.
I swallow over the lump in my throat. "Fuck, yes, I get it."
She shrugs and smiles brightly at me. "Good. Other than that, he's harmless. We've handled him for years. Just ignore him if he gets on your nerves. The celebrity in him hates that."
"I'll probably just stay away from him altogether," I admit, heart racing.
"Sure. Great idea too."
"So," Alex quickly changes topic, probably sensing my anxiety. "Are you looking forward to wearing our uniform?" she teases.
"Nothing screams rich kids more than a uniform in undergrad," I tell them, wanting to groan at the thought.
"You get used to it." Ella’s baby-blue eyes light up as she laughs. "Only two years for you."
"I won't lie; I'm not looking forward to wearing a tie. Those things are dramatic. And I hate the feeling of something around my neck."
I see all their eyes go to my neck as they notice I'm not wearing any necklaces.
"Is it that bad?" Alex asks.
"Just a bad experience." Their worried stares don't fade. "But I'll be fine," I say on a tight breath and with a fake smile. "It's just a tie so I can be in my dream college. I'll happily feel like I'm going to die so I can study music here."
It sounds like a joke, and they do laugh. But the simple idea of having that small noose around my neck really does make me feel like I’m dying.
"You don't have to wear it all the time," Alex assures me. "It's not like they're going to kick you out if you don't. As long as you wear the skirt, shirt, and jacket."
"Sure. Yeah. Good to know. I need the bathroom," I throw at them as I escape quickly, struggling to breathe.
I need a minute alone to freak out.
It's impossible to find a bathroom downstairs, and after being almost crushed by the crowd in the living room, I decide to head upstairs. I try the first door on the landing, but it's someone's bedroom. Another, and someone calls out, "Occupied!"
Fuck.
I'm not even sure whose house this is, but the panic can't wait, so I push open another door. A bedroom again. This time, I see an en-suite and rush to it. Surely, they're busy partying downstairs.
The second I'm alone in the bathroom, the alcohol hits me.
I'm not used to drinking so much, and with the buzz of the party, I couldn't tell how much it was affecting me.
I reach for the bubblegum in my bag and pop a ball into my mouth.
Sitting down on the shut toilet lid, I close my eyes and chew until my jaw hurts.
Every bite pushes memories away, and with the alcohol, they're not very clear anyway. Not as clear as usual, at least.
The flash of a skull mask.
The tightness around my throat.
The gum gets hard, hurting my jaw, its sugar coating my teeth.
Chew. Chew. It's not happening again. You're just thinking too hard about it.
Chew. Chew. You're not in danger.
Chew. Chew. Just breathe.
Throwing my gum in the trash, I take a deep breath and gather some courage to go back outside.
It's just a uniform tie, Nyx. No one’s trying to kill you.
I run a hand through my hair, square my shoulders, and open the door with a new fervor, ready to have the time of my life with the new friends I just made—
"Holy fuck!" I choke, my gasp startling the two people in front of me.
There's a naked girl on her knees, her hands tightly gripping the jeans of the man holding his hard dick in front of her face. If it was just that, I wouldn't be so shocked. I'd apologize and leave the room in a hurry.
It's not just that.
She's crying, and on the floor between her knees and his feet, she's eyeing a terrarium.
"Tell me, Evelyn," he purrs. "Were you more scared of the snake or being caught on your knees about to suck my dick?"
Achilles Duval's gaze stays on me as he speaks, but mine drops to the floor again, and that's when I notice the small snake starting to slither out of the open container.
"Shit!" Evelyn shouts as she throws herself back so forcefully, I see her wrist twist in a worrying way. She whimpers as she lands on her ass and cradles her wrist to her chest. "Fuck, my wrist."
Achilles lets go of her hair, and she grapples for her clothes on the floor.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I can't do this." Getting dressed in record time, she runs out of the room, her sobs still loud after she slams the door shut.
I stay frozen in place, my eyes on the snake as Achilles zips up his black jeans. He kneels next to the terrarium, takes the reptile in his hand, places it back inside, and secures the lid back on it.
I can't move, can't stop observing him. I'm not sure if it's because I know what he's capable of doing with a violin, but his hands look so strong to me as he grabs the terrarium and stands up again.
"Tell me something, scholarship," he says in a gravelly voice as he walks toward the desk to my left.
His shoulders stretch the black shirt he's wearing, and when he lifts his arms to put the snake on a shelf above the desk, my stomach liquifies at the muscles bulging in his arms.
I've never seen him this close for so long.
Once the terrarium is down, he turns to me and cocks an eyebrow. "Are you deaf?"
"Huh?" I shake my head, coming back to reality as he leans against the desk and crosses his arms over his chest. I automatically move to face him, tilting my head to have my right ear slightly forward so I can hear him better.
Steel eyes pierce through me, a tilted smile curving his mouth as he repeats. "I just asked, why are you always around when I'm trying to have privacy?"
He takes a step toward me. "When I have an argument with my mother."
Another step, and it seems more threatening. It takes all of me not to pull back.
"When I'm trying to get my dick sucked."
He stops right in front of me, and my eyeline lands just below his neck. I notice the necklace he wears, a gold chain with an ‘S’ hanging low.
"I just needed the bathroom," I snap as I look up at into his eyes. Heeding Peach's warning, I add, "You're not so important that I'd follow you everywhere." Kind of a lie. "So, next time, use another room to get your dick sucked using a fucking snake. Freak."
His mocking smile deepens. "Another room than mine?"
This time, I do take a step back. Shit.
I look around, wondering how I didn’t notice this is his room. There are music sheets everywhere on the desk. Books to study medicine. Mainly? There are four violin cases spread around the room.
"Whatever. Sorry," I mumble. "I'll leave."
He takes a step to the side at the same time I do. "You don't have to leave."
My heart flutters, and I'm certain I should look at anything but him.
Yet my attention keeps going back to his handsome face.
His high cheekbones give him an aristocratic elegance that breaks with the violence of his strong jaw.
Just below the left side of his jawline, he sports a violin hickey—a bruise most violinists end up with when they play for long periods of time—and it excites me to no end.
Shit, I'm in Achilles Duval's bedroom.
But I've been warned enough times. About rich boys, men from SFU… Achilles, specifically.
"Not sure that’s a good idea for me."
I go to move again, but he stops me with his low voice. "I'm not going to do anything to you. I'm not as bad as the girls describe me." And by “the girls,” I'm sure he means his friends.
"I just caught you with a crying girl on her knees in front of you. I'm going to assume they weren't exaggerating." I pause, and then, unable to keep the question to myself, I ask, "Do you own a snake just so you can use it for sexual purposes?"
He throws his head back as he laughs, and it resonates all the way to my core. "I don’t own the snake. I got it because Evelyn wanted me to. I'll be bringing it back very soon."
"So…she asked you to use something that made her cry?" I blink up at him, waiting for an answer I desperately crave. Something that tells me he's not so bad. Mainly, something that tells me there are other people out there who have very specific sexual tastes.
"Nothing happened that Evelyn didn't want." In a gesture of innocence, he lifts his hands in front of him. "Promise." He thinks for a second, then adds, "Well, I guess she didn't want anyone to see her like that, but that's kind of your fault, not mine."
Not convinced, I take a step to the side.
"Nothing will happen, Nyx." He shrugs. "Unless you're finally feeling like you want to kiss an asshole?"
A laugh escapes me as I shake my head, lying despite what I truly want. "Not really, no. Still have a boyfriend." I need that reminder more than he does.
"Then nothing will happen." He winks, and the glint in his eyes makes my legs weak. "I'm going to see you often this year. I help out in a lot of music classes, and I'm present at all full orchestra rehearsals. It could be good to get to know each other a bit."
He still catches some hesitancy, and instead of insisting, he moves to let me by. "But I get if you don't want to."
The cloudy feeling from the alcohol mixes with the effect Achilles has on me.
Until tonight, I was nothing more than a fangirl constantly looking him up on the internet.
Now, I'm in a room, alone with him—his room—and he's offering to spend time with me.
I'm separating myself from the fans. This could be a chance to truly create a connection with him.
The door is right in front of me. I'm completely free to go.
But I don't.
And that's the first of my many mistakes.