16. Ava
CHAPTER 16
AVA
Not only did I waste the whole weekend studying for classes I’m no longer enrolled in, but to add insult to injury, the campus bookstore is closed on Mondays– meaning I can’t even exchange my textbooks to get the ones I need to study for my new classes. It’s like I’ve had a domino effect of bad luck ever since I went up to the boathouse loft with Wes, and I wish I could go back in time and slap some sense into myself that night instead of falling for his bullshit lines and pretty smile.
After a heated discussion with the Registrar’s office– no , they won’t let me change my schedule back, even though I insist the change was a mistake– I’m told the library has some old editions of textbooks I can check out overnight so I don’t fall even further behind. It’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound, but since I’d rather chew glass than ask one of my stepbrother’s asshole friends to borrow their textbooks, I head to the library at the end of the day in hopes that the old editions will at least contain the chapters I need to complete the required reading for tomorrow.
That’s how I end up wandering around the library with a list of call numbers in hand, on the hunt for books to study for classes that I’m not even interested in taking. I’m a little turned around and lost in the maze of stacks when I hear a soft clapping sound emanating from the back of the section I’m in. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I’m drawn in like a moth to a flame, creeping closer and peering over the rows of books until I discover exactly where the noise is coming from.
Or rather, who - because there’s a couple actually fucking back here. A normal reaction would be to turn around and get the hell out of dodge, but I find myself momentarily frozen in shock, staring in morbid fascination at the way the big guy with deep olive skin and his pants around his ankles slams into the skinny blonde from behind, holding his hand over her mouth to stifle her screams.
It’s so raw and brutal and shameless that I can’t look away, not even when he turns his head and meets my eyes.
I think some part of me already knew it was Raf. If not from his distinctive body build and head of curly black hair, then from the savage way he’s pounding into the blonde, chasing his pleasure without any respect or regard for the woman beneath him. The way he fucks is just like his personality– harsh and impersonal.
Now that he’s seen me peeping, I should definitely turn away… but for some reason, I don’t . Raf stares at me and I stare right back, almost as if in challenge. It’s like we’re daring one another to be the first to break eye contact. I’m not sure whether it’s an act of defiance– to show I’m not afraid of him– or if it has more to do with the heat that’s starting to crawl up my neck as I watch him fuck her, a dull throb starting to pulse between my own legs.
Before I can even fully grasp my own confusing reaction to the sight before me, his hips punch forward hard, eyes squeezing closed as he comes with a loud grunt. It’s jarring enough to break me out of whatever trance I’m in, and I finally wake the hell up and get out of there, nearly tripping over my feet as I scramble away through the maze of aisles.
I never did locate the textbook for my anatomy class, but I don’t stick around to continue my search. I emerge from the stacks, skirt around the circulation desk, and hightail it straight out of the library, practically diving through both sets of double doors to get outside.
“Whoa, you alright there, Ava?” a male voice asks.
I suck in a gasp, whipping around in a circle, expecting to see one of the other Kings…
I nearly faint with relief when I see Bryce standing there instead, brows drawn together in concern as he observes my erratic behavior.
“Bryce,” I breathe, pressing a hand to my chest and panting. “Yeah, I’m fine, I just…” I trail off with a shuddered sigh, and then for some reason, I unload. “Ugh, today has been the worst, and men are pigs– no offense– and I need to just go back to my dorm and bury my head in a book to try to catch up, but I’m starving, and…”
“Whoa, slow down,” Bryce cuts in with a chuckle, holding up his hands. “Shit, girl, I’m way too stoned to keep up with you right now.”
I blow out a slow breath, combing my fingers through my hair and grasping for some semblance of composure. “Sorry. Bad day.”
Bryce tilts his head, his eyes rounded in sympathy. “Now that I can understand.” He steps closer to me, slinging an arm over my shoulders and directing me down the path away from the library. “Why don’t we just grab you a to-go bag from the Bistro and get you back to your dorm, eh?”
I scrunch up my nose, turning to look at him as we walk. “A to-go bag? That’s a thing here?”
Bryce nods.
“Jesus, rich people really go all out, don’t they?” I mutter under my breath, though I can’t deny that it’s pretty damn convenient. The last thing I want to do tonight is sit alone in the cafeteria amongst a bunch of gawking strangers, since I’ve gathered that I’m the latest topic of campus gossip.
“Hey, at least the food’s good,” he shrugs. “Oh man, this one time…”
Bryce launches into a crazy story about a prank a group of students pulled last year where they slipped magic mushrooms into the pizza toppings, and for the first time all day, I laugh and smile and actually feel good , like college doesn’t suck and this may turn out alright after all. And as we pick up our to-go bags of dinner from the student union and head to the dorms, Bryce doesn’t even ask why I ran out of the library or went on a rant about my shitty day. He leaves me plenty of openings to talk about it, but he never pries, which is exactly what I need. He lets me pretend that my troubles don’t exist.
We part ways at the landing for the second floor of Sutton Hall, where Bryce’s room is located, then I continue up to the fourth floor on my own. When I unlock the door and walk into my dorm, I’m surprised to find Richelle inside after days away. She’s just sitting on her bed casually reading a book, as if she isn’t actually the world’s worst roommate.
“Oh, you’re back,” I remark, closing the door behind me and flipping the deadbolt into place.
“I am,” she sighs.
As I enter the room and sling my backpack off my shoulders, she doesn’t even bother to look up from the pages of the novel spread across her lap.
“Where’d you go?” I ask, putting my back to her as I haul my backpack up onto my desk and unzip it.
“I was with my boyfriend.”
I turn to glance over at her, brows lifting in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were dating someone.”
Richelle closes her book with a sigh, finally looking up at me. “He’s older, so we keep it pretty hush-hush.”
“Hm.” I turn away, reaching into my backpack to pull out my to-go bag of dinner.
“You’re not mad at me about the other night, are you?” she asks, sounding more annoyed than anything.
I whip back around, suddenly furious. “Yeah, I am!” I exclaim, throwing up my arms. “I was freaking kidnapped , and you just watched them take me!”
“ Ohhhkay ,” Richelle sighs, tossing her book aside. “What the hell did you expect me to do, Ava? Getting in their way would’ve been a suicide mission.”
“I don’t know, call campus security or something?!”
She rolls her eyes. “Who do you think campus security works for?”
I throw up a hand, gesturing wildly. “Okay, the police, then!”
“You don’t call the cops on Kings,” Richelle snorts.
“Why not?”
“You really have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?” She huffs out a breath, shaking her head patronizingly. “Let me spell it out for you, new girl. The Kings own this place. They own the faculty, the administration, the security, and even the small-town cops in Norfolk who would answer your call. You’re in Kings territory now, babe, and what they say, goes . There’s no fighting against it or changing it, so the best thing you can do is keep your head down, do what they say, and hope they eventually get bored with you and move onto someone else to torture.”
I just stare at her with my mouth agape, still angry with her but also in awe of the gravity behind what she’s saying. Then my mind latches onto a thought that ran through my head after Ford played me the video– that they’ve probably done this to other girls before me. Richelle could be another victim of their blackmail.
“Do they… have something on you?” I ask cautiously, arching a brow.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbles, looking away with a quick shake of her head. “Just try to avoid them as much as you can, alright? That’s the best advice I can give you.”
Her reaction is confirmation enough that my suspicions are correct, and I get a sinking feeling deep in my gut. “Too late for that,” I mutter. “They changed my classes around so I can never get away from them.”
“So it’s true, then,” she muses, frowning. “Damn. Well, if you can’t hack it, then pack your bags and call your parents, girl, because nobody here can help you.”
I tried to call .
I want to scream that out loud, to curse my mother for abandoning me here, my stepfather for raising a monster, both of them for not answering their phones… but I stay silent. With a feeling of dread settling over me, I turn back to my desk and tear open the paper bag from the Bistro.
“I’ll figure something out,” I mutter, pulling out the container of lasagna and a plastic fork. There’s also garlic bread and a delicious looking brownie inside. I arrange everything on my desk, sinking into my chair to chow down.
“Another word of advice?” Richelle pipes up right as I’m picking up my fork.
I glance back at her over my shoulder.
“Don’t try to appeal to their sense of decency, because they have none,” she says somberly. “Wes is probably the least scary of the bunch, so if you’ve gotta pick one to stick close to, I’d go with him.”
“Wes is the one who got me into this mess,” I rasp, my throat tightening as memories of the party at the boathouse flash through my mind like a film reel. “He’s definitely not gonna save me. Ford, maybe…”
“ Excuse me , Christian Ford?” Richelle interjects, shaking her head with a grimace. “You do realize that Ford is an actual psychopath, right? I mean, Raf’s mean streak stems from his anger over his mom dying, and Wes can almost pass for normal, but Ford… he’ll slit your throat with a smile.”
I flinch at her warning, a shiver racing down my spine. I never realized Ford wasn’t his first name, though it fits that he goes by his surname. Christian sounds like an angel from above, not one of the devil’s henchmen.
“Noted,” I mumble, turning back to my dinner and digging in, wanting to just eat my food and zone out studying for a while.
The truth of the matter is, I can’t trust any of these guys. I just have to keep my head down and my guard up, and hope that like Richelle said, they’ll eventually get bored and move on.
But even I know hope is for fools.