18. Ava
CHAPTER 18
AVA
As soon as Professor Astor dismisses our class, I practically run out of the lecture hall like the room’s on fire. I’ve had this icky feeling that I can’t shake ever since Wes fingered me in the middle of class, like I’m defective somehow. I mean, how else can I explain actually getting turned on by that sick power play of his?
My head’s a mess as I hustle across campus to Addams Hall for my English Lit class. It’s a subject that I actually enjoy, but I’m sure these boys will find a way to ruin it for me. I’m not sure which of the three I’ll share this class with, but I just pray it isn’t Wes. I’m nowhere near ready to face him again and I’m too emotionally tapped out to withstand more of his mind games.
None of them are there when I enter the lecture hall, choosing a seat front and center so they won’t be able to get away with trying to touch me. I take out my laptop and books and get all situated, but as the minutes tick by, nobody comes to sit next to me. Just as I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll actually be able to sit through one class today in peace, I look around and spot Raf seated up in the far corner of the room, reclining back in his chair with a bored expression on his face.
Shit. This is the first class I’ve had with my stepbrother; the King who scares me the most. It’s almost worse that he’s chosen to sit back there, out of my line of sight, because now I’m the one peeking back at him like a creep.
A loud, high-pitched laugh pierces the quiet in the room, and I swing my gaze to the double doors to see a leggy blonde walking in with another girl, cackling at something she said. And although I didn’t get a good look at her face yesterday, from her hair and body alone, I immediately recognize her as the girl I caught Raf fucking in the stacks.
She struts over to join him in the back corner, plopping down into the neighboring seat. As she begins chatting away and he slings an arm over her shoulders, realization sinks in that she must be his girlfriend. I wonder what she thinks of the Kings putting a target on my back. She probably doesn’t even know.
That thought is short-lived, though, because she suddenly makes eye contact with me, pulling a face. “What the hell are you staring at, new girl?” she demands rudely.
All at once, everyone in the class turns to look at me, and I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole. With my cheeks burning in embarrassment, I turn back around to face the front of the room, slumping my shoulders to make myself as small as possible while focusing on my laptop screen.
It seems Raf’s girlfriend is just as charming as he is. It’s a match made in heaven. Or hell, which is a better guess at where these two hail from.
An attractive brunette enters the room from the side door, stepping in front of the class to take her place behind the podium. I quickly deduce that she must be Professor Turner. She’s younger than I expected for a college professor. Prettier, too.
“Today we’re resuming our discussion of Paradise Lost,” she begins, jumping right in.
The rest of the class quiets down to listen to her speak– all except for Raf’s bitchy little girlfriend, that is. She’s still obnoxiously chattering away to Raf in the back of the room, and while the professor’s gaze flickers that way, she doesn’t say anything in reprimand. She ignores them like they’re not even here, despite the fact that they’re being disruptive to the rest of us.
So, I guess Richelle’s claim about the Kings getting away with anything they want around here holds some merit after all.
My eyes glaze over as I stare at my laptop screen, resisting another glance over my shoulder at the pair of them. I don’t know why, but something about the way they’re cozied up back there grates on my damn nerves. And it definitely has more to do with the fact that they obviously don’t give a shit about the rest of us around them actually trying to learn than the way Raf has pointedly ignored my presence the entire time we’ve been in here.
I’m not sure which is worse– being the subject of his attention or being deprived of it. Which is absolutely ridiculous, considering how he’s treated me since I arrived on this campus. I should want him to ignore me, right? But even though I know he’s evil, there’s just something magnetic about Raf that draws me in. And it isn’t just me, either– I see it in the faces of everyone he passes as he walks through campus, their wistful stares just begging for a passing glance.
I suppose everybody around here is tempted by the devil.
I try my best to focus on Professor Turner’s lecture, jotting down notes and groaning when she reminds the class that we have a paper due Friday. As if I wasn’t already overloaded, now I’ve got one more assignment to add to the list. Who needs sleep, anyways?
The rest of the day passes by in a fairly uneventful blur. I eat lunch at a table by myself in the Bistro, ignoring the curious stares from the other students since the attention of the Kings has turned me into a pariah, then study in the library for a couple hours. I’m dreading sitting through my afternoon class with Ford, but luck would have it that he’s too busy texting on his phone the entire time to bother torturing me.
Even so, I’m still spiraling as I head back to my dorm room, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach as I climb the stairs up to the fourth floor. I’ve tried to put the incident with Wes this morning out of my mind, but it’s still right there, lingering in the back of my memory like a coiled viper. I can’t escape it. I can’t escape them .
It’s infuriating that even after all he’s done, some part of me is still undeniably attracted to Wes. The way he looks, the way he smells, the way he carries himself… the campus golden boy is downright irresistible, and the worst part is that he freaking knows it. He’s so damn smug, so obnoxiously full of himself. So charming and charismatic that I can’t not react to him the way I do, and it’s maddening.
Richelle’s at her desk studying when I walk in, and I mumble a greeting to her as I head over to my own desk, pulling my laptop and books out of my backpack and sitting down to bury myself in homework. I’m still horribly behind, but I figure I can catch up in a week or two if I pull some late nights. I just have to stay focused. I may be struggling emotionally, but my grades don’t have to meet the same fate.
I’ve been at it for an hour when a knock against the door startles me from my intense focus, causing me to jump in my chair and whip my head around in a panic. My first thought is that it’s one of the Kings, here to nab me again. Then I remember, Kings don’t knock .
It’s probably just one of Richelle’s friends.
She pushes up from her desk chair with a sigh, padding over to the door to answer it while I turn back to the book in front of me and try to calm my racing heart.
“Is Ava here?” a male voice asks, and I cringe, glancing over my shoulder warily.
Richelle steps back, not even looking my way as she throws a thumb over her shoulder. “Aves, some hippie is here to see you,” she mumbles, heading back to her desk.
“Ouch, Rish, that hurts,” Bryce chuckles as he steps inside, clutching a hand to his chest and feigning injury. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, you attended my bar mitzvah!”
“Did I?” she asks boredly, flipping her shiny black hair over her shoulders as she sinks down into her chair. “Guess the party must’ve sucked if I don’t remember it.”
“Is that it, or were you just too coked out of your mind?”
I gasp at that, but Bryce just laughs, sauntering over to my desk and setting his hands on my shoulders. “Relax, new girl, we’re just playing around,” he chuckles, kneading my shoulders gently. “Rish knows she’s a bitch. This is our love language, isn’t it, babe?”
He glances her way, making a kissy face, but she just flips him the bird over her shoulder and goes on ignoring him.
“What’s up?” I ask, swiveling around in my chair to face Bryce.
He grins back at me, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. Reaching around for something inside, he pulls his hands back out, brandishing a lighter in one and a joint in the other. “Up for a study break?” he asks with a wag of his brows.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I mumble, chewing on my lower lip as I eye the joint pinched between his fingers. I know I need to get on top of my coursework, but with so much on my mind, the temptation to chill out and lose myself for a little while is certainly enticing.
“C’mon, Aves,” he urges, nudging the toe of my shoe with a sneaker. “I promise I’m better company than the ice queen over there.”
“Ugh, can both of you just leave so I can focus on this assignment?” Richelle groans, digging her hands into her hair and hanging her head over the book spread open on the desk in front of her.
Rolling my eyes, I push up out of my chair, smoothing down the back of my skirt. “Alright, let’s go,” I agree.
Bryce grins broadly, linking his arm through mine and leading me toward the door. “Later, bestie!” he calls over his shoulder, and I stifle a giggle at the glare Richelle shoots him on our way out.
I figure we’ll head outside to light up, but Bryce throws me for a loop when he stops off at the second floor of Sutton Hall, leading me to his dorm room instead. When we step inside, I find that the layout is identical to my own room– except here, there’s no angry Asian girl seated at a desk, huffing at our interruption. In fact, there’s nothing at all on one of the desks, or the bed beside it, for that matter. It’s decked out in the standard issue bedding branded with the Corvus College logo, but any personal effects are conspicuously absent.
“Where’s your roommate?” I wonder aloud, stepping further into the room.
“Ugh, long story,” Bryce groans as he passes by me to head for the window.
“I’ve got time,” I say, sinking onto the edge of the vacant bed. I watch as he fiddles with the latch, then pushes the window up a few inches, the cool night breeze trickling into the room.
Bryce spins back around, coming over to sit beside me on the bed and pulling out the joint and lighter again. “He was a jock, and he wasn’t thrilled about having me as a roommate,” Bryce mumbles, pinching the joint between his lips and sparking the lighter. The paper smolders as the tip catches and burns, the pungent smell of marijuana permeating the air.
After taking a long toke and blowing out the smoke, Bryce passes the joint over to me, continuing. “And by not thrilled, I mean he freaked out, like he thought I’d try to touch his dick in his sleep or something. He bitched to his daddy about it and got moved, so I lucked out and got a single.” He turns toward me as I puff on the joint, narrowing his eyes. “Seriously, why do straight men always just assume that everyone wants their dick?”
“I don’t know,” I chuckle, expelling the smoke from my lungs with a throaty cough. “Because they’re entitled assholes? They think they own the world, that they can do or say or touch anything they want…” I trail off, realizing I’m getting too far into my own drama.
Bryce cocks a brow as he plucks the joint from my fingers, bringing it to his own lips again and inhaling deeply. A long pause settles between us as he holds in the smoke, then blows it out, giving me a pointed look as he hands it back over.
“I’m not gonna pry, because we don’t even really know each other and that’s just not my style. But I also don’t live under a rock, so I know you’ve gotten yourself mixed up with the Kings.”
“And you still want to be around me?” I mutter wryly, accepting the joint from him and daring to take a second hit.
“Psh, I’m not scared of them,” Bryce scoffs. “I’m an open book, so those assholes can’t get anything on me to hold over my head. You know what people here don’t realize? There’s a lot more of us than there are of them . Someone just needs to stand up and start a revolution.”
I launch into a coughing fit, thrusting the burning joint back in his direction as I struggle to catch my breath.
“Easy there, princess,” he laughs, clapping me hard on the back.
I sputter and choke on the smoke, my throat feeling like sandpaper when I finally manage to get it together. Bryce finishes off the joint, stubbing it out on the top of a pop can on the nightstand and dropping it inside.
A warm buzz settles in my veins, my head getting that floaty feeling again as the drug takes hold.
“At least they’re hot,” Bryce remarks, scooching backwards on the bed until his back meets the wall.
I pull my feet up onto the bed, turning my body so I’m facing him and folding my legs underneath me. “They’re monsters,” I rasp, my throat still raw. Opening my hands in my lap, I stare down at my palms, eyes glazing over. “I shouldn’t want anything to do with them, and I don’t, but…” I trail off, swallowing hard. “There’s also this sick part of me that must enjoy their torture, and I’m not sure if that makes me a monster, too.”
I lift my head, cringing at my own admission. Bryce must think I’m pathetic.
He stares back at me sympathetically for a long moment, then his lips twitch into a smirk. “Well, at least the road to hell is paved with pretty faces and big dicks, right?”
I throw back my head on a laugh, dissolving into a fit of giggles as a wave of giddiness takes over, my high fully hitting me. Bryce laughs along with me while I dart out a fist, delivering a playful jab to his arm. “How do you know they have big dicks?”
“Not from experience, unfortunately,” he sighs. “But with all that big dick energy, they’ve gotta be packin’.”
My mind drifts to the memory of Wes’ cock stuffed down my throat; of the way his thickness nearly suffocated me. “Wes has a big dick,” I blurt, heat crawling up my neck. “I don’t know about the others.”
Bryce’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh yeah?”
My pulse thrums harder, a now-familiar warmth pooling in my core.
There’s something seriously wrong with me.
Wes betrayed me. He’s assaulted me more than once. The fact that I’m still drawn to him on some subconscious level after all he’s done is truly appalling.
“I don’t wanna talk about them anymore,” I mumble, picking at a loose thread on the hem of my skirt.
Bryce heaves a sigh, pushing up from the bed and stepping over to the window. “Sure thing, babe,” he says as he pulls it down, fastening the lock. Then he spins back around with a devious grin on his face. “From now on, this room is a Kings free zone. It may not be much, but every revolution has to start somewhere.”