28. Ava
CHAPTER 28
AVA
Evidently I wasn’t the only one who slept terribly after that tattoo session from hell last night. Wes looks like an extra from The Walking Dead when I find him standing outside of Sutton Hall waiting for me the next morning, and it’s a little shocking to see the campus golden boy so unkept. His blonde hair is a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop, and his black-framed glasses do little to hide the dark circles etched beneath his tired gray eyes.
I try to pretend like I don’t even see him, starting down the path from the dorms toward the quad, but he catches up in a few long strides and falls into step beside me. Though I’m consciously avoiding looking over at him, I can feel the way he’s eating me up with his gaze.
“Think that might be my favorite skirt yet,” he murmurs in a low, sultry tone.
I glare down at the pavement, refusing to rise to his bait. What does he expect me to do, thank him for the compliment? I’d rather set myself on fire than pander to his weak attempts at being a decent human being. If these boys have taught me anything thus far, it’s that decency gets you nowhere on this campus.
He’s right about the skirt, though. This one has always been a favorite of mine– a simple gray and black plaid that I’ve paired with black ankle boots and a white chiffon blouse. Whenever I put this outfit on, I feel like a powerful businesswoman, and I need those vibes to carry me through the day after last night’s torture. Even if I woke up feeling like anything but a strong, independent woman, at least I can look like one.
“So, you’re just ignoring me now?” Wes asks, still trying to attempt conversation. He blows out a slow breath when I don’t respond, raking a hand through his blonde hair. “Hey, I get it if you’re still pissed about last night, but it could’ve been a lot worse.”
“ Worse? ” I bark, stopping in my tracks and turning an icy glare on him. “What’s worse than being branded for life as someone else’s property ?”
He cringes as he swivels to face me, shrugging a shoulder.
“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” I mutter, shouldering past him to start down the path again.
Again, he catches up quickly to retake his place beside me, but at least he has the good sense not to continue trying to make small talk. We walk together in blissful silence all the way to the quad, which is already packed with students milling about before their morning classes. Pausing at the fork in the path, Wes turns to me as I adjust the straps of my backpack on my shoulders.
“I need to caffeinate,” he grumbles, eyeing the coffee cart across the quad, then cocking a brow at me. “What about you, you want one?”
While I’m suspicious of accepting anything from this man, I’ve never been one to turn down coffee. Especially after such a restless night of sleep. I nod begrudgingly, hoping I’m not about to fall prey to another one of his tricks.
The corner of Wes’ mouth lifts in a stupidly gorgeous half-smile. “Medium latte with vanilla syrup, right?” he asks.
I just stare at him for a beat with my mouth hanging open, shocked that he’s memorized my coffee order. Then I quickly snap it shut, nodding again. It’s ironic how one day, he’s holding me down while his friend forcibly brands me with a tattoo, and the next, he’s thoughtfully remembering how I take my coffee. Leave it to Wes to be a complete contradiction, and leave it to me to fall for it.
“Be right back,” he says with a wink, butterflies erupting in my belly as he turns on a heel and strides across the lawn toward the coffee cart. My gaze lingers a bit too long on the way his jeans hug his ass as he leaves, and I mentally bitch slap myself for even noticing.
This man is the enemy, damnit.
I should be happy for the momentary reprieve from his attention, but as soon as Wes walks away, I feel incredibly exposed. Being accompanied by a King is like wearing armor against the rest of the student body, but when I’m left alone, there’s nothing to deter their nasty looks. The girls on campus all seem to hate me, not even realizing that their jealousy is completely misplaced. I’d gladly trade spots with any of them in a heartbeat. The guys mostly leer at me like I’m a piece of meat, ogling me with their best fuck me eyes and making lewd gestures when they catch me looking back. Does shit like that actually work on other girls? Gross.
“Good morning, beautiful,” a deep voice croons, and I cringe inwardly as I glance over my shoulder, bracing myself for an unwanted come-on from a random stranger. Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised to see Travis approaching me, his backpack slung over his shoulder and a roguish grin on his lips.
“Hey,” I greet cheerfully, tucking my hair behind my ears as I pivot to face him. “How’s it going?”
“Eh, I’ve never been a morning person,” he admits, chuckling to himself. “But seeing you has already turned it around.”
I roll my eyes, unable to hide the blush that rises to my cheeks. “Do those lines actually work on girls?”
“You tell me,” he fires back, smirking.
I’m not sure whether Travis is ridiculously charming or if it’s just been too long since I’ve had a positive interaction with someone other than Bryce, but I find myself fighting another blush, grinning like a fool.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he quips, grinning right back. “Hey, I’m glad I ran into you, actually. I’ve been meaning to–”
“The fuck do you think you’re doing, Trav?” Wes cuts in, suddenly reappearing with paper coffee cups in each hand and a deep scowl on his face.
How the heck did he get those coffees so fast? Do the Kings just get to jump lines wherever they go?
Travis shrugs, tossing a thumb in my direction. “I saw Ava here all by herself and couldn’t pass up the chance to talk to a beautiful girl,” he remarks, slipping me a wink. “Now, do you mind? I was trying to ask her out when you so rudely interrupted us.”
My eyes widen– not because I’m shocked that he was about to ask me out, it was pretty clear that was where this casual flirtation was heading– but because the Kings have already made it abundantly clear that they won’t tolerate me having friends, let alone actually dating someone. And judging by the furious set to Wes’ jaw right now, Travis is about to have his ass handed to him.
“Yeah, I do mind,” he snaps, glaring daggers at my admirer. “As you already know, she’s Kings property.”
“Funny, I don’t see a collar around her neck,” Travis scoffs.
My brows furrow in confusion as I glance between the two of them. If they’re actually referring to some type of dog collar situation, then I give up now. They can release the damn video and ruin my life.
“I’ll do you one better,” Wes replies smugly, nudging me with an elbow. “Show him, Ava.”
I turn my questioning gaze on him. As soon as our eyes lock, I realize what he means by that, my breath catching in my throat.
As if he can sense I’m about to protest, Wes leans in a little closer, staring into my eyes intently. “You show him, or I will,” he murmurs in command.
My cheeks burn as I slowly turn around, lifting the back hem of my skirt to show Travis the new tattoo peeking out from the seam of my black bikini briefs.
Property of the Kings . That’s what Ford tattooed on my left butt cheek last night in a gothic font, embellished with a little skull wearing a jeweled crown. I have to admit, the artwork itself is impeccable. The message, however, leaves a lot to be desired.
Wes gives me a nod, evidently satisfied that Travis has gotten an eyeful, and I immediately lower my skirt and spin back around, keeping my gaze downcast. I can’t bring myself to look at Travis’ face, so I just stare at the pavement instead.
“There, now that’s settled, why don’t you run along, Trav ,” Wes suggests, folding his arms across his chest in a power stance.
“I’ve gotta get to class anyways,” Travis huffs, shifting his backpack strap higher on his shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Ava.”
I peek up at him through my eyelashes as he slips me another little wink, making my cheeks burn even hotter.
Do the Kings really have to ruin every interaction I have? Who am I kidding, of course they do. But I never asked to be used as a pawn in their power trip.
As soon as Travis is out of earshot, I spin toward Wes, not even attempting to mask my fury. I let it bleed through my words, demanding, “What the hell is your problem?”
“Trust me, I just did you a solid,” he mutters, thrusting one of the coffees he’s holding in my direction. “Travis Stoker’s not the kind of guy you want to associate with.”
“What, and you are?” I scoff, snatching the paper cup from him with a scowl.
After all Wes and his friends have put me through, is he for real right now? Nobody’s that out of touch.
He scrubs a hand down his face, but not before I catch him wince. “If you just followed the rules…”
“Oh, fucking spare me,” I huff, clutching my coffee tightly in my hands as I spin on a heel and stomp away down the path.
“Ava!” Wes calls after me, but I don’t turn around. “The math building’s this way!”
I grind to a halt, clenching my teeth and scowling hard at the pavement in front of me. Damnit, I’m never going to get the layout of this campus down . Slowly, I pivot, my cheeks flaming as I meet Wes’ smug expression.
My feet feel like they weigh a ton as I force myself to start back in his direction, muttering expletives under my breath the whole way. I’m aiming to storm past him, but Wes catches me around the shoulders before I can, slinging an arm over them and smoothly pivoting to walk beside me. He tucks me closer into his side while I grind my molars so hard it’s a wonder I don’t crack a tooth.
“Word of advice, Ava baby,” Wes murmurs, using Ford’s annoying nickname as he leans in while we continue down the path in tandem. “Don’t let the plebs see anybody get a reaction out of you. They’ll take it as a sign of weakness.”
“So?” I huff, glaring up at him.
“The weak don’t survive here,” he deadpans.
I snort a laugh. “Since when are you concerned about my survival?”
“Of course I’m concerned,” he quips, lifting his chin and gazing out at the path ahead. “We can’t play with you if you break.”
I scowl at the sidewalk. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re a tease,” he chuckles, grabbing for my waist and yanking me into his chest as he slams to a stop. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
He cocks his head to the side, trailing his knuckles up the side of my thigh. I flinch at the contact, muscles going rigid as his hand tucks beneath my skirt and slides back to grab a handful of my butt cheek– thankfully, the one that isn’t sore with a fresh tattoo.
“You know these little skirts drive me crazy, yet you keep wearing them.”
“I can wear whatever I want,” I reply breathlessly, stupidly flustered by the warmth of his chest pressed against mine and his possessive grip on my ass.
Wes lowers his face until his lips are inches from mine and we’re breathing the same air. “Exactly,” he drawls, winking before abruptly letting go and stepping around me to continue down the path.
The moment he leaves my space, it’s like I’m doused with a bucket of ice water, snapping back to reality.
What the hell was I thinking, letting him get to me like that?
I suck in a deep breath and will my racing pulse to slow as I watch him walk away, his sculpted back muscles bunching and flexing beneath his thin grey hoodie. Even after all he’s done, I’m still attracted to him on a biological level, and I hate it.
As if he can feel the weight of my stare, Wes pauses in his steps to throw me a backwards glance over his shoulder. “You comin’ or what?” he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I should know better by now than to follow this man anywhere, but if I skip my classes and flunk out, all of this will have been for nothing. Gritting my teeth, I force my feet to move and start after him.