Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Mascen
How is it possible that Rory is every-fucking-where?
It was chance that I was in that building at this time, having a meeting with one of my professors. As I was leaving I noticed someone crying in the hall. Normally I would’ve kept on walking, but something clicked in my brain and I realized it was her. I had no idea what had her sniveling. Didn’t care either. Princess could cry all she wanted, but those tears meant nothing to me. Everyone has problems. Hers aren’t worse than anyone else’s.
Then why are you still thinking about her?
“Good question,” I mutter under my breath, causing some guy on the sidewalk to side-eye me.
I curl my lip at him, heading across campus in the direction of my next class. Farther and farther away from Aurora . I hate that a part of me is curious as to what she was upset about.
I have about thirty minutes before class starts, so I opt to get lunch on campus. I could go to the dining hall, even though I don’t live on campus I’m still required to pay for the food services, but I’m not interested in dealing with people.
Despite the fact I fall at the top of the social hierarchy at Aldridge it isn’t of my own doing as far as being a nice, sociable person. No, the only reason people want to know me is because of my heritage and the fact I happen to be really good at baseball. They hope if they get close enough to me, if I think we’re friends, somehow, someway, I’ll get them somewhere. Most of these people are rich pricks anyway, or at least their family is rich, but the difference between them and me is fame . There are numerous, mega wealthy families that the average joe has never heard of because they stay on the outskirts, their names aren’t in the media or gracing tabloids. Not like the Wade name. Even with my dad in his fifties, interest in him and the band hasn’t waned. Their old fans remain loyal, and because their music is timeless a lot of people my age are obsessed with them too.
If my dad and his bandmates are kings in the music industry that makes their children the princes and princesses.
Opening the door to one of the cafés on campus, I get in line, not surprised when more than one student lets me cut in front. I don’t protest either, and if you think I offer thanks you’d be wrong.
At the counter, I place an order for some fancy apple and turkey sandwich with brie and a tea. The girl looks at me weird when I order the tea, which makes me glare right back.
Off to the side, I wait for my to-go order. Sitting inside the crowded café to eat my lunch would be like sitting in the fiery pits of hell which gets a big fat no thank you from me.
Digging my phone from my pocket, I scroll through it haphazardly using it as a block that says don’t fucking approach me, I’m very fucking busy.
As soon as my order number is called I grab the paper bag, my drink, and get the hell out, ignoring the stares as I go.
Underneath one of the large maple trees I sit down in the grass beneath the shady branches to eat my sandwich. It puts me far enough away from people that they’re not likely to see me, but it does leave me close enough to watch the goings-on of campus life.
Stretching my legs out, I unwrap the plastic from the sandwich.
It’s a sunny day, warm, but there’s something in the air, maybe a difference in pressure that you know the days are very soon to get colder.
My phone buzzes and I look at the text from Cole.
Cole: Where r u? Want to get lunch?
Me: Already eating.
Cole: Motherfucker.
I laugh to myself, shaking my head as I bite into my sandwich.
Me: My next class starts soon anyway.
Cole: U making dinner?
Me: It’s my turn.
Cole: Sweet.
Finishing the last bite of food, I scrunch up the trash and stand with my tea in hand. I toss the trash when I finally pass a garbage bin—I can’t have the karma of littering following me everywhere—and head straight across to the science building.
I should probably be offended by how shocked people are when they learn I’ve decided to go down the path to sports medicine. I guess they expect me to kick back and live off a trust fund or something, but that’s not me. I want to work for what I have. I love baseball and other sports, plus science and math have always come easy to me, so sports medicine just made sense.
I’ve had people ask why I wouldn’t want to go pro with baseball, but I’ve hated life in the limelight as is, why would I set myself up for even more personal scrutiny? At least with sports medicine it’s something I’ll enjoy and if things work out maybe I’ll still be around baseball but in the background.
Entering the building I head up a floor to my classroom. I’m the first person and I take my usual seat nearest the exit. Pulling out my shit, I set everything up as more students trickle into the room and finally the professor joins us from a side room.
He talks, I listen and take notes, the monotony of it somehow comforting. Or maybe it’s only because for a little while I can’t think about anything else.