That girl,that fucking girl,has some goddamn audacity.
How she managed to even get the drop on me in the first place and then hold her fucking steel-toe boot to my neck, I don’t know. The only excuse I have is being so damn stunned at the move that I didn’t do anything to stop her.
I didn’t even try.
After that, she just casually shrugged and walked away like she didn’t have a care in the world, leaving me on the floor of that disgusting alleyway like it was just any other day.
I’m beginning to think the girl’s just a plain old psychopath.
She’s pissed me off, so much so that it’s as though she’s purposefully painting a target on her back.
Yes, she can fight.
But can she endure the mental torture I’m about to inflict on her? I guess we’ll see.
“The fuck is your problem?” Logan grunts as I enter thetheater room where the three of them are sitting, watching some shit on the screen.
“Nothing,” I mutter back to him and fling myself down in one of the seats.
The guys know I fight, though they’ve never come with me. There’d be too much risk, us all being there. Me? I can get away with it, but there’s no way someone wouldn’t catch on if they noticed the four of us leaving BU at the same time. We’d more than likely be followed, word would get around, and if our families heard of it? Then we’d all be in the shit. It makes me wish we had normal families, but we’re some of the richest people in the country, and people are always trying to hang off of us, either to get in with our crowd or to try and get a juicy story to sell off to the media.
“Seriously Cole, what happened?” Noah asks as he takes a closer look at me. My clothes are slightly disheveled, but there’s no blood or bruising on me like there normally would be when I went out to fight.
“You didn’t fight,” Harley states with a scrunched brow. “And yet you look like that.” He waves towards me. “Did you get laid?”
I bark out a laugh, since that’s the last thing I’d ever be doing with that fucking girl, and shake my head.
“Honestly, I’m not even sure what happened myself,” I mutter before standing and heading to my room without a backwards glance. I need to start putting some plans into motion.
My first class of the day is economics, which is a class I fucking hate. I’m here to get a business degree so I can take over our family company alongside Noah one day—our fathers co-own the conglomerate—and econ is one of the required subjects.
AstonWhite Corp is mine, Gracie’s, and Noah’s legacy, so we all plan to take on roles in the future. It’s basically one huge company that owns a number of smaller companies, ranging from banks to media platforms. It has something for pretty much anyone. I just wish we didn’t have to wait so goddamn long to take it over.
I may loathe the class, but I’m a ball of excitement as I stride towards the lecture hall, since I happen to know that this is the one and only class I share with Lana.
I head into the room, only two minutes late, which is good for me. I’m usually running late because the cottage is on the other side of campus.
My eyes land on her. She’s seated at the back of the room, the row to herself since no one really knows what to think of her and hasn’t made an effort to get to know her because of the icy glares she usually gives people when they get too close to her. That’s the thing about coming from wealthy families, we stick to our own circles and don’t drift outside of them.
And most of the time it’s not because we think we’re better than the rest. It’s simply because we never know who to trust. That’s my philosophy, anyway.
She’s hunched over her laptop, focusing on something on the screen, and I take a moment to look her over. I can’t see any marks on her face or skin from her fight, so I’m guessing she’s covered them with makeup. She’s wearing blue ripped jeans, a black sweater, and those damn boots she had on lastnight. She dresses differently from the girls that go here; they don’t usually leave their dorms unless they’re wearing their designer outfits and a face full of makeup.
But not her. She doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks of her.
Her long, curly blonde hair is thrown up into a bun on the top of her head, and while she pisses me off more than anyone I’ve ever met, I do find it refreshing to see a girl in this place not really giving a fuck about her appearance.
I walk across the room, not taking my eyes off of her and ignoring the curious stares of the other students before sitting in the seat next to hers. She tenses as I take my seat but doesn’t take her eyes off the screen.
“Little menace,” I drawl, and she huffs out a breath before straightening up and glaring at me.
“What do you want?” she asks through clenched teeth. I chuckle, unable to help myself.
I shrug and lean back in my seat while she takes in my own outfit, black slacks and a grey sweater, which she seems to hate because she gives me a look of disdain.
“I wanted to apologize.”
A sneer takes over her face as she spits, “Bullshit.”
