By design, it’s still relatively early when I arrive at Monarch. Only a few people are in the parking lot. Fewer people equals fewer stares. Most students reside in the dorms or off-campus apartments. I pull into the spot just outside the entrance and then shut off the engine of my Ninja motorcycle. I hoped the ride here would calm me, but my nerves still vibrate with tension.
“Get a grip.” As much as I want to believe this year and my plan will be a piece of cake, I’m not banking on it. As I recently learned, very few things go as planned. And for something as bigas what I have in store, shit is bound to happen and screw things up.
Taking a few deep breaths behind the protection of my helmet, I fold my arms over the gas tank and close my eyes. The most important thing I need to remember at this school is that I’m here for one purpose and one purpose only—revenge. Don’t get me wrong, leaving with my life would be beneficial. But revenge first.
In a whisper, I repeat, “Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.”
While I try to etch this vital info into my brain, a deep voice crashes into me, knocking me off-kilter. “You lost?”
Opening my eyes, I glance over my shoulder. Through the tinted face shield of my helmet, I see four guys in a black, muddied Jeep. All of their stares are locked on me. The Jeep blocks any cars wanting to pass. Either they aren’t bothered or are too busy glaring at me to notice anything or anyone else.
My guess is the latter. As if there’s a giant target on me, the driver’s piercing eyes shoot darts of annoyance and curiosity directly at me. So much for staying invisible.Any remnants of calm I just achieved dissolve into unease. It’s difficult to look away from his compelling gaze until movement to his left catches my eye. The guy in the passenger seat peers around him to get a look at me. His full lips are slightly open as if he’s about to speak, but he says nothing. Instead, a stream of smoke seeps out of his mouth.
Shifting my attention to the right, I’m met with the faces of the occupants in the back seat. They’re identical replicas of the same beautiful mold. Only their hair makes it easy to tell them apart. One is short and intentionally messy, while the other is longer and so unruly that it has the potential to become dreadlocks. Both of them are grinning like fools.
I turn away from them, giving them a view of my back. I think about staying on my bike and ignoring them. Or better yet,turning the engine back on, kicking it into gear, and hightailing it out of there.
Heaving a sigh of defeat, I remind myself why I’m here. I press down on the kickstand. The bike leans and steadies. I want nothing more than to turn around and see the space behind me Jeep free, but I know better. I slowly ease my leg over the seat and stand. After taking off my helmet, I set it on the motorcycle seat. The fresh black waves fall to my lower back.
“Fuuuck… me… now,” the guy with the wild hair drawls through the open window.
His twin opens the back door, hops out, and then heads toward a girl waiting on the sidewalk.
“Did you hear me? Are you lost?” the asshole driver repeats.
Ignoring Asshole’s and Crazy Hair’s comments, I look around and pay particular attention to the oversized viper statue in the center of the fountain near the entrance. The sight of it shoots determination down my spine. Water cascades down its coiled body and around the sign at its base,Monarch University, Home of the Vipers.
I focus my attention back on the driver. “Nope, definitely not lost.”
His straight, dark hair falls forward, landing on the peak of his defined cheekbone. He narrows his eyes. His stern gaze adds to his undeniably gorgeous face. “I’ll be more direct. You’re in my parking spot.”
Needing a moment to catch my breath while I force out the images and heated sensations this jerk has spontaneously inspired, I bend over and adjust my black knee socks. After a few short breaths, I feel confident enough to face him with renewed control. His lethal expression remains in place. Acting like a bitch probably isn’t the best way to make friends on my first day, but I refuse to let them think they can bully me.
“Well, it doesn’t look like it’s your spot today.”
The twin scoffs out a laugh and slaps the driver on the shoulder. “Damn, Edge, she ain’t taking your shit.”
The driver—Edge—doesn’t flinch. His cold, slate eyes never stray from mine.
I sweep my hair to the side, drape it over my right shoulder, and then hang my backpack off the other. With a mocking, sympathetic expression, I take a few steps toward the Jeep. The scent of men’s cologne, weed, and exhaust fumes mingle in the air around me. Edge is even more striking up close. His face is smooth and flawless, except for the scar that cuts across the right side of his chin. Some of the dirty, heated images surface again before I can suppress them.
Jesus, Kins, you’ve been here five minutes, and already you’re losing focus.I mentally slap myself back into submission.
When I’m only a few feet away from his window, I say in a sickly sweet voice, “Aw, don’t be offended. It’s not just you. I don’t take shit from anybody.”
Without waiting for a response, I turn and take off toward the enormous wooden doors of Monarch University.
Still feeling those storm-clouded eyes burning into me, relief begins to surface the farther away I get from him. Sucking in a huge breath, I step into the viper’s den. Just as the doors shut, the Jeep’s engine grunts and roars as it takes off.
The halls are still relatively empty due to the time of day. But my plan to arrive early and potentially avoidany drama backfired. The campus isn’t that large, but I have no idea where I’m going. I may have seemed confident as I walked through those enormous doors, but no. I’ve never stepped foot on this campus. I bring up the map on my phone. My first class is fine arts, painting. The map on my phone says I’m not even close to the arts building. While navigating the halls, an arm wraps around my shoulder, and I’m tugged hard against a slim body. My captor laughs as he pulls me down a side hallway.
“Girl, you’re either crazy or stupid. Either way, I want to be best friends.”
What in the actual…?
I duck out from under the stranger’s arm. With confusion, I turn to see a handsome enough guy, clearly on the nerd spectrum, who knows fashion better than I ever have or ever will, even in a uniform.
Noticing someone else has joined us, I turn. A girl with faded, cropped blue hair takes a swing at my captor’s head. Her flimsy canvas bag makes contact, causing him to yelp.
