He can blame me all he wants, but I’m not the one he’s really mad at.
Spoiler alert– neither is Ava.
“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” I grumble to Wes, decidedly over Raf’s tantrum. “Let this dickhead keep lifting without a spotter and break his goddamn neck.”
I slam my shoulder into Raf’s as I shove past him, boots pounding the floor like a warning as I stomp out of the weight room.
CHAPTER 39
AVA
I wakeup from a pleasant dream in a bed that’s too big, in a room that’s too cold and unfamiliar. It takes me a second to get my bearings, and when I do, I wish I could just close my eyes and go back to dreaming.
It’s not that the apartment itself is bad. I thought the dorms were lush, but the penthouse of Sutton Hall is ten times as decadent. My bedroom here is twice the size of the one I shared with Richelle downstairs, and don’t even get me started on the en-suite bathroom. I’m living in the lap of luxury, and under different circumstances, I’d be happy as a clam.
The circumstances are the problem, though. I signed my life over to the Kings when I moved in, and every day I wake up here is just another that I’m still their prisoner.
I drag myself out of bed and toss on a sweatshirt, the smell of coffee pulling me toward the kitchen. The closer I get, the louder the dull hum of voices becomes, until I round the corner to find all three of my roommates seated at the table. They’re hunched over like a pack of jackals with a fresh kill, murmuring a quiet conversation that I’m definitely not supposed to hear.
It’d be a perfect time to eavesdrop, but then a floorboard creaks beneath my weight and I’m caught before I even getthe chance. Their heads snap in my direction simultaneously, whispered words dying on their lips.
Wes smiles.
Ford smirks.
Raf just pushes up from his seat and stalks past me, his cold shoulder treatment giving me frostbite.
I shift my weight uncomfortably as his footsteps retreat down the hall behind me toward his bedroom, heart pounding and mouth running dry. I try to play it cool, forcing a weak smile as I continue into the kitchen, but I hate how Raf just bails every time I walk into a room now.
Like an idiot, I actually thought he might apologize after storming into my bedroom and almost taking my head off. That he’d take some time to cool down, and then we could have a rational, adult conversation. I had my own apology all planned out, rehearsed it over and over in my head while I waited for him to acknowledge the rift between us. Instead, he’s just continued to freeze me out.
It hurts more than I care to admit.
“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Ford drawls, the velvety tone of his voice easing some of my tension as he breaks the awkward silence.
“You’re up early,” Wes remarks with a roguish grin.
“I smelled coffee,” I mumble, eyes darting between the mugs on the table, then to the machine on the counter.
“Help yourself,” Wes remarks, lifting his own cup and taking a sip.
I breeze past them to head for it, propelled by the promise of caffeine.
“It’s your lucky day,” Ford tells me as I pull open a cabinet and reach in for a mug. “We’ve got some things to take care of off campus, so you’ll have a new escort to class today.”
The coffee mug nearly slips from my hands as I whip around to gape at Ford.
“You know, for your protection,” he adds, winking. “Gotta hold up our end of the bargain, Doll.”
“Right,” I breathe, forcing a nod– though inside, I’m panicking.
As much as I loathe the Kings’ company, it’s familiar now. I know their patterns.
Better the devils I know than one I don’t.
Ford’s tattoos dance across his throat as he tips his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Don’t worry, Ava baby,” he croons. “He wants our bid to initiate, so he’ll be on his best behavior.”
I pivot back around to fill my mug, pulse suddenly racing with trepidation. The dark liquid splashes against the pristine white ceramic, whorls of steam curling from the rim.
