“And what about me?” I ask, trying my best to come off as casual. “When will I learn more about the initiation?”
I turn just in time to see Ford’s eyes flicker to Wes, something silently passing between them.
“Soon,” Wes sighs, easing to his feet. “Your escort will be here at eight, so you should probably get ready.”
I glance at the clock on the microwave, mentally calculating how much time I’ll need to put myself together before then. “Do I get to ask why you’re leaving campus?” I mumble.
“You can ask, but I think you already know it’s strictly Kings’ business, not for your ears,” Ford replies, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “Why else would you have been trying to tiptoe down the hall and listen in?”
The heat rising to my cheeks gives me away before I can even try denying it. I turn away to hide my blush, making a beeline for the fridge.
“You’re right, I should probably go get ready,” I mutter, pulling open the door and reaching inside for the coffee creamer. They said they didn’t have any the first morning I was here, but a bottle of vanilla creamer appeared the next day, and it’s remained stocked since.
Definitely Wes’ doing, since he knows how I take my coffee.
I pour a healthy amount into my cup, retreating to my bedroom to drink it in peace– or what relative peace I can find, while stewing in my own anxiety. I’m dressed and ready by eight, and right on cue, a knock at the door echoes through the apartment.
My legs are unsteady as I move down the hall toward it, a feeling of dread sinking in my chest. Wes answers the door before I can reach it, and I’m not sure who I was expecting, but one look at the baby-faced guy on the other side has me breathing a sigh of relief.
“Ava, this is Paul,” Wes calls, glancing back at me over his shoulder. Though his bulky frame mostly blocks my view of my new escort, I know I’ve seen this guy before. I’m pretty sure he’s in our Stats class, and he’s decidedly non-threatening.
“Uh, hi, Ava,” Paul greets as I come up behind Wes, running a nervous hand through his auburn hair before extending it toward me. “Paul Wilkins.”
I go to move past Wes to shake his hand, but the blonde Adonis is quick to sling an arm over my shoulders, pulling me back.
“You remember what we talked about, Paul?” Wes asks, his tone perfectly friendly, yet somehow also menacing.
“Don’t look, don’t touch, don’t fuck this up,” Paul replies perfunctorily, echoing the threat he's clearly been given.
“That’s right,” Wes winks, turning his attention back to me. “Let us know if he gives you any trouble, babe.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I breathe, ducking out from under his arm and slipping out the door.
“See you at the party tonight,” Wes calls, flashing me another one of those trademark grins as he lingers in the doorway, watching me leave.
I almost forgot it’s Halloween. The date snuck up fast– not that I was paying much attention. I’m too wrapped up in my own drama lately to even remember what day it is half the time, let alone keep track of holidays that I’ve never celebrated. Mom always said Halloween was just an excuse for people to hide their bad behavior behind masks, but I’ve recently discovered that the worst of them are the ones who show you exactly who they are– the ones with the kind of smiles that draw you back in willingly for another dose of pain.
The cold morning air hits like a slap when Paul and I exit Sutton Hall, but I’m grateful for the jolt. It sharpens me, makes me feel more alive after the hollowness of my morning. It’s strange to walk through campus without my men, and even stranger to think of them as belonging to me in some capacity. They’ve made it abundantly clear that this isn’t a two-way street. Like Ford said, I belong to them, not the other way around.
The whispers start almost immediately as Paul escorts me through campus, and though I’m used to the attention, my new bodyguard isn’t. He glances over at me with wide eyes, bristling under the scrutiny of our peers.
“So, Paul,” I say, trying to break the tension. “Where are you from?”
He startles like he wasn’t expecting me to speak to him, mumbling something about a small town.
“What’s your major?” I press, hoping some friendly small talk will distract me from the growing knot in my stomach.
“Engineering,” he replies, hesitating before asking, “What about you?”
“I… honestly don’t even know,” I admit, barking a hollow laugh. “I was majoring in business before I came here, but the guys switched my classes around, so now I’m not sure if I’m even working toward a particular major at all.”
Paul’s brows draw in, eyes narrowing on me. “Why would they do that?”
“Seriously?” I snort. “You know the Kings do whatever they want. I mean, they’re making you skip your classes today to sit through mine.”
“Yeah,” he huffs, hands tightening around his backpack straps as he glares down at the pavement. “Sorry, this whole thing just really sucks.”
“Babysitting duty?” I try to joke, though my voice comes out strained.
