I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. Riot was being so sweet to me. His words relaxed me with every syllable. Riot, the laconic, guarded rock star, pouring out his caring and his support for me, insisting that I deserved happiness. I had no idea how I got so lucky.
“I think you’re amazing, too,” I said. “You’re so patient and gentle. You’re a gifted poet and you’ve helped me with my own writing so much. Even though it always seems like you want to be left alone, you’ve taken the time to seek me out and encourage me. You mean so much to me,” I continued. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”
“That’s what we do.” Riot slid his hands down to the small of my back. “We support each other. We protect each other. I promise I’m going to keep you safe. All of us will. No matter what.”
My heart sank. “You’re not going to tell the others about this, are you?”
“I am,” he said. “Because they feel the same way about you as I do. The three of us will get to the bottom of this.” He pressed close to me. A thrill ran up my spine. “Our girl is hurting. We’ll take care of you. It’s our turn right now. Okay?”
My buzzing head and shaky nerves faded. I felt safe. Protected. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve any of this, but for now, I was happy and warm, feeling secure.
“Thank you, Riot,” I said softly, letting myself rest against his chest.
We stood there, holding each other, enjoying the shape and feel of our bodies pressed together. I don’t know which one of us moved first, but we found ourselves staring into each other’s eyes. I could get lost in that beautiful dark gaze forever.
I wanted him. Right then and there, I wanted him. I didn’t know if it was how warm and protected I felt, or if it was the adrenaline rushing in so hard and draining right back out again, or a combination of both. I wanted him to pick me up and throw me down on the stage, tearing at me with those deft, precise musician’s hands of his.
The thoughts and feelings of being taken by him filled my mind as our lips grew closer and closer.
Just as they brushed together, the loudspeaker in the room crackled to life.
“Good afternoon, scholars!”
I jumped with a yelp, breaking the kiss before it had begun.
“I hate when they do that,” Riot grunted.
“What the hell was that?” I asked.
“Loudspeaker. They’re installed in every room for campus-wide announcements. “
The voice over the speaker continued.
“I’m pleased to announce that in honor of the hundredth anniversary of VIP College, we will be holding a ball on campus as a celebration of our continued success over the course of a century of educational excellence. The details are being planned and scheduled in accordance with the wishes of the administration, the alumni society, and of course the student body. You will find more information on the event delivered to your school email accounts. If you would like to know more, or get involved, please get in touch with the 100th Anniversary Planning Committee. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!”
“Another stupid fucking ball,” Riot grumbled. “They throw these things for any damn reason. I’m so sick of them.”
“They haven’t had one since I’ve been here,” I said.
Riot handed me my phone, pulling out his own, and we both checked our email. I clicked on the newest message, scrolling through the details.
“They’re not so great,” Riot said, skimming through his own copy. “Just an excuse for all of the wealthy assholes to show themselves off.”
“Aren’t you part of that group of wealthy assholes?” I teased.
“I don’t like throwing money around in an economic pissing match,” he said. “Anyway, I look horrible in a tuxedo.”
“I bet that’s not even remotely true,” I said, grinning. The grin faded fast, though, when I noticed the date of the event.
“It’s on my birthday,” I said.
Riot chuckled. “Then it’ll be like a big birthday party, just for you.”
A birthday party meant spending money. Money I didn’t have. And I couldn’t afford a ball gown. I was lucky to get into this school on a full ride scholarship. None of those funds were set aside to attend a gala event dressed to the nines.
And the dances. Were they going to expect me to tango? To waltz? I could barely line dance, even after years of being dragged to events back home.
This was shaping up to be a nightmare. Why couldn’t I catch a break?
