What a novel concept.
I nearly take one of everything before finding a table near the back of the hall where I can observe without being judged and picked apart like Tori’s friends yesterday, so I put my headphones in and pretend to play music on my new phone. I have at least an hour to actually feed my body as more and more students trickle in. A few of those I recognize from my classes yesterday mingle with their various cliques, and it’s not longbefore patterns become obvious—like captive animals who can’t see the bars of their own cages.
Despite their various differences, they all turn as one when a group of men enter a few minutes later. I recognize the dark, severe face of the asshole who grabbed my neck yesterday morning when I was trying to find the Headmaster’s office, the tall, bleached buzz cut of the other asshole who blew smoke in my face after my meeting, and Killian, the impossibly hot one I crashed into during Tori’s tour of campus. The last one I haven’t seen yet—he’s massive, easily towering over Buzzcut, who’s at least a foot taller than I am already—and has rich auburn hair that glints in the morning sunlight. He brings up the rear of the group with a hulking stride, scanning the crowd. For what, I couldn’t even begin to guess. Anyone stupid enough to pick a fight with him is either suicidal or out of their goddamned mind.
Rather than watch their little spectacle, I focus on everyone else: women hike up their tits so high even Eileen would be proud. Men straighten in their seats and puff out their chests. It’s fascinating, the theater they put on. All for a chance at being noticed by the Heirs, which is a concept I’m still trying to wrap my head around. So they’ve got some special demon mojo—okay?
Do they do anything with it?
Are they like, solving world peace or something?
No? Just spending their family’s money?
What a fucking joke.
I look back at the remaining half of my plate, negotiating with my stomach to eat more. The food here is so nutritious, my body doesn't know how to process the quantity or quality. But with Physical Training later this afternoon, I need to keep my energy up. As the room settles down once their majesties claim their table, I go through my notes from last night on the material for today’s classes. The sheer amount of information isoverwhelming, considering not only am I learning multiple new areas of knowledge, but unlearning everything I’d been certain of before all… this. Everyone expects to see me fail, but little do they know that in the absence of any meaningful pursuits or relationships in my life, I’m mostly self-taught.
You can learn almost anything on the internet.
The table jostles just as I take a bite of muffin and I inhale in surprise, nearly choking when I see so-hot-it-should-be-a-crime-Killian, beaming at me from across the table. I cough violently as I try to dislodge crumbly streusal from my lungs, and glare at him through watery eyes before gulping down some water.
“Good morning, Tori’s new friend,” he starts, as if we share anything in common on the spectrum of social hierarchy here. A quick glance confirms that some of the men, and at least half of the women are watching us intently, not counting the other Heirs that are quietly observing whatever’s about to happen, which is exactly the kind of spotlight I was trying to avoid. I try to stifle the swell of frustration as this morning’s peace and brief anonymity disappears in a puff of smoke. He doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he’s deliberately ignoring it.
“You know,” he says, grabbing the apple I was actually looking forward to, “Tori’s been awfully tight-lipped about you.” One point to Tori, at least. “And no one else seems to know where you came from. Which means I’m about to become your new best friend, because I know everyone. I’ll introduce you around.” He winks and flashes that thousand-watt smile before taking a bite out of my apple.
I’ve never heard a worse proposition in my life.
“Who are you again?” I feign, as if I could ever forget the shirtless Adonis I met over the weekend.
He chuckles as if I’m just socute. “Baby girl, you really must not be from around here. I’m Killian Hastings.” He pauses foreffect, which quickly turns to awkward silence when I raise my eyebrow.
“Congratulations?” In the distance, Buzzcut’s whips his head around, but quickly glances away.
Killian is undeterred. “I’m the Heir to House Terra,” he continues like, that means anything to me.
“Does this usually work for you?” I ask, motioning between us, and his smug expression drops. Someone barely covers a laugh with a wracking cough. “Wait no, let me guess: you name drop, then panties everywhere spontaneously explode and people fall to their knees to kiss your feet.”
“I mean, usually they offer to suck my cock, but that’s the gist of it, yeah.” He grins.
“Gross.” I roll my eyes and gather what remains of my breakfast. I’d rather the food go to waste than be snatched from my plate.
“Wait—hold up. Tell me your name at least,” he demands, following me as I bus my table. A hundred eyes watch him hound my steps like a dog.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough—after all, you do know everyone.” He cuts me off, herding me closer to his table where the other Heirs are openly watching us despite my attempts to keep my distance.
“How about I walk you to class, then? I can be just as good a tour guide as Tori. I know all the secret spots,” he purrs with another wink, and I can’t help but laugh at his audacity. Unfortunately he mistakes the reason why and it only seems to encourage him.
“You’re killing me, dream girl,” he pouts dramatically as we approach the exit.
“Poor baby, you should go find a shoulder to cry on,” I say, motioning back towards the sea of expectant gazes we’ve left behind, but when his gaze turns predatory, I realize I’ve madea fatal mistake. I’ve refused to give his fuckboy—someone who’s not doubt gotten everything he’s ever asked for—something he wants.
Shit.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he says, sly smile growing predatory. “I’ll be seeing you around.” The threat-laced promise makes me blush before I can quash the rush of heat to my cheeks. He walks backwards, eyes holding me captive his gaze, before he turns and I can move once more, breaking the spell. I catch sight of the Heir’s table, and dread pools in my stomach when they’re all staring at me.
Well, fuck.
I spend most of the day ignoring pointed looks and side glances. Whispers follow me despite my futile attempts to ignore them and pay attention to the professors. It becomes apparent through the increasingly frequent scowls directed at my back that my brief brush with notoriety isn’t dying down, thanks to Killian.
