Bryce stops, then sits down on the closest bench, patting the spot next to him. “I think you’d get bored,” he says. “But yeah. You’d be the only person here who could say she survived all of this and came out the other side. You could do anything you want, be the motherfuckin’Queen.”
I sit next to him, letting the cold seep through my jeans, and hug the can of coffee to my chest. “I don’t even know what I want,” I admit.
He bumps my shoulder with his. “Lie. I think you want to be left alone for five minutes. Or, you know, become the boss bitch of some major corporation. It’s a toss-up.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful for his voice, for the way he makes me feel like I still have an identity outside of the Kings’ chessboard.
He changes the subject, and we talk about finals. He’s worried he’ll bomb his Russian lit class, and I confess that I’m not actually failing statistics but I like pretending I am to keep Wes from asking me dumb questions. The conversation is so light and stupid that for a second I forget what it felt like to have Ford’s breath on my neck, or Raf’s hand around my throat, or the way Wes looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
Bryce checks his phone, then stands up and stretches. “Bistro?” he suggests. “They just put out a new batch of pastries and I want to test my willpower.”
I agree, and we head off across campus. The student union is the only building besides the dorms that’s active on a Sunday, so of course, that’s where I spot them. Right as we’re approaching, the Kings push through the doors with their gym bags slung over their shoulders, talking amongst themselves and chuckling about something.
Bryce sees them at the same time I do, immediately slowing his pace. “You wanna bail?” he asks under his breath.
I stutter a step. My instinct is to run, but it’s too late. We’re already too close.
The second Ford sees me, his mouth twists– half smirk, half snarl. “Well, well,” he calls out, voice echoing across the quad. “If it isn’t our pretty little Doll.”
Raf is silent, as always, but his gaze zeroes in on me instantly. Wes’s eyes flick up and down my body, like he’s assessing for some invisible damage.
Ford’s attention flicks to Bryce. “Sup, loser?” he quips, but it’s almost friendly.
Bryce doesn’t miss a beat. “Sup, psycho?”
I tense, waiting for Ford to explode, but he just grins, like he actually respects the comeback.
Then Ford looks at me, his mouth quirking at the corners. “Whatcha doin’, Ava baby? Playing house with your other boyfriend?”
I force a laugh, shaking my head. “Just going for a walk.”
“Then walk with us,” he replies, throwing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me away from Bryce.
I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder toward Bryce, but he just nods and gives me a look that says I’ve got this. I toss him an apologetic wave, then turn away, letting Ford pull me along.
“You guys seem like you’re in a better place this morning,” I comment, trying to keep my tone light.
“Just needed a good workout to burn off some aggression,” Wes replies.
“Team bonding,” Ford chimes in, grinning. “We were just about to come find you, I had an idea for another bonding exercise.” He wags his brows, the implication clear.
A blush rises to my cheeks instantly and I look away, though I can’t deny the gentle pulse of anticipation that ignites between my thighs.
How can I hate them, yet want them so much?
It’s seriously fucked up.
We walk as a unit toward Sutton Hall, Ford at my side, Raf and Wes flanking us like bodyguards. Nobody says much, but there’s a current in the silence, like a live wire humming just beneath the surface.
The trepidation I woke up with dissipates with every step, replaced by something else. Relief, maybe. Excitement, definitely. And the smug satisfaction that I actually got away with something.
Except they bounced back a lot quicker than I expected. I’ll need to double down on my next efforts.
I’ll need to make it really hurt.
CHAPTER 32
RAF
