“I need a few lessons on driving on the opposite side of the road first.” I laughed, sliding my phone into my blazer pocket. While I’d gotten my driver’s licence last year, I didn’t want to risk driving until I had a few practices. “Definitely not on my first day at a new school.”
Smiling, he backed the car out of the garage, shut the door and drove off. “You nervous?”
“Nah.”
“And how are you doing otherwise,” his voice gentled and I knew he was threading cautiously around the whole brotherhood debacle. While he hadn’t let on how much or what he knew, he’d assumed I was hurting from my mother selling me off.
“I’m good, dad.” I stared out at the passing scenery. Over the last two weeks, it had taken every ounce of willpower to pull myself out of the doldrums that rejection had caused. I had Aunt Trina’s advice and my father’s tenderness to thank for the quick recovery. While there still lingering aftereffects and an occasional sniffle especially at night, I was feeling much better.
“I’m here for you, sweetheart, you know that, right?” He grasped my hand in his warm grip, pulling my gaze to him.
“I know, dad. Thank you,” I replied then remembering his questions about Winthrop, I asked, “why did you seem so concerned about the person I met at Winthrop?”
“Did I?” he asked, releasing my hand. “I was just curious.” His tight grip on the wheel said otherwise.
I chose not to question him. Not likely to see anyone from Winthrop again, I didn’t see any reason to. Mystery Prince Winthrop, the brotherhood and Saint would all stay locked up tight in my tiny historical glovebox, never to be opened, again.
An hour later, I walked out of the guidance counsellor’s office with my dad. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart have a great first day.” He kissed my brow.
After I waved him off, I turned to the receptionist, like the principal’s secretary, she was another petite old woman with white hair pulled back in a neat bun. “You can sit in the wait area, my dear. Someone will be along shortly to guide you to your first class.”
“Thank you.” I returned her smile and walked over to the area she pointed to. Turned out the wait area was actually a beautiful lounge. At the threshold I admired the room decked in soft browns and cream. My eyes immediately straying to the large bookcase facing the door until I noticed the sole occupant in my periphery. I glanced to my side. With his back to me, and dressed in the school uniform, he stood at the window.
The sound of my shoes scraping lightly against the linoleum floor as I entered had him turning. I halted mid-step my gaze hooked by the startling eyes staring back at me. Iridescent grays, hooded, piercing, and fringed by thick lashes, reminded me of a bright moon on a cold winter’s night. Then I noticed the purplish blemish beneath his left eye and the subtle pink swelling to one side of his mouth. Tall and well-built for a student, he looked like a boy who could handle himself in a fight. I wondered how his opponent fared.
He touched a finger to his lip, and I flinched for him. “Are you all right?” I asked without thinking, my legs edging me closer, my hand lifting of its accord to reach out.
One dark brow shot up freezing my hand mid-air. His features remained impassive, yet something strange swam in his eyes for just a second before he turned away to look out the window again.
Rude, I almost blurted out but stopped myself in time. My first day couldn’t end with me being dragged by the collar into the principal’s office for kicking the guy in his shin. Yeah, I was tough like that. Silently patting my back for attempting to care for a stranger, I dropped the laptop back to the floor, sank into one of the latte-coloured sofas and checked my phone.
“Hi,” the soft greeting had me looking up, barely five minutes later. “You’re the new kid, right?” Pretty, with dark hair hanging around her shoulders in a neat bob and bangs that sat just above amber eyes, beautiful against her chocolate skin, she offered me a friendly smile. “I’m Cian Jackson, we’re in homeroom together and I’m your big sister.”
“Levana Singh.” I stood, shoving my phone back into my blazer pocket. “Big sister?”
“Well, not an actual sister,” she replied shyly.
Smiling, I shouldered my bag and grabbed the class schedule the guidance counsellor had handed me. “I know what a big sister is, just surprised they’d use the term here too.”
“Here too?” She frowned. “Oh, wait, you’re from England, right?”
“Originally from Boston, moved with my mother to UK and now in San Francisco with my dad.”Wow.I’d summed up my existence in one sentence—a new personal record.
“Great. Then just look at me as your personal orientation guide to show you around and answer any questions you might have.” This time, her smile was hesitant as her gaze drifted to the boy at the window.
I could’ve sworn a delicate interest floated across her face before her eyes came back to me, her smile peachy now. Looked like I’d just found my Grace here. I figured Cian was either an introvert with minimal friends or an extrovert with specific people. Maybe I’d enjoy this school after all. “Okay, lead the way, big sister.” I grinned, making her cover her laugh with a hand, her eyes straying once more to him as we left the room.
“Who’s that?” I asked when we were out of ear shot.
“Our resident bad boy and star quarterback, Davien Knox. If he likes you, he’ll screw you.” I was sure I heard a tinge of irritation in her voice.
“And if he doesn’t?” I asked.
Her laugh held a distinct naughtiness, and something told me that beneath the shy façade reigned a temptress, waiting to be unleashed. “He’ll make you his bitch.”
“Oh.” Words defeated me but I chose to do what I did best. Keep to myself.
“Other than him, you need to watch out for Samantha Newton.”
