I’ve never been one to judge people by their looks, but this guy is the weirdest motherfucker I’ve ever met. I hate Maxwell even more for putting me in this class now.
“What did I tell you?” Sebastian whispers, “little dog syndrome. Like one of those chihuahuas.” He laughs quietly and leans back in his seat, and despite my better judgment telling me there’s something very wrong with Sebastian, I can’t help but laugh along with him.
After class is finished, I grab my bag and head to the door. Professor Pulliver has all but put me to sleep. The guy might be the most weirdly boring man I’ve come across, but it doesn’t help that my hangover is beginning to make a reappearance.
“You heading for lunch?” Sebastian asks as he walks in step with me.
I turn and glare, but decide I’m feeling way too shitty to even tell him to fuck off right now. “I told you, we’re not friends.”
“Never said we were. We’re just two guys going for lunch. Kinda like a date, but one where neither of us end up sucking cock at the end of it.” He smirks, and I shake my head, giving up.
“Sounds like a shit ending to a date if you ask me,” I reply with a raised eyebrow, and he snorts on a laugh.
“Food,” I say. “I need food. And coffee.” I drag a hand down my face, pushing my hair back from my eyes.
Sabella’s eggs got me through that first class, but there’s no way I’ll make it through the rest of the day. I need food, coffee, and sleep before I head to the meeting tonight. I need to be alert for whatever happened. But there’s no way of ditching class without Sabella losing her shit on me.
Sebastian leads me to the cafeteria, though it could barely be called that. It’s more of an upmarket, self-service, five-star restaurant. I stare at the food, my stomach grumbling, wishing I could just have a burger and fries. Right now is not the time for Var Salmon or Beef Wellington. Seriously, what the fuck is with this place?
Sebastian slings an arm over my shoulder again. “Go grab a seat. I’ve got you covered.”
I turn and head to a table, more than happy to be sitting down and not staring at the food anymore. I’ve attended a lot of schools the past couple years, all of them expensive, but none of them like this. This school is for royalty or some shit.
Sabella has always been the golden child in our family, and he obviously repaid her by sending her here. St. Augustine’s is regal in its decadence, and no expense has been spared—not even in the fucking cafeteria.
Cherry walnut panels line the room, a far-cry from the magnolia painted walls of my last school. Even though it’s still early for lunch, a lot of students gather around, sitting around on their stuck-up asses and drinking their expressos while talking bullshit politics they don’t really give a damn about or understand and how to spend their family fortune. I hate them all. Every last one of the fake motherfuckers.
“Shit, not going to kill someone, are you?” Sebastian laughs as he sits down opposite me and slides over a plate. I look down at the cheeseburger and fries on my plate, my stomach growling in appreciation.
“I’d kiss you in thanks, but you already told me you prefer pussy.” I smirk, and he sits back in his chair smugly, his hands playing with the watch on his wrist. “Gotta say, you don’t seem like Augustine’s type.” I pick up my burger and take a huge bite. Almost come in my pants at the taste of it too. Best damn burger I’ve probably ever had.
“Looks can be deceiving,” he replies mysteriously, still fiddling with his watch.
It’s my turn to laugh now. “You mistake me. You fit in just fine if you’re going to be the cover boy for this school, but…” I pause and stare at him, wondering how far I can push him, “you don’t seem like you have all your tickets to ride the train, if you don’t mind me saying.”
I bite into my burger while another slow grin spreads across Sebastian’s face. I can’t decide if I’ve actually offended him and he’s covering it or if he really doesn’t care. I finish off my burger in one more mouthful and wait for him to reply, not giving a shit either way.
“You see a lot, but you don’t really get it, do you?” he finally replies, like the mysterious fucker he is.
I swallow the lump of meat and bread and lean back in my chair. “Get it?”
“Yeah.” He looks around the room before pointing at a guy who could be the equivalent of a Ken doll. “See that guy?” I nod. “He’s captain of the swim team. Plays tennis on Thursdays at his daddy’s club to keep up appearances. He likes to take his girlfriend out on the family yacht on weekends, even though he actually hates the water. But Tuesdays are his special days. Just for him.”
I frown at the Ken doll wannabe. Seems like he has the perfect life. For him at least. “What’s so special about Tuesdays?”
Sebastian leans forward. “On Tuesdays, he likes to go get a massage by one of the little Thai women down by the Monastery club, and afterwards, he likes to fuck his masseuse up the ass while she wears a pig mask and calls him by his mother’s name.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked to hell. “What the fuck?” I say, and Sebastian stands up before pushing his chair back in under the table.
“Like I said, you see, but you don’t really get it. Enjoy the fries. See you around, Sam.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me sitting at the table like a fucking loner. I stare between him and the Ken doll guy wondering how much of that story is actually true.
Or maybe it’s just like he said. I see a lot, and that part is true at least. Iaman observant guy. You have to be when you like to fight, because you have to see the smallest of movements so you know what your opponent is lining up to do next, but maybe I don’t really get it.
I look around in frustration. Fuck, Sebastian has really gotten in my head. No one has ever done that to me before.
I push my tray of half-eaten food away and stand up. None of this even matters. All that matters is tonight. The meeting. The Elite. And getting Sabella and myself out from under Maxwell’s grip once and for all.
