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If they think I’m going to respond to their group text, though? They’re fucking insane.
The engine roars underneath me as I head back toward campus. Remembering last night and this morning makes my dick thicken in my pants. I have to give it to her, she has more fight than the average Carnegie girl.
My phone dings again, and I peer over at the screen, rolling my eyes when I see Barclay’s name pop up. “For fuck’s sake, quit riding my dick,” I grumble.
Let them stew about whether or not I’m going to show up to their stupid meeting. I don’t need another person in my life dictating what I do.
The familiar curve of the blacktopped roads blur as I make my way back to Carnegie. I could make this trip with my eyes closed. One thing I can’t believe is how I made it back into the Knights.
Sure, I’m not a full Knight, but I wonder if this is all for show or if I have a real shot of making it. My grandfather is an Elder. My father was a full-fledged Knight. Me? I only made it to Fledgling before I got kicked out. I left Carnegie after that. Left my entire family altogether until I came back on my hands and knees at my grandfather’s feet. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was unavoidable.
Even if I ended up dead, sometimes I wish I’d never made that drive back.
I pull into the parking lot in front of Jarvis Hall and then stride toward the campus café where they asked to meet. The door rings overhead as I make my way in. A few people spot me, eyes rounding. My reputation precedes me, I guess. I smirk as I make my way through the restaurant, searching for the girl.
Eden sees me first, but she turns her gaze away as soon as our eyes meet.
So it’s like that? She’s going to pretend she doesn’t get all hot and bothered for me?
Oliver’s next, and he gives me a disgusted glance that tells me he’s worried about his chances with his princess now. He should be. She’s more of a freak than he is. He’ll never satisfy her.
“Oh, Leo. Thank you for joining us.”
“Fuck off, Barclay.”
He gives me a pleased stare, but it’s more of a fuck you than the words I graced him with. He just has this way of looking at you like you’re nothing. It’s no surprise he thinks of me like that, and I fucking hate him for it.
“Well?” I question as I plop down in the armchair that was obviously saved for me.
Before they can fill me in, a figure steps between Barclay and me. “Okay, I got a latte and—” He cuts off, and I peer up at him, annoyed as fuck. He isn’t looking at me, though. He’s staring at Eden. My hackles rise, and I have the sudden urge to grab this fucker by the throat.
“You—”
I get to my feet, about to remove his ass, when Eden’s salty voice perks up behind me. “Yeah, I look like her. One difference, though, she had way more patience than I’ll ever fucking possess so move along.”
The dude’s cheeks blush, and I smirk at the way her response cuts him.
He swallows, and the tray trembles as he moves to set it on the table between all of us. “Sorry. I knew your sister. That’s all.”
Eden glares at him.
“She was nice.”
“And I’m not,” I reply after checking on Eden. Her shoulders are stiff, and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to think about her sister right now, only he’s not taking the hint.
“We’ve got it from here, thanks,” Barclay interrupts before I show this guy how fucking rude it is to stare. He looks like he’s seen a ghost, and for a brief moment, my black heart twitches for Eden. To be constantly reminded of your dead sister, that’s gotta suck.
Good thing I don’t actually care.
The guy glances at all of us before stalking away, disappearing behind the counter and through an employee only area. My body stays alert after he’s gone, watching for anyone who may approach.
“Sorry,” Barclay states, staring at Eden. His tone is infected with feeling. I’ve seen this fucker at work. He must be playing some sort of angle with her, and whatever it is, I don’t like it.
Turning my attention back to Eden, I find her reaching for a cup on the tray. She’s dressed in a frilly top that cinches around the waist. Lace and satin. If you ask me, it’s begging for cum stains. “It’s no wonder he thought you were her.”
Her gaze darts up to meet mine. It’s filled with venom, but I’m used to being glared at like that. I want to know where the girl is who showed up late to unpack with ripped shorts so tiny I could almost see her ass and a tank top that screamed fuck the patriarchy. The girl in front of me right now is too demure.
“Look at the way you’re dressed.” Her face sours, but I trudge on. “You look like half the girls here.” I’m seconds away from asking her about those shorts, but that would give away the fact that I spied on her.