Page 17 of Play Dirty (Villalargos University #1)
Chapter Twelve
Shiloh
A fter hours of trying to mold my pain into something tangible, I gave up. It’s getting late, and as much as I want to continue to grieve and isolate myself, I can’t. It’s not my reputation. It’s not who I am.
At least not inside these walls.
There are expectations, especially when you’re one of the chosen ones, a crowned one.
The standard of what a woman should be. I let out a sigh, my shoulders sagging as I walk towards the door, hoping I don’t see anyone.
I’ve been avoiding my friends and even Delta Kappa— I just don’t have it in me to pretend.
However, if I’m going to find out what happened to June, I need to be around the circle.
By the time I leave the studio, the sun has already set, and the chill of fall evenings is in full effect.
I quickly throw on my school jacket and fold my arms in front of my chest.
It’s fucking cold.
For the first time in a while, I enjoy the silent walk to my dorm.
Keeping my head down and enjoying the sound of the leaves as they rustle on the ground.
From a distance, I spot a figure crouched by my doorsteps.
The silhouette blends amongst the shadows.
My heart begins to flutter, my stomach knotting as I slow down my pace.
Quietly approaching the trespasser, when suddenly the figure shifts .
From the small bulb that illuminates the door, and as the string lights around the tiny garden out front flicker on, I recognize the figure as Michaela Santores— one of June’s friends.
“Hey,” I call out as she crouches near the small fairy garden June had built. Black strands of hair fall over the side of her face as she places small trinkets near the small tree house.
“Hey. Hope you don’t mind.” She replies, not bothering to look back at me.
I approach her slowly, trying to see the new additions, wondering if she was the one who left the snacks the day of the funeral. Only one person besides June knows what my favorite snacks are, and that person is somewhere in the Caribbean. Tatiana Vargas, the completion of our holy trinity.
The other girl who loved June as much as I did… I just wish she were able to come back in time for the funeral. I could have used the support. I’m sure she could have, too. Snapping out of the jumble of fragmented thoughts, I catch Michaela staring.
“You know she talked a lot about you?”
I quirk a brow. “She did?”
She dips her chin slowly, taking in a sharp inhale.
“Yeah, I have never been a fan of popular girls.” Scanning her hand down her body, she points out her attire.
Despite the strong uniform policy, her uniform was cut shorter, pins adorned her jacket, and her tall black socks had red ruffles, unlike the white socks we are supposed to wear.
“I don’t quite fit in here, and you might be wondering where I’m going with this.
It's simple. I don’t like you, don’t understand how someone nicknamed the ice queen could be friends with someone as kind as June. ”
Her words are harsh, but they don't offend me. It’s not the first time someone has said something like that to me. This isn’t new. No one understood our dynamic, especially when Tati came into the mix. All three of us are so different, but still the same.
“We were friends because it’s just who she was.” My hand instinctively moves to the bracelet I keep around my wrist, the one that now contains a book charm - locket. With a piece of her hair, the only part I will ever carry of her.
Michaela is silent for a moment before she lets out a breath. It’s like she’s struggling with something heavy– something unspoken. Just when I think she will just leave without telling me, she rises to her feet. Dusting her hands to remove the leftover dirt.
“Do you know what happened to June?”
The question itself didn’t surprise me. It was the ominous look on Michaela’s features, the way she said it, that caused my body to shiver. It was as if she were sure of foul play. “Why?”
She sucks in her lower lip, looking around the lot to make sure we are alone. A shiver runs up my spine, coiling around my throat.
“Listen, a lot fucked up shit happens when there’s money involved,” she winces, looking at me as if she can see my secrets. The mask I keep perfectly in place. “But this is—”
“Do you know something?” I interrupt, stepping closer.
Michaela lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, she was distant. Weird.” Shaking her head, she tries to find the words. “Something was off with her, you know? And then I walked in on her during a call; she was scared.”
“Scared?”
She nods.
“Why?”
She shrugs. “Not sure, she didn’t say. Then this happened, and I feel guilty. Maybe it was nothing, but fuck, this is just so strange.”
Her words reassure me; my suspicions weren’t misplaced. Michaela doesn’t wait for a response, quickly she dismisses herself and leaves me standing with the weight of her words. As I look down at the small garden and its new addition.
The glow in the dark pebbled driveway that June insisted it needed, so the fairies could always find their way back home. I crouch before it and whisper. “You finally got the driveway, and as always, you were right.”
The small cluster of mushroom huts is now connected. Three small intersections of small pebbles formed a little driveway into the small patch of grass. I sit in silence for a bit, when the sound of branches crunching catches my attention, and a cold draft kisses the back of my neck.
Am I being watched?
My phone buzzes inside the pocket of my blazer. Rising to my feet, I turn around as my hand moves to the scanner that unlocks my door. There’s something in the distance, hiding in the darkness.
Maybe I’m tripping or just tired.
But the feeling is unwavering– even when the door signals open and the handle twists with my movement. The sensation of being watched is overwhelming. My stomach is in shambles, feeling the butterflies do somersaults instead of dance within me. My hands are clammy as I slam the door shut.
Looking down at my phone, I read the notification.
I chuck my phone on the couch, turning to the window. I am unable to resist the compulsion to peek outside. I look– everything appears the same. The dark path looks the same as it’s always been. Feeling satisfied with my findings, I resume what I came home to do. I don’t want to be here.
Not when it still smells like her.
Not when all her things are still the same way she left them.
Not when I have to allow myself to be devoured in order to find the truth and deliver justice.
My body drags towards the bathroom, prepping myself just how he likes it.
Clean-shaven, exfoliated, and smelling like his favorite body wash.
The same vanilla scent that twists my stomach and made me hate the one thing I enjoyed the most. Stepping out of the shower, I spray the body mist that matches the body wash— drying off my body and inspecting myself in the mirror.
Purple fading marks on my ribs, under my breast. My finger traces over the small scar over my hip, his mark.
Closing my eyes, I shake off the memory of that night— how I screamed for my father as he held me down and burned my skin with his brand.
Only when I’m married will it be allowed to be removed…
A rebrand.
Bile climbs up my throat at the thought of Asher seeing this ugly scar- maybe this is why he treats me like an option instead of his wife. Yet he allowed it.
He allowed it.
Not my father.
Not my mother.
But the man intended to be my husband. My body shivers as I feel the weight of his arms wrap around me, his breath smelling of brandy and cigars. My body is soaking wet from the pool, “Babe. Ready for your test?”
“Test?” He smiles, exposing the dimple on his cheek, pointing into the room. He cups my breast, slipping his hand inside my bra and twirling my nipple. Warmth starts to spread, but it’s quickly put out at the sight of him.
I swallow hard—not quite understanding..
I didn’t understand… I just obeyed.
My body moves on its own accord as I leave my dorm, climb into the car that he always sends for me, and the same sinking feeling consumes me. It never changes, not even being away with him in Italy, made my body react to him.
Unless it’s repulsion or disgust.
“Darling,” His deep voice calls from the studio as I approach, my hands clinging to the railing as if it could save me.
Not even Daddy could save me. Squaring my shoulder, I take a deep breath in and hold my head straight.
He can no longer scare me. Xavier tonight will be my pawn to use.
I’m not the same scared little princess I once was, but a woman with a hunger for the truth.
Hunger for revenge.
And if I will bleed for anything, it will be for June. Each step builds my confidence, my shoulders sit upright, and my neck is stretched. Holding my head up high, I walk towards his red door.
A golden mask sits on his face, no Asher this time.
Just my naked professor wearing a mask as if it could hide his true identity.
“Come lie here, princess,” he says, patting the empty spot beside him.
From the corner of my eye, I watch the button blink red, and I swallow hard.
Trying to perform to the best of my ability— to make him feel wanted.
Make him sing to me while I fuck him to oblivion…