Page 2 of The Consequence of You (Heathley Academy #2)

CHAPTER TWO

CALLIE

W hen Dahlia invited me to grab breakfast before helping her move into her flat, it hadn’t occurred to me that her boyfriend would invite his best friend too.

Socialising is not really my thing. I’d spent three years avoiding people, but Dahlia and I hit it off instantly when she started at the Academy last year, and being friends with her drew me into situations I’d never voluntarily choose to be in.

I’m not complaining, but it can be uncomfortable at times.

Like today. Breakfast with Dahlia. Great. Breakfast with Grayson. No problem. Breakfast with Lord Asher Pennington. Definitely not on my to-do list.

Part of living in the world we do, attending Heathley Academy for all those years, means I can play nice with the best of them, but it’s easier said than done around certain people .

I’m already in our favourite booth in Lollies, an American-style diner, on my second cup of coffee when they arrive together.

Dahlia slides into the seat opposite me, pulling her boyfriend’s hand after her, leaving only the seat beside me free.

Asher looks every bit the suave aristocrat he is this morning.

His blond hair is slicked back, and he's dressed smartly in beige chinos and a navy blue, short-sleeved linen shirt. Instead of his usual tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses, he wears a classic pair of black Ray-Bans and on his wrist is a watch, which, despite its simple design, probably cost him more than the average person’s car.

His toned biceps bulge when he shoves his hand in his pocket.

He reminds me of one of those male models you see in magazines advertising summer holidays in the Hamptons.

It’s easy to see why he’s so popular with the girls at the Academy.

Shame his toxic personality doesn’t match the pretty package he has going on, on the outside.

I can’t see his eyes while he wears those shades, but I can still feel his glare. I shiver involuntarily.

Asher pauses as though he’d rather be anywhere but here before sliding onto the striped padded bench next to me.

Why he came if the diner is so beneath him, I’ll never know.

He folds his tall frame into the seat, immediately man-spreading until his thigh touches mine.

I shuffle closer to the window, but all that achieves is him widening his legs further, causing me to feel more than a little penned in.

He’s always impeccably turned out; I’ll give him that.

His clothes fit him perfectly. They’re probably tailored for him, and it shows.

Damn him for making me notice him in that way.

Henry, from the gym; I couldn’t tell you the colour of his hair or his eyes, but this jerk, even with his dark glasses on, I can picture their exact shade of green and the flecks of gold that paint his irises.

While the three of them place their drinks order, I try to ignore the delicious scent drifting over from his aftershave.

“Have you quite finished?” His lazy drawl startles me from my thoughts.

“Finished what?”

“Inhaling me.” I take a sharp breath. Fuck, was I being that obvious? I check to see if Dahlia and Grayson heard Asher’s question, but they’re deep in conversation about the best pancake toppings.

“Don’t flatter yourself, dickwad. I was not inhaling you. You’re taking up half the bench with your man-spreading and what you heard was probably me trying to get in enough oxygen, as you’re taking up most of it.”

“Sure.”

Urgh, his air of smug indifference is infuriating. I was not inhaling him. I merely noticed his aftershave. He thinks he’s right about everything. That’s what nineteen years of being pampered does for a person, I guess.

Another sarcastic response is on the tip of my tongue, but I drop it when the waitress comes to take our order.

Dahlia and Grayson are splitting a pancake stack and finally agree on their choice of toppings.

Asher orders eggs Benedict with a side of asparagus, which presumably the diner will have to send someone out for, as asparagus is definitely not on the menu.

Of course, there is no question of the waitress saying no as Asher gives her a sparkling smile and slips her his phone number on a napkin.

She scuttles off back into the kitchen as soon as I order my French toast and my third coffee.

I roll my eyes, but unfortunately it doesn’t go unnoticed .

“Do you have a problem, Calliope?” Asher removes his shades and glares at me. He has insisted on using the longer version of my name for as long as I’ve known him and, as always, he says it like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Why don’t you just order something off the menu like everyone else?”

“Because I feel like asparagus this morning. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Other than you being an entitled arsehole?” I mutter under my breath.

“Speak up, princess. I can’t quite make out your vitriol when you’re whispering.

” He enunciates every word, and Dahlia and Grayson stop their conversation.

Dahlia looks between us, obvious disappointment on her face, and I instantly feel bad for spoiling her breakfast. She and Grayson have been looking forward to today for weeks and they deserve today to be as uncomplicated as possible, so despite Asher being my least favourite person on the planet, I pin a smile on my face.

“I said, I hope they can get your asparagus. It’s a great source of potassium, apparently.” He smirks, knowing full well he’s forcing me to play nice. His large hand clamps down on my thigh, and I almost jump out of my seat.

“Thank you, Calliope. I appreciate that.” Of course he finds it easy to come across as sincere, and Dahlia smiles at the sight of us getting on.

Several hours later and our best friends are settled in their new home.

“Cheers.” After clinking my glass against Dahlia’s, I turn to Asher to do the same, glad we’ve been able to put our joint animosity to one side long enough to help make this day perfect for our friends.

I’m so happy for them both. I’ve known Grayson for years, but only in the last few months have I really got to know him. Admittedly, at first, I was worried Dahlia would get hurt again, but he’s repeatedly proved me wrong.

Whatever went on in the past, I can see how different things are now.

He loves my best friend and treats her like the queen she is, exactly how she deserves to be treated.

No one can deny that. She hasn’t stopped beaming since everything with her father and Colin Banks was resolved a few months ago.

The bond between her and Grayson is undeniable, real life couple goals right there.

Moving into their new apartment symbolises a fresh start, and I have every confidence they’ll be happy here.

I let out a yawn and realise I’m not the only one who is tired. Dahlia has fallen asleep against Grayson’s shoulder. He lifts her gently.

“I’m just going to put her to bed. It’s been a long day.

You two, get yourself another drink. I’ll be back soon.

” He carries her through to the back of the apartment as I unfurl my legs and walk over to the speaker.

Turning the music down a few notches, I gather up a few of the dirty plates and carry them over to the kitchen.

Asher surprises me when he stops scrolling through his phone and grabs the rest.

He follows me into the small kitchen area, and it suddenly feels crowded.

It’s open plan, but his proximity is unnerving.

His 6ft 3 frame seems wider when he’s this close, and he towers over my tiny 5ft 2 frame, especially as I’m not wearing any shoes.

I don’t like the guy, but the earthy, woody smell of his aftershave, combined with the spicy scent of the whiskey he’s been drinking, is a heady combination.

He reaches over me to open the wall cupboard and grabs two shot glasses.

I shrink back against the cabinets, trying to limit how much of him is touching me, but I’m still at eye level with his firm chest.

I can’t help but notice the way his polo shirt strains over his hard pecs as I struggle to drag my eyes away from his body.

I gulp, feeling my nipples involuntarily harden.

My top and the bra underneath are thin, and I will him not to look down, as there’s no way he’d miss them poking through the fabric, and I do not want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s affected me.

Objectively, he’s handsome, there’s no denying it.

He’s stupidly, ridiculously handsome, in fact.

Like Disney prince handsome. It’s almost as if generations of perfect physical specimens had mated, creating a real-life god.

His body could have been carved from marble, his strong jaw Herculean.

It’s no wonder my body is betraying me. It’s a purely physical reaction to his beauty.

What makes less sense is why he’s looking at me the way he is right now. Like an animal stalking his prey.

“Where the fuck has Grayson got to?” I mutter, darting under Asher’s arm and put some distance between us.

“Probably fallen asleep with his girl.”

I hadn’t noticed until that moment that Asher had filled two shot glasses with a clear liquid. Vodka. He slides one over to me before picking up the other.

“To friendship?” He cocks his head, a smirk on his face. Asher and I will never be friends. We both know that in the same way we’d both known we needed to keep up this facade today.

Snatching the glass, I swallow back the liquid, relishing the burn as it coats my throat. The heat settles in my stomach, and I hold the glass back out for a refill. Asher watches me curiously. He knows I’m not a big drinker. He doesn’t know the reason, though.

I’m aware I had a reputation in school of being aloof, weird even, because I didn’t like to party, but I had my reasons. The only one I’ll admit to is that I don’t like to lose control.

I guess he’d assumed I wouldn’t take the drink because he hesitates for a split second before he pours me another. On another night, I might not have, but fuck him for thinking he knows anything about me.

I’m sick of people making assumptions about me. And I’m sick of going home to my empty house and staring at the cold walls. More than that, I’m sick of feeling nothing.

Maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but at least I might feel something . Even if I don’t remember it in the morning.

ASHER

Callie’s drunk. She’s only had a couple of glasses of champagne and two shots of vodka, but her eyes are glazed, and she’s unsteady on her feet.

After the second shot of vodka, I’d put the bottle back in the cupboard and grabbed us a couple of beers instead.

Grayson hadn’t come back from his and Dahlia’s room, and when I’d used the bathroom, it sounded quiet, so I’d shut their door, assuming they were both fast asleep.

I’m fucking shattered, too, but I never spend any time alone with Callie, and it’s too much of an opportunity to pass up. I love winding the closed-off princess up. She hates it, and I know I get on her last nerve, but I seriously can’t find it in me to care. It’s amusing. And I’m fucking bored.

I have an unconditional offer from Heathley Academy to study for a degree in Maths and the Science of Ciphers in September. I could do that shit in my sleep, but I have to get the bit of paper to appease my fucking parents, Duke and Duchess Pennington .

So, I’ll do it for three years and no doubt get a first. But I’m fucking bored with it. Bored with studying, fucking bored with my life. And that’s the thing about Callie Messina. I might hate her, but she isn’t boring. She’s a puzzle I can’t solve, and that intrigues me.

She lives in that huge house up on the hill, not far from where I live. My parents’ house is steeped in history. Passed down through generations, it’s even rumoured the last monarch attended parties there, back in her youth. It’s grand, like a fucking castle.

Callie’s place is just as huge, probably worth as much money, but it’s the complete opposite of mine. Modern and stylish, but most intriguingly, it’s guarded better than Fort Knox. Yes, my place is a castle, but her place is a fortress meant to protect a princess.

I look at her as she sits opposite me on the sofa.

She’s tiny, like a little doll. Perfect blemish free skin, perfect straight shoulder length hair, perfect white teeth, perfect perky tits.

And she dresses herself in black, everything as black as her hair.

And all that black? It calls to my dark soul.

Yes. I can’t stand her, but winding her up is fucking entertaining.

It hasn’t escaped my notice that she never loses her cool, never drops her defences normally.

But the last few months, she doesn’t seem as put together as usual.

She is just as snippy and cruel in the comments she throws at me, but recently, she isn’t as unaffected when I throw them back, and I want to know why.

I need a project, and she’s fucking perfect.