2. Chapter One

Chapter One

M eg's sickly pink BMW rumbles to a stop before a gigantic building of brick and light. Every window is illuminated against the fall of evening, figures moving within cramped dorms. My stomach churns as Meg switches off the engine, a pair of fluffy dice swinging from the rear-view mirror. We remain there, locked in place until various sources of music and chatter mingle with the balmy air leaking through our open windows.

"It could be fun," Meg offers for the hundredth time. I can't spare her a look of bravery, my mind reeling. There is nothing fun about the bad omen before me. Forced social interaction, the onslaught of noise, being forced to share my space with a complete stranger. And somewhere within those walls is a fake brother who hates my guts. This is my new hell.

"You would fit in here much easier than I ever could," I sigh. I wish Meg was coming with me, but her athletic scholarship is at a state school miles away. Lacrosse is her specialty, becoming the first junior captain, whilst juggling the swim team, business studies and debate club. It's no wonder she hides at the Hughes mansion on weekends, needing to escape it all. Everything Meg has in this life, she's had to work for. But at least she has teams of friends and an incredible amount of group chats to fall back on. Without my tutors, dance coach, therapist...I have no one.

I take a deep breath, hoping my fear is masked from a bunch of basketball guys who wander past. Their jerseys are black with yellow trims, baggy around thickly-corded muscles coated in sweat. One looks back, throwing a wink at me before he empties his water bottle over his dark, messy hair and shakes it out. I sink back in my seat, flinching as Meg rests a hand on my arm.

"You'll be fine," she promises, leaning across the console to press a kiss to my cheek. I know I'm keeping her from the long drive she has to make back, but Meg refused to let one of the chauffeurs bring me. She stayed all weekend, advising me on what to pack while I looked longingly out of the window after Nixon left for New York. I'm used to waving him goodbye, but this time I'm not going to be there when he returns.

Nodding, I pretend to find my resolve as I exit the car and grab my bags from the trunk. One medium-sized case for my clothes, a smaller one for my make-up, toiletries and shoes, and a backpack with my laptop, notepads-essentially everything I'll use for class. Class . I shudder to myself. Leaning through the driver side window, Meg returns my hug with equal vigor and pulls away to smooth the two tendrils of long hair out of my face. Her pale blue eyes appear gray, swimming with unshed tears.

"You've never needed Wyatt before. Don't give him that power over you now." Meg whispers in my ear. I know she's right, but her words almost cause me to break. Waving goodbye from the curb, I hold the tears back. The night air grows heavy, my feet barely cooperating as I make my way to the building entrance and duck inside. Voices echo through the halls, doors slamming shut, laughter ringing out. I keep my head down, tackling the staircases with quiet resolve. Something I can attribute to my ballet; upholding stamina in the shittiest of situations.

Reaching the fourth floor, I enter a network of cramped hallways, tracking the numbers on closed doors for the one I've been allocated. Nixon forwarded on all of the emails from the Dean, including my dorm room, directions, a campus map and my class schedule. Music blasts from the doors left wide open, and I peer into each one, wondering if Wyatt will be on this floor too. I hope not. Sweat starts to bead on my forehead, my arms burning from my suitcases as I start to gather some attention. Wolf whistles follow me down the hall, throngs of college students stopping to assess me as fresh meat while shouting to be heard over one another.

I spot my dorm up ahead, the last one on the end. A group of girls huddle in the doorway, their brows raised when they see my approach. In a flurry, they rush past me, their giggles filling the air. My stomach cramps tightly but I refuse to let it show. Straightening my spine, I step into the room I'll be spending my foreseeable future in.

The room is small, two twin-sized beds against opposite walls. Separating them is an elongated desk for both of the occupants. On one side of the desk, beside a pot of brightly colored highlighters and post-it notes, a strongly-scented candle flickers.

"What is that?" I inhale deeply. "Gingerbread? Maple syrup?"

"Cinnamon apple," a fiery redhead replies without looking up from her phone. She's lying on the bed closest to the window, scrolling endlessly and tapping her foot to a song in her head. I inhale again, deciding it's a pleasant smell despite originally being overwhelming.

Entering the room, I ditch my cases by the foot of the empty bed and sink onto the mattress. It's not as giving as what I' m used to, but the stiffness in my limbs will take what it can get. Eventually, my roommate glances up, her eyes studying me for a moment before she speaks.

"You must be Avery," she comments. She doesn't smile or grimace, as if she doesn't know what to make of me quite yet. I nod, pulling my hair free of its ponytail before a tension headache sets in. "Welcome to Waversea, I guess. Everyone is super excited for your arrival."

"They are?" I balk. There goes my careful constructed plan of laying low. The redhead hums, sitting upright.

"Oh yeah. You've been the hot topic all weekend. I gave up closing the door, bored of the insistent knocking and questions I couldn't answer. Now you're here, you can answer them yourself."

"What...what kind of questions?" My shoulders sag inward, a feeble attempt to protect myself. This is what I was afraid of. A strange unknown place, surrounded by people eager to know every shred of my business. The tabloids are the worst for it, but at least they weren't in my personal space every day. I could block them out, locked away in my tower like Rapunzel. The redhead shrugs.

"Many of them are about your brother. What he likes, how he smells up close. If you've ever walked in on him in the shower, if his dick is really as big as they say. Things like that." My jaw drops, flames heating my cheeks. She laughs, waving my embarrassment off. "Don't worry about those bitches. They're desperate for Wyatt 's attention in any capacity, whether it comes from befriending or bullying you. There's a target on your back, Avery Hughes. You should probably get a full night's sleep before the war starts tomorrow." The redhead laughs and starts to roll over. I straighten all of a sudden, my nostrils flaring. I may be timid, unused to college dynamics, but I don't take kindly to threats.

"And are you one of the bitches I should be on the lookout for?" My voice is steady. Her smile deepens. Her laughter grows louder, as if I've missed the joke.

"Your brother holds no interest to me. I'm gayer than a leprechaun scissoring a unicorn upon that magical rainbow in the sky." I blink several times, not sure how to respond. Maybe I do still need to look out for my roommate, but not in the way I thought. I can hear Meg in my head, tutting at me. She's gay, not a serial rapist. I hope.

"I'm McKayla, by the way," she fills the silence. "Just Kay is fine. I'm done for tonight, I've got track practice at dawn. Lock the door before you turn in." This time, Kay does roll over, pulling the covers up to her vibrant red hair. My eyes flicker to the doorway, noting the shuffle of steps and whispers nearing. I move in a flash, shutting and locking the door before my shadow has a chance to grace the grubby hallway carpet.

My hands are shaking as I silently unpack my clothes into the dresser and change out the bed sheets for a fresh set. Tomorrow will be a full-on day indeed, but not one I will be tackling without the right mindset. Starting with banishing the rumors I have no doubt Wyatt helped to create.

When Kay said she was leaving early, she wasn't kidding. I glance across the enclosed space, finding her bed empty and neatly made. Daring a glance at my phone, it's just past half five. I groan, pulling the covers over my head to block out warm rays of sunrise leaking through paper thin curtains.

After years of watching Wyatt sneer in the face of being ridiculously spoiled, I've tried my best to not follow suit. I don't ask for much beyond my means, working each Christmas in soup kitchens and asking for birthday gifts to be donated rather than receive them myself. But to a certain degree, it's impossible not to miss the blackout curtains, plush duvet and deep memory foam mattress I've become accustomed to.

Thinking ahead, I start to mentally play out the day, pre-empting and preparing. The cafeteria food won't be what I'm used to, the on-campus supermarket probably stocking brands I've never heard of. Then there's the thought of communal showers, which I'm dreading. It'll be an adjustment, but I haven't always lived this life. I once ate whatever crumbs were left behind and washed with the last drop of hand soap I could conjure from an almost empty pot.

I slip into a half-dazed state where the two versions of my life bleed together and somewhere along the way, I fail to remember which girl I am. The timid one sporting bruises, or the untouchable heiress who locks herself away. When I stir once more, it's with a dull headache starting to throb behind my eyes. Pulling the covers back on a sigh, the light is temporarily shrouded by a large silhouette looming over me.

"Ahh!" I scream, throwing a fist wildly. It connects, but doesn't pack half the punch my self-defense teacher taught me. A deep chuckle rumbles through the room.

"Oh, you're going to be fun," the figure muses and steps back. Watching me for a moment longer, while I clutch the cover to my heaving chest, he wanders towards the doorway.

"Who the hell are you?!" I find my voice. When he twists the latch from inside, my eyes widen. "And how the fuck did you get in here?!"

"Tsk, tsk, Peach. Do you kiss Nixon with that dirty mouth?" he chuckles again. I'm stunned, desperately trying to take in the stranger's features. Floppy brown hair flicks in all directions, as if it's been styled to look like he's just rolled out of bed. There's nothing to note about his clothing; sweatpants covering his lean legs and a pair of Air Jordan's on his feet. From the short sleeves of his t-shirt to his knuckles, he's coated in ink. A colorful mismatch of images that don't merge together, but rather tell individual stories. Secrets ready to be cracked open, but not by me. Definitely not by me.

I don't know this man, and I'm certain he doesn't know me. Upon opening the door to leave, another body suddenly appears and crowds him back inside. This is turning into an early morning circus and I'm the only spectator.

"Fuck's sake, Garrett," the man growls. His hair is trimmed short, causing the sharpness of his jawline and cheekbones to appear razor-cut in the artificial light streaming from the hallway. Slapping Garrett on the back of his head, he also turns to assess me too closely. I fight against the urge to shrink back under his all-seeing gaze. "Wyatt told us to watch her from a distance," he grumbles, his words not meant for me. Garrett is stroking his head, a wide smirk on his face.

"Give me a break, Axel. I wasn't going to wake her with my cock in her mouth." He rolls his eyes while I hide a whimper and shift further beneath the covers. "I just wanted a closer look. Besides, someone needs to give her an official tour."

"And you thought you were the best man for the job?" Axel scoffs. "I just watched you scale the drainpipes and climb through her bedroom window." I inhale sharply, eyes darting to the window in question. Note to self - replace all of the locks pronto.

Axel doesn't take his eyes off me, standing shoulder to shoulder with Garrett at the foot of my bed. The pair seem to draw all of the air out of the room, making it hard to breathe, let alone scream at them to get lost. All of my training, every scenario of my past I've replayed in my head, pinpointing where I could have fought back or been stronger. Gone. I'm still just as easy to trap, and that drives more of a knife through my chest than the two sizing me up in my pajamas.

"Dammit, Garrett. You never do as you're told," Axel sighs, clearly the sterner one. Then he snaps an order intended for me. "Get yourself sorted. We leave in ten minutes."

"Erm," my mind trips over itself. "Thanks but...no thanks. I have a map, I'm sure I'll be just fine." They give me matching condescending smirks, but I hold my ground. It's my first day, the first chance to make a good impression. I'm sure as shit not going to be caught trailing the men who have been ordered to 'watch me from a distance'. Garrett breaks his stare first, placing a hand on his friend's arm and giving me a pleasing eye flutter.

"See, she's so cute and naive," he pouts. "I reckon we could keep her, just for a little while." My brows furrow but Axel sighs again, stretching out his neck.

"Ten minutes." The pair retreat, leaving me alone with my heart pounding in my chest. I stare around the room, hunting for a means to escape. How close are drainpipes beyond the window?

"I don't hear any movement in there, Peach," Garrett calls back. "I can always come and give you a hand if needed." There's a swift 'oomph' where I imagine Axel has hit him again, but I don't wait around to see if he'll deliver on that promise. He's already climbed through my window once this morning.