4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

" M iss Hughes," Mrs. Patrick regards me with surprise as she enters her classroom. She glances at her watch to confirm that I am, in fact, early. I've been here for almost an hour, since it's where I opted to eat breakfast. Waking at the crack of dawn with Kay wasn't easy, but I'm determined today will be a better day. That, and I didn't want to risk waiting around for another morning break in by Garrett. I'd showered, dressed and given myself an entire pep talk before the sun had come up. I've been through worse than this; I'm just not used to being so visible.

The room begins to fill as I'm turning to a fresh, clean page in my notebook. I write the date in scrawly cursive, dotting the i's with hearts and underlining with a pink highlighter as a body settles in beside me. I can't withhold my small smile as I tug at the hem of my denim skirt. Turning to my neighbor, I'm horrified by the large perm and garishly bright lipstick smiling at me like a deranged poodle.

"You're Avery, right?" the girl chews on a wad of gum. The desk on my other side scrapes as it's dragged closer.

"Wow, are you naturally blonde? Your hair is so smooth," another female comments while stroking my straight locks. I flinch away from her. Through the students nearby, I scan for Dax. He enters the room, raising a brow at my new friends and grins, settling in the front row. I register too late all of the desks nearby have been etched closer, caging me in.

"You smell nice, what are you wearing?" A girl with French braids bends back and actually sniffs me.

"Um, I…don't we have to keep the same seats?" I ask quietly. Their combined laughter has me shrinking in my seat.

"Oh, she's so cute. This isn't elementary school," the Poodle gently smacks my arm. My chest feels tight. I focus on the back of Dax's head, willing him to turn around. Then I can plead with my eyes for him to save me from the five girls all twisted in their seats, openly ogling at me. In the shitshow that was yesterday, Dax was the only part I didn't entirely detest. I always have radiated towards those who seem steady, dependable.

"If we're ready, I'd like to begin," Mrs. Patrick says in our direction. The girls turn back and nod, while the one who keeps touching me brushes her knuckles over my face.

"I need your skin regime pronto," she whispers and I push her off, weirded out by her need to groom me like a chimpanzee. It's only when I'm writing down the topic of today's lecture that I realize this is a double lesson. It's going to be a long morning.

By lunchtime, I'm desperate to crawl back to my room and hide. Instead, my stomach is forcing me to seek out food. The cafes are packed once again, but the canteen is a no go. Even through the doorway, every college movie cliché comes to life before my very eyes. Taking the long route past Garrett's ideal closet for something he referred to as ‘Downward Dog for Dick', I manage to find a kiosk shrouded in the smell of coffee. I wait patiently, despite those who push into the line, to buy a meal-deal and large latte before hunting for some solace. It comes in the form of a quiet courtyard which was missed off my tour.

The gardens have been well kept, colored flowers trailing a pattern of stone pathways. At the end of each, wooden structures and benches are encased in waterfalls of wisteria. Lilac, purples and pale blues. The air is fresher here somehow, calmer and quieter. I can't believe my luck that one of the benches is free and I rush to claim it for myself. Setting my backpack by my feet, I lay out my coffee, sandwich, cookie and bottle of water on the wooden slats.

"You like order, don't you?" a smooth voice sounds. I look up to see Dax hesitantly nearing. Relief floods me. A friendly face, that calm presence. I quickly shove my lunch into my side, gesturing for him to join me.

"It's not like OCD or anything," I blurt out and then reign myself back in. "I'm used to having a bit more personal space. That's all."

"Ahh," he smiles and lowers onto the bench. "Are you staying in the dorms? The communal showers must be fun."

"No one seems to use them at four a.m." I smile around my coffee. Sipping, I almost moan at the warm liquid running down my throat, at the quietness in this part of campus. "Peace at last," I sigh. Dax watches me intently. His blue eyes are so bright, akin to my own. Looking away, I scramble for something to say, but he beats me to it.

"What's your major?"

"Dance - ballet specifically. I'm taking English Lit for extra credit."

"Wow. You don't like having a social life either?" Dax muses. I half smile, half shrug, eating my sandwich. Nixon's choices had been a surprise to me too. He knows I live to dance, but I have to settle for the two lessons a week I can get. The fact I wasn't placed in something akin to business and finance puts me at ease. Nothing to indicate I'll be a part of the family business, sat in an office next to Wyatt for the rest of my life. No, thank you. After I've graduated, I'll return to the manor and remain there. Set up a home business, work via my computer. This whole ordeal will be chalked up to experience.

"What about you?" I shift the conversation back to Dax.

"Same about English Lit. I'm majoring in biomedical engineering."

"Wow, that's-" the bell goes in the distance. Damn, already? Dax stands in one smooth motion, collecting up my now-empty coffee cup and sandwich packaging. He shoots me a wink and a mix between a wave and a salute. I sit there a few more moments, enjoying this feeling of…I'm not even sure what. But it's not panic and it's not misery, so I'll take it.

"There you are!" Good feeling's gone. The loud exclamation cuts through the serenity that the courtyard tries so hard to maintain. A mess of floppy brown hair bounds over, strong arms scooping me right off the bench. I struggle against Garrett, arguing and pointing towards my backpack. Axel appears to collect it and follows us into a side alley. "Time to finish our tour," Garrett swats my ass. I fall deathly still.

"Touch my ass again and I'll-"

"Oh Peach, please don't finish that sentence. We're near Handjob Hideout and Wyatt would kill me." My eyes fly over Garrett's shoulder to a wooden bench shrouded by a curtain of wisteria, and then to Axel, who merely shrugs.

"Disobedience is his biggest turn on." I immediately stop wriggling but release an exasperated sigh.

"At least let me walk. This is degrading." With a chuckle, Garrett lets me slide down his body. It takes everything to ignore the hard planes of his chest, his abs and the arms which set me upright without any strain. Both he and Axel wear t-shirts and gray sweatpants, not that I'm looking south of their waistbands.

Snatching my backpack, I wait for my head to stop spinning under the guise of letting the pair leave the alley first. They lead me on what I can only believe is a wild goose chase, and it takes forever. We cover miles of campus on foot, until an uncomfortable layer of perspiration coats my skin. I tug at my button down blouse, the pretty one with a small daisy print. At least I had the good sense to wear my sneakers. These fuckers are getting on my last nerve, despite giving me a reason to miss Classical Studies. I release a shaky exhale, which Axel presumes is for exhaustion. He stops so suddenly, I almost crash into him as he kneels.

"Come on Princess, your carriage awaits," he pats his back. I scowl at the name and stomp past him, the truth locked behind my sealed lips. They think I'm pampered, not knowing I was starved and beaten for most of my childhood. They think a walk across campus would tire me, unknowing my ballet classes last for entire days sometimes. Dancing helps me to forget.

‘ The best bit' , as Garrett previously described it, is a domed building at the end of a long driveway. The parking lot is surprisingly busy for the time of morning, a constant to and fro of men mainly. Gym bags slung over shoulders, tight vests stretched over firm chests. Beyond the building, a dense forest spans the landscape, hinting at the edge of campus. Garrett flies past in a fit of excitement, skipping down the sidewalk, his floppy dark curls flying around wildly.

"Ta da!" Garrett throws his arms up at a flag hanging high on a silver pole. I take my eyes off the white dome and tilt my head. When the wind blows just right, the flag unfolds to reveal an image of the man bouncing on his heels underneath. Smiling broadly, frozen in time with his biceps flexed around a basketball jersey. Garrett's name is printed in bold.

Following suit, a series of flags sway further down the sidewalk, each with a different team player featured. Axel is actually smiling in his, the gentle wind giving the illusion of dimples. Beyond him, a tanned man I can't quite make out from this angle, then another with shoulder-length and wavy hair like a surfer. There's no mistaking who's at the very end - Wyatt. He is not smiling, one eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed over his chest. Typical.

BEEP. BEEP. A blaring horn makes me flinch. An SUV swerves half onto the sidewalk right in front of us. In contrast with the white, glossy paint job, the windows are an opaque shade of black. The window lowers revealing the intense blue eyes I was so recently having lunch with. Dax looks over me with confusion.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asks of me, but I don't get the chance to answer. Axel brushes past, opening the rear door and mumbling it wasn't his idea. Garrett is still bouncing around like an excitable puppy.

"I'm doing as I was told," he grins. "Meet Avery, the kid sister." Dax's frown turns to a look of horror. He swallows, choosing to stare at a spot over my shoulder. I suppose that means we aren't friends any more.

"Wyatt said, in no way, shape or form, are we to interact with her." My cheeks heat now that the conversation seems to be happening over my head.

"Exactly!" Garrett throws his arm over my shoulder. I shove him off. "And Wyatt knows I always do the opposite as I'm told, so by telling me to stay away - he was actually inferring I should get as close as humanly possible."

This time when his arm lands heavily on my shoulder, his large hand gives my left tit a squeeze. I hold my stance, relying on years of self-defense classes to keep me calm. Another voice starts arguing from the driver's seat while my hand gently sinks into my bag. My fingers lock around my pepper spray, bringing it to my side. Every movement is tracked by Dax, his icy blue stare sizing me up but he says nothing.

I exhale slowly. When my chest has fully deflated, taking Garrett's hand with it, I turn into his body. The spray is unleashed on his eyes as my knee is unleashed on his groin, slamming home hard enough to burst his balls if I'm able to catch them just right. He screams beside my ear, then drops like a sack of shit on the ground. My heart thunders as Dax catches my eye, a word soundlessly leaving his mouth.

Run.