5. Maddison

Maddison

T he alarm system starts to malfunction halfway through class. The most annoying noise ever floods the air. It reminds me of the noise a caffeine-juiced-up banshee would make, and I suspect the person who picked out the system was an older man who was hard of hearing since no one with sound eardrums would choose to endure this madness.

The professor instructs everyone to make their way out of the emergency exit, located by the row Noah and I are sitting in. So, we collect our things, and I head out first, making my way up the final step and pushing out the door.

Sunlight and a cool breeze spills across me as I start shuffling down the stairs, waddling like a penguin thanks to my aching muscles.

“Why are you walking like that?” Noah mumbles as the stairway rattles with my weight.

“River made me do hill climbs today,” I state as I trail my fingers down the railing.

“Right. He’s training you. I heard about that,” he mumbles grumpily.

When I cast a glance over my shoulder, he has a cranky look on his face, like he’s pissed off at everything, including the fact that he has to breathe.

“Do you ever smile?” I wonder as I jump off the final step and onto the asphalt.

Instead of answering, he rushes by me, his shoulder brushing against mine.

“Well, bye then!” I call out. “And you’re welcome for the numbers.”

He completely disregards me, quickening his pace and making a beeline for the trail that weaves through the trees. On the other side of those, frat and sorority houses line a narrow road. I wonder if he’s heading to one of those. Noah doesn’t seem like he’d belong in a frat, but who the hell knows?

Sighing heavily, I make my way toward the center of the asphalt, then turn around, watching as students and professors pour out of the buildings. The alarm is still screeching like a dumbass banshee that doesn’t realize she’s doing the wrong job. No one’s dying here, bitch, so shut up.

Speaking of bitches, a group of people standing about a handful of feet away are staring at me. Some are smirking, and others are glaring at me. One guy in particular, who has dark red hair, winks at me and blows a kiss. I’m unsure if this is because I’m a north-sider, but they’re lucky I don’t want to get kicked out of school. If someone did that to be back home, I’d throw down. But I need to be Proper Maddy or else get expelled.

“Why do you look like you’re about to bitch-smack a panda bear?” Finn moves up beside me, all blond hair and glittering bright blue eyes.

“That bitch is staring at me.” I flip the redhead my middle finger because it’s about all I can do.

Redhead’s smile fades, and he starts to step toward me when he notices Finn.

“Did you just call that guy a bitch?” Finn questions with an arch of his brow.

“Yeah, so?” I quip. “Guys can be bitches, too. I bet you are sometimes.” I toss him a smirk.

“You’re so feisty,” he retorts, mirroring my smirk. “Seriously, though, you want me to go talk to that guy? Get him to stop?”

“No. That’d be weird.” Giving the guy a dirty look, I turn my back on him and ignore the problem.

Finn matches my move. We’re facing the sun now, and he squints against the glaring light as he glances at me. “So, what has my bestie been up to these last couple of days?” he wonders while shielding his eyes from the sunlight with his hand. “I haven’t seen you since I brought you back to school the other day? Got into any more car chases?”

“Disappeared into any library walls?” I retort, eliciting a faint grin from him.

“Again with the feistiness.” He faces me, his gaze straying behind us then to me. “I think this might take a bit. You want to go sit out front and order some food?”

“I wouldn’t mind going and sitting down.” I reach down to massage my thigh. “My legs are killing me.”

His gaze drops to where I’m rubbing. “Why? What’s up?”

“Your brother is what’s up.” I grimace. “He kicked my ass today with hill climbs.”

“Ah, hill climbs. I remember those days.”

“You were on cross country?”

“Yep, freshman year. Totally hated it, hence the reason I was only on it for a year.”

“Then you switched to football?” I wonder as we wander across the rest of the asphalt and toward the grass.

He nods, sweeping his fingers through his blond locks. I swear to God, a few women passing by swoon at the move.

“I like football better,” he admits as he slows to stop underneath the shelter of a massive willow tree.

Branches canopy above and block out the sunlight, offering a bit of a wall against the cool breeze.

I drop my bag onto the grass then take a seat beside it. “How come you like it? I’m just curious.”

He sits down in front of me, stretches his legs out, then rests back on his hands. “I like that it’s a team effort. I like that it makes sense to me. I like that I’m good at it.”

I stretch one of my legs to the side, wincing from the pain. “I feel that way about running.”

He eyes me as I slant to the side. “What got you into running?”

“Well, I’ve been doing it for most of my life. You go to the store late at night? You gotta be able to run in case someone is trying to take or hurt you. You steal something to survive? Again, you gotta be able to run. Your father screws some dude over? Again, with the skill of running.” I bite down on my tongue at the horrified look on his face.

What the hell am I doing? Overshare much, Mads?

His wide-eyed gaze has me wishing I could time travel to thirty seconds ago and vagina-punch myself before I uttered the words aloud.

“That’s how it is on northside?”

“Maybe not for everyone, but the high majority, yes.” I move to stretch my other leg. “Some people are just poor and don’t get into corruption to survive. But a lot of them do.”

He chews on his bottom lip. “Did you? I mean, is that why you were in jail?”

“No, that happened because I was trying to defend myself from these guys who jumped me, and when the cops busted us, I got the blame.” As he continues to gape at me, I add, “It’s just how things work there. Cops arrest whoever they want without getting the facts. And I get it—things can get chaotic with how much crime there is. But I’m totally over getting in trouble over dumb shit I’m not even trying to be involved in.”

He intently studies me. “You must be a strong person. I assumed that about you when I first saw you. You have that take-no-shit-from-anyone attitude. But listening to you talk about your life”—he wavers—“I bet you know how to kick ass.”

“I do, for the most part.”

He smiles, and it’s as warm as the sunlight attempting to erase the coolness of the breeze. “I can show you a way to stretch that’ll help with the pain. Just give me one second.”

“Okay.” I continue to stretch out my legs while he takes out his phone, which I assume is to order his food.

As I wait, I get this strange vibe that I’m being watched. When I peer around, I don’t spot anyone specifically gawking at me. That doesn’t mean anyone wasn’t, though. It’s such a common thing these days, but that mostly happens when I’m with River. But maybe it’s transferring to Finn. He is River’s twin, after all.

“All right,” Finn announces, dropping his phone and rubbing his hands together. “Let me see one of your legs.”

“You told me you would show me a good stretch, so why do you need my leg?” I attempt to decipher if he’s being serious. “Just do a demonstration.”

“I will, but first, I’ll massage your muscles.”

I blink. “What? Why?”

He cocks a brow. “You’re asking me why I think massaging your muscles will help with your pain?”

“That’s a valid point. But it’s weird.”

“Only if you make it.”

He’s probably right.

“Oh, fine.” I scoot closer to him.

He stretches out his legs so I can move even closer then pats his thigh. “Put your leg right here.”

I still feel so odd as I position my leg where he instructed. We’re sitting face-to-face, with me positioned between his legs, one of my legs on top of his thigh, so we’re thigh-to-thigh. And I have the other stretched out beside his hip.

He massages my calf muscles for a second. “Does this part of your leg hurt worse or less than your thighs?”

“Worse, for sure.” I’m stiff as hell, mostly because I’m out of my comfort zone.

Finn quietly sighs. “Maddy, you have to relax, or this won’t help.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, resting back on my hands. “I’m not used to anyone touching me.”

His gaze lifts to mine. “For reals?”

I shrug. “It’s not like my northside high school had amenities like massages.” Which they do here. I just haven’t used them yet.

His fingers travel toward my knee. “Hasn’t anyone ever given you a massage?”

I shake my head as the wind blows strands of my hair into my face. “Nope. I’ve tried to give them to myself, but this feels way better.”

“So, you never had a boyfriend who offered to give you one?” He says it causally enough that I internally roll my eyes.

I can read the underlying meaning of his question all over his face. “No, and to alleviate your curiosity about my love life, I currently don’t have a boyfriend, nor have I ever.”

He blinks, giving me this dumb sort of look as his fingers freeze. “What?”

“What do you mean, what ?” I ask, amused by how surprised he is.

His fingers start moving again. “I mean, how in the hell have you never had a boyfriend?”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“Well … no, but?—”

“Then why is it so impossible for me to have never dated anyone?” I cut him off.

“Fair point.” His fingers travel to the back of my leg. “I hook up, though.”

“Maybe I do, too.” I will my face to remain straight but must not meet the mark.

“Do you?” he inquires, eyeing me.

I could lie, but what the heck do I care?

“You know what? I don’t,” I admit with no shame. “I’ve never had a boyfriend. Never hooked up. Never had sex.”

I bust up laughing as his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

Confusion weaves across his forehead. “Are you kidding me right now?”

I shake my head. “Nope, but again, why do you act so surprised?”

He blinks a few times. “Because you’re hot as hell. Like, seriously gorgeous. And then you add that with your personality, and I just don’t get how guys haven’t been lining up to be with you.”

“Even if all of those things you just said were true—which they’re not—who’s to say guys weren’t and I just reject them?”

“That makes the most sense.” He lifts his free hand and wags his finger at me. “I could kind of see that. Although, what is with the no-sex thing?”

I lean to the right to lift my hand and sweep strands of my hair out of my face. “Because I have a plan.”

“What sort of plan?”

“It started with getting into college. But now it’s to graduate.”

“And sex gets in the way of that?”

“It could, if I got pregnant. It happened to my mother.”

He bobs his head up and down. “I get it. You don’t want to end up like her.”

I exaggeratedly widen my eyes. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

He presses his lips together, considering something. “She sounded unpleasant when you talked to her on the phone while we were in jail.”

“She’s an unpleasant woman,” I agree. “She ended up not bailing me out of jail, either. Someone else did.”

He rubs his lips together. “Who?”

I lift a shoulder. “I don’t know. They wanted to remain anonymous.”

“That’s weird.” He stares off at a group of people playing frisbee in the quad yard.

“Is it?” I question suspiciously. “Because you’re acting very suspicious right now.”

“Hmm … am I?” He meets my gaze, and somehow, I just know …

“You’re lying to me right now.” I start to move my leg away.

“Wait.” He holds onto my leg, the pads of his fingertips pressing into my flesh. “Don’t freak out, okay? The lie … it’s not bad.”

“All lies are bad,” I stress. “It’s all I’ve ever known, and it’s never been a good thing.”

“I get that. Trust me; my father lies all the time. But this isn’t mine to tell. And it’s not bad. I promise.” His eyes plead for me to understand.

And that’s about when it clicks—what’s going on.

I’m fairly positive River paid my bail.

I have no clue how I feel about that. He meant well, I’m sure. It makes me feel in debt to him, though. And that, I’m not a fan of.

Exhaling, I attempt to relax as I recline back on my hands. Finn visibly relaxes, too, then begins to knead my thigh muscles again.

“How does this feel?” he asks.

“Really good. I feel like I’m being spoiled and there’s no coming back from that. I’ll probably end up calling you every time my legs hurt now.” I’m mostly joking.

His lips tug into a smile. “That wouldn’t bother me.”

“You think so?” I arch my brow. “Because imagine me calling you up right before you’re about to hook up with some hot girl just to tell you to come massage my legs.”

The haughty grin that spreads across his face has my stomach swooping with nerves. “I’d probably think you were secretly wanting a booty call.”

I roll my eyes. “Didn’t I just tell you I am a virgin?”

“Booty calls can be more than just sex, Maddy.” He looks at me again, and his emotions are written all over his face. “Unless you haven’t done anything else, either.”

“I’ve kissed a few guys,” I divulge. “But that’s it.”

He sinks his teeth deep into his full bottom lip. “Goddammit, girl, you’re about to send me over the edge.”

I snort a laugh. “This is turning you on? For reals?”

“Yes, for reals. It’s making me want to show you all the things you’ve been missing. Things I’m really, really good at.” He winks.

I pick up a small twig and throw it at him. It pegs him in the forehead, and he chuckles, unfazed.

I roll my eyes, but my skin is warm, and not from the sunlight. “Are you always like this?”

“Nah, I have a serious side, too,” he tells me dismissively. “I just don’t show it a lot.”

“I’d like to see it.” I wiggle my other leg as the muscles gripe in pain.

He glances at that leg then slides his fingers out from my pant leg. “Let’s switch.”

I do as he says, and he begins massaging that leg.

This is one of the nicest things a guy has ever done for me. Well, besides when he helped me escape Drew. River has helped me so much, too. How can these two royal twins be so nice? I didn’t expect things to be this way when I came here.

Still, so many secrets dance through the air, starting with … “Are you ever going to tell me how you vanished into thin air in the library?”

I diligently observe his reaction as tension ravels through his muscles and his fingers stop moving.

“I’d rather not.”

I frown. “Why not? You say you want to be my friend, you massage my legs, and yet you won’t tell me this or why you were even hanging out with that Eli guy, who your sister hates, by the way.”

“I know Lily hates him, and one day, that asshole will pay for what he’s done.” He bites out each word. “But I have to play this carefully. It’s how the royal game is played.” He looks at me then. “You need to take note of that, too. The more careful you are about seeking answers, the safer you’ll be.”

I’m unsure if he’s implying he’ll tell me later or he wants me to totally back off. I won’t, though. It’s not the way I work. I hate secrets. I hate lies. And I don’t want to hate him. He’s too cute and sweet for that.

Before deciding if I should simply peace out, a twenty-something-year-old, red-headed guy walks up to us. He’s wearing a pizza company shirt and is carrying a pizza box.

“Are you Finn Averson?” he asks as he stops beside us. His attention roams to where Finn’s hand stuck up my pant leg, and I can only imagine what he’s thinking.

“Yep, the one and only,” he tells him with a cheeky grin.

I can’t help smiling. Finn has that way about him where, even when he’s annoying the hell out of me, I can still smile at his stupid silliness.

“Here you go.” He hands Finn the box. “Thanks for the tip, too. That was awesome.”

“Sure, no problem. It’s a long drive up here.” Finn sets the box down beside his hip then opens the lid as the delivery guy strolls away with his arms crossed. He’s rigid as he passes by the group of people playing frisbee and one of the bulkier dudes makes some asinine comment to him about his outfit.

“How come you’re nice?” I return my focus to Finn as he grabs a slice of chicken and spinach pizza from the box.

His forehead creases. “Am I? Because people usually tell me I’m charming, not nice.” He dazzles me with a grin.

I sigh. Always joking.

“You are. So is River. And your sister.” I press a glance at the douchebag frisbee dude. “And then there’s guys like him who are total rich asshats.”

“Asshats, huh?” He’s beyond amused. “That’s an interesting choice of word.”

“That’s what he is. And you’re not. I’m just wondering why. What’s the deciding factor between a rich guy turning into a jerk and then turning into you and River?”

He contemplates this with his head tilted to the side, his gaze dissecting me. “We can be assholes, but we’ve never thought we were above anyone just because we were born into money. To be honest, I hate some of the people who go here, and I find people like you immensely more interesting.”

Is that a compliment or not? I can’t tell.

“Because I’m poor?”

“No, because you’re honest, and real, and tough in ways I can’t even begin to comprehend.”

“I doubt your life is super easy all the time, considering your broken friendship with Noah.”

“It hasn’t always been easy, but I still feel like your life has been harder, and you turned out way better than me.” His pretty boy gaze is unnervingly attentive—too much, honestly. “You fascinate me, Maddison Averly.”

That might be one of the sweetest things a guy has ever said to me. Not that I’m hot, tough, and have a nice ass. It’s making me feel twitchy, to the point where I squirm.

If he notices, he doesn’t remark. Instead, he moves to hand me a slice of pizza.

“Now, eat up because I’m not about to eat this entire thing by myself,” he tells me, dangling the pizza in front of my face.

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“Liar. River told me how you always refuse anything offered to you.” He urges me to take the slice. “Come on. Just take it. I have an entire pizza over here, and with how badly your leg muscles hurt, I’m betting you burned a lot of calories this morning.”

He’s right. And the pizza does look so yummy. If it weren’t for the alarm still blaring in the distance, I’d decline and go to the cafeteria. But I’m famished, so I take it.

“Thank you.” I take a bite. “But FYI, there’s no way in hell I believe you couldn’t eat an entire pizza by yourself.”

He gives me this cocky smile as he collects a slice for himself. “My record is three pizzas in one night.”

My jaw drops. “What the hell is your stomach made of, bro?”

He busts up laughing, his eyes crinkling around the corners. “It was for a dare. And I won a hundred bucks.”

“And three pizzas,” I add, causing him to laugh harder.

“I love how you just say things how they are.” He sinks his teeth into the slice of pizza and tears a chunk off. “And how you’re always calling me bro and dude . It’s not normal around here for women to talk like that.”

“Why? Because their ladies?” My eye roll is evident through my tone.

“I mean, yeah, that’s how they’re raised to be.” He pauses. “Not that all of them are like that. They just act that way in public. I mean, River and I have a lot of responsibilities—River in particular—but I feel bad for Lily, who spent most of her childhood attending ballroom and manners.”

“Ew, that’s a real thing?” I take another bite of my pizza, eating like a savage and owning the heck out of it.

He wolfs down half a slice of pizza. “Yep. There’sa ton of weird classes she had to go to, and she hated every one of them. And they changed her, even if she didn’t want them to.”

“That’s sad.” I’ve never even thought about how royal women might have it just as bad as north-siders, but in a different way. It makes me think of this whole betrothed thing.

“I’m guessing this Isla girl had to go through the same thing, but maybe even more because she’s betrothed?” I’m being nosey about River, and I don’t like it—how I’m this interested in him, enough that I’m prying.

And Finn reads right through my shit.

“Ah, the betrothed,” he muses then sighs. He grabs a napkin from the stack that’s on top of the pizza box and wipes his fingers clean. “We used to kind of be friends with Isla when we were kids, but once we got old enough to realize what being betrothed entails, our friendship dissolved. Isla has been through a lot of shit. Her mother is a freaking lunatic. I once saw her smack a waiter because he brought her the wrong drink.”

I break off a piece of the pizza crust. “What did the waiter do?”

“Nothing. He got fired.” He rotates his upper body and reaches for another slice of pizza.

“That’s so messed up,” I say, frowning.

“That’s the royal world, Mads. The rich get what they want, even if they don’t deserve it, and they treat anyone beneath them like they’re worth absolutely nothing.”

“I thought you said not all of them are bad?”

“They’re not. But there’s enough vipers crawling around here that the risk of getting poisoned is high.” He gives me a pressing look. “The best way to reduce the risk is to stay as far away from the danger as possible.”

His warning is loud and clear, even if he doesn’t say the words aloud—stop asking questions about the library before I get bit.

Little does he know I’ve been poisoned my entire life, to the point where I’m pretty certain I’m immune to it.