“Traven Lockridge. Harloe Rose.” I startle, and stare up at Mr. Erikson, awaiting my judgment. His penetrating stare flicks between both of us. “While there must be a valid reason as to why neither of you is in your correct seats, please return to your assigned location this moment. I have a class to teach, and you both are impeding on that.”
Hunter tries to cover up his laughter with a cough. It draws my attention, and I see he’s staring over his shoulder at me, eyes alight with mischief, before turning back around and facing the front of the class.
My eyes beam into the back of his head, narrowing so hard I hope he can feel my wrath from here. I’d like nothing more than to smack the shit out of him. He deserves it and so much more.
But then, just when I thought being called out by the teacher was more than enough, Hunter has to go the extra mile and solidify his placement of being a prick. “Yeah. You’re impeding on our learning. Both of you should be ashamed.”
Everyone in the classroom starts chirping with laughter. They react to his joke like we’re in fifth grade, and he’s just defied the teacher to prove he’s popular. Trust me, we’ve all done it a time or two. It’s called asserting dominance, even when we don’t have a leg to stand on.
I expect Mr. Erikson to chastise him for disrupting the class. At least, that’s what a bona fide teacher who actually fretted over their classroom time would, anyway.
You’d think so, at least.
However, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Not even close. Fucking asshole. It appears he’s just as enamored with the Prince name as the rest of the town.
When does it end?
“Why, thank you, Mr. Prince.” Mr. Erikson’s eyes are shining, and his cheeks are blushing a marvelous pink shade. “Glad to see someone taking their schooling seriously.”
Trying my best not to react to their obvious picking, I gather my things and quickly change seats with Traven. We’re both like scolded pets, and it’s not even his fault he was called out. Instead, it was mine. Lord, now I owe him an apology for putting him in the middle of Hunter’s and my mess.
Sitting down with a huff, I try to ignore the big behemoth in the desk beside me. “Try” being the operative word.
That lasts all of about fifteen minutes, and then a note with scribbled words land on my desk. You’ve got to be kidding me. Cinching my eyes closed, I try to take a cleansing breath before grasping the note—that Mr. Erikson would have been blind not to see flying through the air—and unfold it.
Whose baby?
My spine turns rigid as I see the words written on the crumbled-up piece of paper. Immediately, I start sifting through my memories to see if I’ve allowed anything to slip. Nothing stands out to the best of my knowledge. But, then again, Princes have been known to find out everything at the drop of a hat if they so desire.
So, even though I don’t want to, I need to find out what he’s talking about. In order to do that, I’ll have to play dumb, which is something I truly detest. Being the woman I am today, having gone through all the things I have, I’m far from dumb, incompetent, or illiterate. Not even tooting my own horn, but it takes someone with tremendous strength to accomplish what I have.
Putting pencil to paper, I try my best to swallow the nausea forming.
Baby?
Tossing it back toward him, I mentally bite my fingernails until he jots something down and throws it back at me. It smacks me right in the cheek, which makes Hunter chuckle under his breath. If I didn’t need this information like I do my next breath, I’d middle finger him and dismiss his presence altogether. But I do, and I’m like a junkie diving for the note.
I’m not asking again. Whose Baby, and what are they doing on your phone?
First off, I’m glad that’s what he’s referring to. Every nerve in my body releases at the same time, causing me to slide down into my seat with relief. My stomach still churns from how close of a call that was, but it’s nothing compared to what it would have been if he’d found out the truth.
Hunter can’t know about the real “baby” I was speaking to on the phone when he accosted me outside my apartment building. Fear, like none other, fuses to my bones at the mere thought of Hunter finding out the truth. About what that would do to Maverick’s and my life.
On the other hand, I want to know why Hunter thinks it’s okay to ask such personal questions. He and I haven’t been close since sophomore year in high school, let alone on speaking terms since that night. He lost all rights to know what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with.
Just thinking about him having the audacity makes my blood boil. Quickly scribbling on the paper, I ball it into an incomprehensible ball and throw it right at his head in a fit of rage. He shows off by catching it, like the baseball star he is, all the while shooting his trademark smirk in my direction.
I know showing someone like Hunter that he’s getting to me is only fueling the fire, but I can’t help it. He’s so good at pushing my buttons.
The sad part is?
I like pushing his right back.
He’s your replacement.
As predicted, the smile falls right off his face as he gets a gander of what’s written in the note. I can practically see the moment he shuts down, closing himself off as he festers in his unwanted thoughts.
Well, serves him right for even trying to butt into my life. He lost that right three years ago, and he damn sure ain’t getting it back any time soon, if ever.
Now, I have to do what Jenna told me on my first day of classes. I need to get out of Mr. Erikson’s class and switch to one of the other business ethics professors because there’s absolutely no way I will be able to last a semester sitting beside Hunter.
CHAPTER 11
At the end of class, everyone gets out of their seat without any prompting and start to beeline for the exit. Mr. Erikson raises his voice to shout out what our assignments are, but just like the rest of the people here, he doesn’t sound very convincing on the subject, like he’s only giving us homework because he wants to.
I’d say the backhanded class clown comments Hunter kept barking out under his breath through the entirety of class were getting to him. Fuck, I’m not even the teacher, and they were getting to me.
Hunter can be a dick when he’s pissed off, and with my note, I pissed him off good. Serves him right, though. He doesn’t need to know anything about what’s happening in my life. The only thing that will ever be his right to know is when it pertains to my father. When Hunter takes over a third of his father’s company and my father works under him, then he can ask questions that pertain to my dad and him alone.
As I make my way out of the room, several of the students peer in my direction as they talk quietly amongst themselves. I can tell they’re not talking about me, but it’s still a little disconcerting that they’re murmuring while looking at me. It makes me a little self-conscious.
Giving them a tight smile, I break eye contact and toss my bag over my shoulder. When I clear the door, I hear my name being called from behind. Peering back over my shoulder, I see the guy from earlier—the one whose seat I tried to hijack. He’s all smiles, showing off freakishly straight white teeth and a cute set of dimples.
Stepping to the side, I wait to see what he wants. When he gets close, a delicious, crisp wave of cologne proceeds him.
“Hi, the name’s—”
“Traven,” I giggle, instantly hating the way I sound like some pathetic high schooler. “I know.”
He smiles wider. “You’re Harloe.”
I nod, grasping my bookbag straps like some ninety’s teenager flick. Ugh, gross. Letting go, I start walking down the hallway toward the exit. My next class isn’t until this afternoon, around two, and I need to go to the library to get one of the books my English professor told us to pick up before the next class.
He falls in step beside me. “So, not that it’s any of my business, but I take it you don’t like Hunter.”
I wince under his perusal o
f me. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Kinda hard to mistake it when you’re killing him off with that mean glare of yours.”
He chuckles, like it’s all fun and game, even while all I want is the ground to swallow me whole. The first guy to notice me—who I notice in return—and who’s had enough balls to speak to me, and he already thinks I’m a bitch.
“I’m not usually a bitch,” I release on a sigh and then shove open the doors to Meece Building. “He just …”
“Brings out the worst in you?” He finishes for me, and I find myself nodding in agreement while looking up at him with a smile. “Well, I was wondering … Since I’m the complete opposite of that tool, maybe I’d bring out the best in you.”
Oh, my goodness. So corny, yet so adorable. I inwardly swoon.
Traven Lockridge is not bad on the eyes. With his short sandy blond hair all ruffled and laying sexily, a medium build with corded muscle—most likely from hitting the gym—and this easygoing feeling that surrounds him, it’s hard not to stop and take notice of him.
But stop, I can’t. I mustn’t. Because I can’t allow this poor boy to get tossed into the middle of Hunter’s mysterious vendetta against me, and that’s what would happen, knowing my luck.
“Traven, I’m going to stop you right there.”
“Stop me from what?” His brows furrow in confusion.
God, I really hate doing shit like this.
“You shouldn’t get involved with someone like me, okay?” Not because I’m a piece of shit, but because … well, the obvious.
I shift from side to side, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Not being able to meet his stare, I glance off to the right as I think of the right thing to say. I mean, how do you let down a guy this hot? You’d have to be ignorant, and apparently, that’s what I am because it’s what I’m about to do.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you out for coffee since the first class when you came in with your tall black from Mom and Pop’s.”
Anyone in my predicament needs to snap up something like this any chance they can get. Single moms aren’t necessarily wanted by freshman boys. Geez, older, more sophisticated, single women with children aren’t wanted either.
All the guys see when they look at us, saddled down with our children, is a ball and chain. They’d have to want to settle down first before they date a woman with a child, no matter how pretty she is.
“Traven—” I release a sigh.
He jumps in before I can finish. “Just one coffee. If you absolutely hate me before the end of it, then I’ll never bring it up again.”
Like a nail being drawn to a magnet, my eyes drift toward the doors leading into Meece Building. As if by design, my eyes meet Hunter’s as he comes to a stop just outside the door. His gaze flicks between Traven and me, eyes narrowing as he, no doubt, tries to put two and two together.
Hunter must get the wrong idea because seconds later, his face transforms right in front of me. From brooding asshole to jubilant trickster. It’s terrifying how he can switch between his emotions like this. As if he doesn’t have emotions, to begin with, and he’s merely mimicking them.
“So,” his deep voice resonates within my body, making this funny feeling swirl in the pit of my stomach—like butterflies. But maybe, with him, it’s more vicious like wasps or a snake with their venom. “This must be baby?”
Kill. Me. Now.
“Hunter, go away.” It’s hard not to roll my eyes at his childish behavior. And it is childish. He’s basically raising his leg and marking his territory.
Territory that he no longer has a right to piss all over. Sadistic asshole.
Instead of doing what I say like that’s really a surprise, he leisurely comes down the stone steps, each footfall as loud as the thundering beat of my heart inside my ears. Thump, thump, thump … If killing someone was legal, I’d have done it already.
He holds out his hand, and Traven looks down at the proffered hand with a quirked brow before he hesitantly takes it. Shaking once, Hunter looks between Traven and me, a silly smile on his face.
Then, his eyes settle on mine. “If sex is all you’re looking for, Lockridge, I’d go somewhere else. Too many fingers have been in this honey pot if you know what I’m saying, and she’s not even that good.” He taps his finger against his chin in thought. “She’d put you in the mind of a dying cow, but that’d be disgracing the cow.”
Shock completely blindsides me, and following quickly afterward, embarrassment tints my cheeks and neck red. Without vile words, he’s called me a whore. It’s not the first time he’s hinted at it, but it is the first time he’s said it with another person present.
I hate the fact it gets to me, too. He knows as well as I do that the only person I’ve ever been with is him—no one before and no one after.
Emotion builds behind my eyes. A tight ball rises into my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it’s too thick to dislodge it. His words hurt. Far more than any he’s ever said before.
The moment Hunter’s eyes finally land on mine after he dropped that bomb of fabricated lies, I can’t even watch as the sadistic mask slips and real emotions shine through for barely a second, like he’s remorseful.
“Oh, yeah.” I clear my throat, but nothing can take away the tightness of impending tears, so screw it. “Just like I told you before he interrupted us—you can’t get involved with someone like me.”
Clearly, the game has changed on Hunter, and he’s not liking it. Don’t give a shit if he likes it or not. It’s my name he’s running through the mud. This is the school I’m forced to stay at—no matter what happens—because I have responsibilities I need to take care of while I go to school.
Hunter has no idea how hard he’s making it for me. And you know what … I don’t think he’d care if he did. The day he betrayed me is the day any bit of good left him.
He tries to butt in, to get the upper hand once more. But I talk over him, not allowing myself to care about the manic anger softening into pity around his eyes.
I want none of his false sense of pity. There’s no room left in me to even care.
Never once taking my gaze off him, I talk to Traven while spitting the spiteful words in Hunter’s direction. Even though none of this will accomplish a thing, I need Hunter to know just how deeply his arrow pierced my flesh.
“As you can clearly see, I’m a whore, after all.” I lick my lips to moisten them, and the action seems to be what causes the first tear that built in my eyes to fall. “I’ll use you up, Traven. I’ll give you a false sense of hope—of having this fan-fucking-tastic future—then dash all of your hopes and dreams, and then leave you to pick up the pieces.”
Finally, my eyes rip themselves away from Hunter to stare up at Traven. His nostrils flare in anger, and I find he’s not even looking at me like I thought he’d be. Instead, he’s staring daggers at Hunter.
I release a heavy, exhausted sigh that finally seems to draw his attention to me. Shrugging, I whisper emotionally, “Areas of my life are poisonous. Nothing good will ever come out of getting close to me.”
Sparing them both one more glance, I turn around and head back to my apartment instead of the library. I can’t even think about being around anyone right now. The only person who would be able to make everything better is two hours away. He’s having the time of his life, and I’d rather cut my arm and bleed out than use him to make myself feel better.
By the time I get back to the apartment, I feel drained and useless. Facing Hunter tends to make that happen. Opening the door, I slam it shut behind me. I drop my bag next to the front door and step out of my shoes. Sauntering through the apartment toward my room, all I want to do is faceplant onto my bed and sleep for the next year, instead of until my next class. However, before I can get there, Jenna’s bedroom door opens.
Then, I hear his freaking voice.
“Hello again, marshmallow.”
My eyes close as the air hisses between my clenched te
eth. “Please, God, tell me I’m hearing things.”
Reluctantly, I open my eyes and see that I’m, in fact, not hearing things. That douche from orientation is standing in Jenna’s doorway, lazily running his eyes up and down my body.
Seconds later, Jenna comes up behind him. Her breathing is hard, giving me an inkling what the two of them were doing in her bedroom. Not that I needed any help putting two-and-two together, but damn.
I shoot an unimpressed look at both of them before walking into my room and slamming the door behind me. Falling face down onto my bed, I press my face farther into the mattress. Maybe the quilts will do the job and put me out of my misery.
A soft tap on my door comes a little later. Groaning under my breath, I twist around to my back at the same time Jenna opens my bedroom door, thankfully clothed this time.
“Bad day?” she asks timidly.
If you knew Jenna as well as I do, then you’d know there’s nothing timid about her.
Deciding to get right to the point, I pin her to the spot with an uninterested glare. “One of his friends, huh?”
She has the nerve to look guilty. I may not have been around for the past three years, but even over the last week, I know exactly who Easton Banks, Zeke Savage, and Leo Sutton are.
They are the other three that make up the Golden Crew of their generation. A little clique of athletic guys who attended Golden Oaks high.
Each quad of guys must graduate the same year, no matter how they swing it. They all have to play a different sport at Golden Oaks. Surprisingly, Hunter is baseball, Easton is basketball, Zeke is football, and Leo is soccer.
Four guys, two of whom I’ve never seen before, and one I never want to see again. They were in the graduating class of 2015—the best of friends, since, apparently, after my family left to go live with Gammy.
Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1) Page 11
