Never. Trust me, I’d dated a guy just like him, and it didn’t end well.
I passed a few groups of guys as I walked, and I could feel their eyes on me. They were curious, questioning. I’d be the shiny new thing on campus for a while. My mom always made comments about how I should have guys lining the street to date me—I knew it was something my mom said because she was a parent, but here? Here I might actually get a line.
A line of guys. Go figure.
My phone buzzed, and I spotted it was Kelsey before answering it. “Hey,” I said, grinning.
“Don’t hey me,” Kelsey spoke. I could imagine her pacing her tiny dorm room, biting on her fingernails. “You never texted back. The last thing I knew there was a hot tattooed guy hitting on you—”
I chuckled, turning my eyes up to the darkening sky. “He wasn’t hitting on me. He was…actually, I don’t know what he was doing.”
Travis was…drop dead sexy. All those tattoos. I knew he had to have more everywhere else on his body. A guy didn’t just have two sleeves of tats without having some on his back and chest. Maybe even some below the waist…
“Eyeing up the new girl on campus, that’s what,” Kelsey said. “How’s your roommate? I never got any shirtless pics, by the way. Still waiting on those.”
“Oh, so it’s pictures now, is it? I thought you just wanted the one.”
“Don’t be silly. I’d prefer multiple, but if I have to settle, I’ll settle for one. An ab shot, please.”
“You assume my roommate is fit. He could have pudge. You don’t know,” I said. No one looked good leaning over, but Declan hadn’t looked bad. He looked thin and fit. He might very well have abs underneath his dark clothes.
It took Kelsey a minute to ask, “Did he have pudge?”
“No.”
“Of course he didn’t! You’re at a school full of guys, Ash. I bet he’s cute, too. Murphy’s Law would dictate that your roommate be hot, fit, and adorable. The kind of guy that’s off-limits because you’re living together and he’s the dean’s son.”
Yeah, the whole dean’s son thing was the only reason my mom felt comfortable enough to leave me here, I think. It gave Declan some accountability, and whatever reassurance my mom needed to believe I’d be fine here.
When I said nothing, Kelsey asked, “He is cute, isn’t he?”
I felt my face heating up. “Yes,” I muttered, not wanting to think about how cute he was. This was college. This was a university. It wasn’t a time to go boy crazy over every guy that walked by. Kelsey was boy crazy enough for the two of us. I had to work hard here, keep my grades up. Getting distracted by dicks and abs? Might sound like fun, but my mom would never let me hear the end of it.
“Pictures,” Kelsey deadpanned, and I laughed as I hung up the phone. If I didn’t hang up, I didn’t doubt that she’d go on and on about how she needed pictures. Ridiculous, because I knew she’d already scoped out a few guys in her dorm building, and I didn’t demand pictures of them.
I mean, what was I supposed to do? Ask him to close his eyes and snap one real quick? I was smooth, but not that smooth, and apparently not so smooth around him.
I made it back to the dorm building in ten minutes. It took a lot longer to walk across campus than it did to glide. Ninety-nine percent of the parents were gone, the street near the dorm empty, no longer jam-packed with cars and suitcases. I took the stairs up to my floor and went for the key in my pocket. I pulled out the lanyard, but my feet stumbled to a halt when I came across the door to my room. Or, rather, what was attached to the door.
It was small, kept up with tape, but it was impossible to miss. Just a piece of paper with red scribbled onto it. One word was all it said, and I felt my stomach clench as I stepped closer, tearing it off the door.
Murderer.
I glanced both ways down the hall, not seeing anyone else out. Someone must’ve put this up after I left. I had no idea what the paper meant, but I crumbled it up and slid it in my back pocket before walking inside. Declan sat at his desk, headphones on, watching some video on YouTube. He wouldn’t have heard them put it up.
Well, I knew the note wasn’t for me, so it had to be for Declan. Declan seemed depressed, but he didn’t seem like a murderer.
Then again, I didn’t know him that well. He was the dean’s son, so maybe he’d got off on something. Could I Google it? I didn’t want to bring up something that might trigger him. Declan didn’t look like he could handle a lot right now.
It was settled. I’d Google it.
Declan didn’t even look at me when I entered, which was good, I supposed, because I’m sure my face was freaked out. Dean Briggs wouldn’t have made me room with a killer, even if it was his son, right? I mean, in what reality did that make sense?
I plopped on my bed and reached for my phone, going into the search bar. After making sure my location was on to only get local search results, I typed in Hillcrest and murder. Nothing popped up. The area was actually pretty safe, probably because of the rich boys and their families.
That, or they just had the money to cover their crimes up. The possibility made my stomach boil. No one should get away with crime, regardless of how much money they had.
I deleted the word murder and replaced it with dead, doing the search all over again. This time different results popped up, and I clicked on the headline that read Wealthy Tycoon’s Youngest Child Found Dead. My eyes scanned the article quickly.
The wealthy tycoon was James Salvatore. He was an avid donator to Hillcrest, and had apparently made his money off of privatizing some kind of pharmaceutical company. Basically making drugs cost so much that people in America had to make a GoFundMe page to cover the cost of their needed medications. About halfway into the article, I finally found out who was found dead.
Sabrina Salvatore. A seventeen-year-old girl, the youngest of the Salvatore children, was found dead, hanging off the banister in the living room by her parents, who were out of town for the weekend.
Hanging meant suicide, not cold-blooded murder.
I tore my eyes off my phone, moving them to Declan, who’d turned to look at me. He’d taken off his headphones and set them on the desk. The way he stared at me, silently judging me, it was almost like he knew what I’d just looked up.
“Was anything on the door when you came back?” he asked, barely moving his lips as he spoke. Was he baiting me, already knowing someone had put something up, or was he genuinely curious? I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“No,” I lied. I didn’t view myself as a fantastic liar, mostly because I never lied. What was the point? Lying only created more misery and heartache. Lying was a coward’s way out, and I was not a coward.
But meeting his brown stare, in that moment, I was a huge coward.
Declan said nothing else, returning to his laptop.
As I did my nightly routine, I couldn’t help but wonder who Sabrina Salvatore was to Declan. Not related to him in any way, since his last name was Briggs and he was the dean’s son. Girlfriend? Lover? A friend? Was that why Declan’s face looked haunted and his expression empty?
And then I wondered why someone would tape a piece of notebook paper to the door with the word murderer scribbled on it with red marker. The only reason someone would do something like that was because they thought he was one.
As the clock turned late and I crawled into bed, I couldn’t help but Google it again, this time reading a few different articles, and finding out a few new things. One—no one in Sabrina’s life, including her brother, believed she’d killed herself. Two—Sabrina had left a suicide note, but her handwriting was off. And, maybe the biggest one, three—there were no nearby chairs to her hanging legs, and she was too far from the staircase to have leaped from the top floor.
How could someone hang herself without jumping off a chair or a table?
The suicide note blamed her ex-boyfriend, though none of the articles named names for the privacy of all parties involved. Through the darkness
of the room, I turned my head to see Declan in his own bed, seemingly fast asleep.
This…this was so not what I needed. Classes were going to be hard enough without me wondering if I was rooming with a killer.
Chapter Five – Ash
I didn’t get much sleep that night, mostly because I couldn’t stop thinking about what I read. Sabrina Salvatore. I’d kept myself from looking at pictures of her, mostly because I didn’t want to put a face to the name. Doing so would only make her more real.
I could never imagine how much sorrow a person would have to feel in order to think that taking their own life was the only way out.
Sabrina’s death was ruled a suicide, but everyone had their own suspicions, myself included. My mind was a wonderland of imagination, and it wouldn’t stop until I knew the truth.
The next morning I woke up early and got ready, heading to class all without waking Declan. As I sat in my classes and listened to my professors drone on and on, going through syllabuses and generally being boring, I knew I had to talk to him about it. I couldn’t let something so huge stay in the back of my mind.
I had to know the truth, or at least Declan’s version of the truth, and if he wouldn’t talk to me, I’d go to Dean Briggs.
I wasn’t going to play around here. I was going to figure it out.
I had a two-hour break between blocks of classes, and I skated to my dorm room, hoping to find Declan there. He wasn’t, of course, so I helped myself to whatever was in the fridge and turned on my TV for the mindless sound. I supposed I could’ve texted Kelsey, but if I told her about the whole Sabrina Salvatore thing, she’d flip.
So would my mom.
Flipping out was a natural response to what I discovered last night, but I didn’t need to hear them each flip out in turn. I’d handle this. I was an adult, pretty much. This was my problem to handle…and if it came to be too much, then I’d ask for help.
The microwave beeped, signaling that my hot pocket was done, and as I got off my bed to grab it, a knock echoed from the door. Strong and firm. It was a knock that said I mean business. Business was about to be had.
I peered through the peephole, not recognizing the boy standing outside. He had one hand in his pocket, the other holding something I couldn’t quite see. Undoing the lock, I opened it, immediately hit with the smell of cologne.
Yes, because in Hillcrest, even the students sported cologne and the kind of clothes one wore when they were plotting to take over the world.
The man before me—because, even though he was a student, maybe a year or so older than me, he was definitely not a boy—wore dark jeans, a button-up grey shirt and a jacket that practically screamed country club. His blonde hair was styled up, its side cut short. His eyes were a color so pure and vivid they were like emeralds, instantly amused the moment he laid those orbs on me. He was tall, too.
So tall, like wow. Definitely over six feet, at least a foot taller than me.
He was smiling down at me, a cute, dimpled, lopsided smile. Like only half of his mouth worked. The expression would look stupid on anyone else, but on him? It was clear he’d mastered the I’m-a-rich-boy-and-you-love-it expression from a very young age.
And, even though I didn’t know him, I found myself pulled toward him. Maybe because he was so nice to look at.
My mouth opened, and I was about to ask him who he was, but no sounds came out, no words formed. Mostly because my gaze dropped and I stared at the object he held in his hands. A rope. No, not just a rope. A noose, knotted and roped together, a loop hanging toward the floor. My heart could not beat fast enough.
He must’ve realized that I was freaking out about the whole carrying-a-noose thing, for he said, “Ah, it’s…it’s not mine. I found it on the floor in front of your door.” He offered it to me, like it was mine. Like it was meant for me.
It wasn’t, but I took it all the same. A stupid decision, really, because by taking it, I must’ve signaled to this guy that he was okay to waltz into my room.
He walked into my room—well, mine and Declan’s—like he owned the place. He studied the entire room. My side, Declan’s side; none of it was safe beneath his calculating gaze. This guy, he was attractive, but he knew how attractive he was. His confidence was near cockiness, and I instantly disliked him for it.
Guys like him were nothing but trouble, and take that from a girl who dabbled in trouble herself.
“Uh,” I said, the door swinging shut behind me, locking me and this stranger in together. He might’ve been drop-dead gorgeous, but I didn’t trust him. “Who are you? And what are you doing here? You can’t just walk into someone’s room—” I stopped the moment he turned to look at me, still wearing that lazy half grin.
“Can’t I?” he asked, cocking his head slightly, as if he was really having trouble knowing whether or not I was serious.
I was. I was so, so serious. So serious it hurt.
His jade eyes examined me, dipping to my feet and slowly creeping their way up. He was checking me out, and not even being sly about it. Heat crept up my back, and I fought the tightening in my lower gut. My body was obviously drawn to his, but my brain knew enough to keep me rooted firmly in place.
“I only came here to meet the girl breaking boundaries at Hillcrest,” he said, taking a step closer to me.
I didn’t want to, but I would swing the noose in my grip at him. Slap him right in the face with the rope if I had to. He might’ve been so sexy it hurt, but he wasn’t about to intimidate me into submission in my own damn room.
Plus, I didn’t even know his name yet.
“Boundaries aren’t the only thing I’m ready to break,” I said, meeting his stare. Some girls—okay, most girls—would swoon under those emerald eyes. Me? No thanks. He smelled like trouble a mile away.
And honestly, just because he said he found the noose on the floor didn’t mean it was true. He could be the owner, the maker of the noose in my hand. I wasn’t stupid.
He flashed a set of pearly whites, perfectly straight teeth behind a cold laugh. He didn’t really find me funny, but that was more than alright, because I wasn’t here for his amusement. “You’re just what I need.” The expression he wore right then was nothing short of smug. “I’m Sawyer Salvatore.”
He wanted me to introduce myself, but I wasn’t about to. “I wish I could say it was nice to meet you, Sawyer, but since you’re trespassing in my room—” I also knew why he was here. He was Sabrina’s brother. If he blamed Declan, whether or not Declan deserved to be blamed, I didn’t doubt he’d come here with the noose himself.
But…he didn’t know that I knew about Sabrina. To him I was just the new girl in a sea of male freshmen, ignorant to all of this.
“You’re not going to tell me your name?” Sawyer asked, easing himself forward. “Or ask why there was a noose on the floor just outside your door?” He wanted me curious, and he was dying to know who I was. Someone like him, I bet he usually got what he wanted. I would never find myself in that number.
Sawyer practically screamed player. Tool. Douche canoe. Whatever word you wanted to use to describe him. They all fit.
“Why should I?” I asked, my fingers tightening around the rope. “You’re not being very friendly.” Hell, with the ego that surely sat behind his pretty face, I was surprised the room wasn’t full to the brim.
He lifted a hand, stunning me by bringing it to my face, lightly brushing his fingertips against my cheek. A light, calculated touch—a touch that sent my heart a tumble. Damn traitorous heart. “I can be friendlier, if you want.” When I only glared at him, cluing him into the fact that I was not going to swoon and throw myself at him—even if I did want to climb him like a tree—the fingers teasing my skin dropped back to his side. “I only came to make sure you were okay. When I heard Declan was rooming with the new girl, well…I got worried.”
“Oh, so I should call you my knight in shining armor?” I deadpanned. His line was bullshit. This whole room reeked of bullshit.
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His half smirk was wicked. “I’m no knight.” His eyes surveyed the room, and he waited a while to add, “I’d be careful, if I were you. Declan’s not who you think he is.”
One of my favorite games was being told what to think. “Yeah? And who’s that?”
“He’s the reason my sister is dead. The whole campus knows it. You should, too.” Sawyer finally looked back at me, something guarded clouding his gaze. “He killed her, and if you’re not careful, he’ll kill you, too.”
I wasn’t about to let this guy lead me on a wild goose chase. If Declan would’ve been here, I would’ve asked him about the whole Sabrina thing. But this? This was almost like a warning…though if it was a warning for me or one Sawyer hoped I’d pass on to Declan, I didn’t know.
I did know that I grew tired of this conversation.
I held the noose between us, dragging a hand along its roped length, my fingers curling around it as it slowly moved. “Trust me, Sawyer, I’m a girl that can handle herself.” This guy had no idea where I came from, what I’d seen, how I’d lived. This whole murder mystery thing might be new, but standing up to guys like him wasn’t.
“Okay,” he said. “If you ever need me, I’m sure you’ll be able to find me.” Sawyer, with his hands in his pockets, headed toward the door. He tossed a quick look back at me, giving me yet another half grin. “I’ll see you around.”
I watched as he left, leaving me alone in the dorm room. Once he was gone, I hurried and locked it up, feeling the need to take a shower for two different reasons. The first one was that I felt a tad slimy, like he’d been planning on using me or something. The second reason was because my lower stomach burned with a need I recognized; I needed a cold shower.
By the time I went for my hot pocket, it’d lost its warmth and I had to reheat it a bit.
Loser: A Dark College Bully Romance (Hillcrest University Book 1) Page 3
