Maybe, karma does exist. Because of her, I sat through my father’s bullshit without Heath and then had Heath brush me off.
I think seeing this makes it worth it all, though.
In the span it took me to walk over here, the princess and her friends also got up and so did Collette. Maybe Collette was going to follow me?
But in any case, the glass that’s being held in the princess’s hand is now empty because the contents are on Coll’s new shirt and sweater. By the orange tinge to the shirt I’d say it was orange juice.
And I’d also say, Wilhelmera of Kardenia has fucked up and nothing can save her now.
Collette’s mouth hangs open in shock and she shrieks and clutches her fists at her side.
This, I’m going to fucking enjoy.
Chapter Three
Mera
“Since we’re all done eating, we might as well head to class early,” Scarlett says with a sigh. “First class on a Monday morning and it has to be history. Why?”
“It’s not so bad as long as the teacher isn’t a jackass,” Peyton mutters, rubbing a hand across his eyes.
“Let’s just get there and get seats next to each other.” I stand up quickly, swiveling around and stop in my tracks when I notice the guy getting up from the table a few feet behind us. His trademark scowl is parked on his face and he’s turning around to leave.
Did he see me? I guess he’s going to a class too. Well, at least I don’t have to talk to him today. I grab my bag in one hand, hoisting it on my shoulder, and my almost full styrofoam cup of orange juice in the other.
I wonder if he’s going to meet up with Heath.
Someone walks by in my peripheral vision and I stumble over to get out of the way, and lose my footing for a split second. Shit. My hand tips over as I correct myself, and I gasp when I notice it suddenly feels empty.
“Oh shit,” I hear Scarlett and Peyton say at the same time. My eyes leave Callan’s back and move to my left.
Well, I now know where my orange juice went.
Gasps echo throughout the whole hall and I just know they’re all looking over here now. This seems like a drama craving college.
A girl with dark brown hair in a bun, and bright blue eyes shrieks as she looks down at her shirt and cardigan.
“Oh my God, Collette!”
“Collette, are you okay?”
“We need to get you out of that like now, girl.”
Three girls come out of nowhere and surround her, so I step back a little and say, “I’m so sorry.”
I’ve never intentionally dumped anything on anyone. I can’t say this is the first time this has happened. Usually it’s no big deal, however this is Goldsworthy University and I probably just embarrassed a rich girl.
The girl I spilled the orange juice on shoves her way through her trio of friends and steps toward me. “What was that?”
“I..um…I said I’m sorry.” I look at her with a questioning expression. Her previously scrunched up face falls and I start to breathe a sigh of relief. That is, until I notice the same coldness in her eyes that Callan has.
“Collette Goldsworthy does not accept your apology.”
Ah. That would explain the eyes. And the bitchy attitude. Oh God, wait a minute. This is the girl that’s president of Zeta Delta Beta? I’m so fucking screwed. “It’s not like it was on purpose.”
“Sure it wasn’t. Listen, I’ll call it even just give me five for my dry cleaning.”
She eyes the bag at my side so I clutch it tight. “I don’t have cash on me, but of course I’ll give you money after lunch. $500 is no problem.” If it’ll make her go away and stop this show. I just want to get to my class.
Turning to her friends, she gives them a look and hoots with laughter. Her friends giggle a little, as they all stare me down.
“I meant 5 thousand, dear.”
What the fuck? “Who needs five thousand for dry cleaning?” I exclaim.
She smiles smoothly. “Collette Goldsworthy does.”
What bullshit. “I can’t give you that, so you’re going to have to figure something else out.”
The smile slips off her face. “You clumsy bitch. I know you have money, you’re a princess for God’s sake and yet you won’t give me even a morsel of it.”
I grit my teeth. If I hadn’t been told to keep my money spending low, I would gladly give it to her. As it stands, I can’t.
“Oh I get it. You’ve been disowned, haven’t you? They sent you here with barely a drop of money. That’s why you can’t afford to pay for my dry cleaning. I guess you’re basically a peasant now.” She chuckles and shakes her head in fake sorrow.
What. A. Fucking. Bitch.
I clench my fists at my side. If I was in my own country I would’ve slapped that smirk right off her fucking face.
Suddenly the crowd starts to murmur and gasp. What now?
From my right side, I abruptly feel a light touch to my shoulder with my bag strap on it.
“What’s the problem, sis?” A few squeals sound off throughout the hall at his deep voice. I don’t have to look to know it’s Heath. The tension between his sister and I eases a little as she regards Heath with a welcoming smile.
Murmurs echo throughout the hall.
“He never comes to breakfast.”
“Wasn’t he showing her around campus yesterday?”
“Are they friends?”
“This klutz stained my new shirt and cardigan and she needs to pay for my dry cleaning.”
The hand on my shoulder tightens and I look at Heath out of the corner of my eye and then back to her.
“You know we have plenty of money to pay for it, Coll.”
Her brows draw together. “And?”
“And here.” He digs in his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and then a card. Reaching for her hand, he opens it and places the card in and pulls her fingers over it. “There. Now can you relax?”
Her mouth drops open. “Why? Heath, stop being a knight in shining armor and let her pay.”
I scoff. “Yeah, I offered $500 and that’s it. You’re choosing to be a bitch about it so how about I give you nothing instead?”
She gasps and I shut my lips together as my hand flies to my mouth. I probably shouldn’t have called his sister a bitch in front of him. Heath definitely won’t like that. I’m also a billion percent positive my chances of getting in Zeta Delta Beta are now in the toilet.
Contrary to my belief, he doesn’t say a word.
“Did you hear that, Heath? Are you going to let her get away with calling me that?” She cries indignantly.
Heath puts a hand under my chin, turning my attention to him. His green eyes study mine for a second, and I can tell he’s trying to communicate something with them. My eyes widen as his leans in and his face gets closer.
What’s he doing?
His lips come down on mine in a closed mouth kiss. Only a touch and yet, the entire hall goes wild.
And just like that, my first kiss is gone. I never wanted to give an asshole at home the ammunition to go around and say they kissed a princess like they’re something special, so I’ve dodged every single attempt. Especially Josh’s attempts.
Blinking quickly and uncontrollably, my mind tries to process what just happened. “Get to class. You’re going to be late. I’ll talk to my sister.”
From somewhere behind me, Scarlett grabs my arm, yanking me away. I don’t miss the shrieks from his sister, the angry chatter between all the girls, or the stunned expression on Callan’s face that turns into full blown anger.
The minute we get out, Scarlett pulls me out of the path of the doors. “Girl. You have some major explaining to do.”
“You said all he did was show you around yesterday, but did he show you around, or did he show you his dick?” Peyton asks, raising an eyebrow.
I cover my face. “No! He didn’t. I don’t think he even wanted to do that, so then why?”
Peyton shrugs and Scarlett shakes
her head.
“One thing is for sure, you’ve made an enemy out of Collette Goldsworthy. The Goldsworthys don’t pull any punches either,” Scarlett says in a low tone.
Peyton starts forward. “Let’s go before we really are late.”
We end up with good seats at the back of the class. It’s two to a table, so Peyton and Scarlett are seated at the very back in the right corner and I’m alone at the table in front of them. I’m not naive to think that no one will end up sitting next to me, I just hope it’s someone at least a little less arrogant after dealing with Collette.
An older lady with white hair stalks back and forth at the front of the class. “Two minutes.”
Like a tidal wave, students flood in and grab seats in a rush. Some grumbling at being forced to sit toward the front.
My phone vibrates and I quickly check it. Heath?
Heath: Let’s talk later. Meet me at the Alpha Alpha Alpha basement tonight at 8. Key will be on top of the door frame.
Me: Kay, see ya.
I guess that means I’ll get an answer. I shift in the chair to put my phone back in my pocket when I hear the sound of someone pulling the chair out and settling in next to me.
Holding my breath a little, I ready a nice introduction to my seat mate so it doesn’t feel awkward, only to find no ordinary seat mate, but Callan Goldsworthy.
“The fuck,” escapes my mouth before I could stop the words from falling out.
He glares and edges his head close to mine, staring right into my eyes with a devious glint in his eye. “We’re going to play a little game,” he whispers.
Before I can muster a response, Professor Harper claps. “Class will now begin.”
He flashes a twisted smile and turns his attention to the front. A weird shiver goes down my spine. Any game he wants to play, I’m not interested.
She starts off with the syllabus and as she turns over the page to read the backside, the door clicks open and everyone turns to look, including me at the person coming in.
“I’m so sorry I’m late, professor. Something came up.” Collette flashes a huge smile that would probably work on anyone else as she takes the last seat in the room toward the front.
Even though she’s not my favorite person, I can’t help but wince for being part of the reason for her being late.
Professor Harper clears her throat. “This is the first day so I’ll accept that excuse. Let this be a lesson to everyone. If you want to pass my class, come to class on time. Be ready to learn. Slacking off is unacceptable. I don’t care if you’re a Goldsworthy or a Silverstone, or even a princess. Everyone is held to the same standard in this class. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Professor,” we all answer back.
She moves her attention back to the paper in her hand and resumes where she stopped, making sure to emphasize the big project due right before Thanksgiving. A 10-page report on an important person in U.S. History. Wow, this class is nothing but fun stuff.
Beside me, I watch Callan’s fists clench and unclench so I try to pretend he doesn’t even exist.
I spend the next three hours praying that somehow the professor will be generous enough to let us go early.
No such luck for me because she takes up every second of it and the moment she lets us go, Callan is the first to jump up and leave. He doesn’t even push in his chair or put his stuff in his bag.
“He must have been really uncomfortable,” Scarlett muses.
Collette is right on his heels, muttering, “Klutz” venomously as she walks past me.
Together the three of us leave the building and head back toward the cafeteria building.
“Who is that guy and what did he say to you?” Peyton asks, eyeing Callan in the distance.
“Long story short, he’s Collette’s twin brother and he just might hate me a smidge more than she does. It’s a tough call though. And he wants to play a game.”
“Girl, with the darkness radiating from him I’d stay far away.” She laughs a little. “We’ve only just become friends, but I can already tell you’ll make sure this year isn’t boring.” Scarlett wraps an arm around my shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Right, Peyton?”
He chuckles. “Yeah. This is the most excitement I’ve ever had in 24 hours.”
Warmth fills my chest as I realize how different it is having friends laugh with you instead of at you.
I flop down on my bed and sigh happily, enjoying the stream of air conditioning coming in. Scarlett and Peyton were only able to eat with me for a little bit before heading off to their next classes. My next one isn’t until the evening though and by the time I leave to go, they’ll be getting dinner.
Art class. I completely suck at it so I know it’s going to be a nightmare. God, I hope I’m not stuck with a snobby teacher like high school who will fail me for my lack of creativity.
Hours later, I leave the dorm and head for the fine arts building. As I approach the building, I spot Scarlett on the phone with her back to me. She shifts the weight between her feet and moves her empty hand to her head in a clear agitated way. “I just got here, let’s not do this now.”
I move in front of her and her eyes widen and flash to the phone. “Gotta go, talk to you later.”
“Family drama?” I ask.
She nods and moves a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah. I was just about to head to the dorm. You have Art 101 right?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up, I have to go and talk to Heath after I get out of class too.”
“Don’t have too much fun.” She smiles a little, but not her usual eye reaching one. It’s dull in a way.
That phone conversation must have been an intense one.
I wave and head for the doors of the building, going up the first flight of stairs and then down the hall. At the far end, I spot a large sign next to the door that says Art 101.
Please don’t let this class suck.
When I walk in, I take a stool at the table in the far back. No professor in sight, but they must not be far since the board already has the instructions for our first project.
And lucky me, there’s no stool next to mine so I’ll have this entire table to myself. I scroll through my phone and wait for class to start, vaguely hearing more students coming in and the stools scraping against the stone floor as they’re pulled out.
“Looks like everyone is almost here,” I glance up to find a friendly looking guy who doesn’t look much older than us at the front. Honestly the complete opposite of Professor Harper. How did he get this job?
I hear a loud grunt from the left and to my absolute horror, I see Callan pull a stool from the empty table to my left and drag it over to the empty space beside me.
“Are you ready to play yet?”
There’s enough room between tables due to the larger room that talking in a normal voice wouldn’t be heard at the table in front or to the left of us.
“Just leave me the fuck alone, Callan.”
“No.”
“Okaaaay class. Let’s start making magic.” He walks by, setting down a piece of paper, the syllabus, and a huge white paper where I assume I’ll be drawing a ball like the one on the board. “Read the syllabus at your own convenience and the first project is due next Monday. Instructions are on the board along with samples. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk.”
Stopping at the front, he pulls out his chair, and really does just sit.
How can two classes be so different?
Immediately, the silence evaporates. Everyone is talking to a friend and yet here I am, stuck with him.
I expect to hear Callan talk about the game he keeps bringing up, but to my utter surprise, he seems to ignore me completely and start on his drawing.
Lifting the page of the syllabus up, I flip it over to find it’s only one side. The only thing it says is that there’s thirteen projects and one final. We can do as much extra credit as we want and attendance on Wednesdays isn’t mandatory. I didn’t
even choose this class and I already love it.
Ha. If I fail a project I’ll just do some extra credit.
This is perfect.
I squint at the board to read the instructions and start to draw the ball.
A snort reaches my ears.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re fucking terrible at this, that’s what funny.”
“Haven’t you ever heard keep your eyes on your own paper?”
But his words get to me so I stop what I’m doing, look between the instructions, the sample drawn on the board, and my paper.
Maybe I’ll just ask the professor what he thinks. Hesitantly, I get up from the stool and walk around Callan to get to the aisle leading up to the front. As I walk, I can feel eyes on my back as the chatter quiets a bit.
“Professor Schmidt, when we start with the ball, we do a light outline right?”
He looks up from his phone and looks from me to the board. “Well, yes. Um, who are you sitting next to?”
He peeks around and points to the corner. “Mr. Goldsworthy right? He’s perfectly able to show you the correct approach for this piece.”
With a dismissive nod, he goes back to his phone and I have no choice but to go back to my seat. Fucking hell.
As I sit back down, I look at my mess of a ball and sigh. Angrily, I erase the whole thing.
He snickers. “Beg me Princess and I’ll help you.”
“Not gonna happen,” I reply resolutely.
A twisted smirk forms on his face and he continues his sketch of the ball. I watch his hands flex as he moves the pencil with short strokes, starting on the shadow of the ball on the counter. He seems like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Does he actually like art?
“You know, I’m better with my hands than my brother is.”
I don’t respond, instead choosing to spend the rest of the two and a half hours staring at the blank piece of paper in front of me while occasionally playing a game on my phone.
“Class is over, you may go,” Professor Schmidt says from his seat.
The Princess and the Bully (Goldsworthy University Book 1) Page 4
