Not My Prince: A Dark Bully High School Romance

by L V Chase

  Ollie remains slightly in front of me, blocking half of my body from Principal Walsh’s view. It won’t save me from expulsion, but I’m grateful for the small gesture.

  “Hello, Isaac,” Ollie says, walking up to the desk while I remain a few steps behind. “There was an incident. George Parson’s son—he was being a bully, and this young woman hit him. She’s one of this year’s scholarship recipients, a model student, but she was provoked. I understand she should be expelled, but, taking into account Terry Parson’s history of harassment—”

  “I’ll deal with George Parson,” Principal Walsh cuts in. “I appreciate your assessment, Ollie, but I’ve already been informed of the situation. Why don’t you grab yourself a coffee from below? I’d like to speak to this student privately before handing her back to your tour group.”

  I let out the smallest breath. If he wants me to return to the tour, it must mean I’m not getting expelled. There’s a 99% chance that’s what he means.

  Unless he misspoke. Unless they’re legally obligated to let me finish the tour. Unless it’s a secret code, so I don’t flip out, and Ollie’s going to escort me off campus, locking those iron gates behind me.

  “Thank you, Isaac,” Ollie says. He turns around, giving me a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

  Principal Walsh stares at me, his face expressionless. “Do you know why we set up these scholarships, Miss Reeves?”

  “Good PR,” I reply.

  His eyebrows shoot up. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Yes,” he says. “Absolutely, that’s the only reason. So, when you bring your crass antics to my school, I can assure you that I don’t need a reason to want to expel you. If I had my way, you wouldn’t be here at all. This type of behavior may be acceptable in your public school—which, let’s be honest, is just a glorified daycare—but it's not tolerated at this institution. This time, I’m willing to give you a pass, but if you act out like this again, I’ll personally call the police. You’ll leave this school without a diploma but with a criminal record.”

  “I understand, sir,” I say.

  He’s being honest. I’m on his shit list, and he’d love to get rid of me. But, for some reason, he can’t. It must be bad publicity to expel someone on the first day.

  “Let’s hope we never have to see each other again,” he says. “You should be able to find Ollie on the fifth floor.”

  “Thank you, sir,” I say. I refrain from my deep-seated need to flip him off as I walk out. I close the door quietly behind me, overhearing Hope, the hot secretary, trying to explain to a parent why students aren’t provided with housekeepers.

  Ollie is waiting on a leather couch a few feet away. He stands up as I walk over to him.

  “Hey.” He raises an eyebrow. “What happened?”

  “Not expelled,” I say.

  He raises his hand. I give him a high-five. Under normal circumstances, I’d ignore the gesture, but I can’t be judgmental or cynical right now.

  “Someone must be looking out for you,” he says. “Isaac loves to demonstrate his power because he has so little.”

  “He’s the principal.”

  “He’s the principal in a school full of kids with bank accounts bigger than his,” Ollie corrects. “Come on, Cinnamon, let’s get back to the group before their makeup starts melting off.”

  “You’re not mad at me anymore?” I ask.

  He crinkles his nose at me. “Parson deserved worse than that love tap to his face. You should have aimed a little lower, taking out the family jewels. The world would thank you.”

  I stifle a small chuckle.

  Ollie winks at me and continues. “The worst part is that he isn’t even unique. All the kids here grew up drowning in their parents’ wealth, and they wouldn’t understand the phrase “no” if you put it on a billboard. Their moral compasses aren’t broken; they’re flat-out missing. It’s a shame. Some of them could do incredible things, but they won’t. Not the way they’ve grown up.”

  “But you still work here.”

  He shrugs. “I never claimed to be any better. The choice for my summers was between working at a theatre to cover rent or drinking aged Bordeaux wine in France. I sold my soul.”

  I smile despite myself. As we walk through campus, it’s more gorgeous than it was before, and the air is crisper. I don’t even mind the obviously wealthier students strolling by us, sneers rippling across their faces as they see my stained camisole.

  When we reach the center of campus, the five boys are gone but the girls are giggling with each other. I see the surprise on their faces as I approach them. It’s entirely satisfying.

  “Hey,” I say, nodding to the four of them.

  Demi’s lip curls up in distaste. She’ll fit in with the rest of the students perfectly.

  “So…” Ollie opens his arms wide, making a small bowing motion. “Ladies, after that brief intermission, we’re going to continue our tour. Our next stop is your dormitories. All of our prestigious scholarship students used to be in in the same place, but we decided that we shouldn’t contain all of that talent in one building. Also, some of the religious parents complained about boys and girls sleeping under the same roof, so they built a new dorm just for the women.”

  “There’s more of us with scholarships?” I ask.

  “Yes, ma’am. Five boys. They’re all on here on sports scholarships,” he says. “I couldn’t tell you why the school can’t find any artistic boys or athletic girls—at least, not without risking my job—but Roman Academy has some of the best varsity sports programs on the east coast, so they’re doing something right.”

  So, there are five other kids who aren’t tainted by wealth and, potentially, aren’t airheads. New goal: find them.

  “Are we going to meet them today?” I ask.

  Demi laughs. She sounds like a squealing pig in pain.

  “Why?” she sneers. “You can meet that type of boy back home. I’m here to meet the ones with the right last names. Like they say. Gold in their genes. Gold in their pockets.”

  The other girls nod in agreement. They’re exactly like my mother. The evil step-sisters I never knew that I had and definitely never wanted.

  “Let me guess,” I say. “You’ve got silicone in your genes?”

  “You bitch—" She takes a step up to me.

  My body tenses, ready to tear her apart. Ollie steps in between us.

  “Ladies,” he warns. “Look to your left. That’s your home. Where y’all will be living. Together. For a year. Consider waiting at least a few months before becoming enemies.”

  Demi presses her hand against her chest. “Oh, Mr. Monson, I don’t hate anybody. I don’t know how Cin feels about me, but I don’t feel any ill will towards her.”

  “I don’t like you,” I say. “Now, you know how I feel.”

  Ollie takes a slow breath and guides us into the dormitory. I hadn’t quite listened to Ollie when he mentioned our dormitories were in a new building, but when I step inside of it, all I can think is: shiny, new, and expensive as fuck.

  The granite flooring gleams below us while the recessed lighting glows above us. In the entrance, three couches and two armchairs surrounded a flat-screen TV. It looks like the TV is capable of retracting into the ceiling, especially considering it’s directly in front of a fireplace.

  “This is the common area,” he says. “It’s for y’all to share, preferably without killing each other. The TV gets cable and various streaming services. You can study here, order-in some food and eat together, whatever you like. The curriculum can be stressful, so we strongly encourage y’all to socialize together. To encourage social ties, four of you are sharing rooms. Demi has her own room because of her migraines.”

  “I need complete quiet,” Demi says, touching her temple. “And darkness. I wouldn’t want to inconvenience any of you because of it, but the pain can be unbearable.”

  Desiree—or maybe it’s Dahlia—gives her a hug, whispering words of comfort. Demi mak
es a noise like a muffled cry.

  We’re all sharing rooms. Shit.

  “Let’s go see Diana and Cinnamon’s room first.”

  “Wait—" Demi’s fake tears disappear. “Cinnamon?” She turns to me, barely hiding a laugh. “Your full name is Cinnamon?”

  I look down at my knuckles. She follows my gaze and her smile disappears.

  “Yes,” I say. “Cinnamon Reeves, but I go by Cin.”

  “Like I just said twenty-three seconds ago, we all want you to get along,” Ollie says. “Come along.”

  We follow him to the east. A large door has my and Diana’s name on it. I’d change it, but it’s engraved in metal.

  Ollie swipes a keycard in from of the electronic lock. It beeps and he swings it open.

  The room would have been perfect, better than anything I’ve slept in before, if not for that fact that I would have to share it. It’s as large as my mother’s apartment, but it’s split in half by a long wall that stops five feet away from the door. On the left side, there are two beds, which look like they might be made of expensive memory foam. They’re about twelve feet apart with an alcove between them. The alcove is thickly padded with crimson cushioning and has a recessed bookshelf around it. Two massive circular windows let the daylight flood in.

  Ollie steps farther into the room, allowing enough space for everyone else to step inside.

  “The two of you can decide which bed you want. If you need more coffee, you can request it from student services,” he says.

  In front of the two beds are two nightstands with single-serve coffee machines. Baskets filled with single-serve coffee pods sit beside it. A few feet away from the nightstands are two desks facing away from each other. On the closest wall, two sliding mirror doors reflect the whole room. They must be closets, because in front of the right door, there are four plastic totes stacked together, and in front of the other one, my suitcase sits alone.

  Ollie walks over to the other side of the wall. “This is your kitchen. If you don’t know how to use a stove, I’d suggest that you don’t touch it. Not only could you burn down the place, but it tends to annoys the other residents when you set the smoke alarm off.”

  He gestures toward the door. “Each side of the building has a bathroom. Toiletries including soaps are provided.”

  “It’s so cute,” Demi squeals. “Since mine is a single, I get all this extra room, right? Do I get my own bathroom?”

  I bite back a snarky reply. As much as I don’t want to spend time with any of these girls, it’s almost a relief that I’m roommates with Diana. She’s the most tolerable one.

  The bar gets lower every minute. I look over at her. She’s staring out the window, lost in thought. I’ll have to learn to like her. I can’t sleep in a room with someone I despise for the rest of the year.

  I’ve done that for the last eighteen years with my mother, and I have zero interest in repeating that.

  The smell of garlic, butter, and pasta sauce wafts out as Ollie leads us into the dining hall. He gestures around the massive room, where various kitchens and service areas surround the dozens of tables and students.

  “This is the last place, my beautiful people,” he says.

  He pulls out a stack of tiny plastic cards and starts handing them out to us. A photo from the interview is on my card, my horrifying name spelled out in bold print underneath.

  “These are your IDs,” Ollie says, “which are used as your keys to get into your building and your room. They’re also used to pay for meals. Your scholarship covers two meals a day, so plan accordingly. That’s all I have for y’all, so go forth and eat. Cinnamon, I’ll see you later in my class.”

  “Thanks, Ollie,” I say.

  As he leaves, the DDDD girls head toward a table filled with the boys we’d seen earlier. Their friend I’d punched isn’t with them.

  I’m more than ravenous. Eating isn’t about hunger. It’s glory, freedom, sin all packed into one. I’ve been on a diet practically my whole life, courtesy of my mother’s obsession with turning me into the perfect honey trap. Some girls sneak boys into their room. I’d sneak in the trashiest foods I could find to take the edge off my misery.

  This place, though, is divine. Any and every food I could want is here. Best of all, there aren’t any insane mothers lurking in the shadows. No one’s going to drag me to a toilet and force me to puke it all back up.

  The dining hall has seven different options. I circle around to find the best choice. Italian, Mexican, Chinese, Greek, Thai, a salad bar with the ability to add toppings like steak or chicken, and a burger and hot sub restaurant. I do my best not to let the drool slip out of the corner of my mouth. It’ll take me all year to try everything.

  I stop at the burger place. Diana is a couple of places ahead of me, scrolling through her phone. We haven’t had a chance to talk since I hit that boy who was harassing her.

  On a certain level, I can understand why she doesn’t like me. I’d be pissed if someone decided I couldn’t fight my own battles. I also can’t blame her for wanting to be well-liked by the others. And even if she’s as much of an idiot as Demi, we’re going to end up sleeping in the same room. I’d rather not worry about her trying to poison my coffee or gossiping on the phone while I’m trying to sleep.

  The guy in front of me is focused on the menu on the wall, so I step around him and touch Diana’s arm. She lifts her head. Her eyebrows shoot up as she sees me, her expression quickly darkening.

  “Cinnamon,” she says.

  “Just Cin, please.”

  She shrugs. “Cin.”

  “I just wanted to check on you,” I say. “Where I’m from, we can be a bit rash. It doesn’t mean that I think you’re—"

  “Hey, crack baby,” a deep, baritone voice cuts in.

  A large figure steps between us. I shuffle backwards awkwardly to avoid bumping into him. I rarely feel small near anybody. I’m average height for a girl. Most guys tower over me, but I’ve learned how to make myself seem bigger with the right attitude. But this one makes me feel small. And even though I’m staring at his broad back, he feels familiar.

  I slowly take in the broad back and the unruly dark hair. I take a small step to the side, checking his side-profile, which consists predominantly of a jawline that’s sharp enough to hurt someone.

  Oh.

  Grayson Voss.

  The stepson of my mother’s heroine.

  Grayson touches Diana’s elbow. She glows. Under most circumstances, her starstruck expression would make me roll my eyes, but, in this case…I can’t quite blame her. I can almost imagine his hand on my own elbow, and just the thought alone sends a surge of electricity under my skin.

  “So, crack baby,” he says. “I heard you’re a scholarship girl.”

  “I am,” she confirms. “You know about me?”

  “I do,” he tells her.

  She smiles up at him. He’s gorgeous, of course, but if any man called me crack baby, no amount of long eyelashes or toned arms could save him from a hard slap, at the very least.

  “Most of you pickups settle for handouts, but you seem different. You look like the type that’s willing to work. How about it?” He points at her with a crisp hundred-dollar bill between his fingers. “This is yours if you sit on my buddy Eric’s lap—"

  He points with the hundred-dollar bill to the side. I follow his gaze to see another dark-haired boy. I blink. I’ve seen him before, leaving the elevator when I was on my way to the principal’s.

  “—and kiss him like you two are about to fuck,” Grayson finishes.

  I snort. He glances over at me. Those ice blue eyes make my skin turn prickly, in a good way, I think. Those eyes also look like they can murder.

  “Is that your lame attempt at a joke?” I ask.

  But the words have barely left my mouth before Diana snatches the hundred-dollar bill and walks over to Eric. She sits on Eric’s lap. She puts her hands on either side of his face and kisses him with a wide-open mout
h. Tongues wrestle. The dining hall around them bursts into catcalls, clapping, and uproar.

  “Seems like a real crowd pleaser to me.” Grayson’s arm falls over my shoulders.

  I try to shrug his arm off, but the heavy weight doesn’t even budge. His scent, a heady mix of untamed forests and raging whitewater, curls around me. When his fingertips graze the side of my breast, I hold my breath.

  “Although what’d be really funny is if you joined them. That shit would make me cry.” His head is leaning to the side, pressing down against the top of my head. He speaks softer, as if only for me. “Because, let’s be real. The only joke here’s you. Your friend? She knows her place.”

  “Knows her place?” I spit out, spinning out from under his arm.

  I’m face-to-face with Grayson. If Ollie thinks the whole world is beautiful, I’d love to hear what he calls him. But beautiful or not, that perfect smirk drives me to a special kind of fury. There’s a hint of darkness underneath his mocking smile, and a small voice in the back of my head warns me to calm down but I can’t.

  “You mean the place she earned with a scholarship? Unlike the rest of you trust fundies? Don’t worry, I get it. Pulling that silver spoon out of your ass must have hurt like a motherfucker, but not as much as when daddy sticks it back in.”

  God, that felt good. I take a deep breath, clinging to the hard edges of my anger.

  Grayson clenches his jaw, and his eyes narrow. My momentary satisfaction vanishes in an instant as his gaze burns away all thought of resisting. He’s a predator, and I’m the prey. I’m about to die.

  The surrounding dining hall falls quiet.

  “I can’t believe it,” someone whispers.

  “She’s fucked,” someone else murmurs.

  I start to walk away. He grabs my arm, yanking me closer to him. His scent hits me again, but now it brings out the image of a forest burning. Two hard fingers slip inside the front of my underwear’s waistband. They linger there, not low enough, but almost. For a moment, I’m thrilled, then a second later, terrified as I begin to realize what he’s about to do. My face grows hot. Excitement. Anger. Fear.