Savage Royals: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance(34)
“It’s so good!” She laughed. “What do you guys wanna watch?”
“Sci-fi,” Dan suggested at the same time I said, “Comedy.”
“Oh, I could do comedy.” He tugged at the sleeve of his blazer, which he clearly hated. “There’s a new buddy cop movie that looks… well, terrible.”
“That sounds fun.”
Maggie and Leah groaned. “You two are nerds,” Leah sighed.
“Proudly.”
We trudged across campus and all went our separate ways once we reached the U-shaped cluster of buildings. I’d gotten used to everyone else on campus giving me the cold shoulder. In fact, it had become familiar.
Cole and Elijah were leaning against the wall of Craydon Hall near the entry doors as I walked up, and their heads turned in sync to watch me pass. Elijah’s expression was neutral, but a familiar grim anger flashed in Cole’s face.
I ignored them and pushed into the building. Ever since the locker room, Cole seemed to hate me more than anyone—except maybe Mason.
Probably because he thinks I’m just some giant whore who’ll fuck anything that moves. Not that he gave me a chance to explain myself. And not that it’d be any of his business even if I was. Who I sleep with, or don’t, is my business.
Finn hadn’t come back to the dance studio since that day either. He never mentioned it, and I never mentioned it. I wasn’t even sure if the rest of the Princes knew about it like Cole did. It was as if it’d never happened, as if it were a dream I’d made up to give myself a break from the relentless, crushing bullshit.
Shaking off the bad mood the sight of them had put me in, I headed to my locker to stash the textbooks I wouldn’t need until later. Adena and Sable had their heads together a little way down the hall, leaning against Sable’s locker as they laughed quietly about something.
Me, probably.
Fucking bitches.
I pulled my locker open—but as soon as the door swung wide, something shot out and slammed into my chest. I grunted and fell backward, landing hard on my tailbone as my books scattered.
Laughter echoed around me, but I could hardly hear it. Whatever had hit me had knocked the wind out of me, and I clawed at my chest, trying to drag air back into my lungs.
My skin stung, and when I glanced down, I saw that my hand and shirt were stained deep red.
Blood.
I panicked, yanking on my tie and pulling open the front of my shirt wildly as the laughter grew louder.
“Woah, she really is a slut,” someone said loudly. “Free show, anyone?”
Still gasping for air, I struggled to my feet and peered into the small mirror in my locker. Then I lifted a shaky hand to my nose and sniffed.
Not blood.
Paint.
They’d rigged something in my locker that had shot a paintball directly into my chest at practically point-blank range.
As the shock and panic wore off, I realized I was still standing in the hall with my shirt half-unbuttoned. I grabbed the pieces in both hands, tugging them closed quickly and spinning around to survey my tormentors.
Adena and Sable were laughing their fucking heads off, and I was sure that’s what their snickers before had been about too. They’d either done this or—more likely—found someone more capable than they were to do it for them.
The Princes were all there too, standing shoulder to shoulder the way they had that first day in the dining hall. Finn had a small line between his eyebrows, but Mason’s face was carefully neutral as always. Elijah tilted his chin up, as if daring me to accuse them of orchestrating this, and Cole looked more furious than he had earlier.
Jesus. If he accuses me of being a slut for this, I’ll fucking kill him.
I picked up my books, painting them blood red in the process, and slammed my locker. Then I turned and marched down the hallway. That’s it. I’ve had enough of this shit.
The Princes took up the middle of the hallway, blocking my path with lazy arrogance. Rage simmered in my veins, and I elbowed past them, smearing Mason’s white shirt with a red handprint in the process. I’d probably pay for defying them like that in front of everyone, but at the moment, I didn’t care. Leaving the sound of laughter behind, I headed for the admin offices in Johnson Hall.
I’d never been the type of person who tattled, never been the type who needed backup—but right now, I was ready to scream for help from the rooftops. My chest ached, and I could feel a large welt forming. What if I’d been bent over when I opened my locker? I could have lost an eye.
Not that any of them cared about that. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t care if I died.
“Can I help you?”
Dean Levy’s secretary, Ms. Wallace, peered at me above her glasses. She looked me over, am expression of distaste and alarm crossing her features.
Yeah, I know I’m covered in paint, lady.
“Is Dean Levy in?” I asked.
“He’s in a meeting. You can sit down and wait for him there.” She pointed to an empty bench outside his office door. “He should be out in a little while.” She paused, then added, “Are you all right, sweetheart?”
“Yeah.” I swallowed, reaching up to make sure my shirt was all the way buttoned. “I’m fine.”
Avoiding her assessing gaze, I shuffled over and sank down onto the bench. I don’t even know why I’m here. I doubted anything would change just because I whined to the dean, but I didn’t know what else to do.