Savage Royals: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance(8)

I should at least try to make it to my third class on time, I guess.

My enrollment was already a week late. I’d be playing catch-up no matter what, but I didn’t want to get any more behind than I already was. Especially since I had a feeling the classes would be a lot harder here than at my crappy, overpopulated public school back home.

No more delaying the inevitable.

I hefted my backpack again and set off across campus, holding onto my schedule with a death grip and trying to make it look like I knew where I was going.

Without the buffer of a friendly, talkative buddy, I quickly became aware that everybody I passed stared at me. The looks weren’t hostile, but they were curious and assessing, and my stomach twisted as I kept my gaze focused straight ahead. I fucking hated being the new girl. I hoped the novelty of me wore off quick, because this sucked.

I made it back to the main school building with no problem—I would’ve had to be blind to miss it—but once I got inside, my confident footsteps slowed.

Dammit, where is it?

Glancing down at the schedule, I compared the listed room number to the ones I walked past. I was supposed to have US History in room 304C. But there were no letters at all on any of the rooms nearby.

Fucking fuck.

It’d taken me longer than I expected to get here from the dorms, and I only had about ten minutes left before class started. I really didn’t want to walk in late if I could help it.

I stopped a guy who was rushing in the opposite direction, clearly late for class himself, and he pointed me to a set of stairs before vanishing.

Clutching my schedule, I slipped through the access doors and was about to start up the stairway when a voice on the landing above made me jump.

“Jesus Christ, Cole! You think this is fucking okay?”

Whoever was speaking sounded pissed off, and the sound of footsteps rang in the stairwell, like maybe he was pacing or something.

“No.”

The second voice was deep and almost deadpan, as if the owner couldn’t make himself feel anything but a sort of detached amusement.

“Good. Because it’s not. I can’t fucking believe—”

“Dude. Mason. Calm down.”

“You calm the fuck down! What are we going to do about this shit? It’s unacceptable.”

Yeah. Whatever the hell these guys were arguing about—or not arguing, I really couldn’t quite tell what the second guy thought about any of it—I didn’t want to get in the middle. Another thing my dad had taught me was how to recognize the hint of danger in someone’s tone, and both of these boys made all my red flags go off.

I pulled open the door to slip back outside, but as I yanked on it, the first voice called over the railing one flight up.

“Hey!”

Fuck. They better not accuse me of eavesdropping. It’s not my damn fault they decided to have their little confab in a public stairwell.

Reluctantly, I turned around—

And stopped short.

It was two of the guys I’d seen in the convertible the other day.

The one with chocolate-brown hair was taller than I’d realized, and his aristocratic brows drew together as he stared down at me, just like they had when he’d seen me checking him out through the back window of the town car.

His friend was the one with hair so black it almost looked blue in the fluorescent light. It was cut close on the sides and longer on top, the straight strands messy and spiky. He had a strong nose, a defined jaw, and his shoulders were broad as fuck. They were wearing the male version of the uniform I was, but he’d taken off his blue jacket, and his ripped shoulders and biceps filled out the fabric of his dress shirt like they might split the seams at any moment. His ice-blue eyes were kind of blank, almost a little scary, as he joined the other boy in staring down at me.

I realized belatedly that I was staring too, gaping at them like I’d done in the car with Jacqueline. What was it about these guys that knocked me back on my heels like this? I was usually pretty quick on the draw, especially when it came to self-preservation, which for some reason, this moment seemed to.

It felt like I needed to get out of here as fast as I could.

As though sharing a small, confined space with these two boys, however gorgeous they might be, was hazardous to my health.

Slowly, I reached for the door handle, but the brown-haired boy’s voice whipped out again.

“What are you doing?”

I turned back toward him, releasing the door so it fell shut with a thud. “I’m looking for my classroom. I don’t want to be late.”

He was the first one I’d heard speak—the one the other boy had called Mason. I was sure of it. There was still a hint of anger in his expression, and he narrowed his eyes at me like I’d personally affronted him somehow by trying to use the fucking stairs. Then he stepped back from the railing, holding out his hand.

“Let me see.”

I could’ve just slipped back out into the hallway I’d come from, but the first kid I’d asked had told me I needed to go up these stairs—and I still didn’t know where to go after that. It was either deal with this guy or be late to class for sure.

So I walked up the steps toward him, clutching my schedule so hard I wrinkled the paper. His buddy leaned back against the wall, watching my approach with half-hooded eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets.