Mad Boys (Blue Ivy Prep, #2)(58)

Putting my coffee on the table in front of us, I tested a smile. It wasn’t so hard. Then I dropped onto my seat at the other end of the sofa. “I’ve never seen those movies. So…I don’t know if they are fun.”

Which was true.

“I was thinking of an action film or a comedy. Something to just be fun?” I hadn’t done much fun since before summer except… I pushed up the sleeve of my shirt. “The last fun thing I did was get my dad to update my sleeve.”

Long sleeves was just a habit I had when at school, mostly cause we weren’t supposed to show off our tats and I had way more than was legal in most places. But Mom didn’t care and Dad did them so…

“Your father’s a tattoo artist?” She leaned forward to study the guitar and base he’d finished. It wasn’t the only thing he’d finished for me, but I liked the musical representation.

“Yep,” I said. “He’s based out of Denver now, but he used to be in Los Angeles. He’s got a good eye.” It was how he’d met my mother. But… yeah, I skated right past that. “He’s been teaching me, but drawing isn’t my strong suit.”

The heart on the side of her hand, the one tattoo I could make out at the moment, had been filled in. I thought it was just an outline before. Maybe it had always been filled in.

“I like those,” she offered as she motioned to the banner across the heart covering part of the guitar. “He’s got great lettering technique.” She set her coffee aside and tugged off the plaid shirt to reveal one of her arms.

Even living together, I hadn’t gotten close-ups with any of her tattoos.

“The wildflowers,” she said as she extended her arm and there were a lot of them twining around her arm. More, there was a moth, a raven, a moon… so many different elements intertwined with the flowers. There was a rose on her shoulder…a very familiar one. “They’re about living life on my terms. Wildflowers—they grow anywhere, in any terrain, and sometimes in the most inhospitable conditions. They’ll grow right up through a crack in the sidewalk.”

“I like that,” I said, trying to memorize the art. She was right, most tattoos had meaning. The rose I’d added to my own did. But… yeah maybe not the time to bring it up. “Is living life on your terms important?”

“People love to consume and criticize celebrities until many budding stars begin to question if they are even built for this life.” The comment resonated and there wasn’t an ounce of arrogance in her tone. “They’ve been judging me since before I could talk. Some have been judging me since before I was born.” Her gaze went distant. “My parents are…well…yeah you know who they are, don’t you?”

It was the first time we crossed the rubble of revelations made the previous year. We hadn’t discussed her father at all. Gibs was a great guy; I couldn’t admire him more if I tried.

Somehow…I didn’t think KC did and I wanted to know why. She traced her finger over the moth.

“This is for them… for being trapped between them forever. Trapped by them and their reputations. Being a Crosse sometimes sucks.”

I hated that for her. “Wh—”

Her phone buzzed and then chimed with a familiar tune it played. Someone was messaging and calling her. The noise thoroughly punctured the bubble around us, and she tugged her shirt back on before looking at her phone.

Worry creased her expression. “I have to take this… sorry.” Then she was up and striding for her room. The door closing behind her seemed to put a period on the moment.

Caught between her parents. Living life on her terms.

I wanted to know more.

Needed to know.





Twenty-Four





KC


The holidays were rapidly approaching. We were in the middle of finals for the semester. The population at the school swung a wide emotional pendulum between meltdown and slap happy. I’d actually spent two hours talking Sydney down from the idea she was failing everything because she got a ninety on a paper instead of a perfect grade.

I thought I was hard on myself. I’d spent half a night and two pints of ice cream in her suite while we talked it out. She seemed in better spirits when she left, and I needed a run from the bloated feeling.

What I thought was just the ice cream proved to be my period, debuting a week early. Stress sucked. The cramps were hell. I had supplies, but I didn’t keep them in the bathroom. Jonas and I had developed a rapport, but that was just a little too personal.

The fact it started while I was in class sucked. At least it wasn’t still my birthday. I made a dash back to the suite. Tampons were in the closet, and it took me almost no time to get changed.

I checked two different bags, but there was no Midol in either one. Great, I’d managed to not restock. Stupid, KC, stupid. After checking my tie and pulling my coat back on, I headed back out and down the stairs. I was going to be late to class, but I’d rather be late than messy, thank you very much.

My luck ran out just three steps from the door to the literature class. It opened, allowing one of the administrators to exit the room. Beyond him, I could see Ramsey standing there where he’d been conducting class, his expression neutral if guarded.

“Miss Crosse,” the man said…what was his name? Mr. Robin? Robinette? Roban? Something with an R.