Hawk pins her with a ferocious look that brokers no argument. “Regardless, it’s done. Get over it.”
“What about you?” a girl asks. I vaguely recognize her as one of the girls Hawk chose back at the beginning of the school year, but for the life of me, I don’t remember her name. “If you’re not dating her, then why are you not continuing the tradition?”
There’s an underlying current of hope in her voice, and I can’t decide if it’s sad or just fucking desperate.
“Can’t you all see how fucked up this tradition is? You offer yourselves up for us to fuck and throw away, and for what? We were never going to pick any of you to be anything more than an easy lay. Your ability to fuck our brains out has no bearing on any business decisions made by our parents, and none of us are interested in any sort of relationship with shallow, vapid, social climbing brats.”
Oh, wow. Hawk has gone full asshole. Even my eyes are rounded in shock as I stare at him. His nostrils flare as he glowers around the otherwise silent room before storming off.
Cam sighs beside me. “We should probably follow him.”
“But pancakes...” I pout as my stomach grumbles in protest.
“Go check on him,” Mason encourages. “I’ll grab breakfast for us all.” He winks at me, and I return it with a bright grin before he moves over to the kiosks to order food to go, and the rest of us make a hasty exit. As the door closes behind us, I hear the hall erupt into chatter.
Glancing around, I spot Hawk storming back toward his dorm. “Why don’t you two help Mason with the food, I’ll go talk to Hawk.”
“Sure.” West gives me a quick kiss, and Cam wishes me good luck before I take off after Hawk.
“Hey!” I call out, but he doesn’t turn around. “Asshole, don’t make me chase after you.”
That gets him to slow his pace, allowing me to catch up.
“Do you need a tampon?”
He stops in his tracks to stare at me in a mixture of confusion and disgust. “What?”
I point over my shoulder toward the dining hall behind me. “I figured that was a PMS bitch fit you had back there.”
“Ha ha,” he snarks, rolling his eyes.
I grin. “I’ve discovered ice cream is the best thing in the world when I’m feeling crabby. My personal favorite at the minute is peanut butter, but it changes like every week.”
“I’m not PMSing!” he snaps.
I quirk a brow, unfazed by his outburst, and pull my tablet out of my bag, firing off a quick message while I wait him out. Eventually he sighs, scraping his hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m just so sick of all this shit.” He waves his hand around, indicating the campus. “I’d reluctantly resigned myself to the life our parents wanted for me, but with everything that’s happened recently…” He trails off, shaking his head and huffing out another frustrated sigh. “Life’s too short for me to be so fucking miserable all the time.”
I shrug. “So, what will make you happy?”
At my question, he chuckles humorlessly. “That’s the kicker. I have no fucking idea.”
I knock my shoulder against his and lift one side of my lip in a soft smile. “I have no idea what makes me happy either. I don’t even know where to start to figure it out.” I notice the others coming toward us out of the corner of my eye, but I keep my focus on Hawk. “We could work it out together?”
He stares back at me for a long moment, and the guys have nearly reached us by the time he responds. “I’d like that.”
“Like what?” Cam asks.
“I’d like to get some breakfast before my stomach eats itself,” Hawk retorts, making Cam laugh.
“Why don’t we eat on the grass?” Mason suggests, and we move to a grassy area just off the path. It’s a gorgeous sunny morning, albeit, it’s spring, so the mornings are still on the chilly side, but it’s nothing a warm breakfast and cup of coffee can’t fix.
Mason passes around the containers with each of our breakfasts in. “Here’s your ice cream,” he says, handing me a tub and spoon. I thank him with a smile and pull off the lid, inhaling the nutty goodness before digging my spoon in. It tastes like fucking heaven in my mouth and I struggle to hold back an obscene moan—pretty sure Hawk won’t appreciate that.
Licking my lips, I pass the tub to Hawk beside me. He looks at it for a second, not immediately taking it from me. “I promise, it helps.” Leaning in, I add on, “And where’s a better place to start figuring yourself out, than deciding your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
He still looks hesitant as he takes the tub and tries a small spoonful, before he smiles. “Mmm, that is pretty damn good.”
Emilia and Wilder join us, and, even though I can’t seem to relax, and my eyes dart anxiously around our surroundings, as if I’m expecting an ambush at any moment, I feast on my pancakes like nothing’s wrong and listen to everyone around me laugh and chit-chat. I wasn’t lying when I told Hawk I don’t know what makes me happy. I have no idea who I am, or what I want to achieve with my life, but what I didn’t tell him is that I don’t even know how to be happy, or even think about a future, when I’m struggling just to get through the day.
West nudges my shoulder. “You okay?”
I plaster on a fake smile. “I’m all good.”
***
By the time math rolls around that afternoon, my head is pounding and I’m exhausted from being on edge all day. I nearly jump out of my chair when Emilia drops her backpack on the table beside me.
“Jesus, do you have to be so fucking loud,” I snap irritably, and immediately regret it when her eyebrows jump up to meet her hairline and her jaw drops open.
I huff out a breath and close my eyes for a second, trying to rein in my anger. “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day.”
She casts her eyes over my face before slowly sitting beside me. “Sure. It can’t be easy to be back here...after everything.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she internally debates something before she glances warily around and leans in to whisper in my ear. “I can’t pretend to understand what you’ve been through, but you know if you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
I smile softly. “I know. I’m good. I-I’d rather not relive any of it, though. It’s in the past.”
She nods in understanding, and the teacher starts the class, thankfully ending our conversation. I barely take anything in for the next hour. If I’m being honest, I haven’t heard a word anyone has said all day. I’m struggling to focus. Every time I let myself relax into a lesson, my palms start to sweat, and my heart rate picks up, and the little voice in my head questions whether or not any of this is actually real. Maybe I’m still locked in that cell, or strapped to the wall in Bowen’s torture room, and this is all just a hallucination.
I feel along the side of my thigh, identifying the stitches holding the two sides of the wound on my leg together, and press my fingers into them. My face scrunches in pain. Real. All of this is real. I’m not dreaming.
Now, if only I didn’t have to keep telling myself that just to make it through the day.
Chapter 11