Landon: Same place.
I smile at that. We have a place. It’s not big nor special, but it’s our little secret.
Cecily: On my way.
Thirty minutes later, I stop my car near the deserted rocky shore of the beach.
Since Brighton Island, which is situated near the south coast of the United Kingdom, is surrounded by sea on all sides, there are a lot of beaches and shores.
But we from REU don’t usually hang out in places that TKU’s students frequent to avoid unwanted fights.
This part of the beach is ours, and yes, it’s a public place, so we can’t stop TKU’s students from coming here, but they know not to unless they’re ready to face our club’s wrath.
Just like TKU has Heathens and Serpents, two notorious clubs whose members are part of the mafia, our university has the Elites.
They’re not mafia or anything that shady, but they’re equally lethal in an ‘old money rules’ kind of way.
And the one I’m meeting is the leader of this club.
I step out of my MINI Cooper, do a sweep of my surroundings, then open the passenger door of the black car that’s parked facing the sea and slide inside.
My heart does that skip again when my gaze falls on the most ethereally beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. So blue and deep, they might as well rival the ocean and swallow anything in sight.
Landon King is three years older than me, so while I’m a second-year psychology major, he’s already getting his master’s degree in arts and sculpting masterpieces that galleries all over the world snatch up before they’re even complete.
And just like his statues, he has Greek god beauty with sharp features, gorgeous dark brown hair, and a straight nose that might as well be carved from marble.
He’s the epitome of masculine beauty with his toned body and stylish clothes. Even his car is a special edition McLaren, made specifically for him and him alone.
I shift against the leather to face him, and that brings on the memory of a different type of leather.
The one that groped and touched me in places even Landon hasn’t.
“You do look alive.” His voice brings me out of my forbidden musings.
“Yeah. I managed to escape.”
“Interesting choice of words. Were you not allowed to leave for one reason or another?”
I go still.
Sometimes, I forget how much of a genius Landon actually is. He’s attuned to every single detail and nothing escapes his notice.
For some reason, I don’t want to talk about what happened back at the initiation. A part of me, a stupid, lovesick part, views it as a betrayal to Landon.
And that’s the epitome of irrationality.
Lan and I aren’t an item. Hell, he has no clue about my feelings for him and had friend-zoned me to the next planet when we were kids.
Not that I’ve liked him since then. I think I started to have a crush on him when I was maybe seventeen and we had a thought-provoking conversation about choosing lives that were independent to our godlike parents’. He said they wouldn’t shadow us if we didn’t allow them to and that if anyone could do it, I could.
There was something so sexy about a man who believed in my potential before I could reach it. Little by little, I developed a crush on him, but due to his obvious lack of interest, I backed off.
I tried to get over him, you know. I even dated, but look where that disaster got me.
Besides, there are just no other guys like Landon. None with his wit, charm, and Machiavellian view of the world.
I don’t really approve of the last part, but nobody’s perfect, right?
“The initiation was brutal,” I say in reply to his last question. “That’s what I meant by I managed to escape. Unscathed. Mostly.”
He watches me intently, his hand stroking the steering wheel in a slow rhythm. “No problems other than that?”
There were only problems.
“The guard did double-check me when he scanned the invitation, but he allowed me in, so I don’t think there were any issues on that front.”
Lan nods silently.
The Heathens rarely invite students from REU to their initiations, considering the whole rivalry with the Elites and whatnot. However, they did send out five invitations this time. All to students who aren’t in the Elites but are close to Landon. As in, his friends—my friends. Not me, the boys.
Naturally, none of them went, and Landon approached me with this crazy idea. What if we direct their weapons against them? We can use one of the invitations they sent to slip inside their compound and see what’s going on for ourselves.
He couldn’t go personally since no amount of disguise would camouflage him. And Lan has been majorly flagged by the Heathens, the Serpents, and the whole of TKU.
So I volunteered my invisibility services.
Now, I’m not sure if that was the right decision or if I could afford to be so brazen, even if it was for Landon.
It cost me things more precious than money or material stuff.
It probed the forbidden fantasies that I’d tucked in the dark corners of my consciousness, hoping they’d be forgotten.
Lan offers me his golden boy smile. “What can you tell me about the inner workings of their compound?”
“I can show you instead.” I pull out my phone and scroll to a simple demonstration I drew on my iPad back at the flat.
Landon grabs the phone from my hand. Our fingers brush, and I my breath catches, but he’s completely oblivious to the electric war he started with a simple touch.
He watches my creation with a raised brow before a smirk lifts his lips.
People call it the evil smirk, the trouble smirk. Whenever he’s wearing it, everyone either runs or hides, because Landon is always plotting one thing, manipulating another, and reaching for the horizon itself.
If he got the chance, he’d kick the planets and toy with the stars.
Everyone in our circle of friends, his twin brother and younger sister included, avoids him like the plague because he could and would make use of them for his grand schemes.
Me? I think they’re only seeing the superficial Landon. Yes, he’s methodical and has little to no moral compass, but he’s not as black as everyone suggests he is.
“This is impressive,” he says after a while. “You even drew camera locations.”
“Those are the ones I saw on the paths I took. There must be others in places I didn’t go to.”
“Don’t be humble. Not even the greatest spies would be able to get this level of detail.” He sends himself a copy, deletes the original file, then gives me my phone and strokes the top of my hair the same as he would his sister and my friend, Glyndon. “You’re such a good sport, Ces.”
I smile even if a part of me doesn’t like the compliment.
Though it’s not the compliment that bothers me—it’s everything else that comes with it.
How he touches me like he does his sister. How he looks at me with nothing of the fire that I hold for him deep in my heart.