When it goes to voicemail, I pull it from my ear and stare at it while tapping the back once, twice. Three times.
Maybe I should’ve chained her to me, after all, so I could choke the fuck out of her when she’s being difficult for no reason.
“You’re not coming?” Stella, a colleague with obvious fake red hair, asks on her way out of the school while carrying her white coat.
We’re supposed to have a pathology class in the morgue, and that would usually be the highlight of my week—seeing inside dead people.
Not today, obviously.
“I have more important things to attend.” I’m still staring at my phone and seriously contemplating if shaking it will force the one on the other end to finally pick the fuck up.
“How about later? I can give you the code to my dorm.” A hand touches mine and that’s enough to make me break my hyperfocus from the phone.
Stella grins, thinking getting my attention is a good thing.
The only smart one is Glyndon fucking King. She never wanted my attention. In fact, she tried everything under the sun to escape it.
She doesn’t know this yet, but there’ll be a day where she’ll sprint in my direction, not the other way around.
“When did I give you permission to touch me?” I ask in a closed tone, not bothering to mask my true nature.
Stella, who I probably fucked once—and she’s definitely forgettable if I did—startles and steps back. “I’m sorry, I just thought it was okay.”
“You thought wrong.” I step past her and head to the parking lot.
My feet come to a halt when I find someone leaning against the front of my car, legs crossed and his fingers toying with a key so close to the paint.
Not far from him stands a replica.
Landon and Brandon King.
Though their looks are identical—everything else isn’t. Who I assume is Brandon dresses like a preppy boy with khaki pants and a polo shirt. His hair is styled, too, and he appears to be right out of a lacrosse team.
Landon’s hair is messy, out of control, and he’s in jeans and a denim jacket, not to mention that the look in his eyes is more dispassionate.
More…empty.
Probably as empty as mine.
Interesting.
“Nice ride,” he says, still letting the key hover a few inches away as a form of a threat.
“Thanks,” I reply nonchalantly. “It’s special edition.”
“Impressive,” he says with no note of amazement whatsoever.
“I know.”
“Then you should also know that I’ll vandalize it and then your life if you don’t stay away from my sister.”
So this is about that Instagram picture. I figured it’d ruffle some people’s feathers, but this is a lot faster than I thought.
“I’d love to help you with that, but what to do?” I show my good-boy smile. “You saw how much she was into it. I mean, me.”
“That’s not true.” Brandon steps in my direction. “Glyn would never choose someone like you, so you must’ve coerced her in some way.”
“Someone like me?” I tilt my head. “You mean a fourth-year med student at nineteen, heir to an empire, and a leader in one of the world’s most prestigious colleges? Oh, and your sister’s boyfriend.”