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“Poppy what?”
“Foster.” It feels frail, hollow, the way she delivers it, disconnected.
“Foster, Poppy Foster,” Rex sing-songs, cocking his head, my eyes only on him. “What brings you here?” he dips his chin, eyes glazing as he flicks them up. “You're British, correct?”
She nods, following it up with a quiet, politely spoken, “Yes.”
Rex hums. Raiden looks anywhere but at her, even though she's seated like an upright corpse in his lap, and I stare at theside of Rex's face. Watching him watch her. Trying to ignore her subtle reactions in my peripheral.
“Why'd you come here?” he asks again, his smirk starting to dissolve on his lips, his interest already waning, he's not really a fan of the quiet ones.
“Why not?” she fires back suddenly, unexpectedly, her bottom lip pushing out, irritation straightening her spine further, instantly renewing Rex's interest.
He lifts a brow, and even King is staring at her now, intense, smoldering, hungry.
“Easy, Kitten, it was just a question,” he chuckles darkly, dropping a hand onto my thigh, his fingers squeezing.
“To go to school, what else would I be doing here?” she arches a brow then too, mimicking his expression, daring him to ask more.
She very clearly isn't interested in this little 'get to know Poppy session'.
Raiden sips his beer, hiding a smirk and I glance at her then, waiting for Rex's comeback.
“They don't have schools in England, your Royal Highness?” he drawls mockingly, dragging the words out like he doesn't give a fuck about her answer, he just wants someone to irritate.
“They do,” she blinks, like he's stupid, and King swallows another mouthful of beer, using the glass bottle to hide his amusement.
Poppy leans forward, Rex moving at the same time, meeting her in the middle, their noses almost touching, my gaze and King's following the pair like we couldn’t possibly look away.
“And next time you address me,” she whispers just loud enough for us to hear her over the music. “It's Your Majesty,” she says with a half snarl, top lip curling up and over her teeth.
For long seconds neither one of them moves. I can't see Rex's face with the angle he's leaning at, but I can imagine thehedonistic glint in his green eyes because she just set some sort of challenge in his mind.
Poppy, on the other hand, glares at him like she's imagining his death in an endless amount of violent ways, perhaps even considering the most effective to commit right now. Then she blinks.
Her eyes going dead, like she just shut herself down. She stands from King's lap in one fluid movement. And all three of us watch her, not trying to stop her as she stalks away, rejoining the group of girls she arrived, not ten minutes ago, with. All of them instantly huddling around her, handing her another drink, whispering and giggling as they glance between her and us.
She turns her chin back over her shoulder, flicking her unusual lilac-blue gaze between the three of us and shakes her head. Dismissing us with nothing more than a cold, blank look.
“Oh, fuck me,” Rex hushes, rubbing the heel of his hand over his cock before grabbing it harshly and squeezing it through the fabric of his sweats. “I want her,” he breathes, biting his lip as it curls up into a smirk.
King says nothing. His steely gray eyes zeroed in on her, but still, his expression gives him away. The aggressor in him unable to hide his own reaction to the girl. Soured, cold rage. Putrid and dark, but it's the little glint in his narrowed eyes that makes my own heart thud.
And then he says sinisterly, “Me too.”
Chapter 7
POPPY
Fire burns its way down my throat in the form of liquid courage.
I'm not a party person without a handful of pills and a flood of alcohol in me, but I promised myself I'd try and quit. Use this as a fresh start. Leave London behind. Make Texas my new home. A better one than the last. I flushed my stash, deleted my dealer's number and promised myself I'd quit drinking, stop thinking ofher. Then I headed to the airport and made my flight.
That all only lasted the plane ride here.
There are more drugs on this campus than in a rich person's high class drug den posing as an elite London penthouse. There are things I can get here that I've never even heard of before. My bed sheets weren't even on my new mattress before I had a fresh supply of pills in my palm. That's how I met Bonnie.
She's this cheery, bottle-tan skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed beauty with petite facial features, naturally pink lips and boobs the size of footballs. She lives in the dorm room opposite mine with a girl called Emma. Who has delicate warm brown skin, bright brown eyes and beautiful thick, long, black curly hair. Equally as cheery, equally as friendly.
