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Lion’s gavel drops and the pounding on the solid piece of wood silences everyone. “Sicko, what the fuck is going on with your old man?”
School is beginning to feel more and more like a prison. It’s worse here, because I don’t have the safety of my mom to fall back on. I’m caged between reality and my nightmare, I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I’m alone, even though Sloane is always with me.
“Hey, you’re okay?” Sloane asks, handing me a Solo cup. It’s a Friday night and I usually have James on Saturdays, but I haven’t heard from him since Tuesday. I’m thankful that I haven’t seen him since then because it was weird.
We move through the sea of people as my head pounds with the music and my blood warms from the alcohol inside of me. I tip my drink down my throat. “I need to get out of here, Sloane,” I yell into her ear when she pulls me onto the lounge dance floor.
“What do you mean?” she asks, wrapping her arm around my waist and falling into my back. “We just got here!”
I spin around to face her, my hands coming to her cheeks. “I mean out of college. I don’t think I’m in the right frame of mind to complete it right now. I already know that I’m failing.”
Sloane waves me off, grabbing my hand and moving me to the front of the house. “Nonsense!” She pulls through the front door until we’re out on the patio. “But I will support you if you were to take a break. I get it, J. You’ve been a little bit off lately. I will support whatever it is that you need to do.”
My shoulders relax slightly as emotion builds in my throat. I love Sloane. I truly believe that every girl needs a best friend, but not every girl needs a husband. A spouse’s love is conditional, whether you see it or not. When you first fell for your partner, it was for reasons. A best friend will love you forever.
“Thank—” The rumble of bikes coming down the street halt my words. I shake my head and internally roll my eyes. There’s no fucking way. “Thank you. I need another drink.”
“Another drink?” an unfamiliar voice murmurs behind me, and I shuffle to see who it belongs to. He flashes his pearly white teeth at me, a complete contrast to his black hair. “Name’s Jensen.”
I smile softly, trying not to cringe. I don’t know why college boys don’t do it for me, and very briefly, I thought this one could. But now, face-to-face, I know that’s another fail.
I take the drink from him. “Thanks.”
“Jade, right?” Jensen says, leaning against the railing. His eyes remain on mine, his feet crossing at his ankles.
I nod. “Yup,” taking a sip of the flat beer. Gross. Everything about college is severely overrated. Even somewhat tipsy, it does nothing to fill the void that’s aching in my chest.
“Is Ollie inside?” Sloane asks, winking at me. “I think I’ll go find him.”
Somewhere in the back of my mind, warning bells are going off, but I silence them. I need to put myself in college. Mentally, I’m not there. I’m many years ahead of all the people at this school. I’m struggling.
Sloane’s eyes fly over my shoulder as music continues to pour out of the house. She pales. “Oh shit. Jade…”
I turn my head slightly over my shoulder to find Royce tossing his helmet on the ground near his idling bike, his eyes furious and on Jensen. His jaw tenses, his fists closing. How the fuck did I miss the fact that their bikes had stopped? Everything spins, my brain fuzzy. Ah, that’s probably why.
My brows curve in as he gains distance, but just as he’s about to reach us, one of the other bikers steps in front of him, hand on his chest. This one has short hair on the sides, longer on the top. He doesn’t seem to have a flick of tattoos, and almost looks too good to be in an MC vest, no offense to Royce. Wicked. Wicked leans into Royce’s ear and whispers something that only they can hear before I watch as Royce’s face morphs into serenity. Calm. All of the anger we all witnessed has vanished.
Royce’s eyes cut to mine, a snarl on his mouth. He pushes away from Wicked and storms toward me, only this time, he does it while grabbing a cigarette, putting it between his swollen lips, and lighting the end gracefully.
God, Royce. So damn beautiful it aches my soul. When I was a teenager, I thought that ache was butterflies, but now, what I feel isn’t butterflies in my belly. It’s my soul exploding from beneath my skin and not having anywhere for the shrapnel to escape to. It’s everything that should kill you but doesn’t, instead it lingers within your veins, spreading poison. The bow in his middle lip, the symmetry of his face, the strength of his jaw, the beautifully cut cheekbones, sharpened by a scalpel. It’s even the tattoos that stain his flawlessly muscled skin, and the way his dark eyelashes fan out over his cheeks. It’s his annoyingly perfect nose and impeccably straight, white teeth. Royce Kane is not for one girl, he’s for every girl. He’s your mom’s secret fantasy and your father’s insecurity.
