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“And stop inserting cake bunny hookers in every idea,” Nash chimes in.
“Fais chier, connards. Someone needs to acknowledge my fantasies or I’m cutting a bitch.”
My feet come to a halt of their own volition.
Blonde hair bounces down slender shoulders with blinding elegance. Like a light in the darkness, Elsa walks down the hall with Van Doren and a tiny girl.
I’m pushed back to that basement when she brought light with her.
Literally.
Figuratively.
This thing inside me that beats for her is boundless.
I can’t stop looking at her. At her electric blue eyes, her radiant face, and those fucking kissable lips that are mine.
She’s all mine with a capital M.
And now, she’s back.
This time, only death would do us part.
12
Elsa
Dad agreed to let us go back to RES.
Shocking, I know.
With what happened at the Rhodes’ estate, I thought he’d be opposed to RES now more than ever. However, when we sat down and I told him I want to finish the year at my school, he didn’t object.
And I’m glad. It was rushed to even think about leaving the school in the first place.
I’m done
running and hiding.
I’m done disappearing when I should be walking the halls with my head held high.
I did nothing wrong.
Dad’s agreement might have to do with the fact that he needs to be in London to prepare for the Rhodes’ project.
Knox is all for going back to RES. His previous school in Birmingham is boring as fuck — again his words, not mine.
Teal isn’t as ecstatic about the move. She only came along because no one stayed in Birmingham except for the staff.
Dad’s house in London is close to Ronan’s neighbourhood. It’s a bit far from Aunt and Uncle’s house, but I promised to visit them today.
Teal, Knox, and I walk down the hall towards our class. I try not to focus on Aiden standing by the entrance, all powerful and polished. Both his hands are shoved into his pockets, which means he’s stopping himself from doing something — what, I don’t know.
He watches me as if I’m the only one in the busy hallway. The interest in his eyes is paralysing, suffocating even. His gaze studies me close, so close, as if he’s relearning my features, the curve of my shoulder, and the line of my collarbone.
Almost like… he’s making sure I’m real.
He gave me that look once upon a time.
