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I wondered if he’d actually tell me. I wondered if I overstepped and that may direct more questions at me, which I didn’t need. Ramses’ frown wasn’t small, and when he threw an arm against the wall, he didn’t look at me.
“There was a clique there.”
My heart squeezed.
“Had a run-in with them,” he stated, deadpan. The drink he took had him sucking his teeth after. “Anyway, after I voiced my opinions about it, my dad gratefully shipped me off to boarding school so he wouldn’t have to deal with my objections about it. That worked out just fine with me. I flipped that place and that school the bird. Never looked back since.”
So his dad was into the Court and he wasn’t. That’s assuming we went to the same school…
What were the odds?
It all made sense, though. Ramses clearly had some kind of money and being able to be shipped off to boarding school in the first place made that pretty much a given. We came from the same place, had similar “run-ins,” and his dad got rid of him.
I chewed my lip. “My dad can be kind of a jerk too.”
His gaze slid over, his arm dropping from the wall. “He’s okay with you just not being in school?”
“Hardly.” I laughed, staring off. “He basically disowned me.”
“So you’re on your own?”
My eyes flashed, this guy way too intuitive.
He smiled a little. “Just a theory.”
Well, he’d be too right and enough for me not to want to continue this conversation.
“Maybe where I was in life happens to be just as shit as where you were in yours,” I gave him, the two of us more in sync than he could possibly imagine. I mean, we were literally from the same town, those odds truly astronomical, but they happened.
He stared down at me. “I hope you’re wrong about that.”
“Why?”
“Because no one deserves that.” A lengthy finger tapped his cup before he smiled a little. “Not even a dirty little thief like yourself.”
My jaw dropped, the guy completely busting out in laughter. I smacked his arm. “What the fuck?”
“Relax. I know you didn’t steal anything from Myron or the library,” he said, easing away when I tried to hit him again. “I’ve been watching you.”
My lips closed, but before I could say anything about that, the pair of us noticed a shuffle up front. It all surrounded two officers, two police officers, making their way through the crowd, and when they started questioning people, Ramses took my drink from me.
He put his and mine on an end table. “That’s our cue. Come on. We need to find the guys. Wouldn’t want to add to that rap sheet of yours.”
His comment was only left on the floor due to the strict fear I didn’t want to get arrested for underage drinking tonight. Ramses obviously felt the same because he had us bolting in quick time amongst more than a few people flooding out the house with us. We weren’t the only ones probably drinking when we shouldn’t be. Ramses and I sprinted outside, but we didn’t see his friends. We ended up down the street and in his car by ourselves, but after a couple quick texts, Ramses started his car.
“The guys are headed to another party with some others,” he said, turning in his leather seats. “Want to go?”
With it getting even later, I probably shouldn’t. Heading back was quite a drive, and I didn’t want to be put out of the shelter again tonight by getting back too late. I was also kind of buzzed and probably shouldn’t be drinking any more anyway. I asked Ramses if he could take me home, and after confirming with his friends they’d take ride shares back, he said he would. He asked for my address and the one I made up before was on my lips before I could think better of it.
I hoped to God no one actually lives there.
That was my only thought as Ramses drove me more than an hour it took to get back to town. It was dark then, deeply dark, and my anxiety only skyrocketed the closer he got to my made-up address. We ended up pulling into a cul-de-sac that barely had streetlamps working, Google Maps definitely accurate. The neighborhood looked completely abandoned and the house Ramses pulled us to a stop in front of the same. There were boards on the windows and everything, no lights on and the gate at the front broken.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” he asked, leaning over the steering wheel. He sat back. “The whole neighborhood looks kinda… sketchy.”
Probably because it was, but I said nothing. I started to go, but stopped when he unbuckled himself. “What are you doing?”
He stopped too. “Was going to walk you up? Seriously, this place looks rough. I mean, I don’t mean to insult where you live—”
