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He twists his head to face me, a hand running through his brown hair while frustration flickers in his expression. He goes to answer me, but before he gets the words out, his phone buzzes from the arm of the couch and he stands.
“Sorry, Fal,” he calls out, tucking the blanket back over my legs fully before moving towards the door. “Gotta bounce.”
I let out a sigh, turning the tele off and resting my head back against the counter. There’s not a chance in hell I’m watching a horror film on my own. I’m already going to have nightmares after watching half of it with him.
I spend the rest of the evening reading, losing myself in a world that isn’t my head. My thoughts are lousy company these days—not that they were ever that great to begin with.
My phone rings as I’m sliding into bed, the noise echoing through my otherwise quiet dorm. I glance at the screen, moaning into my pillow when I see it’s my mother.
“What?”
“Gregory is coming to town to visit the academy tomorrow,” she tells me, not bothering with fake pleasantries as her cold voice comes through the line.
Shit. I forgot about the weird dude I’m expected to entertain, and now he’s here tomorrow? A groan escapes me as I close my eyes for a moment before my gaze settles on the ceiling.
The last thing I want to do is deal with this right now.
“Fine. What do you need me to do?”
“You have dinner reservations in town at seven p.m., so he’ll pick you up at half past six. I’m having a dress delivered to your dorm in the morning, and hair and make-up will be there at four.”
“If he’s coming to visit the academy, why would we be going to dinner?” I ask, my face wrinkling in confusion. Surely I’d be better suited to taking him on a tour of something, rather than getting primped and preened for a dinner?
Not that I know much about entertaining sponsors, or why it’s somehow my job, since nothing else to do with the academy is.
“Because it’s what’s expected of you. If you want to take over from your father in running that academy one day, you’ll do as you are told. Is that understood?”
“Of course, Mother,” I tell her, although she has no say in who takes over for my father, considering they’re separated. I already know the job is mine one day, whether I want it or not.
Not being the correct answer.
“Is that all?”
“For now. Be good, Fallon. I’m always watching.”
I toss my phone on the floor when the line goes dead, ignoring the loud thud as it smacks against the leg of my desk. I still can’t understand why a man the same age as my father, if not older, wants to spend their time with an eighteen-year-old.
It’s so fucking weird.
Plus, it feels completely inappropriate when I don’t know the first thing about this man.
Grumbling, I get out of bed and pull on one of Noah’s hoodies that I stole before sliding on my bunny slippers and padding across the floor. There’s no way I’m sleeping now, not until I learn more about this man, and there’s only two people in the dorms who may have answers for me.
A harsh knock comes at my door, too late for anybody to be paying a social call—unless it is Kyle or Gage. And since the latter is passed out on my couch right now and the other is back in London, I know it’s not either of them.
“Theodore, I know you’re in there. I can hear your TV,” Fallon calls out through the door. She sounds annoyed, and I can’t lie and say I don’t get a kick out of it. “I need to talk to you or Gage. I tried his dorm first, but he didn’t answer so I’m guessing he’s in here.”
I boot the leg dangling off the couch, trying to wake him to go see what she wants, but he doesn’t react, just snores away, dead to the world. He’ll be fucking dead after I’m done dealing with whatever it is she wants from him.
I shove off the couch, kicking him again for good measure as I pass. When I reach the door, I wait a moment, hoping she’ll get the hint and fuck off.
She doesn’t.
She knocks again, forcing me to open the door and come face-to-face with her.
“What the fuck do you want?” She stumbles back a step, her gaze falling to the floor as if that will somehow save her from me. Her hair is tied into two braids that keep the strands off her face, and she’s rocking some weird as fuck pyjamas with cats, bunny slippers, and an oversized hoodie that clearly doesn’t belong to her—considering it’s one that’s only given to Eyam’s football players.
My jaw tightens at the sight of her in another man’s clothes, my fists clenching at my sides as unwanted anger burns through me.
