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They turn from the crowd, urging me with them. Whispers erupt around us as we take a seat at the head table. I don’t miss that they’ve placed me dead center, between Fielder and Gideon. I feel conspicuous and uncomfortable. “That was…”
“A long time coming?” Hardin asked, leaning back in his chair as a sophomore girl places a plate in front of him. It looks like a full English breakfast, which is definitely not on the menu.
I glare at him, as three other females place plates in front of the guys on either side of me.
“Unnecessary.” I wave a hand at the girl, who’s scurrying away. “And that is just…wrong.”
“What’s wrong about it?” Gideon asks.
“They’re your peers, not your slaves. And I can only imagine that the reason they do it is that they think it’ll make you like them. Which is ridiculous because none of you would ever fall for a girl that would just rush to do your bidding.” My cheeks turn pink as I realize what I said, but I continued on stubbornly. “Its wrong to use them that way. Especially when there are servers that are paid to bring you food. Just order it from them like a normal person.”
Hardin’s grin is wide. “But we aren’t normal people, my Rosalind.”
Grumbling, I lean back, hugging my elbows. “Well, I am.” I indicate the empty spot in front of me.
A server slips up next to me, is if bidden by my words. My jaw ticks, my lips thin. I’m getting a headache. My first day of the new quarter and already I’m regretting my decision to come back here.
“Order whatever you want, love,” Hardin encourages me.
I glare at him, and then look up at the server waiting for me and offer her a smile. One that I hope doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “I’ll just have a coffee and a scone, please.” I’m honestly not sure if my stomach can handle more than that.
Ezra makes a noise, like he doesn’t think I’ve ordered enough, but I swear to god if he comments on it, I will punch him in the dick. The last thing I need is him monitoring how much I eat.
I stop the server before she can hurry away. “If you can bring it to that table there,” I point at the table that Merritt is still sitting at, all alone. “I’m moving there.”
She nods her understanding and, as soon as she’s stepped away, I push back my chair. Both Gideon and Fielder grab my wrist, keeping me in place. “You should eat with us, Sweeney.”
“I should eat in a place where I don’t feel like I’m in a fishbowl,” I correct, shaking their hands off me.
I’m vaguely aware of the scrape of chairs as I descend from the dais, and head toward Merritt, who watches my approach warily. When a hand pulls out my chair for me, I understand why.
They’ve followed me. All four of them have followed me off their raised platform to the tiny table I usually just share with Merritt and Ben. Just like they did last quarter.
And there is a string of girls behind them carrying their food and drinks.
I sit with a huff, letting Ezra push in my chair for me. Merritt eyes me with a fair amount of trepidation, but then looks up at her cousin still standing behind me. “Isn’t this going a little overboard? You’re going to smother the girl.”
God, I love Merritt. So fucking much.
Apparently, I didn’t do a very good job of hiding what I was feeling when I got home last night. Or, more likely, one of them texted Merritt to let her know I’d run off and probably asked her to keep an eye on me. Thank god she hadn’t hunted me down. At least she understands I need some space to process, even if they don’t.
The boys spread out around us; the girls following them place their food in front of them. Not one boy says ‘thank you.’ The server who’d taken my order arrives with my breakfast and I make a point of thanking her profusely. She gives me a tentative smile and hurries away.
At least I understand better now why these assholes hold more power than most of the professors and maybe even the dean now. They can probably just use magic to sway everyone to their side if they need it.
Gideon is sitting next to me, and I can feel his gaze on the side of my face, the same way I can feel Fielder, Ezra and Hardin’s. But I keep my gaze firmly on either my breakfast or Merritt.
“We’re just trying to keep her safe, Mer,” Fielder comments. “You’d rather we left her alone and gave Morgan the opportunity to attack her?”
Merritt shifts on her chair and leans forward, bracing her forearms on the table. “I’d rather you give her the tools to protect herself.”
“Me too,” I mutter into my coffee.
Gideon’s big hand slides onto my thigh, being sure to stay on the fabric of my skirt and not catch any skin. He squeezes gently, and I am immediately reminded of yesterday morning and the way he’d made me feel.
I am so fucking grateful that he didn’t agree to have sex with me. He’s right. I would regret it now, especially after the conversation with Cohen, and all the doubts I have about their motivations.
I’ll ask Merritt tonight when it’s just the two of us and hopefully I’ll get some insight that will help me sort through this riot of emotions in me.
