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Plus, I had an older brother who once went here.
All the dorms are single sex, and there’s a flurry of girls my age directing various moving men around as they carry their belongings into dorm rooms.
Like Moses and the Red Sea, the girls—and even the moving men—stop and move out of the way when the guy I’m following walks in. All eyes are on him, and I watch as more than one girl pulls out their phones, not bothering to hide their actions as they snap their photos.
As he passes, their attention turns to me. Curiosity, surprise and even disgust are directed at me as they look me up and down. Making sure my expression is blank, I walk past them, pretending I didn’t notice.
Despite what Cole said, I knew exactly what I was getting into when I decided to come here. I used to be one of those girls.
Girls with so much money, the idea of being poor was an alien concept that I had no idea there were people out there who struggled just to put food on the table. People who needed help, while assistance became about as real as leprechauns and unicorns.
Despite losing everything, we’d never beenthatpoor. But it was eye opening for me. It had taken almost a year before I even managed to wrap my head around everything to realize that there were people out there who were even worse off than my mom and me.
Which was when the arguments with her had gotten worse.
If we’d lost everything, and my mom wasn’t working, how were we able to pay the rent on a two-bedroom apartment? How was Mom able to afford all the booze she was drinking like a fish? She once said it was from Dad, but he’d lost everything too.
The next time I asked her, she said it was hers.
The third time, it was from an account she managed to stop the government from taking from us.
Keeping my head held high, I continue to follow the hot guy carrying my suitcase through the lobby until he finally stops at the elevator.
“I can take it from here,” I say as the silver doors slide open with two girls inside.
Almost instantly, they stop chatting as their gazes fall on the guy beside me. “Royal?” one girl says. She’s gorgeous, with the brightest smile, immaculate makeup, and blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
Royal… At no point have I ever asked his name.
Then again, he hasn’t asked mine either.
“Gabrielle.” As the elevator doors start to close, he sticks his free arm out, grabbing them so they stay open. “Are you getting out?” Although it’s a question, his tone is more of an order.
Shooting me a suspicious look, Gabrielle nods and walks out, but not without running her hand over Royal’s chest. “You’ll be there later?”
Royal stares at her before giving her a smile. “Maybe. But you better be.”
He says it with such a flirty tone, that I barely notice her stiffen momentarily before giving him the biggest smile. “I’ll be there.”
Royal waits for her and her friend to walk away before he gestures for me to get inside. As he follows in, another girl comes running over, but stops when she sees him. Without a word, Royal hits the button.
My brain is whirling in confusion at the whole interaction, that I continue following him on autopilot as the elevator arrives at the third floor, and then he leads me to the end of the corridor.
It’s only when we’re in front of room 37 that I look at him. “I never told you my room number.”
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but I feel like I’ve just led a stalker to my room.”
Royal steps forward, his body blocking me. Although my heart is starting to race, I refuse to back up. As a smirk grows on his face, he leans forward. With his mouth at my ear, he slides his free hand over my ass.
“You’re one of the scholarship students. There are only two rooms you could be in, and as the other person is a guy, I’m certain this one is yours.”
He steps back and holds up his hand. Dangling from his index finger is the room key assigned to me.
“Also, you followed me. So, I think that makes you the stalker.”
As my mouth drops open, he turns and unlocks the door. Pushing it open, he walks in and deposits the suitcase in the middle of the bed.
