AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With a wink and a smirk, he walks into the room, sitting in the same chair I just left. Shaking my head and walking away, I try to get the feel of Gareth’s firm body pressed against mine out of my head.
Similar to Rodney, Gareth has dark brown hair, but he wears it short all over, with the top in a messy spike. His only facial hair consists of a close-cropped goatee on his chin. He seems shorter than Rodney, but not by much; both of them tower over me.
After accidentally copping a feel of Gareth’s body, it is easy to tell that he is fit, like Rodney. Rodney seems more muscular than Gareth, though. While Gareth has brown eyes, given his icy demeanor, blue eyes would be more fitting.
Seeing both men in the light of day, in addition to their dress style, gives me a better idea of their personalities and group dynamics. Rodney seems more laid back, given his casual dress in a simple shirt and jeans. Gareth is dressed more formally in a sports jacket over a T-shirt. He wears the collar of the jacket pulled up a bit. The fashion throwback to the eighties works for him.
* * *
Between classes, I pop into the restroom and splash some cold water on my face. The coffee shop is too far away, so this will have to do. The lack of sleep last night is kicking my ass.
Dropping the paper towel into the garbage, the door swings open, causing me to groan inwardly. Danica, the obvious ringleader, steps in, followed by Thing One, Thing Two, and one other girl. It seems as if this is going to be a thing, yeah. Unsure if they followed me in here or not, one of them blocks the door, making it obvious they plan to take advantage of this situation.
Waiting for Danica to make the first move, I look at the fourth member of their little group. She is the most natural-looking of the bunch. Her light brown hair lands on her ass, with no tits to speak of. While not trying to body shame her, she could be President of the Itty-Bitty Titty Committee. Danica’s nasally voice brings my attention back to her.
“Well, well, well, look who we have here?”
“Are you stalking me?” The words escape my lips before I can contain them. Being outnumbered, the last thing that should be happening is to egg them on.
“Did I follow you? Somewhat,” Danica says with a shrug of her shoulders. “I have a warning for you. Stay away from Rodney and Gareth. Those boys belong to us—all four of them do.”
Scoffing—this is what her problem is? “You can have them; I’m not interested. Now, if you don’t mind, can you let me pass?”
Stepping between them, my hair gets pulled from behind. In the struggle to get free, my face bounces off the metal dispenser for hand towels hanging on the wall near the door. Danica releases my hair as she and her lackeys laugh like hyenas. Moisture starts running down my chin. Wiping it away, my fingers come away covered in blood.
A quick look in the mirror confirms a bloody nose.
Fantastic.
Moving back to the sink, turning my back on Danica and her sheep, I do my best to clean up. My next class starts soon, not giving me time to run to the dorm. Watching in the mirror as Danica steps in behind me; her voice drops an octave.
“You have been warned. Those boys belong to us.”
A sarcastic retort is on the tip of my tongue. Since Danica has proven she has no qualms about resorting to violence, I tuck my lips between my teeth. After a brief stare down, Danica gives up on waiting for me to engage her. Still maintaining eye contact in the mirror, she speaks to her minions.
“Let’s go girls.”
Once they leave, a breath escapes my lungs. Doing my best to shake off the encounter and clean up as well as possible, I sprint to my next class.
Gareth and his friends not wanting me on campus makes sense, given the circumstances. No idea as to what Danica’s problem is.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Just before classes started this morning, Rodney sent out a text in our group chat that Kennedy was still on campus. Gareth responded with three words that have become our mantra.
Game on, Duchess.
Reading it this morning gave me a hard-on; thankfully, I was already seated. Thinking about it even now has the wayward appendage in my pants making things uncomfortable.
A tray of food is set on the table with a bang, chasing away dirty thoughts of Kennedy Ainsworth. Trying to covertly adjust myself garners a raised eyebrow from Callum as he sits down.
Thinking back to Mr. Atwater’s statement of her being pretty or “fetching” is an understatement. We saw her at the preliminary trial, but up close and personal, her beauty is spectacular.
Kennedy is petite; my best guess is around five and a half feet tall, at the most. Each of us is almost a foot taller than her. She weighs next to nothing. Her clothes hang off her slight frame as if she has lost weight.
The slight gap between her front teeth adds character, the one slight flaw to her perfect face.
“Asshole, where you go?” Callum says, throwing a grape at my head to get my attention.
