Corrupt - Douglas Penelope. Страница 29

I heard Kai snort, and I shot my eyes up, seeing him grinning as he turned the ignition.

Why had they switched seats? I could just as easily have sat in Kai’s lap.

Not that I was complaining.

I let Michael pull me in, my back against his chest, and I blinked long and slow, soaking up whatever was rushing underneath my skin.

His hand rested on my thigh while his other texted on his phone, his thumb jutting out a mile a minute.

“Let’s go,” he told Kai. “Hurry up.”

My jaw ached with a smile as Kai took off. I didn’t know what the hell was next, but all of a sudden, I was having a lot of fun.

Present

ANTHROPOLOGY OF YOUTH CULTURE.

I walked into my first class of this course, already jaded that I’d set myself up for failure. Either I’d relate to it too much or not enough.

Sure, I’d seen plenty of youth culture in my short years. The Horsemen in high school and the hierarchy they dictated. The mob mentality of the hazing events on the basketball team and whatever went on down in the catacombs.

The way the guys schemed as much as the girls, and the way we’d all been mirrors of our parents in some way. The few leaders and the many followers? and the only way you could be strong was if you weren’t alone.

And then there was Devil’s Night. The way much of our town looked the other way and let the youths have that one evening of mischief.

Youth culture in Thunder Bay was a snake pit. Tread lightly with no sudden movements or someone would strike. Unless you were a one of the Horsemen, of course.

But that didn’t mean I really knew anything of youth culture, either. My hometown population was largely wealthy and well-connected. That wasn’t the average. How much of a threat would you be without money? connections, and daddy? Was the playing field more level without those perks?

That’s what I was trying to find out. Without my family name and their money, without my connections and their protection, what was I capable of?

That’s why I’d left Brown and Trevor and the culture I’d grown accustomed to. To find out if I was a follower or a leader. And I doubted I’d stop until I’d proven it was the latter.

I walked down the carpeted stairs into the auditorium, scanning the tan seats for a place to sit. Which was difficult.

The classroom was built for at least a hundred students in staggered seating like that of a movie theater, and it was packed. When I’d registered for this class, I was told it was only offered once every two years, so it looked like a lot of people scooped it up when they could.

My eyes fell on a few empty seats scattered about, and then I stopped, seeing a brunette with long, silky hair dressed in a thin, beige cardigan. Stepping further down the steps, I glanced at her profile and stopped, recognizing her.

I hesitated, clutching the strap to my messenger bag. I didn’t particularly want to sit with her.

But I looked around, seeing places filling up, and there were a few empty spots in her row, so I didn’t have to be right next to her, I guess.

I walked down the row, sliding past the legs of the other students and slid into a chair, keeping an empty space between me and the guy to my right and also between me and the brunette on my left.

She glanced over and offered a small smile.

I smiled back. “Hey, you were with Michael the other night, right?” I broached. “At the elevator. We didn’t get a chance to meet.”

I held out my hand, and she narrowed her eyes, looking confused.

But then she relaxed, nodding and taking my hand. “Oh, that’s right. The younger brother’s girlfriend.”

I breathed out a laugh, not bothering to correct her. She didn’t need my life history.

“Rika,” I told her. “Actually, it’s Erika, but everyone calls me Rika.”

“Ree-ka?” she repeated, shaking my hand. “Hey, I’m Alex Palmer.”

I nodded, releasing her hand and facing the front of the class again.

Professor Cain walked in, with his graying hair, brown suit, and glasses, and immediately began unpacking his bag, taking out papers and setting up his projector. I dropped my bag on the floor, digging out my iPad and propping it up, so I could lay out the keyboard to take notes.

I tried to keep my eyes forward, but I couldn’t help but take Alex in out of the corner of my eye. She was really beautiful. Her green eyes were exotic and piercing, and she wore skinny jeans and a tank top under her open cardigan. Her body was flawless, sexy, and her tan skin glowed.

I pushed my hair behind my ear, looking down at my own clothes. Black leggings with knee-high brown-leather boots and an oversized white shirt with a burgundy scarf loosely tied around my neck.

I let out a breath. It didn’t matter. Even if I had dressed sexier, I’d still wouldn’t look like her.

“Move,” a deep voice ordered.

I snapped my head up, my chest immediately caving seeing Damon Torrance standing over me.

What the hell?

He glared down at Alex, his black hair gelled and his T-shirt just as dark as his hair and eyes.

I heard her shuffle, and I twisted my head, seeing her pick up her things and move a few chairs down.

My mouth hung open, and I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?” I demanded.

But he ignored me, brushing my legs as he pushed passed me and sat down on my left, in Alex’s seat.

“Hey, Rika,” another voice called, and I turned back to my right, seeing Will Grayson take the empty seat on my other side. “How’ve you been?”

Both settled back in their chairs, and I felt them like walls at my side. I hadn’t spoken to them in three years, and I stared ahead, not knowing what the fuck was going on right now.

Deja vu. They were here. They knew I was here. The hair on my arms stood on end, and it was like no time had passed. Three years ago was today.

I squeezed my fists, noticing the professor coming to stand in front of the class.

“Hello, everyone,” he greeted, threading his tie though his fingers. “Welcome to Anthropology in Youth Culture. I am Professor Cain, and…”

I shifted my eyes, the professor’s voice trailing off as I felt Damon’s arm lay across the back of my seat.

Cain continued to speak, but dread sat like a brick in my stomach. “What are you guys doing?” I asked them, keeping my voice low. “Why are you here?”

“Going to class,” Will chirped.

“You go to school here?” I asked, staring at him disbelievingly before turning to Damon.

His eyes, so cold but so hot at the same time, were on me, as if the teacher and class weren’t even here.

“Well, we did kind of lose time,” Will mused, keeping his voice low. “I must say I was a little heartbroken not getting a letter from you the entire time we were away. The last night we were free, we all had a lot of fun, didn’t we?”

No. No we didn’t have a lot of fun. I breathed hard through my nose and hurriedly folded down my iPad and reached over for my bag, getting ready to leave.

But Will grabbed my wrist, pulling me back up. “Stay,” he suggested in a light tone, but I could tell it was a command. “We could use a friend in class.”

I yanked my wrist away, the skin burning where he’d gripped it. I pushed my desktop to the side, grabbed my shit, and shot out of my chair.

But then Damon grabbed the back of my shirt, and my heart skipped a beat as he pulled my ass back down into the seat, whispering, “Get up again, and I’ll kill your mother.”

I rounded my eyes, my breath turning shallow as fear scorched my skin. What?

A guy in the row in front of us turned his head, probably having caught that, and pinched his eyebrows together in worry.