Charles steps back from the edge of the balcony. Not me. I step forward. Gripping the railing, I peer down to see who is yelling.
On the ground at the base of our building is a familiar guy dressed all in black. His long, dark hair is sticking to his face and soaked with brandy. When he looks up, his eyes convey pure rage, and his snake bite piercings flash in the streetlights.
“Silas?” I call and immediately cover my mouth. Great. If he didn’t know it was me before, he definitely knows now that he’s heard my voice.
“Roonie!” he growls. He looks angrier by the second. Brandy drips down his face. He wipes his eyes and must instantly regret it. He flinches sharply. “Why are you pouring shit off the balcony?”
Before I can respond, Charles grabs my hand, throws open the balcony door, and pulls me into the suite. He shuts the glass door behind us.
Silas’s shouting is muffled, but still quite audible. Soon, his cries are joined by those of other students, telling him to shut up.
“What’s going on?” Tate mutters from the couch.
“No idea,” Charles says, hiding the now empty bottle of brandy behind his back. He pads softly into the kitchen, deposits it in the recycling, and pulls his phone from his pocket. A second later, the soft sound of classical music fills the suite, drowning out the shouting coming from outside.
Chapter 7
In the next few days, we fall into a routine. We have breakfast together every morning, usually omelettes or smoothies, depending on JJ’s mood. The guys are always coming and going to class or rehearsal, but I see them at dinner without fail.
JJ whips us up gourmet meals, and the one time he’s running late, Charles orders Chez Caviar. After dinner, we hang out in the apartment. To my relief, no one mentions Father, and the guys never complain if I randomly start singing.
I should be happy, but by Thursday, I’m feeling antsy. There’s a regular housekeeping service that comes in, so there’s nothing to clean, and JJ won’t let me help with any of the cooking. The guys have class, and they study, but all I do is watch TV, sing, and read the occasional book.
The one time I set my alarm early so I can surprise them with breakfast, JJ intercepts me. He tries to shoo me out of the kitchen altogether, but finally lets me help when I tell him how bored and useless I feel.
Tate skips class that morning and the two of us curl up on the couch and watch a movie. Then JJ takes me out for lunch, and we drive into town to grab burgers. He pays, since I don’t have any money, and the feeling of uselessness grows.
On Friday, Charles wakes me up early and we stand on the balcony—the same spot where he poured brandy on Silas—and we chuckle about the bad timing while we watch the sun rise. After breakfast, the guys tell me they have morning rehearsal. They insist that I come with them, but their vocal coach—a short, middle-aged man with thick, round glasses—kicks me out because he doesn’t tolerate distractions.
I pass the time by playing new songs on my phone and singing along, but my throat dries up when Silas storms out of the rehearsal room.
“What are you doing here?” he demands when he sees me. There are dark circles under his eyes, his clothes are wrinkled, and even though it’s been almost a week, I swear he still smells like brandy.
“I—” once again, I can’t seem to get words out around Silas. Not unless I’m up on a balcony and there are quite a few feet between us.
“There you are.” JJ grins as he exits the rehearsal room. “Are you ready for lunch?”
I shoot a nervous glance at Silas, and his scowl grows. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go if you paid me,” he spits and storms off down the hall.
“Don’t mind him, Roo Roo. He’s just having a bad day.” Tate smiles and takes my hand in his. His grip is strong and his palm warm against mine as he leads me out of the music building. He smells so good that I have to fight not to lean in and inhale.
“I hope you weren’t too bored.” Charles moves to my other side, his hands folded leisurely behind his back.
JJ brings up the rear, staying so close I swear I can feel his breath tickling the back of my neck. As we walk, I get this sudden eerie feeling that someone’s watching us. I glance back at the music building, my eyes moving past the sign that reads Beckett Hall to the library, and then in the other direction to the Giselle Albertina Dance Theatre.
There are students everywhere, but they don’t seem to be paying us any attention. Why would they, when they have so many other students to gape at? There’s a guy wearing headphones dancing hip hop to music only he can hear. And a girl in a bronze dress with huge sleeves that make it look like she’s wearing a bat costume. Sitting on the grass, there are the three students wearing blue bodysuits with their skin and hair painted a matching blue, acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
Of everyone here, the guys and I are the least likely to draw attention, and yet, my gut tells me someone’s watching. I feel like a celebrity with her entourage... or a princess and her guards. Or perhaps even a queen and her royal knights, sworn to protect her and her kingdom.
Without realizing it, I start to hum a song about a queen and her knights. It is a softly flowing melody that brings me peace and happiness. I stop abruptly and glance at the guys, at Tate who’s smiling at me, Charles who doesn’t seem to have noticed, and finally JJ, who shoots me a wink. They really don’t mind that I’m humming.
When we reach the building housing the cafeteria, we’re forced to push through hallways crowded with students. Charles moves to take the lead, and JJ takes his place at my side.
We pass students carrying half-finished costumes or boxes of art supplies. Others mingle in clusters, not unlike our own, while a few are glued to their phones.
When we turn the last corner, my nostrils are filled with the smells of ketchup and something fried.
The cafeteria is a huge, brightly lit room, with sunlight filtering in through floor-to-ceiling windows. Sterile-looking tables stand in a perfectly neat grid pattern, and quite a few are occupied by students. A pale girl with long, brown hair pores over a textbook as her neglected soup grows cold. Over at the next table, a couple sits together holding hands. A phone lies on the table between them, the headphone jack in place, a pair of earbuds split between them. At the back of the room, a rowdy group of guys laugh over a large plate of french fries.
“Here we are.” JJ winks at me. “Caf sweet caf.”
“We’ve all got an afternoon class we can’t miss, but we thought it would be nice if we all ate together,” Tate says.
“And we’ve got something for you,” Charles adds. “Let’s have a seat.”
He leads the way to a table, and I end up sandwiched between Tate and Charles, which immediately takes me back to our first kiss. My cheeks flush, and JJ, who’s about to sit across from us, pauses with his hand on the back of the chair.
“I’ll get us some food,” he says and a second later, he’s gone.
“Here, Roonie.” Charles reaches inside his leather messenger bag and pulls out a large, flat box.
When I don’t reach for it, Charles opens it, revealing the brand new laptop inside. I know he’s waiting for a response, but all I can do is stare. I’ve never been able to afford a new laptop. My old laptop was bought second-hand from one of Father’s friends.