Page 16 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
“They let you do that mid-semester?”
He shrugs. “Mom’s a big donor, which probably had a lot to do with their leniency.”
Huh. The blatant money is a bit much for me, but I don’t voice my opinion. He still has my bag hostage, after all.
“Do you have another class right now?” he asks.
I shift. “No, but—”
“It’s almost lunchtime.”
I narrow my eyes. “And?”
“And I’m hungry. I’m hoping you’ll join me.”
I weigh my options: eat lunch alone in the library, which would involve sneaking my food in and finding an alcove… or I could go with him.
What’s the worst that could happen?
We draw more than a few stares crossing the quad, and I know they’re aimed at me.
The black hair last year was a spontaneous choice. Sort of like the final piece of a puzzle coming together. I wanted to look different, but I couldn’t seem to pinpoint what I was missing until I saw a girl with jet-black hair in the grocery store.
She seemed cool, but also like she didn’t give a fuck.
I didn’t really care about the cool part. I just wanted a dose of her confidence.
Whitney was working late, and I grabbed a box of the darkest color hair dye that grocery store had. I was already rocking black clothes, the boots that made me feel like I could stomp the world. And I was sinking slowly into invisibility.
It had been over a year since the Howl incident. The video still popped up, but it came in waves. RJ and Colt started shit occasionally, but they took their cues from Liam. I don’t know what he said behind the scenes, or how angry he got at me. It always came back around to bite me in the ass.
Whitney arrived home in time to stop my home-dying attempt, and she literally dragged me to a hair salon. Her own hair changed with the seasons, so I wasn’t surprised that she was on a first-name basis with everyone there.
They set me up for The Transformation: a blue-black that would fade to gray, then silver if I took care of it properly. I got my septum pierced the same weekend, and you know what? It did boost my confidence.
A piece of metal and a change in my hair.
“Skylar?” Mitchel nudges me. “Was that a yes?”
We’re outside the dining hall. I nod, forcing a smile. He grins and scans in, and I do the same. We grab seats, leaving our bags there, then separate to hunt down food. He beats me back to the table, and I sit across from him with a sigh.
“What do you think of that class?” he asks.
I shrug. “It’s fine. The professor is pretty cool.”
“I don’t know why I picked a math class,” he admits. “I don’t need any credits in that subject.”
“Are you fond of math, then?” I need at least one more math class before I graduate, but it’s part of my double major—economics and mathematics. My options post-grad are wide open.
“I like the idea of it. Numbers and rigidity. There’s always a solution, you know?”
“An answer to every problem,” I muse. “That is appealing.”
“Okay.” He sets down his fork. “Rapid question time. No thinking, just answering.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Why?”