It swung open, revealing my tree… “Weston?”
“Lamb.” He opened his door wider. “How can I help you?”
Chapter Three
I should have left well enough alone
Kiersten
I took a few steps back to examine the number next to the door. “I, uh… is the RA not here? Did you break into her room?”
“One…” He held up his finger. “I’m a bit insulted that you think I’d have to break into a girl’s room to get in. Believe me. I knock, they open, I walk in. It’s as simple as that.”
I bet it was.
“Two…” He held up two fingers. “You’re looking at the RA. Now, why don’t you come in and I’ll explain to you how the whole student ID card thing works.”
Pressing my lips together, I gave him a firm nod and walked into the room. It was clean. Not what I expected from what I’d read about guys and hygiene.
“So…” Weston walked over to his bed and sat. “Let me see your schedule and I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”
I was still processing the fact that he was my RA. “I don’t get it. I could have sworn the Freshman RA was a female.”
“Sex change,” Weston said with a straight face. “I was a confused child.”
“Funny.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? I requested an all-girls dorm and got put in a co-ed building, and then my RA is a—” I was going to say hot guy but refrained from embarrassing myself.
“Sex god.” He said it for me. “I know, some people have all the luck.” With a heavy sigh he pulled a chunk of papers from my packet and whistled. “Looks like you’ve got a hell of a schedule. Nineteen credits? No major? You don’t seem like the indecisive type.”
I wanted to tell him he didn’t know me. In fact, I wanted to snap at him. What did he know of my life? My past? My reasons for not committing? As if sensing my anger, my cell went off; I looked at the screen. Uncle JoBob. I called him Jo. He’d been taking care of me for the past two years. Ever since… everything happened.
I pressed ignore. Uncle Jo would flip if he heard a male voice in the background, and Weston didn’t seem the quiet type to me. No, he was a flaunter. Crap, he even looked like he was flexing sitting there, though I couldn’t be sure. He had a long-sleeved white shirt on with ripped jeans.
“So…” He pulled out a pen and scribbled something on the paper. “The campus map is going to be your bread and butter. Don’t get lost, and don’t walk by yourself at night, okay?”
“I think I can handle it.” I snatched the paper from him. “ID card?”
“Right.” He stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I circled the building on the map. Smile bright for your picture, Lamb.”
I grimaced “Are you going to call me that all year?”
“Would you rather I call you something else?” he whispered, his lips close enough to touch mine.
“Um, no thanks.” My voice shook.
“You sure about that?” He stared at my lips. I took a step back, he took another step forward.
“I thought you weren’t into freshmen.” I was backed into a corner, literally. I felt something sharp against my back.
“Maybe I’m changing my mind,” he offered, tilting my chin toward his face. “I always was a sucker for redheads.”
My eyes narrowed. “Strawberry blonde.”
“Redhead.”
“Light red.”
He sighed. “Hate to break it to you, but your hair is red. You’re a red head, not a light red head, not a strawberry-blonde. Accept it, embrace it, love it. Because you’re freaking gorgeous.”
Okay, so that was forward. I licked my lips and mumbled a thanks before ducking away from him and making a beeline toward the door.
“Forgetting something?” his voice came from behind me.
“No?” I froze.
His hands were on my shoulders. Slowly, he turned me to face him and handed the map and my packet to me. “There you go. Remember what I said, no walking alone at night and smile wide.”
“I’ll try.”
“Don’t try.” His grip tightened on the packet. “Be smart. Walk in pairs. Use the buddy system. Don’t drink things that smell funny—”
“And don’t go into guy’s rooms alone, even if he is an RA.”
His smile fell. “Touché.”
I jerked my packet free from his hands and walked out.
“Use the elevator!” he called after me.
So that was how he did it. Bastard. I looked up. Sure enough there was a sign that pointed to the elevator. I went to press the down button and refused to look back, even though I knew his door was open and he was still staring at me.
Chapter Four
Embarrass myself in front of the hottest guy on the planet? Check.
Kiersten
“Where were you?” Lisa sounded outraged at my absence as she threw up her hands in surrender. “I looked everywhere! And Gabe couldn’t find you either!”
“Gabe?” I walked into the room.
Lisa pointed to the couch. “Gabe.”
“I’m Gabe.” A guy with dark hair that fell to his chin lifted his hand into the air in a wave. He had a nose ring and so many tattoos lining his arms that I thought I was going to have a seizure from all the moving parts.
“Hey.” I waved back. “Nice to meet you. And how was Gabe looking for me if he doesn’t know who I am?”
“Facebook.” Lisa shrugged. “I stalked you, pulled up your picture, pushed it into his face and—”
“Yelled,” Gabe interrupted. “She yelled. A bit of an exaggerator that one. She had it in her mind that you got kidnapped.”
“Sort of did,” I grumbled.
“What!” Lisa shrieked.
“Are you on drugs?” I leaned in to examine her eyes.
“Coffee,” Gabe offered. “She’s had enough to kill a person.”
“Who took you!” Lisa grabbed my arms.
“Me,” a voice said from the door. Aw crap, did he have a tracking device on me or something?
Lisa’s mouth dropped open. It looked like she was going to pass out. Even Gabe looked stunned. Okay, right, Weston was hot, but not hot enough to render both sexes speechless.
I turned on my heel. “What do you want?”
“Ooh, touchy. I like.” He gave a sloppy grin. “You left your purse.” He handed me my black Dooney and Burke. “I didn’t look through it, just so you know.”
Well, I hadn’t even thought about that possibility. My pills were in there. He’d probably label me a freak if he saw them. What kind of person needed meds to deal with her life? I did. I just wish I didn’t have to take them.
“Uh, thanks.” I tried dismissing him. Instead he looked around the room, his eyes seeming to focus on every single detail from the paint to the carpet, and then finally, he stepped back out into the hallway. “Oh!” He held up his hand. “I almost forgot.”
Weston pulled a sharpie from his pocket and snatched my hand before I was able to put it back into my pocket. With swift movements he wrote a phone number onto my palm and blew across it until it dried.
I felt that breeze all the way down to my toes. I think I may have swayed on my feet too, but I couldn’t be certain because I blacked out for a few seconds.
“There.” He lifted his head and looked into my eyes. “Just in case the lamb can’t find her way home.”
“Cute.”
“Thank you.” He winked and walked out the door.
The room fell silent. I shrugged and turned to face Lisa. Her mouth was open, she looked alive, but nothing was coming out of her except for a slight moan. Was she having a stroke?
Gabe jumped up from the couch and went to slam the door closed
“Shit!” Gabe clapped his hands and swore again. “Outside of football games and class, I’ve never seen him. I mean, he doesn’t talk to people. He never leaves his entourage!”
“Entourage?” The only experience I’d had with that particular word was watching the show on my computer. Did that mean he had lots of people around him all the time? Weird, because when I was with him he was alone “He’s our RA.”
“SHUT UP!” Lisa looked faint. “Oh, I need to sit, I need to sit. Gabe bring a fan, I think I’m going to pass out.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Good to know how I compare to the god.”
“You aren’t even in the same atmosphere as Weston Michels.”
Michels? Why did that last name sound familiar?
“Thanks, cousin.”
“Anytime.”
“Cousin?” I asked.
“Oh right, Gabe’s my cousin.” She waved me off and started doing breathing exercises.
Well, at least she wasn’t already bringing strange men back to our room. Gabe took a seat next to her, his grin wide.
“Okay, what am I missing?” I sat on the couch and leaned forward. “Is this Weston guy important?”
Gabe let out a laugh and then slapped his leg. “You’re shitting me right? Where have you been living?”
“Bickelton.”
“Huh?” He leaned in as if to examine me. I was speaking English right?
“Small town.” Lisa smacked him and then focused on me again. “I can’t believe you don’t know who Weston is. Seriously? You said you watched TV.”
“I do,” I defended myself. “Well, I mean, I watch Netflix and I read magazines and stuff, you know, when they’re available at our corner store.”
“Holy shit, you live in the fifties.” Gabe snorted.
I glared.
“Weston Michels.” Lisa typed the name into her phone and then handed it to me.
I should have known.
He had an IMDb website. Not a good sign. That screamed entertainment industry. I scrolled further down.
And there it was.
The Forbes article had been done around two years before, about the same time as the accident. I hadn’t been much of a social butterfly then. In fact, I distinctly remember Uncle Jo threatening to throw me out if I didn’t leave my room.
I tapped the screen, making the image bigger. His hair was longer now. He looked happier, easy even, in the Forbes picture. I swallowed the dryness in my throat as I continued reading and looked at the next picture, Weston Michels and his dad, Randy Michels, one of the richest men in the world. They moved to the states when Weston was eight, explaining his accent, I knew he sounded British!
“He’s like a hybrid,” Gabe said, pulling the phone from my grip. “Weston Michels is like two months away from inheriting a multi-billion dollar fortune.”
“Why is he our RA then?” I wondered aloud.
“Punishment for his many sins.” Gabe exhaled. “And when you’re Randy Michel’s son, you don’t sin in silence. The whole damn world sees you for what you are.”
“What you are?” I repeated. “What did he do?”
“Raped a girl,” Gabe said. “At least that’s the rumor. His family paid her off. They were dating at the time. She dumped him, then he forced himself on her or something like that. Details are a bit fuzzy.” Gabe yawned. “Rumor had it that he was going to drop out of school, but his dad must have made him own up to everything.”
“So…” I wrung my hands together, trying to understand. “Our RA is an alleged rapist? How is that okay with the university?”
“How indeed?” Lisa finally spoke up, “The man’s a god. I bet the bitch set him up. No way would that guy risk that much.”
“But rich guys tend to be controlling,” I said, stomach dropping as I remembered the exchange Weston and I had had in his dorm room. Holy crap, was I almost taken advantage of? I wrapped my sweater tighter around my chest.
“Just goes to show money buys everything.” Gabe stretched out on the couch. “He’s our RA, didn’t get kicked off the football team, and rumor has it just spent the weekend partying in Malibu. I’d say he’s just fine.”
“What about the girl?” I asked.
“Ah, Lorelei. She’s just fine. The day after the incident she was seen making out with some other guy, so, yeah, the whole rape thing? Probably not true, though I’d still carry a whistle.”
“Whistle?” I repeated. “Like a rape whistle?”
“No.” Gabe shook his head. “Like one you use at a basketball game. Are you for real?”
“Yes?”
His gaze examined mine. “I worry about your roommate’s safety, Lisa.”
“Eh she’s fine.”
“Right.” Gabe closed his eyes and let out a humorless laugh. “And when the big bad wolf, also known as Weston Michels, decides to pounce on her pasture, what is she gonna do? Hide? Look at her.”
Gabe pointed. I stepped back. Lisa tilted her head to the side, her eyes roaming from my outfit to my hair. I shifted uncomfortably and tucked my hair behind my ears.
“We could make her ugly.” She thumbed part of my t-shirt and squinted. I swatted her hand away and folded my arms.
“We’d have to shave her head.” This from Gabe.
Lisa nodded. “And put a mask over her face.”
“It can be done,” he agreed.
“Um, no.” I stepped back even further. “It can’t. And stop worrying about me. I’m fine.” Right, as long as I had my medication and at least eight hours of sleep every night, I’d be fine. I clenched my hands, allowing myself to feel that brief pain of my nails digging into my palms. If I could feel pain that meant I could at least feel, right? Sometimes I needed that little reminder to know I wasn’t just a walking zombie.
“Alright.” Gabe stood. Apparently the subject was closed. “I’ll be back to pick you guys up around nine okay?”
“Nine?” I asked.
“See ya!” Lisa smacked him on the back as he waltzed out of our room. He was cute, in one of those dark rocker sort of ways, and Lisa was right, I guess. Tattoos weren’t so bad. At least on Gabe they weren’t bad.
“Stop staring at my cousin,” she said coming up behind me. “He’s off limits, as in, bad news for girls like you. He’d take his one night stand and kiss you on the cheek in the morning all before you could say no.”
“Comforting.” I sighed.
“Come on.” She gripped my hand. “We’ve got a lot to do if we’re going to have time to get ready for the party tonight. And I still need to get my ID card.”
“Yeah, I can help with that,” I mumbled softly, briefly remembering Weston’s concerned gaze as he told me to take a buddy everywhere with me and be careful. Were rapists that concerned for others’ safety? He didn’t do it. He couldn’t have, because he could have easily taken advantage of me, and he didn’t. Instead, he helped. Yet the thought lingered… what if?
Chapter Five
Living is hard — dying is easy. You close your eyes and never open them up again. What’s so difficult about that? Nothing really — except it hurts like hell to those you leave behind.
Weston
I should have let well enough alone. My doctor would have told me I was playing with things I should just forget about. After all, he’d say, how much time do you have? I was damn sick of hearing him say that. Ridiculous. Even my dad was tired of the doctors. Then again, I was tired of them when I was eight and was told my mom wasn’t going to make it through surgery.
And again last year, at the hospital when my brother didn’t wake up from his… situation. Some people believe our family was cursed. After all, you can’t have as much power and money that we do and not suffer the consequences. When I was little, my Sunday School teacher told me that sometimes tragedy happened in order to keep us relying on God.
How much more trusting does God need me to be? I mean, I’d lost everything, and last year almost lost my reputation and football career, all because I said no. Funny, nobody ever talks about guys being taken advantage of.
I gripped the phone in my hands. I had her number. Ho
w creepy was I? Seriously. I hacked the school system and pulled her number from it. The poor girl already thought I was stalking her, probably wouldn’t help my case if I suddenly called her up and said, “Hey.” Loser. I was an absolute loser. I’d never had trouble getting girls, in fact, I felt a bit gun shy after last year.
My entourage helped.
I only called them that because it made it sound so much cooler than it really was. A knock sounded on the door. I got up but it opened before I had a chance. David strolled in, all three hundred pounds of him, and threw my prescription on the table. “How’s it going?”
“Fantastic,” I lied, and quickly hid the piece of paper I’d written Kiersten’s number on.
“You feeling okay?” David leaned forward and pointed the flashlight in my eyes, like some sort of scientist. I slapped it away.
“Fine.” I cleared my throat and stood. For a brief moment I felt dizzy; that’s what I got for standing up too fast. “Where’s James?”
“Out.” David sighed as if he was tired of me asking a million questions. “He’ll be back to walk you to practice. You can walk, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I can walk. It’s not like I’m drunk or anything.”
“You stood up too fast,” he said to himself, then pulled out his notepad and wrote a few things down. “Have you been feeling dizzy lately? Out of breath?”
Hmm, did meeting a new girl that took my breath away count? How about being dizzy from her perfume? What would David have to say about that?
“My dad pays you to keep me sane, not nurse me.” I scowled.
David’s eyes narrowed. “You look pale.”
“Shit.” I rubbed my face with my hands. “Can I please have one normal moment? Just one, where you aren’t scribbling on your damn notepad and we aren’t discussing my father or money or my future or—”
David held up his hand. “Got it. Sorry, Wes.”
I felt bad. But at the same time I was irritated all over again. I’d been on edge for months now, and I knew me snapping at David was just going to be another thing he documented when my father asked for his report.