Page 14 of Redeeming the Villain

“Well, just stay focus?—”

I cut him off, “I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later. Bye.” I grind my teeth and start walking, away from the music hall.

“Soon!” he calls out as I end the call.

I jam my phone into my pocket, making a beeline to the parking lot my car’s in.

I need to get home, get on the ice, get anywhere but here. Racing down the cobblestone walkways toward my car, I wonder if this is what the next few years will look like with her here.

My anxiety and sorrow begin to blossom into anger, the kind that only exists for her and her family.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I’m sure it’s Darius, just sending a follow-up text, like he usually does after our call, telling me that he and Alicia miss me and to call again soon.

I don’t mean to be blunt with him. I owe them so much. But sometimes, my mouth gets in the way of my intentions, like the words lash out before I can choose the ones I mean to say.

Approaching my Corvette, I dig my keys out from my pocket and unlock it with the fob.

God, I have such a love-hate relationship with this car.

Once upon a time, it was my dream to have a Corvette—a black one, just like this. But how I got it will always tarnish its beauty.

Every time I slide into the driver’s seat of it, all I can think about is how my uncle took a bribe to cover up the murder of Micah.

When I walk into Hubert Hall with Sunny for my first class, my nerves are at an all-time high, more erratic than I was expecting.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that this is my first day and everything is a bit uncertain.

Will the professor be kind? Witty? Strict? Dry? Will I have any POTS flare-ups? Will a thousand people try to pet Sunny?

But I know where my anxiety lies. The constant chance of running into Malik. This may be my first year here, but I’m not a freshman as far as credits go. I have a plethora of credits from classes I completed in high school. Academically, I’m a sophomore. Which raises the stakes of sharing a class withhim.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen him since the night he barged into my room.

A shiver runs down my back, reminding me of the coldness of that night. Not only from the cool air outside, but also the wintery chill of his tone and touch. The bite of his words and threats.

A reminder that he doesn’t have a soul to warm his bones. He’s empty and hollow, and he always will be.

Mumbling to Sunny, I nervously blabber, “Come on, baby. Let’s go to our first class.”

She wags her tail and looks up at me with big, round eyes beaming with purity. I swear dogs are angels sent to show us the true meaning of unconditional love.

“I’ll take you to do something fun after this, I promise.”

She looks ahead and continues striding beside me with ease. We may have to make it a shorter walk today though because this morning was a bit shaky for me.

Mornings are usually a good indicator of how the rest of my day will go. And with the headache and tiredness I woke up with this morning, I need to take it a bit easier than normal.

Every morning, before I ever get out of bed, I drink a few big gulps of water from my water bottle and give myself a minute to adjust while I slowly stretch my limbs out. Gradually, I sit up, taking my time and listening to my body as I go.

I’m a bit more cautious than usual with how this morning went, but I’m taking it minute by minute. I feel okay right now—not great, but good enough to go on with the day as planned.

I wonder if there will ever come a day when I’m used to the level of decorum at this school. Or the opulence in every nook and cranny. I know that I grew up wealthier than most, but this place is something else entirely.

I mean, how many chandeliers istoomany? The electric bill for this place must be insane. But when your student body consists of politicians’ children, royals, gold medalist athletes, and every other elite qualifier, money isn’t a problem.

Everyone wants the best for their kids—or at least to make the biggest show of it all. It’s a bragging right both for the student and their family.

Whether it’s donating a few million to have the family name slapped on a building or sponsoring the school with your family’s billion-dollar sports drink company, like the Hawthornes, everyone fights to for the favor of this school. And everyone wants the shiny golden ticket we’ll receive at graduation.

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