Page 4 of The Consequence of You
Snatching the glass, I swallow back the liquid, relishingthe burn as it coats my throat. The heat settles in my stomach, and I hold the glass back out for a refill. Asher watches me curiously. He knows I’m not a big drinker. He doesn’t know the reason, though.
I’m aware I had a reputation in school of being aloof, weird even, because I didn’t like to party, but I had my reasons. The only one I’ll admit to is that I don’t like to lose control.
I guess he’d assumed I wouldn’t take the drink because he hesitates for a split second before he pours me another. On another night, I might not have, but fuck him for thinking he knows anything about me.
I’m sick of people making assumptions about me. And I’m sick of going home to my empty house and staring at the cold walls. More than that, I’m sick of feeling nothing.
Maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but at least I might feelsomething. Even if I don’t remember it in the morning.
ASHER
Callie’s drunk. She’s only had a couple of glasses of champagne and two shots of vodka, but her eyes are glazed, and she’s unsteady on her feet. After the second shot of vodka, I’d put the bottle back in the cupboard and grabbed us a couple of beers instead. Grayson hadn’t come back from his and Dahlia’s room, and when I’d used the bathroom, it sounded quiet, so I’d shut their door, assuming they were both fast asleep.
I’m fucking shattered, too, but I never spend any time alone with Callie, and it’s too much of an opportunity to pass up. I love winding the closed-off princess up. Shehates it, and I know I get on her last nerve, but I seriously can’t find it in me to care. It’s amusing. And I’m fucking bored.
I have an unconditional offer from Heathley Academy to study for a degree in Maths and the Science of Ciphers in September. I could do that shit in my sleep, but I have to get the bit of paper to appease my fucking parents,Duke and Duchess Pennington.
So, I’ll do it for three years and no doubt get a first. But I’m fucking bored with it. Bored with studying, fucking bored with my life. And that’s the thing about Callie Messina. I might hate her, but she isn’t boring. She’s a puzzle I can’t solve, and that intrigues me.
She lives in that huge house up on the hill, not far from where I live. My parents’ house is steeped in history. Passed down through generations, it’s even rumoured the last monarch attended parties there, back in her youth. It’s grand, like a fucking castle.
Callie’s place is just as huge, probably worth as much money, but it’s the complete opposite of mine. Modern and stylish, but most intriguingly, it’s guarded better than Fort Knox. Yes, my place is a castle, but her place is a fortress meant to protect a princess.
I look at her as she sits opposite me on the sofa. She’s tiny, like a little doll. Perfect blemish free skin, perfect straight shoulder length hair, perfect white teeth, perfect perky tits. And she dresses herself in black, everything as black as her hair. And all that black? It calls to my dark soul.
Yes. I can’t stand her, but winding her up is fucking entertaining.
It hasn’t escaped my notice that she never loses her cool, never drops her defences normally. But the last fewmonths, she doesn’t seem as put together as usual. She is just as snippy and cruel in the comments she throws at me, but recently, she isn’t as unaffected when I throw them back, and I want to know why.
I need a project, and she’s fucking perfect.
CHAPTER THREE
CALLIE
Dahlia and Grayson get out of his car in the school car park as I pull into a space a couple of rows back. Results day is finally here, and the atmosphere is relatively calm. Parents pay for a top education at Heathley Academy, so most students do well. Those who don’t are likely to have personal connections, which means they will still get onto a good university course or can get a head-start in their lives another way. For most students, it’s been an easy ride, though there are exceptions.
Two people who fought for their future are my friends. They spot me and wave, nervous smiles on their faces. They’ve had a shitty few years, and no one deserves good grades and a happy ever after more than the two of them. They both worked hard, despite the challenges they faced, and I have no doubt that’s exactly what they’ll achieve. I’m about to reach them as Asher’s flashysports car pulls up. He climbs out of his matte black Maserati and heads in our direction.
“Morning campers. Ready to collect those super important results which will make not an iota of difference to the life we inevitably lead?” He doesn’t bother waiting for a response and instead strides up the steps of the grandiose stone building that houses Heathley Academy. The school was the location of our education for a long time, and results day brings this chapter of our life to a close. We’ve all applied to attend Heathley University, the exclusive private higher education provider, sitting on the same grounds. So none of us are going far, but our studies will be far more independent, and we won’t have to return to this building.
“It may not make a difference to your future,LordPennington, but I sure as hell need decent marks to secure my place,” Dahlia calls after him. “Grayson does too, if he wants to make sure he gets his place on the program he applied for, so if you don’t mind, you can take that fatalist attitude and tuck it away thank you.” Grayson smirks, clearly enjoying listening to his girlfriend sass his best friend.
“Fatalism, inevitability, whatever you want to call it. I’m just pointing out that these results aren’t the be all and end all. We will all end up where we’re meant to end up. Irrespective of that piece of paper.”
Obviously not happy about letting it go, Dahlia fires back at him,
“We will have to disagree on that buddy, because I, for one, believe we’re in charge of our destiny.” She links her arm through Grayson’s and mine and drags us up the steps after Asher. Asher flinches, but he doesn’t offer another retort. He’d be a fool to continue this discussionwith Dahlia and Grayson after the way the last year went.
Thankfully, I’ve had little to do with Asher the last few years, but from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t seem to have a lot of close female friends. In fact, Dahlia might be the only one. He has a reputation for treating women like playthings, and like any spoilt child, he gets bored quickly and moves on to his next toy. Because of Dahlia’s history with Grayson, she would never be one of those women to him, and her loveable nature means she’s achieved what no other woman seems to have managed; a genuine friendship with him. She assures me he’s good company, but I’m yet to see any evidence of it.
We traipse down the long corridor to the assembly hall to collect our envelopes. Asher strolls in front of us. Not a care in the world. The cocky asshole doesn’t even bother taking off his sunglasses despite it being dark inside the school. Is it because he knows they make him look infuriatingly handsome, or is he keeping them on in order to death stare me without anyone cottoning on?
I shouldn’t care that he hates me, but I do. It bothers me. There is just something that feels intrinsically unfair about it. That thought is pushed from my mind when I hear Dahlia whoop next to me.
My best friend jumps up and down next to Grayson, who can’t keep the smile from his face as he clutches the sheets of paper in front of him. Asher slaps him on the back in congratulations. Dahlia slips her own results out and her smile doesn’t waver for a second. A tear rolls down her cheek as Grayson scoops her up in his arms and spins her around. I didn’t doubt it for a second. The two of them worked their socks off.
Looking down at my envelope, I slip my thumb underthe gummed edge and rip it open slowly. A* in Italian and A’s in my other subjects. Decent grades in everything. I worked hard this year. Hell, I worked hard during my entire school experience, so I deserve the grades, but there’s a pang of disappointment. Receiving these results and knowing there is no one at home to share my achievements with takes the shine off the moment.
