After a weekend of relaxing with Loki, and avoiding Ash, Monday rolls round, and we all have homeroom first. Then Ash and I have Shakespeare Studies, which I’m kind of dreading after the party in the woods.
Although we walk to class together, and sit next to each other, he ghosts me the whole fucking time, and won’t say a word, even when I try to make conversation. Then, when the class finishes, he hightails it out of there, like his arse is on fire. Wanker!
My next lesson is Calculus, which, unfortunately, is also with Ash, but at least Jax and Loki are there too, so I’ve got people who’ll talk to me. Kai is on all these advanced programs, given that he is a bloody genius, and is already doing some college level classes, so we only have Yoga together. Although, that does mean I get to see just how flexible the guy is, and imagine how all that flexibility can be put to good use.
After Calculus, I’ve got Botany, then Mythology with Jax, followed by lunch. After lunch, it’s Creative Writing with both Ash and Loki, and finally, French with just Loki. It’s so different from what we do in England. I have a lot more classes here than I did back there. But then, they’re way more interesting too, so I can’t complain.
I must confess, I am surprised by the amount of English classes Ash and I share. I don’t know why, especially given how eloquently he speaks, but I still find it hard to believe that the thundercunt is soft enough for prose.
I share most of my classes with the guys, there’s always one or more of them with me which is nice. I’m especially glad of their company after the other night with Amber and her malicious words. I don’t want to be anywhere near her or her merry band of cuntflaps. Unfortunately, it’s a small school, being private and all, so I can’t avoid them altogether, although they leave me alone when one of the boys is there.
Monday afternoon passes quickly, thank god. By the end of the day, I feel exhausted, still catching up from the weekend, and my comedown makes me feel a million years old as I make my way to our dorm.
When I reach the door, I can hear heated arguing inside, so I pause and press my ear against wood, trying to listen to what’s being said.
“You can’t have her in your bed every night, Loki!” Ash’s distinct arsehole tone scoffs, sounding exasperated. A flush creeps over my cheeks at his words. Why not Ash-hole?
“I can if she wants to be there, you jealous asshole,” Loki drawls back, the grin clear in his voice. He sounds cool, calm, and collected.
“I am not fucking jealous,” Ash replies, voice full of danger and darkness.
I’m holding my breath in case I miss anything, pressing closer to the door, desperate to see where this is going and to hear more.
“Oh, yeah? Tell me you don’t get rock fucking hard when you hear her screaming my name most nights?” Loki challenges.
I can picture the arrogant smirk on Loki’s face; he’s so sure of himself. I don’t know whether to be turned the hell on or irritated by him most of the time. Perhaps both?
“Fuck off!” Ash retorts after a pause, but not denying the accusation, which makes my pulse pick up, sounding in my ears.
“That’s what I thought,” Loki replies in an amused tone. “You know, I’m happy to share. I’ve actually come around to the idea. You could even join us. She seemed to like the idea of you tying her up. Just think, she’d be completely at your mercy,” Loki teases, and I gasp, fumbling with my key to get the damn door open and rip him a new one.
I manage to open the door just in time to see Ash storm off up the stairs with Loki looking after him, a pleased grin on his face.
“I heard that, dickhead,” I seethe at him, throwing my bag down and kicking off my heels. They’re an iridescent petrol colour with sequins and bows on the toes, and of course, made by Irregular Choice. Sigh. They’re so pretty that I forget my train of thought and stare at them, a feeling of pure happiness filling me up. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness obviously never came across Irregular Choice shoes.
A snort sounds next to me, and I startle out of my shoe-fest.
“What?!” I snap as I look up, and I’m met with eyes that remind me of pictures I’ve seen of the aurora borealis, full of limitless possibilities. Another deep sound comes from his perfect lips, and I’m once again awoken from my reverie.
Damn, this guy is way too dangerous.
“Bollocks! I can’t remember what I was annoyed about now,” I grumble, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes at him. Loki throws back his head and laughs, causing me to scowl even more.
“Oh, Pretty Girl,” he chuckles. “You are so adorable. Especially with that beautiful pixie face and those rosy cheeks,” he adds, caressing the side of my face with his fingertips and making my breath catch, my brief anger gone at his touch.
We stay that way, gazing into each other’s eyes with his fingers on my face for several moments. There’s something so…melancholic about Loki. On the surface, he’s a joker, happy-go-lucky and always laughing, but once he stops, there’s a sense of sadness, almost a resigned devastation, that calls to me.
Shaking my head at my own foolishness—I’ve only known him for just over a week, for Christ’s sake!—I step to the side, letting his hand drop, and he looks crestfallen. I pause, my heart skipping painfully at the idea of having caused him any pain.
“Loki? Will you come to dinner with me?” I blurt, without thinking, then inwardly cringe, biting my lower lip as I wait for his answer.
A cocksure grin spreads his plump lips, eliminating all traces of hurt.
“Are you asking me out on a date, Lilly Darling?” he drawls in that sinful voice of his. I love the way he says my name. I want him to say it again when he’s balls deep inside of me.
Head out of the fucking gutter, woman!
“Uh…yes?” I say, almost as a question. Right now, I’d love the floor to just swallow me up. I’m sure there’s a blush staining my cheeks.
His grin grows wider, and he waits just a beat longer before giving me an answer, putting me out of my embarrassed misery.
“Pretty Girl, I’d love to take you to dinner. But we have to dress up like it’s a proper date,” he looks at me with mock seriousness, his eyes twinkling.
“Of course.” I grin, my breath whooshing out of me in relief. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I take a shower whilst Loki gets ready, using his vanilla shower gel and scrubbing myself all over until I’m pink. I don’t wash my hair this time, preferring my natural hair oils to not be stripped away all the time. I style it in loose barrel curls so that it’s tumbling down my back.
I make to leave the bathroom in just my towel as all my stuff is in Loki’s room; after that first night, all of my dresses and skirts were hung up in his wardrobe. My other clothes have all been put away in his drawers. He even had a bookshelf put in there for my paperback RH collection. Don’t read too much into it, Lilly, it’s just practical given that I’m staying in his room.
Opening the bathroom door, I see that Loki is just reaching the bottom of the stairs, and I stall, my hand gripping the door handle, and my body flashing with warmth. Holy shitballs! I mean, I knew the guy was hot, but fuck me, he scrubs up nice.
He’s wearing navy straight leg jeans that he’s rolled up a little at the hem, his brown boots and a white t-shirt with a stonewash denim shirt open on top of it. He’s rolled the arms of the denim shirt to his elbow, and I don’t know what it is about a guy’s forearms, but fuck me if it’s not one of the hottest fucking things I’ve ever seen. It’s made even sexier by the silhouette of trees tattooed round his left wrist, reaching his elbow in a forest of black ink. He’s also wearing a massive gold watch round the same wrist, and some beads on the other, including what looks like pink plastic ones.
He looks up and sees me staring, my mouth open and almost fucking drooling. His trademark insolent, panty destroying grin pulls at his lips.
“It’s almost a shame for you to get dressed really,” he remarks, eyes slowly taking me in, and when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, I feel like I might self combust on the spot. “We could just stay here?” he asks, voice low and a brow lifted, clearly implying that we spend all night in his bed. I mean, I’m probably going to do that anyway, but I want my date first.
“I’ll be down in a few,” I say, clearing my throat and ignoring his suggestion. As I sweep past him, his hand comes out, brushing his fingers down my arm. The touch makes me draw a breath sharply and builds the fire between my thighs. I continue on, somehow ignoring the need for now, and head up the stairs.
Soon, it’s my turn to descend the staircase dressed to the nines. I’m wearing one of my favourite original nineteen-fifties cotton dresses. It has a fitted bodice, is pinched in at the waist, and has a huge flared skirt with a red net petticoat underneath, making it stick out more and giving it a wonderful swish. It’s covered in red, orange, and yellow flames, and I’ve paired it with what I call my Dorothy shoes; red sequined heels, with a cute crimson satin bow on the front, and made by Irregular Choice. I may have a slight addiction to a certain shoe brand….
I’ve put a couple of clips in my hair to sweep it back from my face, leaving it to tumble down my back, and my makeup is subtle fifties, with black cat eyes and bright red lips.
Loki’s waiting with Jax, chatting as I make my way down, but as he sees me, he abruptly stops talking mid-sentence. His mouth literally pops open, and I have to suppress a squeal of delight at seeing him so lost for words, although I can’t stop the wide grin that comes over my painted lips.
I catch his gaze, which is a raging inferno of jade fire, as he takes me in. My eyes flick briefly to Jax, and what I see there makes my steps falter a little so that I have to grab the bannister. His piercing blue gaze is also swirling with an intense heat as he admires me. I get caught up in the blue flames until Loki steps up in front of me, blocking my view when I reach the bottom of the stairs.
“Damn, Pretty Girl! I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful,” he groans, licking his lower lip and rubbing his jaw with a strong manicured hand. What is it about a well kept hand on a hot man that makes you go weak at the knees?
As usual, I feel my cheeks flush pink with his compliment.
“Are you ready to go?” I manage to get out, squirming under his scrutiny.
Which is fucking ridiculous seeing as he’s seen me naked and had me screaming his name, coming apart under his fingers and tongue.
“Abso-fucking-lutely!” He beams, holding out his arm for me to take.
We head in the direction of the dining hall, his forearm warm under my palm. The school has a no going off campus Monday to Friday rule so our dinner date has to take place here.
As we enter the hall, my breath is taken away and I look round with wide eyes. I am blanketed by stars. All the lights are off, bar one that highlights a single table next to one of the window walls. As most of the walls and ceiling are made of glass, and given that we are in the middle of nowhere so light pollution is minimal, the night sky sits above us, full of pinpricks of light.
“Loki,” I breathe, glancing back at him. “It’s beautiful. How…” I’m at a loss as to how he organised everything so quickly. And also, why there are no other students here?
“I have my ways,” he boasts with a wink, leading me to our table and pulling out my chair. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered dinner for us.”
Gerald, the waiter who always serves our table during the day, brings our plates over, setting them down in front of us. Loki is sitting by my side so that we’re facing the window, but can still turn to speak to each other.
I see that we have a bowl of orange coloured soup to start, and I moan aloud as I take a spoonful. It’s carrot and coriander, which happens to be one of my favourites. I look up to see Loki grinning at me once again.
“You like your food, don’t you, Pretty Girl?” he teases. “I like that you’re not afraid to show it, like many of the girls that go here are.”
He takes his own spoonful to those lush lips of his. Damn, I’ve never been jealous of a spoon before!
“So, tell me more about yourself? I still don’t know everything,” he asks me, smiling that beautiful smile of his which makes my heart race.
“Well…I was born in North London, a place called Islington, and lived with my mum. I loved the city. It’s so vibrant and full of life and bursting at the seams. And there are so many different people and cultures.” I smile fondly at the memories, seeing all my favourite places in my mind. “I guess you’ve maybe been there?” I ask him, remembering that everyone in this school is as rich as Midas, so obviously well travelled.
“Once or twice. But I want to hear more of what you loved about it,” he invites, a soft expression on his face as he gives me his rapt attention.
So, I tell him. I talk about all of the wonderful museums, the parks, and the green spaces. About growing up in the city, how we used to smoke weed outside the old town hall and go to a dingy club called The Dome in Tufnell Park when we were fourteen. I describe the time I stole my mum’s whiskey and got rat arsed—I had to explain that this means I was very drunk. I share the story of when I went to the theatre in the West End with Mum and a friend to see Grease, and the street performers at Covent Garden market we used to see.
“Sounds like a great way to grow up,” he remarks, a distant empty stare in his eyes.
“But you must have had an amazing childhood?” I ask, ducking my head to meet his gaze, ready to discover more about him. “I mean, I’d never even gotten on a plane before coming here.” I look at him, and he seems to have clammed up, his arms crossed and a flush creeping across his cheeks.
“Yeah. I mean it was great,” he starts, hesitantly, meeting my gaze. “We had some amazing nannies and some hideous ones! This one woman, Edna, used to feed us cod liver oil every day,” he reminisces, mouth pinched and nose crinkled, which I can completely sympathise with. That stuff is fucking disgusting!
“Mostly, it was me and the girls, my kid sisters. My parents were always off on business of one sort or another, so we only saw them at Christmas really,” he trails off, looking away, but not before I catch a longing in his beautiful eyes that is so strong it takes my breath away.
He stays quiet, then Gerald brings our dessert; a divine smelling chocolate melt in the middle cake with custard and ice cream, successfully interrupting the somber moment.
“Custard and ice cream?” I tease, gently nudging him with my elbow. “Only someone with a body like yours would come up with that combination.”
Relief fills me as the sad, lost look leaves his face, and is replaced with his signature grin.
“You like my body, Pretty Girl?” he drawls in a tone that makes my breath quicken, and I find myself gripping my spoon hard.
Heat banks in his gaze as he takes a deliberately provocative spoonful of his dessert, slowly licking it off with that clever tongue of his. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t clench my thighs a little, remembering his tongue in other more intimate places.
He looks over at me, smirking, and then gets another spoonful, only to offer it to me this time. Tit for tat, Angel! I copy him and oh so slowly, take the mouthful, licking the spoon until it’s clean. I even raise the bar by moaning a little, all whilst holding his gaze. Checkmate, motherfucker!
“I think we’re done here,” he rasps, letting the spoon clatter to the plate.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me up beside him, and then drags me away.
