Truly famous last words.
My head falls onto the book in front of me and I let out a frustrated curse. It’s been hours, and I’m no closer than I was when I started trying to comprehend ancient artifacts of Europe. I’ve been hiding in the library most of the evening, praying I don’t have to deal with Mara.
The dark hue of moonlight shines through the immense floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows in front of me. Its colored rivulets of glass cast a pale glow on my history books that are spread out haphazardly on the library table.
I’ve barely lifted my head from studying since the sun went down outside. My head aches and my neck is stiff from sitting in the same position for the past four hours. All I need is to get a C on this test knocking my GPA down. I’ll spend twice the amount of time trying to get back the points I lost.
Exasperated, I sigh.
It’s fine, Valentina, you’ll just end up back in California living with your father and stepmonster who will put a lock on the fridge in fear of you getting “fatter”.
I slam my history book shut, then begin to put it into my backpack when I hear the entrance door creak open and muffled voices.
Shit. No one is supposed to know I’m here.
Sister Mary Margaret has been letting me study in the library after hours even though it is against the rules. I would die if I got her in trouble. I quickly gather my notebooks, pens, and laptop, and shove them in the bag before dashing to hide behind the shadows of the tall wooden shelves. My heart is pounding in my chest at the thought of being caught. I listen as the voices come closer and closer, and I place my hand over my mouth to silence the sound of my labored breathing.
“I can’t believe we are sneaking into the library, dude. I’m surprised you didn’t burst into flames the second we walked across the threshold. Have you ever actually been inside a library? Can you even read?” The gruff voice echoes somewhere across the building, but close enough to where I can make out their conversation.
Who sneaks into the library except me?
“Fuck off. You’re the one failing English literature because you’re too worried about getting your dick sucked, asshole,” guy number one scoffs in protest, and I hear a fist hit flesh.
“Chill,” the command comes from a new voice. One that makes my skin turn hot, and the heat rush to my cheeks from the one lone syllable.
I peek around the edge of the bookshelf to try and get a better look at the group, but it’s too dark to see anything but the rows of shelves.
“Why are we here again?” the first guy says.
I hear shuffling and books being moved around and thrown to the floor.
“Numbnuts was here last night and set his phone down on a shelf.”
“What the fuck were you doing here last night?”
Their voices are getting closer and closer, so I tiptoe further down the shelf, ready to flee.
“Complicated. When the pussy calls…” He trails off and I hear how big his ego is simply by the tone of his voice. What a pig.
Finally, they come into view and my jaw drops when I see who they are. Rhys Blackwood. St. Augustine’s very own fallen angel. He’s so far fallen from grace, everyone knows there is no saving him. When you hear Rhys’s name… you hear the sordid tales of what he’s done at St. Augustine. The rumors about him run rampant. When you hear of him, you’re either fearful of what it means to be in his sights, or ready to fall at his feet. It’s only ever one or the other. It’s a shame, because he’s so beautiful it’s ethereal. The second he walks into a room, every eye in the room is on him. There’s something about him that sucks you in, only for him to swallow you whole.
He’s the most wanted guy at St. Augustine. Mara has been pining over Rhys since the second she laid eyes on him freshman year. Not that I’ve ever seen him give her the time of day. But then again, I don’t ever find myself in close proximity with the Boys of St. Augustine.
Rhys is over six feet tall, looming over most of the girls here, including some of his friends. Dark hair that looks as if he’s run his fingers through it a thousand times, over and over in frustration. Sinful, dark eyes that seem to bore straight into your soul. Looking into them, they’re a pool of black that you feel from the outside in. His lips were crafted to fit him, and only him. Only he could pull them off. Full and always twisted together in a scowl that I’ve come to know as his signature expression. I’ve never seen him smile, and all it did was make him that much more desirable even if it wasn’t his intention. I don’t know who Rhys Blackwood really is, I don’t think anyone does. The mystery only adds to the appeal, and causes females to fall like flies at his feet. Everyone wants to know him, be his friend, have five minutes of his time. An unreachable pedestal that remains untouched by most.
I watch as his lips curl in a snarl as his best friend, Sebastian, walks toward him with his newly found phone in hand and gives him a chilling smile.
“Got it. Thank fuck.” Relief is etched in his handsome features. While he’s nowhere near Rhys as far as looks go, he is still strikingly handsome. Sebastian Pierce. The kind of old money that is seen, but not spoken of. And when it comes to him, I truly think he has more money than sense. While remarkably handsome and chill at the same time, there is something about him I can’t place. All of my thoughts on the boys are assumptions or rumors that had been told many times over. Sebastian is an enigma. Tall, strong jaw, angular cheekbones, piercing eyes. His dark hair is always mussed and unkempt, despite his family's wealth and proper appearance. He does his own thing, and no one ever questions him.
Sebastian, from what I know, is the most down to earth one of his group. Not that I know much about them except what I hear in passing. They walk around St. Augustine and people bow. Untouchable. There’s no question; they own this school. It’s seriously sickening to watch the girls throw themselves at them. Like we aren’t at a Catholic school where virtue is sacred and protected. Not to these bitches.
But then again, St. Augustine isn’t like any another Catholic school.
“We need to talk,” Ezra, the other part of their group, says, shoving Sebastian. He looks around nervously as if he’s waiting for someone to jump out from behind the shelves and catch them in the act. Ezra is the complete and total opposite of Sebastian. Where Sebastian is funny and carefree, Ezra is intense and broody. He and Rhys seem to be cut from the same cloth. Jet-black hair and piercing green eyes. The light caramel honey mixture of his skin makes him a rare type of perfection. Captain of the hockey team and an all-round manwhore.
“Lower your voice,” Rhys barks.
“Dude, we’re in the library in the middle of the night. Not a mouse in sight.”
Rhys’s fists tighten against his sides, and he looks even more menacing than he did only moments ago.
“This doesn’t leave our circle, do you hear me? I’ve already spoken to Alec. He’ll be back on campus tomorrow,” he barks, right after telling them to lower their voices.
The air in the room shifts as they nod in agreeance with Rhys.
“We fucking take it to our graves. That house burned due to an electrical malfunction. That’s what the arsonist investigator will find, and unless one of you open your mouth, that’s all they’ll find. We were never there, and we keep our asses out of jail.”