The Ruby Riot Series: Box Set Part 57

"What have you said to her?" growls Will.

"I'm sick of pretending I don't want her. Cutting to the chase."

"Your brother has joined you in the obnoxious w.a.n.ker stakes and asked if I want to f.u.c.k him."

"What the h.e.l.l?" yells Will. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Nate stumbles and giggles again. "Just trying to help, man."

"f.u.c.k. s.h.i.+t. I'm sorry!" I blink at Will. Why is he apologising? "Are you okay?" he asks.

"Why shouldn't I be?" I snap. "I don't care what he says or thinks. Either of you!"

Nate rests an arm on Will's shoulder and focuses on me. "I love you, Fleur. I want you. You're the air that I breathe, the woman of my dreams, the Oof!" He trips backwards as Will punches him in the stomach.

"p.i.s.s off! You're upsetting Fleur!"

This is not happening. Really isn't. The people around are silent amongst the growing volume from my select pair of a.r.s.eholes. I pull together the remnants of my dignity.

"You." I poke Nate in the chest. "Never come to my study group again. Ever. If I see your smug face anywhere near me I swear I will break it."

"Study group." He looks at Will. "Rock and roll, man."

Shaking and fighting tears, I push past the gathering interested people and head in the direction of the exit. Look how easily I was fooled into thinking Nate Campbell had respect for me. I was right. He is interested in me, but as a conquest, and there I was falling into the trap. I'm b.l.o.o.d.y glad he opened his drunk mouth tonight and showed his true colours.

15.

WILL.

The last time I physically fought with Nate, we were thirteen. He kept losing when we played against each other in World of Warcraft, and my goading p.i.s.sed him off so much he hacked my account and deleted my character. Six months of my life, gone.

I punched Nate. He hit me back, harder. Mum separated us and we didn't speak for a week.

We don't fight a lot any more, but some memories stick. Like when we were eight, Nate deliberately broke my Harry Potter Lego Hogwarts I'd spent two weeks building. Sounds b.l.o.o.d.y stupid now, but I cried. When that amused him more, I almost broke his nose.

If I do something or have anything better than him, Nate acts out. People think twins are special, but at the end of the day, we're like any other brothers apart from we look the same. We fight and we make up. I regret tattooing my arms to match Nate's and now, we've s.h.i.+fted to compet.i.tion over who gets the best chest tattoo. Otherwise known as, who can take the most pain.

Being a twin has its advantages, but mostly it sucks. The more I grow into my own ident.i.ty, the worse Nate reacts, as if I'm trying to be better than him by choosing to be different.

Since Ruby Riot's popularity grew, he's s.h.i.+fted the compet.i.tion to girls; and recently, I've edged away from that too. I became sick of him crowing about how he picked up the best looking, had the best s.e.x, and that bulls.h.i.+t. Yeah, having girls throwing themselves at me is awesome, but I'm bored of repet.i.tive, unemotional s.e.x. I want one girl. Even Jax is becoming p.i.s.sed off with Nate's att.i.tude. I always thought Jax would be the big-headed a.r.s.ehole if we became famous. Nate has that crown.

Last night, I came closer than I ever have in years to smacking him in the face. In the end, I walked away. Partly because there were too many witnesses to the spectacle and Fleur was already embarra.s.sed, and partly because at the end of the day, this is all my fault.

I'm gutted my behaviour led to Fleur's humiliation at the hands of my d.i.c.khead brother. I questioned his motivation, but he shrugged me off, said he was drunk and didn't mean to go that far. I know him. Nate's actions were deliberate. The atmosphere in the house is icier than when the heating failed last winter.

I'm left with one option.

Explain everything to Fleur, ask Nate to apologise, and stop this before I really screw things up. There'll be other girls. She's not one of a kind.

Who am I kidding? When I say I want one girl, I mean specifically Fleur.

I'm not dumb enough to attend the study session on Thursday; my death wish isn't that strong. Six days since the gig, perhaps she's calmed down?

Yeah, right, Will.

Turns out, I am dumb enough.

I sit on a desk outside the room we meet for study, resting my head against the pinned notices. I flick through my phone messages. We're close to alb.u.m launch now; all this uni bulls.h.i.+t could be over forever soon. I will sit my finals though, if only to have the pleasure of saying I told you f.u.c.king so to my parents. Look at me, I can gain a degree and be a rock star.

I snort at how funny that sounds.

The PR company are filling the oncoming weeks with fun and games. Attempting to schedule interviews, TV appearances, both in the UK and overseas. Since the tour with Blue Phoenix ended, we've been s.h.i.+elded from all the publicity while we wait for the alb.u.m release. What happens next? More craziness to match the tour earlier this year?

The door cranks open and Sam steps out. "You're late, man," he says. "Why didn't you come in?"

Nita swerves past him with a smile and wave, and I nod at her, eyes on the doorway.

"Ah. Complicated. Need to talk to Fleur."

He winks. "Gotcha. Wondered why she was cagey about where you were."

When his tall frame moves from the door, he reveals a stony-faced Fleur. She barely glances before slamming the door behind her and stalks away.

"Fleur!"

I call her name a couple of times, weaving through people heading between lectures, as she strides across campus. I catch up, aware there's amus.e.m.e.nt at the rock star chasing Fleur across the courtyard.

"Fleur. Please."

"p.i.s.s off." She trains her eyes ahead.

Wow, I never expected those words from her mouth.

"Let me explain. Apologise." No response. I walk backwards attempting to catch her attention and she grips the strap of her messenger bag. "Please."

The silent treatment continues, as does my backwards walking, and I trip over a low wall behind me. As we reach the period buildings housing the history department, she pauses.

"I do not have anything to say to you. Do not follow me into here."

The expression on her face tears at my heart. Sour-faced anger and thin-mouthed distance would be bad, but her eyes s.h.i.+ne with tears as she attempts to stop her mouth turning down. I worried she'd be p.i.s.sed off with me, but this is a thousand times worse. Fleur is still hurt.

"There are things I need to tell you."

"Go away, Nate," she says through gritted teeth.

The words almost fall from my mouth. 'I'm not Nate' but the confusion of the situation calls for a rational, sit down, sort this s.h.i.+t out conversation which we're unlikely to have now.

Defeated, I walk away.

16.

FLEUR.

Inside the converted Victorian house, I pause for breath and sit on a wooden chair between the two offices. As the days pa.s.sed, the likelihood of Nate apologising about Friday night dropped. He has my phone number; a texted apology would've helped. Not that I'd accept it. I close my eyes and blank the replay of my humiliation, allowing my disgust to rise instead. Okay, maybe he was drunk, but his behaviour was inexcusable. I helped him, and he mocked me.

The worst thing about the situation is I care. When Will accosted me at the beginning of term, he was at least complimentary. Even though Will p.i.s.sed me off, I don't hope he'll be castrated by a mob of p.i.s.sed off girls as I do with Nate.

I'm confused. The Nate I've spent time around is a world away from the foul-mouthed misogynist from a few nights ago. Don't they say alcohol brings out the ugly side of your personality?

Smooth, Nate but you've revealed your true colours. He knew exactly how to manipulate me into getting what he needed. But he doesn't get what he really wants on top of that.

The door opposite me opens and Shaun looks out. The moment he sees me, he smiles. In response to Anne's question the other day, this man is the one who does things to my lady parts. Or should I say, would like him to. Intelligent, charming and what was it Anne called Jax? s.e.x on a stick. I fight a smile. Yes, I could lick him.

His heavy brow puckers. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." I switch on a bright smile and he indicates my hands.

"Then why are you gripping your bag until your knuckles turn white?"

"Oh?" I loosen them. "I'm "

c.r.a.p. Where the h.e.l.l did the tears come from? Shaun steps back. "Fleur... What's wrong? Come in."

I follow him into the room, swiping my eyes with a sleeve. My heart beats faster as I attempt to control the deluge of emotion ready to spill.

"I'm fine. It's okay. I just... had an argument with somebody."

"I expect they lost."

I sniff and return Shaun's smile. His G.o.dd.a.m.n s.e.xy smile to match his G.o.dd.a.m.n s.e.xy accent. "Of course he did."

"He. Makes sense." Shaun indicates the corner of the room. "I'll make you a drink. Coffee?"

"Tea, please."

"Hmm. I only have weird flavours that Samantha stashes in here." He pulls a tin from a shelf next to a small kettle and peers inside. "Do you like herbal teas?"

"Not really."

"Me neither. They taste of hot water and paper."

"That's okay. I only stopped by to bring your book back." I drag the heavy tome from my bag and set it on his desk with a thump.

"Ah! Don't tell me you've read this already?"

"Absolutely. Every word."

His eyes sparkle. "Favourite chapter?"

"The last one?"

Shaun rubs my arm. "See, you're smiling again already, even without the fancy teas."

Hand on my arm. On my bare skin. Smooth fingers shooting lightning through my body at the place his hand rests a moment too long. My breath catches in my throat and I search his face for a sign this was deliberate.

Shaun's flecked green eyes don't hold back his thoughts and I'm caught sharing my own. He knows. He's recognised the girlish fumbling with my bag, the way I trip over my words with him the days we meet.

Shaun's noticed me.

"I tell you what, why don't I take you for a coffee, I mean tea, at Sip," he suggests.

Sip, the coffee shop far enough from campus we won't be seen. A thrill runs through me, filling my stomach with excitement at the illicitness. Shaun Hennessy is asking me for coffee.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure, Fleur."

Suddenly the s.p.a.ce between is charged with the power that tripped from his fingers to my skin before. Are we about to cross a dangerous line?

No, somebody who has an ounce of respect for me and doesn't only look for what he can get is interested. In me.

"Okay."

Shaun leans past me and grabs his phone from the table. I catch his subtle, clean scent, the one I a.s.sociate with time alone with Shaun in this room and could a.s.sociate with more. If more happens.

"I think Samantha must be an anarchist," he says as we step out of the building into the bright autumn day.

"That's a weird thing to say. I didn't realise she was political."

"No, the tea. Anarchists only drink herbal tea." He smiles down at my confused look. "Because all proper tea is theft."