Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz
CHAPTER 11
I’ve fieldedas many questions about Carter being my brother as I have about being engaged to Duke.
Here I thought nobody would believe the arrangement our parents came up with, only to learn it’s more common than I thought. Hell, Tessa’s I told youso GIF is mocking me from my phone right now. She followed it with picture after picture of all her favorite books that fall into the “trope” my life is turning into.
I hate her. Okay, I don’t actually hate her, but let me pretend.
The whispers hidden behind hands and the less-than-covert glances being sent my way are starting to get annoying. I mean, sure, I’m used to them on some level—you don’t spend weeks being the target of bullying without experiencing them—but now it’s…different.
By the time lunch rolls around and Tinsley and I retreat to our usual table outside, I’m regretting not going out to eat. I could have used the reprieve from the attention, if only for an hour.
Tessa isn’t the only person blowing up my phone; the Royalty group chat is close to bursting. Carter is still being all kinds of weird, so I’ve actually been spending less time at his place than ever. I tried hanging out with the guys twice, but all it did was make this growing distance between their leader and me even more glaringly obvious. Honestly, it hurts too much.
With the engagement announcement hitting the news yesterday afternoon, it’s clear it’s not just going to go away like I had hoped.
Who knew the entire trajectory of your life could feel like it got knocked off course in less than three hundred words. The pen really is mightier than the sword.
Though I wouldn’t mind having a sword right now because there are more than a few heads I would like to chop off.
The time has certainly come for me to clue my brother in on Natalie’s actual threats, but knowing how poorly he handled the engagement announcement—by yelling, cursing, and breaking a chair, according to Wes—has me reevaluating that idea.
It speaks volumes regarding how things have changed for me at BA that Tinsley and I don’t bother pausing our conversation when we hear the guys set their trays down. It isn’t until someone rudely snaps their fingers in front of my face that I notice we seem to have inherited some of the football set.
Fantastic—not. Dealing with Jasper is one thing; Midas and the others take douchebaggery to another level. Case in point: the finger snap and the shit-don’t-stink lip curl he’s sporting.
As I shift back in my seat, I feel the weight of Jasper’s arm stretched across the back of it, his familiar sandalwood scent enveloping me. I glance at him out of my peripheral, expecting him to say something to his jockhole friends. He doesn’t. Instead, he seems content toying with the ends of my hair.
He doesn’t even say anything when one of them comments about how it seems more like I’m engaged to Jasper than Duke. A glance at my fiancé—yes, that was sarcasm you heard—shows him eating up the drama the same way he’s digging into the delicious risotto that’s on special today.
“Was there something you wanted?” I ask Midas. Not that I care.
“Yup.” Midas shifts forward, his forearms stretching across the table and his eyes falling to ogle my cleavage. Classy. “Seeing as you’re the little King,” he says to my boobs, “you must have the inside information.”
“Little King?” Ugh. It’s funny…Carter was all worried these BAssholes would try to show how tough they are by going after me since I’m his sister, yet they went after me because essentially they are bullies—yes, I include you in this assessment, Jasper Noble—and it was finding out my Royal relation that made them all want to be my…friend. Yeah, not happening.
“You know what? Let me stop you there.” I put a hand up. “The correct term is Mini Royal, but that’s beside the point.” I shake my head. “I don’t know what kind of inside information you think I have, but even if I did have it, I wouldn’t give it to you.”
A throat clearing has us all looking toward the head of the table to where Headmaster Woodbridge stands with a man whose polo declares him to be the BA football coach.
“Glad to see you back, Miss St. James.”
“Thank you, Headmaster Woodbridge,” I say even though I’ve been back for over a week. Whatever.
There’s a beat of silence as his gaze drops to where Jasper’s arm is draped across the back of my chair, his fingers still playing with the ends of my hair. I’ve given up trying to fight off his casual touches. We’re going to pretend I’m not actually starting to like them, mm-kay?
There’s another throat clearing from Headmaster Woodbridge, this time with the addition of the straightening of his tie before he meets my eye again. “Ah, yes…as you are aware, it is homecoming weekend for both schools here in Blackwell.”
I nod because I am. I’m not sure how many years ago it was that Blackwell Public moved the week they used for their own homecoming to coincide with Blackwell Academy’s. All I know is it was an attempt to “stick it” to the prep school with the one area they hold more prestige in.
Around the table, football jocks straighten in their seats. Ah, is this what they wanted inside information about?
Not only is it homecoming, it’s also one of the biggest prank weeks between the two schools. Last year we released five bearded dragons—you know, because we’re the Blackwell Public Dragons and the fire-breathing variety sadly don’t exist in real life—into the Blackwell Academy halls. This on its own was good, but our chef’s kiss of the scheme was Tessa’s suggestion to label them 1, 2, 3, 4, and 6. It took them two weeks before they figured out they weren’t missing one.
“Is this the part where you’re asking for my RSVP?” I ask, barely managing to choke down the sarcasm in front of an authority figure. “Because if it is, you might be disappointed.” I can already hear Natalie’s bitching.
The slow blink and furrow that forms between Headmaster Woodbridge’s brows almost make me laugh. I don’t necessarily have an issue with authority, but there have been too many adults trying to make decisions about my life when they know nothing about me.
Again he glances at the football coach, who gives a subtle nod of encouragement. “Actually…we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind asking Eric Dennings if he would come to speak with the football team here in addition to BP’s when he visits this weekend.”
“What?” I bark out a laugh, not at all expecting that to be his question. “Why in the world would you think I have enough pull with E to ask that of him?”
“You did just call him E,” Duke whispers.
I hiss at Duke to be quiet and return my attention to Headmaster Woodbridge. I know what brought this on. Tessa’s “family” has a closeness that rivals the Royals. I’m sure when they played golf this past weekend, Mitchell told him about how they all followed Tessa when she rushed to be there in my time of need. I try to explain how it may have seemed like Eric Dennings showed up for me, but it was more to support his sister.
“Even if I could…” I offer to soften the denial. “E won’t be home long enough. The Crabs don’t have a bye this week. As far as I know, he’s driving up for the game—and to see his family—then driving back to Baltimore the same day.”
Disappointed but understanding, the two men leave. Unfortunately, it sets off our new dining companions.
Questions fly at me left and right about Eric Dennings. How do I know him? How close am I to him? Have I met any of the other players on the Crabs? Am I close with his sister too? Have I met Mason Nova or Travis McQueen? Do I know what really went down with Liam Parker?
The details they know are almost too much to handle. It’s insanity. I could answer yes to all of them, but I won’t. It’s bad enough they know as much as they do, thanks to the UofJ411 gossip account. I honestly don’t know how Kay deals. If this is the result when I’m only loosely connected, I can kind of understand why she tried to avoid the spotlight all those years.
Once they finally realize they aren’t going to get any information—on the BP prank or top-tier NFL player-wise—the football jocks leave. I never thought I’d be grateful to be left alone with the puck heads.
Tinsley and I fall back into our earlier conversation about the special stunt clinic she and Tessa will have this week at The Barracks then Duke raps on the table.
“I’m not introducing you to E either,” I tell him. He leans in close, resting on his elbows and flashing his baby blues at me. I shake my head.
“That wasn’t my question,” he counters.
“Oh really?” I mirror his position, giving a Do go on eyebrow arch.
“I was gonna ask…what’s goodie with Tessa?” Now it’s his brows on the move, bouncing up and down on his forehead like a jumping bean.
“And, that”—I stretch a hand out to poke him in the nose—“is why you won’t be meeting E. Big brother does not play when it comes to his little sisters.”
“Can the same be said about—”
He flicks his gaze to Jasper, who’s watching us closely from beside me. I don’t know if the cat-that-ate-the-canary grin is for my benefit or Jasper’s.
“—your big brother?”