Page 158 of Knox Academy Omnibus
Our grandfather called Slate and made him be his errand boy for the night. He wasn’t happy. Earlier, he had mentioned to me that he hoped he would be done by the time Amelie met him at the old library. Call me a selfish prick, but here I am waiting for her instead. I made sure Slate would be tied up long enough to miss his date with her.
I hear her laugh before I see her, and my whole body reacts to the sound of her voice, tensing and eager to lay eyes on her. When she comes into view through the dark, I see that she is on the back of the bodyguard, riding him like a horse.
“Slateee,” she slurs, throwing herself back and falling to the ground. She’s drunk. I mean, I knew she would be having watched her knock back drink after drink all night, but I had thought the crisp February air would have sobered her up a little.
“You can leave,” I tell Frost. “I will make sure she gets back to her room alive.”
“With all due respect…” he begins.
“Leave. Before I call my grandfather and have you escorted off school property and out of your line of work, permanently,” I bark. Who does he think he is?
“It’s okay, Frosty; I had fun. Do you want to carry me again?”
“I’m good. See you.” Frost takes off almost as if he is scared of Amelie and her drunk self. She starts to giggle, as if looking at me is the funniest thing she has ever seen.
“You know, you’re so pretty,” she tells me, gazing up at me in a way which makes my dick hard. She hasneverlooked at me like that before.
“All that thick dark hair. I just want to run my fingers through it.”
She leans over and I can smell her fruity perfume as she starts to play with my hair. I don’t stop her. I know I should, but I doubt she will remember this tomorrow anyway.
“Slate…did you mean everything you said today in music? Because I forgive you. You’re too pretty to be mean to or mad at.”
“It’s Onyx.”
“What about that douche?” She wrinkles her nose up in a frown that’s actually pretty cute. “He needs to pull the stick out of his ass.”
She really thinks I’m him. I wonder how wrong it is to pretend to be him? To know what it feels like to be wanted. She may have let me fuck her once, but hate fucking isn’t the same. She leans her body weight on me and mumbles all the things she hates about me.
“And his ass is too good for him! Why have something that delicious attached to someone who won’t let you touch it?” She pouts.
“I’m sure if you ask him nicely enough, he will.” She laughs and slaps me softly on the chest.
“And what will he do when the wind changes and his face gets perm..pernanent...stuck? Well, then it will serve his stupid face right.”
“We have the same face.”
“You’re right.” She turns and gasps touching my face as she whispers with wide eyes. “You do, it's so weird. Does he know you stole his face?”
“I’m sure after all these years he knows.”
“Don’t tell him, just in case he’s mean.”
“Okay drunky, how about we get you back to your bed?” I sigh. I’m half amused by the conversation, but I don’t have the patience for sloppy drunk chicks.
“Will you snuggle with me?” She gazes up at me with wide amber eyes that plead.
“No,” I growl a little too snappy.
“Hehe! You sounded just like him,” she giggles.
“I am him,” I deadpan but she ignores me and just laughs again.
I’m done with the back and forward.
I lift her and throw her over my shoulder, hoping she doesn’t vomit down my back.
The entire way back to her room she giggles and mumbles to herself. I tuned out when I realised most of her mumbling was about me and my stupid face.
