Page 3 of Mistaken Prejudice

“Beverly Bay High is proud of this program, giving ‘at-risk youth’ such as yourself a second chance.”

After my first period ended, I was called to the principal’s office for a so-called welcoming talk. Sitting in front of Mrs. Morrison was anything but welcoming.

She asked me to come alone, saying it was easier than calling all four of us, but I knew that was bullshit. She probably heard from our old school that I was the least likely to cause trouble.

As she explained her school’s intentions of making the world a better place by taking in lost causes such as ourselves, I took a moment to observe her office. Gray wooden walls that matched the color of her suit, combined with white leather chairs and floor-to-ceiling windows, made the room too bright. I tried to blink the brightness away, but all I could see was her bright shade of lipstick that went along with her perfectly red manicured nails. She was probably in her mid-fifties, trying to look younger with regular visits to her plastic surgeon. Sadly for her, all it did was limit her to three expressions, and none of them were welcoming.

“I just want you to know that my office doors are open for you and your friends whenever you need, Mr. Bespalov.”

She gave me a fake smile that I returned. After all, being rude wouldn’t get me places.

“I appreciate it, honestly.” I moved to stand up, when she raised her hand, signaling that this conversation was not over yet.

“I do need to add, and it’s for the protocol only, that Beverly Bay High won’t tolerate any theft, vandalism, physical or verbal assault, use of prohibited substances, dealing or selling.” She stopped for a moment before continuing. “The parent boards were unhappy with this program, but I assured them this school will remain the safe environment it’s always been, and it will, isn’t that right, Mr. Bespalov?”

Making my best attempt at a poker face, I answered her question, “I don’t see any reason why it wouldn’t be.”

Her smile, once again not reaching her eyes, spoke louder than words. You are the reason. The time we did in juvie followed us like the mark of Cain. We were stained forever, damaged, marked—forever prejudiced by society. Remembering what I told Diesel this morning, I thought better than to let her, or anyone else, affect me.

On my way out of her office, she gave me one last smile. This one I didn’t return.

My stomach growled as I searched around the school, hoping to find the cafeteria. The meeting with the principal took longer than I had expected, and the boys were already waiting for me in the lunchroom. Looking around, surrounded by trees and green lawns, I figured I had taken a wrong turn and was nowhere near the cafeteria. I had no clue where I was. I pulled out my phone to text the guys when a loud whine came from behind me. I looked around, searching for where it came from, and saw a giant black horse standing less than two feet away. A real fucking horse was standing in front of me in the middle of the school. At least, I thought that’s where I was.

“Whoa, Blanc!”

A sharp voice spoke, and it was then I noticed the rider. And oh, did I notice him. The most beautiful human I’d ever seen was getting off the back of the horse, dressed in a khaki polo shirt and a pair of tight beige riding pants. He was a little bit taller than me yet much thinner, with solid shoulders and a lean, masculine body. The light cotton of his jodhpurs emphasized his long, beautiful muscles, clinging to him in all the right places. Messy, dark hair—probably thanks to the helmet he had just taken off—fell over his thick brows, and when the brightest pair of blue eyes I’d ever seen looked at me, I was positive a part of my soul had left my body. Deep pools of glacial blue, framed by thick dark eyelashes, were cutting through me. I couldn’t stop myself and looked down at his plump, pink lips, noticing how the lower one was slightly fuller. By the time I was examining the two beauty spots under his left eye, I had concluded that I was staring, and maybe it was time for me to say something.

“Blanc?” I asked, remembering the sweet name coming out of his mouth just a moment ago.

A half-smile appeared on his face: Hello there, Adonis.

“That’s his name.” His voice sounded like a melody as he brushed his long fingers against Blanc’s mane.

“He’s beautiful.” Instinctively, I reached my hand forward to do the same. When my hand touched Blanc’s mane, the beautiful stranger looked at me with wide eyes.

“Look at that, he let you pet him. He’s usually not good with strangers.”

“Really? He looks like such a good boy to me.”

Blanc was as beautiful as his rider, with a silky dark coat that shone where the sun touched him, strong legs, and a long mane.

The stranger chuckled, and it was like hearing angels sing. Fuck, I’m cheesy. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing, just if my last trainer knew someone was calling Blanc a good boy… let’s just say he has a record.”

He and I both, sweetheart.

“Well, I guess we all deserve a second chance. Don’t we, Blanc?”

I petted Blanc, and he made that sound horses make; I think it’s called neighing. “I’ll take it as a yes.” I chuckled.

“Are you talking to my horse?” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a teasing look.

“I often find animals much easier to talk to than humans. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess that depends on the human.”

He bit down on his bottom lip, and it was game on, baby. I offered him my hand. “I’m Andrei, by the way. It’s my first day here.”