Chapter 3 Chapter: 3
Addison
Just then the elevator opened and two men dressed as only a nurse or EMT would, arrived with a stretcher.
“How you holding up Pres, heard you had an accident? How bad is it?” One of the men asked while the others put the stretcher down.
“Pres? Is that short for a preschooler?” the EMT turned to me. “Or maybe it’s instructions? Press your nose for useful information?”
I touch the tip of his nose, “BOOP.”
My finger barely made contact before I yanked it back when his eyes turned murderous.
“It’s short for President,” he gritted, eyes narrowed.
I smiled awkwardly. “Would you look at that, it works!”
The middle aged EMT chuckles. “And who might you be?”
“A klutz who tripped me,” Shepherd said flatly. “Thanks to her I sprained my ankle.”
The tall older man shot me a look of pure disbelief. “How did you manage that?”
“It was an accident!” I quickly defended, my cheeks burning. “Now can anyone be kind enough to point me to the girls' dorm?”
“Do you think I'll be able to play the upcoming match?” Shepherd asked, all of them ignoring me, the EMT grimace. “Nah, you'll have to give it a couple of weeks. Let's take you to the clinic and see what the doctor has to say, yeah?”
Shepherd turned to me, face dark. “You!” he said, more like ordered. His face is hard like a glacier. “You're coming with me,”
“Cole seized her things.”
“What? Why? You can't do that,” I said, helplessly watching the blonde guy roll my bags away.
Shepherd smirk, cold and unamused.
“Watch me, you didn't think there won't be any consequences did you?”
Shit!
The main doctor’s office smelled like antiseptic and bleached, making my nose twitch as I stood awkwardly by the door. Shepherd sat on the doctor's chair as though it was his office.
His ankle checked and wrapped nicely a couple of minutes ago after his scan and x-ray. Nathan, his brunette friend, followed the nurse to get meds and instructions on how to care for his injury.
He'd twisted his ankle, fortunately it wasn’t that severe. The doctor had said he'd go back to normal in a couple of weeks, before he left us alone.
The sad part is he wasn’t letting me get out of this. It was just my luck that on the first day of school I had already made myself an enemy. And it was this asshole.
Way to go, Addie.
His phone pinged every few seconds with new messages from people I assumed heard the news of his accident.
Ten minutes was all it took for girls and boys to start streaming inside the clinic with fucking flowers and get well soon cards.
Each girl was beautiful and more glamorous than the other. The guys were all good looking and buff, all wearing luxurious brands of accessories.
It was fucking ridiculous. I knew this life, I've lived it, and for the first time I find it shallow and ridiculous. I would have found the whole situation comical, if it wasn't for the trouble I had a feeling I was in.
For the most part while he was being treated the dark brooding boy beside me had barely spared me a glance. He didn't show any sign that he knew I was there.
But I knew he was very much aware of my every move. I would have snuck out, consequences be damned, if it weren't for the fact he'd taken hostage of my handbag.
Since the doctor left, silence filled the room, thick, stifling and uncomfortable, like a ticking time bomb. Counting down who will break first.
“Look,” I started carefully. “I’m really sorry. I know we started off on a bad note, but I can…uh, pay for your medical bills?”
God shut up Addison! Aren't you already in enough trouble? Where will you even get the money?
His laugh was sharp and mocking. “You think I need your money?” he asked as he took my bag from his side where he'd been keeping it.
I sighed relieved. So he doesn't want my money—which I don't have. Phew!
“Okay, no, but,” I stuttered, distracted when he opened the zipper.
“Hey! Don't open my bag that's fucking rude,” I snapped and quickly bit my lip when he glanced up at me, dark brow arched. “You can't open a girl's bag, it's an invasion of privacy.”
“Is that so?” he asked, not caring as he rummaged inside my bag, found a chewing gum, opened and threw it inside his mouth before continuing to search my bag. A second later he brought out my ID.
“Let’s make this simple,” he murmured, finally glancing up at me. His eyes were like cut glass, cold, assessing, with a glint of something wicked as he chewed my strawberry flavored gum as though he had every right.
Asshole!
“You messed up my ankle right before a game. So, either you make it up to me…”
My stomach dropped. “Or?” he smirked, as I fisted my hands hard beside me before I punched the jerk and made it worse.
“Or I'll make your life at Brighton hell.”
I blinked, my heart pounding. “You can’t be serious, surely you understand what an accident means?” I said incredulously. His face turned hard.
“Try me. And not when it comes to me, I don't. Accidents don't happen to me.”
I would say he was bluffing or even joking, but nothing about the look in his eyes was funny. If possible he looked even more pissed, the asshole absolutely meant it.
From what I’d heard, Shepherd didn’t just rule the school, he was the school. And the last couple of hours as students came and went confirmed that for me.
“What exactly does ‘make it up to you’ mean?” I asked warily.
He leaned back, smirking, eyes running over me slow and deliberate. “You'll take care of me until my ankle heals. Carry my stuff, bring my lunch, do whatever I say. It could be a month or more, depending on how fast I healed. You'll be my….” he paused, trying to find the word.
“Your servant?” I scoffed, glaring at him.
“Exactly!” He nodded, face dark.
I stared at him, incredulous. “You want me to be your servant? You realize this is the twenty-first century right?”
He grinned, devilishly making my stomach flutter wildly. “We could call it assistant, if you prefer that.’”
“You're fucking insane.”
“So is your lame excuse,” he countered.
“It's not a fucking excuse!” I snapped. “I thought it was the girls' dorm.”
“You expect me to believe that?” he gritted. “Did my house look like a dorm to you?!”
“Yes!” I screamed. “Obviously, who would expect a student to have a whole freaking mansion all to himself.”
“I'm the Pres and this entire school belongs to my family.” He'd said it as though that explains why an eighteen year old has a fucking mansion all to himself in what was supposed to be a boarding school.
“Let's assume you're right, and you genuinely believe it was the girls' dorm. You're still the reason I can't play. You had to come right before an important game and mess it up for me,” he countered smoothly.
“You think I wanted this?! I wish I never met you!”
“Well, wishes don't come true do they? Now fucking deal with the consequences of your actions!”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the image of Nolan's disappointed face flashed in my mind. The sound of my mom sighing and scolding wasn't far behind.
No more scandals. No more mistakes. My life would be much easier if no one knows who I am.
“Fine,” I muttered, glaring at him. “Two weeks and you can't mess with my class schedule.”
Shepherd's grin was triumphant and wicked. “Welcome to Brighton, Shrimp.”
“I'm not a fucking Shrimp, my name is Addison,” I muttered.
“Addison, Shrimp, who cares, you are whoever I say you are.”
Asshole!
“Meet me outside my place at 7:00 tomorrow morning if you're late there'll be consequences.”
I sighed defeatedly.