“Keep it moving,” Austin growls from the side of his mouth. “Don’t let these assholes sense your fear.”
Easier said than done. I gulp down my rising panic, knowing that he’s right. They’ll fall on me like a pack of jackals if they realize how frightened I am. I blank my expression and stare at the far wall of the cafeteria. As we move through the rows of students, I wait for an attack.
“There’s an empty table to the left,” he mutters.
I suck in a breath as my gaze skitters across the room before landing on a vacant table against the edge of the rectangular-shaped space. Together we stride toward it before sliding across from each other at the far end. The thought of enduring this hell for an entire year is enough to bring a hot prick of tears to my eyes.
I’ll never make it.
Austin settles with his back to the crowd as I sit across from him. If I lift my gaze, I can scan the entire cafeteria. Instead, I block them out and refuse to make eye contact. There’s no reason to provoke the inmates.
As soon as we’re seated, Austin doesn’t waste time in emptying the contents of his lunch onto the table. Two PB and J sandwiches, apple slices, a bag of chips, a protein bar, and a bottle of water. When I make no move toward mine, he raises a brow which prompts me to follow suit. Mechanically, I pull out the sandwich, apple slices, bag of Sun Chips, and a bottle of water before staring at them. There’s no way I’ll be able to force down a bite. The thought is enough to stir the nausea roiling in my belly.
“You need to eat,” he prods with a frown.
I shake my head, wishing it were that easy. “I can’t.”
Slowly my shoulders lower from around my ears as the din of conversation picks up again and people go back to conversing about whatever the hell they were previously discussing. As it does, my gaze travels cautiously around the room.
Like the corridors, there are wooden beams crossing the vaulted ceiling. Arched stained glass windows allow shards of sunlight to flood in, giving the space a warm feel. More gold-leaf framed pictures dot the walls and heavy wooden chandeliers with white candles hang from the two story-ceiling. There are three lines of tables strategically placed in rows throughout the space. Without the food service taking place off to the side, it almost resembles a church.
Except there is no peace or sanctuary to be found here. I’m more afraid of being ripped to shreds by the parishioners.
I continue to study the architectural details until my gaze collides with a dark one a few tables away. A current of electricity shoots through me, flooding my body with awareness. The wise thing to do would be to avert my eyes, but Kingsley has the power to trap me within his stare. The boisterous noise and people that surround us falls away until we’re alone.
Similar to this morning when his fingers were wrapped around my throat, it becomes difficult to breathe. My hand flutters to my neck, but there’s nothing constricting my airways. How is it possible to feel the pressure of his fingers when he’s across the room? A shiver of unease runs through me as his lips lift into a smirk. It’s like he knows exactly what kind of response he’s capable of eliciting.
With a flick of his gaze, he dismisses me. His expression transforms into one of playfulness as a girl stops beside him before reaching out and trailing her fingers over his arm. In one quick movement, he snags her hand and tugs her onto his lap. Pain blooms in my chest when I realize it’s Sloane. Her arms loop possessively around his neck before she pulls him close. Her lips go to his ear as she whispers a secret.
Look away!
Stop staring!
It’s a relief when Sloane tips her head back and laughs, loose blond hair bouncing around her shoulders, obscuring my vision. A moment later, she tilts her body, and he comes back into view again with his gaze pinned to mine. His eyes are frozen chips as a slow grin spreads across his handsome face.
The pain he’s inflicting is deliberate.
Why is he doing this?
I almost shake my head in frustration before catching myself at the last minute. There’s no way this is the same boy I met earlier this summer.
“Hey.” Austin reaches out and grabs my lifeless hand as it lies on the table between us.
Reluctantly, my attention jerks to him. “What?”
He points to my lunch with his other hand. “You need to eat.”
I glance at the untouched food and grimace. “I’ll eat later.”
“Everything will be fine,” he mutters, attempting to comfort me. “Give it some time to settle.”