Beautiful Prince (Van der Borne University Book 1) Read online

  "I really like the cut of that shirt Shauna." I don't hide the fact that I'm staring at her chest. "It's very. Flattering."

  She tosses her jet black hair over her shoulder and gives me a shy smile. "Thank you."

  I lean closer and see her eyes widen. "So tell me, sweet Shauna, what other classes are you taking?"

  "Well, let's see. I have-,"

  Bella cuts her off with a flick of her wrist. "Some other shit the rest of us don't want to know about."

  The professor comes in to start the class. I lean over to talk to Shauna while he's going over the syllabus. “She's wrong, you know. I totally wanna know something about you."

  I wink and flash my dimples. Shauna lets out a tinkly giggle, drawing Bella's attention and displeasure. Bella needn't worry that my vacancy is being filled so quickly. Shauna's sweet and that new rack will be nice to take for a spin, but giggly cum dumps aren't really my type. It's the first day of classes and by the time the back to school blitz party happens next week, there will be more than enough information for the crew to decide who's hot, who's not, and who's life we're changing this semester.

  I stretch my legs out in front of me. Early morning classes are the worst, but I prefer getting the torture out of the way, so my afternoons and evenings are free. This Poly-Sci class and Econ are the only two classes my friends and I have together. I settle in to listen to what Professor Chamberlain has to say. It's not much. Even he seems to need an extra day to prepare for the bullshit. We dismiss early and I take a quick detour before heading to the coffee bar where everyone likes to hang out.

  Bella pouts when I get closer to the table. "Where'd you disappear to?"

  For someone who won't let me spread her ass, she spends a lot of time trying to keep tabs on my cock.

  Hal gyrates his pelvis and feigns his eyes rolling back in his head. "You know where he went. To get a closer look at what's under Shauna's shirt."

  Tabitha crinkles her nose. "Tell me you didn't fuck her already."

  "I didn't."

  She raises her cup to her lips.

  "But I did offer to play with her new tits to test the integrity of her implants."

  She spits into her coffee when a laugh tumbles from her lips. "You're an ass."

  I drop into the seat beside her, place a loud smack against her cheek, and lean back against the seat cushions. "You love me anyway."

  Tabitha rolls her eyes, but settles against me, teasing, "Did you choke on saying that?"

  "You know I did." We're only familiar with one four letter L word. Lust.

  Bella flips her hair while clearing her throat to get our attention. "If you're done, there are a few things we need to discuss."

  Our table has an unobstructed view of everything going on in the cafe. It's the spot where plans are made, and decisions are finalized over a cup of coffee. The previous regime conducted their meetings in classrooms and lecture halls after hours with stolen bottles of alcohol. I canceled that shit as soon as I took over the school. How can you rule a kingdom if you never interact with your subjects?

  The cafe was a place for the socially inept, now it's one of the most popular places on campus. They've added a game night and movie night to their list of evening activities, making it a safe place for the freshman to hang out.

  The other place, the cathedral and bell tower known as The Rift, tucked away on the closed down portion of campus, is where the masks come off and the freaks come out. There, you're invited to partake in enjoyments of the highest order. Whatever you dream or desire, that's where you go to make your petition. To be free of judgment or restraint. Everyone, except for Bella, finds a way to participate. Or at least that's what she'd have you believe.

  She's a watcher. I know, because I am too. That's how I caught her in the corner tower the night Will and Tobias's threesome turned into a twosome, after the girl passed out from over-stimulation on the couch beside them. Bella was there. Watching everything. Getting off on the M/M action.

  The cathedral and bell tower are always accessible, but I maintain the keys to the lock on the sub cavernous doors. The most hedonistic acts occur below ground where no one can hear you scream in pleasure, cry out in pain, or beg for more of the same.

  "The charity case is here, and we need to let her know from the beginning she's not welcome." I scroll through my phone while Bella prattles on. "Logan, are you listening to me?"

  I admit that I wasn’t. I lock my screen, putting my phone down. "We knew the scholarship committee chose a new student. Why are we having an official discussion about this?"

  "Because we can't let her get comfortable being here. If she succeeds, that just gives the finance committee a reason to expand their scholarship program. Just look at Worthless U. Letting any and everyone in brings down the value of a school."

  That's not why they're worthless, but they have gone through some adjustments after letting in students who weren't fully vetted. If the scholarship student who just enrolled doesn't benefit us, then I don't care if Bella runs her off campus. "Bella, we're in agreement. You have my full support."

  Chapter Four

  I trail behind a group of students looking for a seat that's not too close to the front or too far in the back, planting myself in the fifth seat of the eighth row and unpack my bag, setting my recorder and notebook in front of me. The class fills up quickly and I watch as the other students bypass my row. I must have that new girl smell on me. The one that wards off making friends.

  I'm sending a text to Robbie when I sense the change in the room. The hum of noise quiets. I look up and see all eyes facing the group of students who have just stepped through the doorway. They branch off, climbing the steps on either aisle of the lecture hall, but they all stop in the same general location. The row in front of me, the one behind me, and my row. My eyes stall on the guy in the middle of the group. I clock him at six feet three. His eyes skim over me.

  "You're in my seat."

  It takes a moment to understand that the girl on my right is talking to me. I look around and ask in the nicest way I can. "Are there usually assigned seats in the classes?"

  I'm not used to college being so formal, but then again, I'm not used to a bellman in the dormitory. I checked my email from the professor this morning on attendance requirements, and assigned seating wasn't mentioned.

  "They sit there." She points to the girls. "They sit back there." I do a quick check behind me at the guys. "And I sit here."

  I do a quick review of their entrance. I imagine the way it looks when their march in works correctly. Probably formidable and chill inducing. Designed to make the average coed wish they were part of their world. I've no doubt that it's very coordinated and intricate, but it doesn't answer my question.

  She's waiting for me to move, and for five whole seconds I consider doing just that. But then the professor comes in and class begins.

  "Bella, would you like to take a seat or will you be standing during class today?"

  Another thirty seconds pass before she move on, but I can tell she's not happy about the swap. Maybe she has a medical issue that requires her to be in this particular seat? If that's the case, I feel bad that I didn't move. When I turn around to apologize, she's whispering to some guy, seeming unbothered about the change. Ok. So maybe it's not such a big deal after all.

  At the end of class, the group leaves the way they came in. Descending the steps and converging as a group at the bottom. It sort of reminds me of the flight pattern of migrating birds. They're them. The IT crowd. I see it in the way they move. The way people act deferentially around them, giving them space.

  I don't care about the popularity dynamic. I just want to keep my head down and make it through this school semester, so I can go back to my old school in the spring. When I head to the cafeteria on my break, I spot the girl the teacher called Bella sitting at a table over by the window.

  A new day is, well, I guess it's a day too late to make a good impression. Good thing, there are
still like nine hours left in this one to make amends. I walk over to her to apologize for what happened earlier. She may not own the seat, but it was never my intention for her to get called out by the teacher.

  "Bella, I just wanted you to know that, I'm sorry for the mix up earlier." Her nose is buried in her phone as if she can't be bothered to look up and pay attention. When one of the guys she was with earlier slides up to the table, she lowers her phone and smiles at him.

  He looks at me, frowns and joins in on pretending I'm not here. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, is doing the same. I'm standing in the middle of sub-arctic temperatures, having breached some type of code of conduct I didn't even know existed. It's fascinating witnessing group-think on an emotionally driven level. I thought we were in college, but this behavior is so tenth grade. They may think it's funny or cute, or embarrassing to me, but what I think is that it's rude as hell, and rude people don't deserve my apology.

  I'm an artist. I love sketching and photography, but painting is my passion and even though I'm only here for this semester, I want to make a good impression on my professors. I'm angry with myself for being late. I got turned around on campus after my World Lit class and wound up on the wrong side of campus.

  "I'm Noel Hansen. The TA." The cute guy at the front of the class is saying when I step through the door. He ignores me, continuing with his introduction. “Professor Tiering, or Grace as she prefers to be called, will be out for the next few weeks, finishing up her maternity leave."

  I slide into the only available seat at the front of the class, next to a boy with the blonde spiky tips. He's sporting earrings in his ear, and a rope necklace with a crystal dangles around his neck. I give a timid smile and hello and he smiles back.

  Noel's explaining our first lesson. "Everything starts with the eyes. Your line placement, your color palette, none of that matters if you don't truly see the subject in front of you. So, before you pick up a pencil, chalk, or brush, I want you to take some time, studying our subject."

  The model disrobes, and a disquieting unease settles over me. I feel my face flush up to the tips of my burning ears. I knew this was a life study class and that nudity would happen, but I didn't think we'd dive right in to seeing all the things hanging quite this soon. I take a deep breath and console myself with the fact that at least it's a woman. I can't be certain I wouldn't pass out if my first day required me to study the flaccid appendage hanging between a man's legs.

  I glance at what my seat mate is doing. He's not put out by the naked woman in front of him. His lines are smooth and precise as his hand moves quickly across the canvas. I can already see the outline of the model's body. Noel walks over and peers over at my blank canvas, before moving on to the next row of students. I shake off my nerves and start at the bottom. Her legs. I focus on getting those perfect, too embarrassed to look any higher. Before I know it, class is over.

  The door to my room is ajar when I get back from the library. I slowly push it open, reaching into my pocket for the can of mace my mother insists I carry. The intruder is one of the guys from Bella's swarm of student birds. Only he didn't exactly stand or sit as if he was deferring to her. No, there's an air of authority radiating from him even as he trespasses in my room.

  If Bella's the pampered entitled princess, the guy in front of me is definitely the prince. He spins to face me, holding a couple of my DVDs in hand. Hazel. That's the color most people would use to describe his eyes, but now I can see that's too basic. They're a shimmering mixture of fern and amber. It would take a couple of passes with my paint before I got that color combination correct, but mother nature did it in one try.

  "What are you doing?" I step into the room, closing the door behind me, but keep my mace at the ready.

  "Looking for something to put on. When did Kassidy start watching this bullshit?"

  My ears burn and I stammer. "Th-those are mine." Why the hell am I so nervous? It's my room, and he's the one rummaging through my shit. I have every right to question him being here.

  His eyes skim my clothes and hair. "Makes more sense now."

  I ignore the veiled insult. He returns the movies to their spot on the entertainment rack and chooses another selection.

  "I'm Jordanna, by the way."

  He keeps his back to me. Ignoring people must be engrained into these rich kids, like table manners. You'd think simple decency costs too much. It's free, so I know their entitled asses can afford it. He shelves the next set of movies he was holding, before shouldering past me, without so much as an introduction or an excuse me.

  "Tell Kassidy I'll be back with my own movie." His voice holds a note of disgust, as if I've inconvenienced him with my tastes. When the door clicks shut, I remove my finger from the trigger on the can I'm still holding. I walk into my room tossing my bag on the floor next to the bed and kick my shoes off, falling back, finally taking a breath. Day one of classes and I feel like I've been here six weeks already.

  I open my eyes after what felt like a blink to a darkened room. I strain my ears, listening. There it is again. The sound that woke me is a thump and a giggle. I slip off my bed, crossing the floor to crack my bedroom door open. I lean my head out, peaking into the common area. A man's throaty chuckle and a breathy sigh bombard my ears. I can make out four or five heads over the back of the couch.

  "Do it like she's doing it." The voice instructs. I open my door a little wider, getting a glimpse of the television screen. With the tangle of arms and legs and music, there's no mistaking they're watching porn like it's a blockbuster hit. I lean a little further, trying to see who's doing a real life reenactment. The floor creaks, and one of the heads whip around in my direction. I jump back, pushing my door closed as softly as possible.

  Chapter Five

  I skipped the first day of my life study class, because I knew Noel would be teaching. I'm here today, because I need to paint. The new girl who was sitting in Bella's seat is Kassidy's roommate. She's also the scholarship student no one is supposed to know about. I saw her the other night, trying to creep across the floor unnoticed, to see what we were doing.

  We don't usually show out like that in the dorm rooms with newbies, but Kassidy invited me over to hang, and the way these things often go; Hal and Frankie showed up with a few other people. The hookups happened, things got a little crazy. I wasn't a participant in the bring art to life attempt, but I was there, watching. Bored out of my fucking mind.

  I don't mind porn, but I have to be in the right headspace to watch it, otherwise I find myself deadened to its effects. As an artist, I prefer the feel of an object in my hand or visually in front of me. The intangibles rarely translate from television. I'm talking about the long sinewy muscles of the body, the way shadows cast across the skin as lights flicker in the background. The curves and bends and angles and textures. Those things are what I'm drawn to and excited about. I'm inheriting a media empire, but I love getting my hands dirty when I'm creating.

  I motion for Andrew, Ansel, Steve? Whoever the skater punk is, to get the hell out of my seat. I sit in the front row in any art class so that I'll have the best view of the subject.

  Well, well, well. New girl's in this class, too. She averts her gaze when I take the seat beside her, shifting a little to her right, as if the other night's events might jump off of me onto her. She'd be so lucky.

  Class starts, the model disrobes, and the newb puts her face so close to the canvas, I wonder how she can see what's happening in the front of the room. Noel comes by and walks away, without commenting on my absence. Pussy.

  He makes a second pass and offers direction to the vanilla wafer beside me. "Intentional strokes Jordanna. Think of perspective and proportion as it relates to the human body. Treat the canvas as more than stretched cloth. It's the backdrop from which your creation will come forth."

  Jordanna. So that’s her name. I think she told me the other day when I was in her room, but I was too busy thinking of other shit to pay attention.


  Noel hovers over her shoulder. "What do you see?"

  "I see the model." She says the words softly as if she's afraid incanting them will bring a fire-breathing dragon to life.

  "What specifically do you see?"

  "I see her arms. Her legs. Her hair."

  "Anything else?"

  She cranes her head around the easel and can barely get out. "I see her breasts. The rise and fall of her chest."

  Noel presses for another answer, even though we can all see her turning as crimson as the paint on her palette. "What else?"

  "I see a naked woman."

  "Exactly, Jordanna. See the whole picture. Every curve. Every line. Every shadow and valley. Then draw them. Over and over again until it becomes a routine. Eventually, the routine will become technique. The technique-"

  "Becomes habit. The habit, muscle memory. The memory gives way to form, which leads to expression and expression leads to passion." I finish for him. It's the same speech he gives all the time. He stole it from Mr. Marseille in high school.

  He glances at my canvas. "Well Logan, it seems this masterpiece you've created ditched routine and form and expression altogether."

  "You're wrong. I feel I've fully expressed myself."

  "And what is it that your picture is saying?"

  "Can't you tell? It's born of the routine expression of boredom." The class giggles. I stand admiring Jordanna's work from a different angle. "This, however, is an A-plus. So lifelike and realistic I can feel the sex jumping off the canvas."

  I pick it up, holding it lower. "Her legs are begging to be touched, her skin to be licked. " I smirk at him. "It's so lifelike and realistic I wanna jack off to it."