Deceit (Gallows Hill #1)

4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Skyla

T he next day, I slip on a white sleeveless pantsuit with an off-the-shoulder camel coat that hits just at my knees. I decide to leave my hair for the day, only throwing in a few curls for volume before I expertly apply my makeup until I look effortlessly flawless. This is the bare minimum in my father’s eyes.

I already know that nearly everything I do here will get back to him. My health records, who I’m seen chatting with, my grades– I have no doubt my father will be getting regular reports of it all. So, as much as I’m more than slightly disappointed this won’t be the college experience I was hoping for, it’s not all that unexpected.

Unlocking my phone, I pull up my schedule again, trying to correlate it with the map posted in the middle of the courtyard. I feel myself staring at it for an embarrassing amount of time before a figure comes up beside me. A girl, with a knowing smirk and beautiful red hair, stares at me before she speaks.

“You’re Skyla Parris, right?”

I frown at that. “Yes, have we met?”

“No,” she laughs. “I’m Maggie Bartlett.”

I shake her hand as I nod.

“Sorry, how did you know my name? It’s a big campus and it’s a little odd,” I say with a guarded laugh.

Maggie shakes her head. “It may look like a big campus, but the student population is small, and we all grew up together. You’re the first new face that’s come around in a long time.”

“Really?” I ask, extremely envious at the moment that all these students have the advantage of knowing each other, while I’m stuck being the new fish in the tank.

She nods her head, gesturing towards the sign.

“I’m assuming you’re lost? C’mon. I’ll show you around,” she smiles.

Relief flutters through me as I throw an irritated farewell look to the useless map, before I hand my phone over to Maggie. Her eyes flicker across it before she smiles and nods.

“Perfect. We have history up first together. Let’s go,” she says as she starts practically booking it across campus. Thank god I didn’t opt for heels today.

Finally, we come to a door that Maggie opens for me before sweeping her arm out in a grand way that makes me laugh.

“Thank you,” I smile, as I step inside the lecture hall.

It isn’t nearly as large as I expected, with only five rows of seating available in three sections. That doesn’t mean that just like the rest of this school, it isn’t drenched in opulence. The ceiling is high and arched sharply, continuing with those seventeenth-century themes that seem to have been embalmed in this city and especially in this university.

My eyes move across the room, looking up at one of the black stained windows, or maybe it’s closer to a grey color. The intricate patterns and designs on each vary. Some have religious crosses, while others are too hard to make out from down here. Several large chandeliers decorate the ceiling, surprisingly bright for how old they appear.

I expect her to ditch me now, obviously not owing me a single thing as she goes in search of her friends. Instead, she loops her arm through mine, walking me towards the middle back of the room before plopping down into a seat. I give her a cautionary look, making sure it’s okay that I sit before she looks at me strangely and nods.

Setting down my bag, I slide into the seat and adjust my posture, always making sure to be presentable and attentive. That was one of the first lessons I learned back in London, first impressions are everything. It’s how you set yourself up for the world, and the way everyone will always perceive you.

“Why are you sitting like that?” Maggie asks.

I tuck my folded hands into my lap as I turn to her with a raised brow.

“Sitting like what?”

She mimics my posture, sticking her nose in the air as she does.

“All prim and proper, there is no one of importance around here. You’re fine, relax.”

I go to tell her she’s clearly never met my father, that he would argue that there is always someone of importance on the horizon. However, I can’t help but test the theory slightly, relaxing just a bit into the chair, instantly feeling a sense of relief as I do.

Maggie’s smile is playing at her mouth as she watches me before shaking her head and laughing.

“We’ll have to work on that.”

I smile and shrug my shoulders. “So, do you have any siblings?”

Her smile strains and her eyes squint slightly as she shrugs.

“Not blood.”

I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. I think that’s the end of the conversation when she continues.

“Stepsister. Total cunt.”

I grimace at that. “My condolences.”

She laughs and nods when a smooth voice practically croons from above me.

“Well, hello."

My eyes go up and up and up, until they land on a guy with blond hair, bright green eyes and a blinding white smile. His skin is perfectly tanned, like he spent all summer outside. His white polo shirt and tan slacks make him look like every bit the trust fund baby he no doubt is. I can’t deny a fluttering that runs through me, as his eyes obviously rake over me like I’m a five course feast before him.

“Hello,” I smile politely, doing my best to keep my tone even under this man’s stare .

“What’s your name, babygirl?”

“Skyla Parris, and you?” I ask, with an outstretched hand.

He takes my hand in his, practically dwarfing it. He wraps his other hand around mine, lifting my knuckles to his lips as he does. A strange look passes across his face when he hears my name, before his grin widens as if that were even possible.

“Liam Walcott,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to my hand.

Maggie makes a gagging sound as she scoffs at Liam.

“Could you be any more desperate, Walcott?”

He turns his head to the side slightly to make eye contact with Maggie before he smirks.

“Aw, you scared I’m gonna swipe your girl out from under you, Bartlett?”

She gives him a challenging look, draping her arm over my shoulder and hauling me into her side.

“Not in the slightest.”

Liam bites his lower lip, a flash of silver catching my eyes as his tongue traces over his lip before it’s gone in the next minute.

“Fuck, please tell me I can watch?” he practically groans.

Maggie chokes out a laugh as she shakes her head.

“Not on your fucking life.”

I watch as Liam’s playful smile falls, quickly replaced with a sad frown, akin to when you deny a puppy a treat. His shoulders slump dramatically, as he practically mopes off down several rows before plopping into a seat haphazardly.

I can’t help but give Maggie a confused look and she’s quick to explain.

“That’s Liam Walcott, Gallows Hill's resident flirt. I’ve heard he’s slept with almost every single willing girl on the entire campus. All have nothing but glowing reviews, I guess.”

“You guess? So you aren’t one to fall under his spell?” I tease.

She snorts, squeezing her hold on me a little tighter.

“Definitely not, he doesn’t have the right plumbing for me.”

My eyebrows dip at that, as she stares at me in what seems like waiting before she speaks again.

“I prefer women,” she hedges.

Oh, well now I feel slow.

“Well, how could you not? We’re beautiful and we don’t smell half as bad as men,” I shrug.

She tosses her head back and laughs, her beautiful hair tipping back with her.

“Exactly, but unfortunately for me, you seem to be far more interested in men than women.”

Her words register but I’m still curiously staring at Liam, or well, the back of his head. He’s animatedly talking to a guy next to him and they are both smiling and laughing. His laugh is practically infectious, and I can’t help but smile in the wake of it.

Feeling a set of eyes on me, I turn to see Maggie staring at me with an amused grin.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing, you just proved my point,” she laughs. “But, if you ever get sick of these men, let me know. I eat pussy way better than all of them put together,” she says, with a wink that makes me laugh.

In an all-girls boarding school, it was actually pretty rare not to hook up with one of your friends. I was about the only one actually, and it wasn’t because I didn’t think women were stunning and kind and all around wonderful. It also definitely wasn’t because I didn’t have needs, because virgin or not, my battery operated boyfriend was practically a staple in my life.

I just never got that rush of excitement, the tingles and the butterflies when I looked at a girl. A friend of mine kissed me once, and though it was nice, it didn’t do anything for me.

Aside from her, I’ve honestly only been kissed one other time. I was at a friend’s birthday party and her cousin cornered me against the side of the house when no one was looking. He was cute enough, but he drooled a bit too much and definitely used way too much tongue. I’ve been a bit traumatized since that event.

A lankier guy with auburn hair takes a seat in front of me, setting all of his things out on the desk in what looks like a perfected system when Maggie smiles.

“Hey, Andrew.”

He turns around, giving her a smile before his eyes stop on me. They take me in for a moment, before his cheeks begin to pink up.

“Hi,” he rasps softly.

“Hello,” I smile, causing his blush to deepen before he quickly turns around.

I watch as Maggie does her best to contain her laughter, before she whispers into my ear.

“Andrew Hutchinson. He’s very sweet and super shy as you can see.”

Nodding at that, I smile as the teacher walks in and introduces himself, beginning the class with the syllabus for the semester.

As soon as class is over, Maggie and I file out together. Liam is just ahead of us and I watch as he meets up with a tall brown haired man. It only takes a second to place my fiancé and disgust fills me as I see him tuck two girls beneath his arms, one of whom was the naked girl from my room. Liam does the same, taking two beautiful girls under his arms, as he gives them a smile as bright as the sun. They both seem to melt under it, and I honestly can’t blame them.

Asher’s eyes land on me, irritation filling them as he sneers and turns away abruptly. The naked girl, because that’s what I’m going to call her, casts me a venomous look. She snuggles into him further, as if he wasn’t holding another girl under his other arm while they walk away.

Liam turns to see what has Asher running for the hills, and when his eyes land on me he grins mischievously before tossing me a wink and following after him. Maggie rolls her eyes at them, before looking over my shoulder at my phone.

“What do you have next?”

“Looks like I don’t have anything until eleven,” I say.

“Ugh, lucky bitch. Give me your phone,” she says as she takes it out of my hand, quickly tapping the screen before handing it back to me. “K, I gave you my number. Text me at lunch and we can go grab something!”

With that she’s off, practically speed walking again. I wave goodbye and turn to my left. I haven’t been over here yet but no time to get lost like the present, right?

I make my way through a building of classrooms before it leads me to a separate building just outside of it. Curiosity gets the better of me and I step inside, a heavenly smell filling my senses and wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The distinctive smell of chlorine and wet pavement lingers in the air. The deeper I move down the hallway, the more intense the scent becomes.

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m pushing the door in front of me open, revealing an Olympic regulation sized swimming pool. There is a large set of bleachers to the left of the pool, and I can see the door that leads to the locker rooms off to the right.

My eyes come back to the water, so crisp and blue. I would do almost anything to slip under the surface right now, to sit on the bottom and just forget everything for a little while.

Swimming has always been my passion. As a young kid, Aunt Steph put me into lessons, and I was in our school pool as much as humanly possible. I even made the mistake of mentioning my passion to my dad. I told him how when I grew up, I wanted to be an Olympian. I wanted to swim and swim until my body gave out, for the rest of my life. He didn’t like me having such a strong passion for something that wasn’t in his realm of interests. He quickly made Aunt Steph discontinue the lessons and had my school ban me from the pool.

The last time I had been near one was at my friend Marissa’s house. She had an indoor pool, and on the weekends I would spend hours upon hours in it. It was never quite the same though.

I look to my left and right, before I set down my bag and slip off my shoes. Quickly, I move across the room, rolling up my wide legged pants up to my knees before sitting on the edge of the pool. As soon as my toes hit that crisp water, pleasure rolls through me and I tilt my head back, closing my eyes as my feet slowly glide through it.

I’m not sure how long I’m sitting there, enjoying the feeling of the water wrapping around every inch of submerged flesh when I get the feeling that someone is watching me. My eyes fly open, looking up to see a man staring at me. He’s tall, at least 6’3”, his shoulders are wide, and his waist tapered. He’s wearing a black polo shirt with the school’s crest on it and a pair of almost charcoal dress pants.

His deep brown hair is not buzzed, but not long either. It’s the perfect length, where he has just enough room to style it a bit in the front. Those eyes are what get me though. He has these piercing blue eyes that are practically the same color as the pool.

My eyes come down to his sharp jawline, a smattering of stubble covering it as his perfectly pink lips dip into a frown. Quickly, I flick my gaze back up to his eyes to find them shadowed with confliction.

“Pool is closed,” he says sternly, a rough gravel to his voice as he speaks.

Fear of being in trouble rips through me, as I quickly pull my legs out of the pool and go to stand.

“Oh, sorry. Sorry. I just…I’m new and I found this and—”

He walks over to me and holds his hand up to stop me from talking, which I appreciate because I didn’t really have anything to follow up with. His eyes trace over me, assessing, before he kicks off his shoes and socks. Taking a seat a few feet away from me at the edge. He rolls up his pant legs, much like I did before slipping his toned calves into the water.

I watch him carefully as I return my legs to the water. He stares out at the pool silently and I do the same, a sort of comfortability settling in the air as we just…exist.

I find myself stealing a glance in his direction and when I do, I find that he’s already staring at me.

“I’m Skyla,” I say, feeling the need to say something .

He watches me for several seconds, before he dips his head in what looks like a greeting.

“Coach Ronan.”

“Coach?” I ask. “Swim coach?”

He nods his head, but doesn’t speak for a moment. “Do you swim competitively?”

I open my mouth to respond before I stop short, curious on how much I could reveal to this man and if it would make its way back to my father. He doesn’t seem to have the persona that some of the other staff possess. He’s a little more…solemn, jaded maybe. I suppose that could work in my favor either way.

“No.” I answer, choosing the safer, more honest route.

His eyes don’t relent though, burrowing into me like he knows there’s more to it. How would he know? I have no clue.

“Why do you ask?” I question, mainly to get his intense stare off me.

“The way you looked when you put your feet in the water, it was like you were at peace. As if you were coming home. Only real swimmers, true athletes, get a look like that.”

My head tilts curiously.

“You saw me come in?”

He gestures his head towards another door that I didn’t see from around the corner.

“There are cameras in my office to keep an eye on the pool, make sure no little shits vandalize the place or something.”

I lean my head back, spotting at least two cameras instantly. Nodding to myself, I look back out at the water.

“It’s really beautiful, don’t you think?” I ask.

He looks at me for several seconds before looking out at the water.

“Extremely.”

His eyes cut back to me, and I can physically feel my cheeks flush. I wish I could will them to stop, but it’s impossible. His gaze is so serious, so focused, and completely trained on me. If I were to guess, I would say he looks to be at least in his late twenties, maybe early thirties. Definitely too old for me to be sitting here blushing over.

When my jerk of a fiancé flashes to the forefront of my mind though, I figure what’s the harm in a little inappropriate flirting, right?

“Do you swim competitively?” I ask with a small smirk, mirroring his words from before.

I don’t know why, but something about that makes him give me half of a smile. Just half of it is breathtaking, I can’t imagine the whole thing hitting you at full force.

“Not anymore.”

His smile slowly fades as that same look of confliction passes over his face. The nosy part of me wants to pry, but the respectable part of me knows better than to pick at what’s obviously a sore subject. So I stay silent, enjoying the crisp water on my toes and the gorgeous man before my eyes. Not the worst way to spend a morning.

We sit there for another few minutes in comfortable silence, before my alarm goes off, reminding me that my next class is starting soon. I give a wanting look out to the pool before I sigh.

“I have to get going,” I say with a sad smile.

He’s up and out of the pool in a flash, coming to my side and offering me his hand. I give him a brief look before I accept his gesture, sliding my palm into his as he wraps his fingers around my wrist. Butterflies race from the start of our contact all the way to my toes. It’s a feeling that has me gasping softly, as he easily helps hoist me out of the water and onto my feet.

I stumble for a moment and he catches me easily, stabilizing my hips with his palms as he looks down at me. The tension is palpable and so thick I can hardly breathe over it. Not that I mind at all.

I practically hold my breath as his eyes slowly roam over my face, starting with my eyes before going down my cheeks over to my mouth and up the other side. When he’s finished, those bright pools of blue stare back at me, his fingers tensing for half of a second before he quickly drops his hands and takes a small step back. All of the building tension slips away, fading into the air between us as he clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says roughly, like it’s hard for him to speak.

Giving him a soft smile, I shake my head.

“Thank you,” I say before I move past him, slipping on my socks and shoes and grabbing my purse.

I could just head out the door, it’s right in front of me. Instead, I turn to face him and give him the barest of smiles as I speak softly.

“Thanks for letting me stay for a bit. I…I needed it.”

He dips his head in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything, so with a small wave, I slip out the door. I head in the direction of my next class, wherever it actually is, all the while thinking of two bright blue eyes the entire way.