Only With You (Knights #2)

5

JULIANNA

Smile. It’s fine. You’re fine.

It’s what I’ve kept repeating to myself since I woke up this morning.

After yesterday’s conversations with Mom and Sienna, I told myself I wasn’t going to dwell on what they said, and I’m going to try to grasp onto the string of positivity. Although, it feels like it’s slowly slipping from my hands because all I can think about is my test grade.

Before we left class on Friday, Professor Ellis said we’d know our grade by Monday. I’d hoped she would’ve posted the grades already on Canvas, the website the university uses to manage classes, but she hasn’t.

It’s nerve-wracking not knowing. When I woke up, I felt like throwing up from how anxious I felt. I’ve managed to calm the uneasiness; still, it lingers around the corner.

That’s why I stopped by the café inside the Student Union and ordered a large frosted caramel latte and oatmeal. I wanted to order a hot chocolate, but unfortunately, those are only seasonal, which is ridiculous. It shouldn’t have to be freezing outside to have hot chocolate.

The barista reads out my total and asks how I’ll be paying, but someone beats me to it.

In my periphery, I spot a long, tattooed arm, and I don’t have to look to see who it belongs to. I can physically feel the life being sucked out of everything by his direly-suffocating presence.

“Cash,” he states, and because of his accent, the a sounds like uh . As most words with an a do, when he speaks. “And keep the change.”

“There’s no need for that. I got it.” I hold my debit card up, but the barista seems to be entranced by him, because she takes the twenty-dollar bill.

I don’t get the chance to say anything because he walks to the other end where we’re supposed to pick up our orders.

I stare stupidly, but when I hear someone clearing their throat behind me, I snap out of it.

I’m not sure why he did that, and I highly doubt it was out of the kindness of his heart. I doubt he even has one.

Marching over to him, I inhale a deep breath and peer up at him. He doesn’t direct his attention to me even though I’m clearly standing right in front of him.

“I don’t know why you did that, but I had it.”

After a beat, he finally regards me with his usual stoic expression. The only sign of life is the slight twitch of his black brow, but other than that, he looks disinterested.

“Did what?” He stares down at me as if I’ve burdened him.

“Are you serious? I—whatever. And I’m not thankful,” I say as my name is announced and my order is set on the counter.

My annoyance is almost gone, but the keyword is almost , because right as I’m about to grab it, the asshole snatches it and walks out.

I’m completely shocked, left dumbfounded, too stunned to move. I gape, staring at him retreat with my breakfast in his hands. I blink a few times before I finally register what happened.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to commit murder as much as I want to now.

Stalking out of the Student Union, I attempt to calm my harsh breaths, but my anger has sparked and a rage of wildfire has spread.

When I’m just a few feet away from him, I call out, “Hey,” but still, he doesn’t stop. Digging my fingers into the heels of my palms, I grind my teeth and speed walk until I’m standing in front of him.

He almost tramples over me but manages to stop before he does.

“I’m not sure which demon possessed you, but it’s too early for you to act like a piece of shit,” I snipe, my chest rising and falling rapidly. “Give me my stuff back.”

“No,” he simply replies and takes a small sip of my latte. “ Mmm , good.”

The fucking audacity.

“I swear if you don’t give me my stuff back, I’m going to—” I raise my hands, but drop them because I’m usually not an aggressive person. It’s rare, but when it happens, I get these little twisted thoughts in my head.

Like wanting to take that silver chain around his neck and strangle him with it, and for good measure, kick him in the balls.

His eyes flick to my fisted hands at my sides, and I swear something sparks in them.

“You swear you’re going to do what ?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Nothing. Give me back my stuff.” I lift my hand, my palm facing upward.

He takes another sip. “Tell me, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

I glare at him, wishing he’d choke on the drink. “I know the Devil enlisted you to make everyone around you miserable, but today is not the day. I don’t have time for your bullshit. So, go find someone else to piss off and give me back my stuff.”

“I’m bored and you’re wasting my time.”

I snarl, my blood boiling. “Wasting your time? You’re the one who paid for my order and took my stuff. If anything, you’re the one wasting my time. I could be in class right now, but instead, I’m here arguing with you.”

He hums. “Arguing? Is that what we’re doing?”

I eye his chain again.

“Do it.” His taunting voice pulls me out of my twisted thoughts. “I dare you.”

I force my gaze away from his neck to his eyes. “Dare me to what?”

He takes two steps forward, looking down at me. Something sadistic shines in his eyes, and for the first time, something playful lurks in them.

It throws me off because that’s not something I’m used to. Not from him.

“Choke me. I dare you.”

“Wh-what—why would you say that?” My face burns with embarrassment at my stutter.

“Your eyes,” he simply says.

“My eyes, what do my eyes have to do with choking?”

“They don’t lie.”

I huff a laugh. “What are you?—”

“You’re either really fascinated with my throat, my chain, or both?” He tilts his head to the other side, eyeing me inquisitively.

I almost laugh, but glare at him instead. “The only fascinating thing about you—or at least, on you—is my latte and oatmeal. So, get over yourself and give me my stuff back.”

“No.” He takes another slow slip, sidesteps me, and walks away.

I groan, following after him, but I have to quicken my steps because of his long strides. Never thought there’d be a day I’d have to walk faster to catch up to someone. Normally, it’s the other way around.

“I will not leave until you give me my stuff back.” I’m only screwing myself because class starts in ten minutes, and it seems like he’s walking to the other side of campus. But I refuse to back down.

“I advise that you find something else to obsess over.” He gives me a side-glance, nose wrinkled with disgust. “Following me will do nothing for you but get a restraining order.”

Now I really can’t help myself and laugh. “Me obsessed over you? Absolutely not. I’d say it’s the other way around.”

He stops in his tracks and faces me. “You’re nothing worth obsessing over.”

I exasperatedly sigh and place a hand over my chest. “Wow, you’ve wounded me. I’m so hurt, I’m not sure how I’ll ever recover.” I pout, feigning sadness in my voice.

“You’re a pain in my arse.” His words drip with disdain.

“Ditto.” I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Give me my stuff.”

He exhales a breath and stares to the side as if he’s considering it. When he glances back at me, he rolls his eyes and places the oatmeal in my hand.

“You’re welcome,” he says and walks away.

Fuck this.

I march up to him and snatch the cup out of his hand. “Fuck you. I hope you have a shitty day.”

“I swear, it’s unreal how beautiful he is,” Breanna, or Bre, my sorority sister, says from my right.

We’re currently waiting in class for Professor Ellis to arrive.

It’s a slight blessing we have Calc together. I say slight, because she’s not the greatest in math, so studying together isn’t going to happen, but it’s nice knowing I’m not alone.

I peek at her phone and grin when I see Saint Arlo’s Instagram page.

He may be two years younger than me, but it’s undeniable how beautiful he is. There’s no doubt he’s God’s favorite and took His painstaking time on him. Because how does one have such a symmetrical face? And the rest of his features look like they were carved out of stone. And he has jet-black hair and clear blue eyes. If that’s not the most divine combination, I don’t know what is.

“Yeah, he’s great to look at.” I flick my gaze back to my screen, switching from my public Instagram account to my private one.

Our sorority is very particular about what we post, and because of that, I’ve created a private account where I post whatever I want. It’s nice, because it’s like my personal diary, my happy place. I only follow a handful of people, so I know whatever I post, I’m not going to get judged for it or in trouble.

I understand. I signed up for the sorority life knowing there are rules to abide by, but sometimes, it gets exhausting. Pretending like I’m in love with all my sorority sisters, being at events I dread, and smiling and acting like I’m having a good time, when all I’m doing is counting down the minutes until I can go home.

The sorority itself isn’t bad. I’ve made good memories and met great girls like Bre, but there are some people like Sienna who make it unbearable.

The first person who appears on my feed is Daisy Diaz, Lola’s best friend. I met her last year and I’ve hung out with her a few times. She’s honestly pretty incredible, and I might be slightly obsessed with her.

She’s just so confident and effortless.

Daisy also has a public and private account. I follow her on both and she follows me on both.

“She’s hot. Who is that?” Bre says, peering at my screen.

“Right? Daisy Diaz.”

“Hmm…” she glances back at her screen. “I’m going to do it today.”

I like Daisy’s post and continue scrolling through my feed. “Do what?”

“Ask Saint to semi.”

I pause my scrolling, remembering that during our Chapter meeting she said she was going to ask him. “You definitely should. I don’t see why he would say no.”

I don’t know Saint like that, but from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t have a girlfriend, likes to get around a lot, and he’s extremely nice. I’ve also been around him a few times and I can say he’s friendly, smiles a lot, and is the total definition of a flirt.

“Oh, he won’t say no. I mean, look at me, of course he’s going to say yes.” She sounds so self-assured.

I smile, but it slips when Professor Roberts walks in the room and sets his bag down next to the podium.

He was my professor the first time I took Calculus II and why I failed so miserably.

Everyone simultaneously looks at each other, probably wondering like me why he’s here and not Ellis.

“Professor Ellis will be out for the rest of the semester due to a family emergency. So, I’ll be taking over.”

My heart drops and my brain struggles to register the words coming out of his mouth.

“What did he say?” I anxiously ask Bre.

“We’re fucked,” she whispers.

The optimism I was doing my best to hold onto has completely slipped from my grasp.

Without a doubt, I’m going to fail.

Professor Roberts was all over the place with his notes, and ten minutes within his lecture, I got lost.

When he finally passed the tests out, all the hope I was holding onto disintegrated. In a red, messy scrawl, a 6 was circled at the top of my paper.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do, but I’m desperate to pass and only a miracle is going to make that happen.

Pacing my room back and forth, I consider my options, but there aren’t many.

I could speak to Professor Roberts, but knowing what a pretentious asshole he is, that won’t work. He has office hours, but they’re usually at odd times, and even if they weren’t, he’s really my last resource.

He wants us to use all the available resources before going to him, and when you finally decide to go to him, he makes you feel stupid for not understanding. Just thinking of his condescending tone and belittling remarks makes my stomach knot.

My next and only other option is getting a tutor. Getting one won’t be the issue, because there are many here on campus. The problem is finding the right one. I’ve been through a few, and while they’re really smart, sometimes it’s hard to follow along.

They’re not even the problem. It’s me. I’m the problem.

When a formula has letters, my mind goes blank.

My grumbling stomach brings my pacing and consuming thoughts to a stop. I haven’t eaten since this morning. I’d lost all my appetite after I saw my grade and still don’t feel like eating, but my stomach grumbles again, protesting that it needs food.

As I open my door, I pause at the doorway when Polly’s voice echoes down the hall that leads to mine and Gabby’s rooms.

“Come on, she won’t say anything and he won’t either,” Polly whines.

“It’s not our business. Just let it go. And stop being so loud. Juls is probably sleeping,” Gabby chides.

“Aren’t you curious as to why they don’t get along?” Polly counters, her voice a tad bit more quiet. “Landon hardly ever comes over, and when he does, Juls never leaves her room. And don’t get me started on what it’s like when they’re together. I don’t have to remind you both. Just look at the jar. It’s halfway full.”

“Okay…” Jagger heaves a sigh.

I shouldn’t eavesdrop. I should walk out there and pretend I didn’t hear a thing.

I never told them or anyone why we don’t like each other. I’m kind of surprised Landon didn’t tell them, considering how close he is to Polly and Gabby.

Stepping back into my room, I leave a sliver of the door cracked and hold my breath.

“She hit Roxy.”

They both gasp, but my brows knit in confusion.

Who the hell is Roxy? I’ve never hit anyone. Granted Landon makes me feel violent, but I’d never hit another girl and never for a guy.

“When?”

“How?”

“Is she okay?”

“Was it bad?”

I want to go out there and defend myself, but I freeze when Jagger stops them from asking more questions.

“Oh yeah, she’s fine. It happened freshman year, during move-in day.”

“Oh,” they say in sync, sounding confused.

“Wait, I’m lost. Julianna, our Julianna, hit Landon’s car?” Polly questions.

Oh, Roxy is the name of his car. I smile at that, but realize what I’m doing and stop.

“Yes, she hit his car, and when the police showed up, she pinned the blame on him and made it all about her. She got away with it and Landon got a ticket and had to pay the damages for his car.”

“Oh,” they say again, but this time, disappointment laces their voices.

I remember that day as if it were yesterday and regret how things turned out. I know it was all my fault, but in the moment, I was so angry, upset, and empty. I took out my rage on him.

Once everything I was feeling wore off, I realized what I did and felt extremely guilty. I found him using the information on the copy of the ticket I got. I was ready to apologize and pay for all the damages. That’s until he spilled his drink all over me at a party.

I still remember the way the corner of his lip curved just slightly upward. The way his eyes shone with malice, and when he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “That. That was my fault.”

He walked away like nothing happened, while I stood there drenched and those around who saw, laughed.

I should defend myself and tell them why I acted the way I did, but flashbacks of arguments I had with Sienna stop me from doing so.

They probably won’t want me here anymore and I can’t say I blame them. Maybe they’d be better off if I left.