Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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FREYA BUMPED INTO A SLENDER, masculine body. She pulled away and glanced up at Anakin's green gaze.
"Hey!" She hadn't seen him since that first day of school. He'd missed French on Friday. Even though Freya had sat with Amelie in silence, she'd noticed because she'd been planning to apologise to him for Karsyn's idiocy. "I'm surprised to see you here."
He wasn't dressed much for a party, at least not how their other classmates were dressed. He wore a white t-shirt and a pair of distressed-looking jeans. Freya observed that he had a tattoo in black ink peeking over the neckline of his shirt, the dark black outline of a crown.
In fact, he looked agitated, hands curled somewhat at his sides, shoulders stiff, and an unlit cigarette perched between his lips.
He pulled it out upon noticing her, an apology swift on his lips, "Sorry. Bad habit. I know, they'll kill you."
Freya blinked. "No, no, I don't care."
Then, a strong pull, a pull that was always there, but latched on with such strength in that moment after the events of today, raced through her and she found herself saying, "Actually, can I have one?"
"Sure," he said, pulling a pack from his pocket and handing it to her.
Freya almost dropped it. Her hands were shaking. Did he notice? He didn't seem to. He seemed to be in his own form of an inner battle.
She pulled out one and held it perched between her fingers. She handed him back the pack.
"Do you want a light?" He asked, blinking through whatever occupied his thoughts.
Freya shook her head through what occupied her own, keeping the unlit cigarette curled between her fingers tightly.
"Anyway," she said, breaking past the fog, "I wanted to apologise for my brother."
Anakin blinked, distracted. "Your brother?"
"Karsyn."
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. The music is getting to me." He scraped a hand down the line of his jaw. "You shouldn't apologise for it, you didn't do anything."
"Yes, but neither did you," she told him.
He smiled slightly. "Then, we're both innocent parties in this matter."
She curled her hand around the cigarette. "I suppose we are." But was she?
He tucked his cigarette back into the box and Freya half-wanted to tell him to take hers back too but she couldn't muster the words. "I have to go," he said, the distressed look returning, "but I hope the air is clear now."
