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“Her name is Raven?”
“I’m sorry young man, I don’t teach anyone by that name,” he shakes his head and looks genuinely sorry that he can’t help me.
“Oh, it’s just that might be a nickname? She’s about five two and has long dark hair. Like, really long. And it’s blackish blue. I’m pretty sure she takes your class.”
“Ah you must mean Charlotte!” His face lights up when he realises who I’m talking about. Charlotte? WTF? “She’s in my third year class. You actually just missed her, I’m afraid. Wonderful girl, one of my best students in fact.”
“Oh wow that’s brilliant. Thank you. When do you have her class next, maybe I can swing by and meet her after?”
He looks at me suspiciously, clamming up. “Who did you say you were again?”
“I didn’t. I’m an acquaintance of...Charlotte’s. I met her the other day and we agreed to work together on a project for one of our other classes but I lost her number and I’m really bad with names.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced when he turns to me and says, “why don’t you leave me your name and number? That way I can pass it to her and she can get in touch with you...if she wants to. Or I can pass it to my son, they’re dating so he’ll have plenty of opportunities to pass it along for you.”
“No, don’t worry. You’ve done more than enough, thanks. I’ll just swing by and see her some other time. Thanks again, but I better be off, I don’t want to be late for class.” I back out of the room and take off quickly.
Fuck. She has a boyfriend? I mean, it’s been four years so it’s not like I expected her to be loyal to us or anything, but it still fucking smarts hearing that she has moved on. With some rich tosser’s bratty little kid no doubt. I already hate him. What is she thinking?
I storm from the building and march around the quad in the rain which has slowed to a light drizzle. Thank fuck for small mercies. I’m not sure what to do. According to the kid’s schedule that I snapped on my phone, Raven doesn’t have Lit again for two days. I can’t wait that long to see her. Maybe I should have followed her from the classroom, but it’s too late now. The itch to see her is stronger than ever now.
I head back to the coffee house and grab a hot chocolate. It’s the first one I’ve had in years but I suddenly fancy one. I pull out my phone and start digging, searching for Professor Cox. Too many hits come up so I add Edinburgh University. It brings me straight to the university’s faculty page where there’s a photo and a short bio all about Professor Charles Cox Snr. It’s all pretty generic stuff but at least I have a name and some things to go off. Another half an hour searching and I know that the professor is married to a high flying socialite and has one son, Charles Junior. Original, I sigh. What is it with rich folks naming their kids after themselves? Talk about narcissism. Oh well, at least I know who the boyfriend is now.
Searching for him online brings up plenty. All of his social media is public - stupid twat - and he’s on absolutely everything with thousands of followers. How is that even possible? I don’t even know a hundred people - much less like them - so how does he have thousands? There are hundreds of pictures of himself, most of them with different girls, none of him with Raven. His most recent Instagram post was last night and it looks like it was taken in a nightclub. There’s three - no, four - girls hanging off him and not one of them is his alleged girlfriend. Maybe daddy dearest got it wrong and they’re not dating, but I suspect that Charles Junior is a fucking prick. And a sleazy one at that.
I grind my teeth. I don’t want Raven anywhere near him...I sigh and head towards the admin office. I need to find out more about this fucker she’s dating. Only question is, how?
The answer comes to me just as I enter the administration building. The young receptionist behind the desk looks at me expectantly when I approach and then flushes when she takes me in. I’m used to it, but prepared to use it to my advantage today. Flashing her a winning smile, I ask if she can help me, in a low seductive voice. Her flush turns to a deep red blush as she recognises the suggestion in my voice.
“C-c-certainly, Sir,” she stammers. Jax would have a field day with the ‘Sir’ title but it does nothing for me. She - Amanda her name tag declares - is very pretty. But I seriously only have eyes for Raven right now. I always did.
“I’m looking for a student. I need to know what dorm room he’s in. Do you think you could help me, Amanda?” I croon her name in a way that I know she won’t be able to resist, and sure enough, she simpers and stutters that she’ll do her best. “Thank you. I’m looking for Charles Cox. Junior.” I have an elaborate excuse prepared but it turns out I don’t even need it.
“Oh you mean Charlie, Professor Cox’s son? He’s in Havilland Gate, the penthouse suite. It’s the nicest halls of residence on campus so you can't really miss it, but there are signs posted if you need a hand.” She doesn’t even have to look him up on the computer, which says a lot about this kid. In my opinion, none of it good.
“Thank you so much Amanda, you’ve been very helpful. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Okay, so I’m probably laying it on a bit thick, but I just made her day. And to be honest, she may have just made mine. I flash her a panty-dropping smile and head out again, determined to scope out this rich prick’s building. Hopefully I’ll catch a glimpse of him, or if I’m lucky, Raven might even come by.
Dickwad’s building is stupidly nice. Who provides bratty teenagers and twenty-somethings with accommodation like this? Surely it all gets wrecked in drunken parties or decorated with stolen traffic cones? It’s madness. I lounge around in the lobby waiting area, which is nicer than most hotels, as I watch the campus’ elite go by. Of course there’s an elevator, couldn’t have the little darlings taking the stairs like commoners now, could we?
I’m impatient; I hate waiting. It always makes me feel bad tempered and gnarly. Luckily, I don’t have to wait too long though. There’s a commotion at the door and I look up to see a large group of lads entering the foyer. They all look like carbon copies of each other, with slight variations on hair, eye and clothing colours. They all look preppy and studious. Poncey, with their curly hair and corduroy jackets, striped scarves and designer ripped jeans. I swear one or two are actually wearing fucking loafers. With no socks! I shake my head. It’s not okay.
Despite them all pretty much being clones of one another, one boy stands out. He’s blonder than the others, slightly taller, somehow more refined. He’s the ring leader. And he looks just enough like daddy dearest for me to know that this is Raven’s boyfriend. What the actual fuck? How does she go from having boyfriends like me and my brothers, to this prick?
They’re all laughing about something the Dickwad has said like it’s the funniest thing ever, when one of them asks him a question.
“So, did you fuck them? All of them?” a kid with brown curls asks eagerly.
“What do you think?” Twatface replies with a smirk. He already had a face I wanted to punch, but that smirk has my hands curling into fists. The sycophants laugh.
“And she doesn’t have a clue?”
“No idea,” he smirks even wider. “Silly bitch.” I grind my teeth and file that response away for later. If I find out he was talking about Raven, I will make him suffer.
“So are we going out again tonight?” Brown curls seems keen to get in on the action.
“Can’t. I have dinner plans with Charlotte. Although I might be able to join you later, depending on how the night goes.” The blonde wanker sighs, and it's the first time he’s looked less than pleased with himself.
“She still not putting out?” I breathe out slowly to calm myself and mentally add brown curls to my kill list too.
