"YOU think Preston would set me up with Everett?" Elizabeth asks as she sits at the vanity in my room and plays around with the new makeup that she just bought. Makeup that as a teen I would've loved to own. Sparkles and colors and metallics galore are spread before her in every shade and color imaginable. Makeup that encourages creativity and fun and to be bright and bold and never dull.

Makeup I was never allowed to wear. I once snagged a red lipstick from a friend when I was thirteen and I kept it hidden so my mother would never find it. I put it on only once, alone in my room, and my mother walked in and yelled at me and took the lipstick away from me saying I looked like a two cent whore.

She never used that term before. That was all my father. I noticed at a young age the way she let all his fears and worries and anger and resentment seep into her until his thoughts and opinions became hers as well. They blurred together in her veins until she couldn't tell the difference anymore. My mother is still there but not as much as she once was. Not as vibrant as she once was.

I still remember wanting to cry myself to sleep that night.

But I didn't, because I knew it would only result in me waking up with red swollen eyes and my father murmuring about how weak I was. He'd only ever called me weak to my face once and I promised myself I would never let him do it again.

I swallow down the acidic memory that burns me from the inside out and focus on the question she just asked me. "What?" I breathe with a dry chuckle confused as to why she would want to be set up with someone like Everett Kingston in the first place.

Elizabeth may be a wild child in my eyes but she's a tame house cat compared to Everett. He's covered in tattoos and his black hair is just as dark as his wicked soul. He goes to the extremes of everything from drinking to drugs to partying and of course women. The man lives in the excess of life constantly. Pleasure is his life's pursuit and nothing and no one can stand in his way.

Elizabeth flips on the stool to face me with a liquid eyeshadow clasped in her hand. "Come on he's hot," she insists with a shrug letting the dark hair on her shoulder fall back.

My nose scrunches. "He's also slept with half the female student population at this school," I point out with a shudder of disgust. Everett is hot. Actually no if I'm being completely honest he's more pretty. He's so beautiful it's almost haunting and such a juxtaposition to the dark ink scattered all over his body.

Elizabeth smirks before turning back to the vanity. "At least he knows what he's doing," she comments as she drops the eyeshadow and digs around for whatever she's looking for next. The freedom she has to express herself makes my chest clench, not with jealousy, but more with a wish that I didn't care as much and could be more like her.

More open. More carefree. Just...more.

But something holds me back. My jaw clenches because I know it has to do with my parents and it causes embarrassment to flush my cheeks and I hate it. I'm almost twenty-one and I know I shouldn't care what they think of me. But I do. I know I should grow from the childhood that created me to be this way, but I can't.

Not yet at least. I have to get into law school first. I have to prove my father wrong.

My blood runs hot throughout me and it shakes me up a bit. I'm rarely so heated and I hate the way my emotions are so close to the service and visible. Usually they reside so deep within me so I have a good grasp on making sure my emotions don't run me and that I run them. But lately they have been rising and growing within me and it makes me feel vulnerable as if everything within me is on display ready to be judged and picked apart.

My throat tightens for a moment before I shove down all my fears and weaknesses and turn my attention to my friend in front of me.

"What if he doesn't?" I counter with an arch of my eyebrow.

Elizabeth shakes her head and I just know she rolled her eyes at my question as well. "Come on I've heard so many girls talk about how amazing he is in bed," she starts. "Life changing is usually the term they use," she adds with emphasis.

I mock gag at her words causing her to laugh as her brown eyes watch me through the mirror. "What if they're lying cause it's Everett Kingston?" I ask because sometimes I feel like the women they hookup with exaggerate what happened. I just know more often than not it was probably a clumsily drunk exchange rather than some hot and heavy night.

"Or what if they're telling the truth and he really is a sex god?" Elizabeth pushes smiling after she coats her lips in her signature luscious red lipstick.

"Gross," I laugh loudly.

"Hot," she corrects which causes me to laugh even harder making my sides burn.

"So..." Elizabeth trails as she faces me now letting one long leg cross the other.

"So?" I question back, not sure what she's referencing.

"Come on James!" she exclaims. "Preston. Everett. Best friends. Come on help a girl out," she begs flashing me her best puppy dog look.

"Ugh, fine I'll see what I can do," I sigh, not wanting to talk anymore about Everett anyways.

"Thank you! Thank you!" she gushes with a big smile.

"But as your friend I'm stating for the record that I don't think this is a good idea," I tell her.

"Well you think nothing fun is a good idea," she remarks with a shrug.

My mouth falls open. "Hey! That's not true!" I object but as the words leave my mouth I know that maybe she has some truth in her statement.

I try so hard to be perfect at all times that a lot of the time I avoid fun like the plague. And even when I'm having fun I make sure to never be completely out of control because I'm afraid to make any mistake ever. A mistake is just another reason for my father to turn his nose down at me.

Elizabeth shoots me a look. "Sure it's not," she drawls.

I scoot back on my bed letting my back hit the wall of pillows stacked against my headboard. "I'm about to kick you out of my apartment," I grumble with a glare but she can see through it and blows me a kiss.

She uses one of my brushes to comb through the bottom of her dark locks. "Wait?" she begins as her motions freeze and her eyes narrow in on me. "Why are you meeting with Preston here instead of the library?"

"There's some workshop and the library was packed so we decided here," I reply with a lift of my shoulder like it's no big deal because it is no big deal. He's been here before after all.

And a smoking match ended up outside your door after.

I ignore the thought and the dash of fear that runs across my skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"Why not his place?"

"Because I just didn't feel like going to the pits of hell today," I answer with sarcasm dripping from my every word.

Truth is he offered his apartment that's off campus like mine, but I said no. Something about the idea of being in his personal space made me nervous and I know I wouldn't be able to focus properly on my studies. It's already hard enough to focus on my work with him around, but thankfully he's actually a good teacher so I can push aside the fact that he's extremely handsome and actually work on the case studies at hand.

"What do you mean? I have season passes," Elizabeth teases and I can't help but fall forward in a fit of giggles.

"I hate you," I say with a shake of my head and a big grin on my lips.

"You love me," she sings with a little shimmy of her shoulders.

I nod because she's right. She's always right. "I do," I relent with ease. "But leave now please," I say as I swing my legs off the bed. I stand up as I brush my hands over my leggings and straighten my open twist back sweater.

It's a sweater I would never usually wear because of its completely open back that exposes my bralette. A sweater my mother would find completely inappropriate.

But right now I don't care. It just makes me feel pretty.

Elizabeth lingers on my vanity stool. "Why can't we just hang out longer—"

"You're trying to see Preston aren't you?" I cut her off knowing exactly what's happening right now.

"Yes," she replies instantly with zero shame.

"Leave," I laugh with a roll of my green eyes.

"Oh come on!" she protests but I shake my head and she finally stands up from my vanity with her bag of makeup in hand.

We are headed towards the front door when a loud knock resounds on the other side of the door.

Elizabeth's wide eyes lock on mine as a smirk graces her red lips. "Would you look at that timing," she says as she stalks closer to the door with determination falling off of her in waves.

"Liz don't say anything crazy," I tell her as I follow and worry starts to twist low in my stomach.

She flips her head towards me. "Do you know me?"

"Unfortunately," I grumble knowing no one, not even me, can stop Elizabeth from going after what she wants.

She grasps onto the handle and swings the door open to reveal Preston. His brown hair shines under the fluorescent lights in the hallway. It's still a little wet revealing he must've just showered before coming over. His leather bound laptop is in his hands along with a few other books and he's dressed casually in jeans and a light sweater.

His dark eyes land on me first and hold my gaze for a heart pounding second before finally shifting to my friend in front of me. "Hey," he tells us, his deep voice coming out a bit raspier today than usual.

"Hey," I reply with a faint smile.

"Hi!" Elizabeth says as she wiggles her fingers in a flirtatious wave with a wide grin on her face.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her quick shift in the presence of Preston and something I don't expect strikes me and makes me feel stupid and guilty.

The green eyed monster has peaked his head out and is making jealousy flame under my skin. The bitter taste of this ugly emotion explodes on my tongue and I force it away as shame slithers across my skin uncomfortably.

I almost want to laugh at the forcefulness of the emotion because I don't even want to be with Preston so why would I even be jealous of someone flirting with him. Let alone one of my best friends.

My head gently shakes off the surprising emotions. "She was just leaving," I tell him as I lightly nudge my friend with my hand.

But she ignores me and shoots her hand out towards Preston. "I'm Elizabeth Lewis by the way," she introduces herself with pure confidence.

He nods sharply. "I know," he acknowledges as he reaches out and clasps her hand in a shake. "Good to see you," he comments nicely enough. I'm at least happy he isn't being rude to my friend.

He makes the move to drop her hand first. "So I was wondering about your friend—" Elizabeth starts but I can't let her finish as embarrassment attempts to swallow me whole. I don't care if she wants to go after Everett but I do still need Preston for the rest of the semester and I'd rather not have her date any of his friends at the moment.

I don't need any drama jeopardizing my grade in this class. Especially when this class could shape my future.

So I cut her off. "Nope! Bye," I say speaking over her as I begin to push her out the door and past Preston. "Goodbye! See you later!"

Without thinking my hand reaches out to grab onto Preston forcefully and tug him into my apartment.

He's now standing beside me not paying attention to Elizabeth in the hallway who is making lewd motions with her hands. I shoot her a glare and she just laughs loudly enough to grab his attention.

"Call you later!" she calls out as she walks down the hall towards the elevator without another look back. But I know she will be calling and asking for every detail even when I keep telling her nothing happens or will ever happen between us.

Like the nothing that happened in your father's study?

With a heavy sigh I ignore my stupid thoughts and finally close the door and press my back to the cool surface.

"You have quite the grip there, Little Davenport," Preston points out and my eyes fall to his exposed wrist to see a red imprint in the shape of my hand.

I grimace. "Sorry."

His dark eyes sparkle as he runs a finger over the red skin almost as if he's tracing it. "I don't mind being manhandled," he teases letting his husky voice wash over me.

"I didn't manhandle you—" I start but he doesn't let me finish.

"It's okay Jameson I like it rough," he says casually as if he isn't talking about sex and making me flush in a way that makes me uncomfortable yet interested all at once.

The way those words rolled off his tongue makes my mouth run dry and my stomach flip. My teeth bite down on the inside of my cheek to distract me from the white hot current running through me at this moment.

"You know what, I'm not sorry anymore," I sneer as I cross my arms over my chest.

He flashes me a wolfish grin. "You shouldn't be."

I glare at him. "Don't be annoying Preston," I urge.

His head tilts as his calculating gaze watches me. "I didn't realize I was being annoying Jameson," he says, sounding almost innocent when we both know he's anything but.

"Sure," I scoff as I let my head fall back against the door with a soft thud.

"She seemed nice," he comments randomly but I instantly know he's talking about my vibrant and energetic best friend.

A genuine smile slips across my face when I think about Elizabeth. "She is," I voice honestly. "But she's also a mess...but in the best possible way," I chuckle.

"So Everett or Lawrence?" he questions with a slight tilt of his head.

My eyes narrow in confusion at the mention of his friends. "What?"

"The friend she wants to be set up with," he clarifies.

My mouth forms an O shape as realization falls over me. "She doesn't need to be set up with any of your friends," I tell him with a soft laugh knowing that will most likely only end up in disaster especially with an Heir.

Preston shoots me a look as if he doesn't believe me and is waiting on me to give up the answer.

I roll my eyes. "Fine. Everett," I relent knowing Preston is just as stubborn as I am and won't give up until I gave him the answer he's looking for. Plus Elizabeth would kill me if I didn't tell him even if I don't think it's a great idea.

"Should've guessed," he says.

"Why?" I inquire with pinched brows.

"Everett's the fun party boy and far less intimidating than Law," he claims as he begins to move towards the kitchen counter where the bar stools reside.

He's only been over once. That time he came over unannounced, but he's one to easily make himself at home as he moves without hesitation or worry as if he can do no wrong. He moves as if he doesn't carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, but when his dark eyes land on me I know he does feel it. Even if it's just a fraction of what I feel. He does. He just keeps all that heavy weight inside and on his twisted and blackened heart.

"Yeah...Lawrence is scary," I trail in agreement as I move towards him.

"He can be," he agrees with a darker tone that sends a shiver down my spine. He's obviously had first hand experience with the scarier side of his friend and my lips tingle to ask more about it.

But I don't. Because I also don't know if I want to know. Curiously did kill the cat after all.

I shake the thoughts from my head. "Anyways let's get started," I say as I grab my laptop and books and hop onto the stool beside Preston.

I pull out my folder and slide my graded exam across the counter towards him as insecurity tugs on my insides making my stomach twist painfully. I did decent this time. Not great. And definitely not what I'm capable of.

The exam was over civil procedure. I was finally feeling more confident about the topics we were covering and with Preston's help I was actually beginning to excel in the class. I won't say it to his face, but Preston really does know what he's doing and will make an incredible lawyer one day. Again I would never admit that aloud because no one, and that includes me, needs to boost his ego anymore.

My prep class was covering torts and contracts which teaches us what lawyers do in civil court. But now we are at how lawyers do it, and my mind isn't as easily able to compute this information properly. Civil procedure can get complex and severely confusing when dealing with the rules on not only who can be sued, but also how and when.

Preston trails his dark gaze over my paper so intensely I'm almost afraid the paper is going to burst into flames right there in his hands.

"That isn't bad Jameson," he compliments me, shocking me a bit. "You have some really fleshed out answers on pretrial motions here," he adds as his finger traces over my essay question.

He flashes me a half smile and his eyes brighten a touch and the emotion that I catch myself finding makes my throat clog. I drop my gaze uneasy with what I'm seeing. Or more what I think I'm even seeing in the first place.

It almost looked like he was proud of me?

My chest tightens and my throat runs dry at the thought that someone could be proud of me. No one has ever really looked at me that way before.

But then the nagging feeling of failing hits me so hard it almost takes my breath away. Because what is there to be proud of? My grade sits between a low B and a high C. I'm still not there and even if Preston thinks one answer is good I know I can do better.

I can always do better.

I pull the paper from his hands and look over a few questions that Professor Hilert called attention to. "It's not good enough," I tell him simply.

He doesn't say anything in response right away. He's quiet for a moment and I'm too scared to look at him but I can feel the heat of his stare burning into the side of my face as if he can see right through the charade I put on for the entire world.

"You know that it's okay to be happy about doing better in this class," he states. "Baby steps and all," he mumbles the last few words.

My head whips his direction as annoyance flashes through me fiercely and filled with underlying pain and shame. "I don't want baby steps...I want gigantic big-foot steps," I tell him, a bit jumbled as I try to make sense of my intense feelings.

"That was lame," he points out and I roll my eyes.

"Whatever it's the truth," I reply with a pointed look.

Preston watches me. His midnight eyes narrow a touch as he continues to take me in almost as if he's analyzing me and it makes me want to drop my gaze and back down but I don't. I ignore the chills and the rising nerves and keep my eyes level with his as he attempts to read me.

"Why do you work so hard?" he finally asks.

"Sorry I'm not you and everything doesn't come easy to me. I work hard for my grades and I'm in the top 3% of my class Preston. I work for that. It's not handed to me," I snap as I grab my textbook and slam it onto the counter with all the winding anger swirling within me just screaming for me to break and release it all.

"Are you saying my grades are handed to me, that I didn't work for them?" he asks leaning forward.

"I really don't care about you or your grades if I'm being honest. Right now I care about one thing. And that's myself," I tell him with every ounce of strength I have left. Because right now I can't afford to slip up. I can't afford to think about him in