Chapter 8: Off-Campus

[Lily]

I open my eyes. The light streaming through the trees gives Atticus a golden halo that makes him appear angelic when combined with his god-like smile. I would think I’d died and gone to heaven, except that I know better. Heaven has fewer headaches and sore backs from leaning against a tree for half the morning.

Maybe he’s a fallen angel? That seems about right. Weren't the first demons angels who fell into hell?

“You want me to do what?” I blink at him groggily, rubbing my eyes with one hand while shielding them from the sun with the other.

"Have lunch with me," he smiles brightly. "Off-campus," he adds with an outstretched hand.

Against my better judgment, I let him help me off the ground. "What do you mean, off-campus? We aren't allowed off-campus unless we have special permission for family things or field trips."

"I do have special permission," he smirks. "Unlimited special permission."

I notice he's still holding my hand, so I remove it from his grasp. I don't trust this idea. Not one bit. It feels like a trap. "How can I trust that you aren't setting me up? What aren't you telling me?"

He looks down at his feet, takes a deep breath, and then looks back at me. "I guess I deserve your distrust. I haven't done anything yet to earn anything else. That's part of why I wanted to invite you out. I thought maybe if I can show you some of the advantages of being a Legacy, you might consider our offer," he pauses, looking away, and then looking back at me, "I could see how uncomfortable you were during breakfast, so I thought maybe if it were just the two of us, you might be more open to hearing what I need to say."

I still don't trust him, but I am also curious about this off-campus experience. "Why should I go?"

"You don't have to," he shrugs. "I just thought you could use a little fun."

"Just you and me?" I ask, still skeptical. "Or the whole Seven?"

"Just you and me," he confirms, nodding. "I don't know about you, but I think being around the other six all the time is just exhausting."

"What about Evie?" I ask. "I don't want her trying to scrape my eyes out because she doesn't want me anywhere near you."

He laughs, not taking my concern seriously. "Evie is a bit...passionate."

I think he means homicidal, but I don't correct him.

We continued to chat, bantering back and forth, with him trying to convince me that it was a good idea while I tried to argue all the reasons why it could be disastrous. He has an answer for each of my arguments, and I realize I am running out of good reasons to argue. Either he has worn me down or I have discovered the secret to his odd logic because I agree to let him take me out to lunch.

And he was right. Nobody stopped us as we got into his convertible, rolled the top down, and drove off campus. The guards even waved. "Have a good time, Mr. Preston."

"I plan on it." he smiles, waving as we drive out of sight.

"Is this how it is for you all the time?" I look over at him in amazement. "Breaking the rules like they are nothing."

"I'm not breaking the rules," he explains. "These rules are not for me. They are for the others?" he shrugs nonchalantly as he drives smoothly along the twisty, windy path into town.

I think about what he says as we drive down a tree-lined highway edged with forests blazing in the fire colors of fall. One of the great things about going to school in upstate New York is the amazing natural environment and clean air. It is nothing like being in the city of New York, which is polluted, dirty, and full of angry, distrustful people with melancholy smiles wearing too much black. Here the air is clean, the countryside is spectacular, and you don't need to worry about people unless you choose to.

Atticus is watching me gape at the fall leaves, smiling as he sees me marvel at their long limbs weighted down with dew and jewel-like leaves. His expression changes, growing serious for a moment as he watches me. I don't think he realized he was staring until I made a point of smiling back at him.

"So, I had a plan to take you to a fancy restaurant in town but I think I just had a better idea," he announces. "I need to make a stop in town, but then I was wondering if you'd be open to eating out here?" he points to the trees around us.

"This is your party," I say dismissively, although a small smile begins to form around the edges of my mouth. I'd much rather spend time in the woods than in some stuffy restaurant where I'd have to worry about how other people saw me. I always feel so judged when surrounded by fancy people. Despite who my family is, in my heart, I'm just a simple girl from a small West Coast town.

We don't take long in town. Atticus calls ahead, so when we reach the 5-star French restaurant, a well-dressed man is standing outside holding a large wooden basket. "I hope this is to your standard, Mr. Preston," the man almost apologizes as he hands Atticus what the restaurant prepared as if he was doing the restaurant a favor for even stopping by.

"Thank you, Pierre," he waves after placing the basket in the small backseat of his Porsche.

As we pull out of town and back into the forest, I ask, "So you're on a first-name basis with the staff of that restaurant?" I cannot keep the shock out of my voice. "How often do you leave campus?"

"Almost every day," he admits. "Although Pierre isn't just staff, he's the Head Chef."

"You had the head chef of a 5-star French restaurant make us lunch?" I try not to gasp aloud, but I am pretty sure I failed based on the laughter coming from Atticus as he drives up to the forest entrance.

"No," he argues. "He offered to do it. Practically begged." As he parks the car and grabs the basket, he adds. "In some ways, you could say I was doing him a favor by letting him help me."

Despite finding his arrogance completely off-putting, I also begin to wonder what it must be like to live this way. What would it feel like to have people not just offering to help me but begging to do so? Is this what it feels like to be truly elite?

As Atticus opens the door for me, I feel warm all over at his attention. "Why am I blushing?" I wonder. This guy is fifty shades of trouble. It doesn't matter how hot he is when he's being kind. He might still flip and do something cruel, like leave me behind in the deep, dark woods after convincing me to get into some awkwardly embarrassing situation.

"So how do you feel about breaking into someone's private forest?" his lips curl into a rakish grin as he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get us arrested? Or worse, shot?" I demand.

Maybe that's his master plan. Getting me lost in the woods and then sent to prison.

He laughs. "I'll keep you safe if we get caught," he promises as he leans in to unbuckle my seatbelt. His breath smells like minty toothpaste as he reaches across, his lips only inches from mine. "Or I will if you do something for me first."

"What is that?" I can hardly breathe, my heart racing as his eyes lock onto mine.

"Kiss me," he licks his lips. "Kiss me, and I'll make sure nobody ever bothers you again."