A couple hours later my clothes are still damp from the rainwater. Stepping off the main bus, I clutch my bag and look the campus over. I swallow hard, I’ve never been to school. Dad had Peachy and Big Hairy homeschool me, two older members of the club. When Big Hairy got to talking about politics, it got interesting to say the least. He’s southern to the bone, and if you don’t believe what he says, you better act like you do. However, my dad used what he had to educate me. Putting me in school was a risk he didn’t want to play with. Having a split personality disorder, and though I have had it under control with medication for years… my father still thinks I’m a risk in public. Hence why I’m here to prove myself. I may not be able to walk down the sidewalk with society, grab a latte at the local Starbucks, or sit amongst a crowd of strangers in a theater, but that just means I’m meant to be on the back of a bike with a gun in my hand, slamming bullets into our enemies. Wearing the club colors proudly on my leather jacket is where my place is.

Chewing on my Double Bubble, I sink my teeth into the gum that presses through my lips.

The image of me riding my own motorcycle, and running from the police with the rest of the crew makes my brows curve with inspiration. A smile slips across my face as I become giddy. I’ve come thus far so I’m already in deep shit with my dad. I better pull this off to save my ass. Pulling the hood of my jacket over my head, I keep my head down and head inside the main office of the college.

Other people my age pass me, some staring at me, and one even runs into me, our shoulders bumping. Unease causes my spine to stiffen, and that sudden giddy feeling I had flees into tense defense.

“Watch it,” flies out of my mouth before I can think twice, reminding me how far out of my element I truly am. I look at the ground, breathing deeply, trying to get a handle on my anger before I chase after the asshole who just bumped into me. If I was with the club, people wouldn’t come within feet of us, the club colors on the brothers’ cuts warning them off. Citizens not knowing who I am, or who I’m affiliated with makes me feel vulnerable. I have no protection, no one to keep me safe but myself.

My stomach knots and my breathing is forced as I try and stay focused on the task at hand. Getting enrolled under the radar and as smoothly as possible. If Dad or Benji know I’m here… they’ll come for me. I have to keep my temper under control, keep my episodes of Farrah at bay. My alter personality.

I glance up from staring at the ground and see girls wearing barely nothing, even in the rain. Bright colors of clothing, and fancy shoes I couldn’t afford in my lifetime all flash by me. I’m out of place here, and I can’t help but feel like everyone is staring at me.

Once inside, my wet boots slop along the clean marble floor leaving behind muddy boot prints. Pulling my hood down off my head, I look at the mess I’ve created, a young girl with her tits hanging out of her sorority top looks at me in disgust as she sashays past.

“Shit,” I mumble under my breath, taking a step back, I wipe my feet on the welcome mat. We don’t have one of these at the club. Everyone just kicks the wall outside if we get too much crud on our boots, and if that doesn’t help then a prospect mops the floors.

Sighing heavily, I lift my head from my feet, finding a young man with half his head shaved and a blue lip ring in this bottom lip, sitting behind the front desk. His eyes are bloodshot, and pupils dilated. He’s a stoner, I can tell.

Stepping off the mat, my feet echo in the empty space.

The whole building is quiet, and it unnerves me. The clubhouse is rarely quiet. Men hollering, girls laughing, and the all-night parties of the club ensures a constant ruckus.

“Can I help you, angel?” the guy behind the desk asks with a devilish smirk. He looks me up and down as if I’m his next flavor and I laugh silently. If he thinks he can fuck me, he better think again. This devil wears heels so sharp they’ll impale what’s left of his brain cells.

“Wrong side of heaven.” I tilt my head to the side, as I step up to him. Declaring I’m more of the dark angel rather.

As if he’s shocked his charm didn’t work, he stumbles on what he should say next. “I’d like to enroll.” I don’t give him a chance to recover.

His eyes narrow before resting his elbows on the counter. His head in his hands, his cheeks push his lips into an awkward shape.

“You know all the dorms are full, it’s three weeks into the semester,” he whispers the last part.

My gaze flicks to the side not sure what that means. This is all so new to me, maybe I should have Googled what to do before coming here. I wish Benji was here to help me with the one thing I’m not good with. People. I’m not good at reading body language, the sarcasm in their voice is lost on me, and I get offended easily.

“You have your transcripts with you?” He lifts his chin, his stoned eyes looking at my wet breasts.

I open my mouth to speak but quickly close it. Do I have transcripts being homeschooled?

“I –”

“We can get you set up, but you need to get those faxed over before the end of the quarter for any credits to count.” Shit, I’ll have to see if I can find some fake ones or something. I bet I can pay someone off. One thing I’ve learned living the life of the club is everyone has a price.

“Residential-wise, I know of a dorm room right off the campus that just opened up, the tenant got arrested,” he replies, bored, clicking the mouse and sliding it along the countertop.

“O-okay,” I smile in acceptance.

“What will you give me?” he looks at me wolfishly. My mouth parts, my lip curling.

“I’m not sleeping with you!” I shout. If Benji was here, this man would have no teeth. I should knock his fucking teeth out myself. I can’t though, I have to keep my cool. I blow out a calming breath. “How about a finder’s fee or something?” I suggest nicely. I pull my bag around and pull out a hundred and slap it on the counter. Dad and the girls would pay me after club parties for helping here and there.

“That’ll work,” he chuckles like an idiot. “I mean, the place isn’t in the best shape I hear, but it’s perfect if you’re in a pinch.” Narrowing his stoned eyes at me he looks me up and down. “And I can tell you’re in a pinch.”

“Yeah, I’ll take it.” I nod, coming off like a bobblehead. I just need to get away from this guy before I break his nose.

“So, what is it? You trying to get away from the parents? Bad relationship or something?”

I chew on my gum harder, ignoring his questions. He’s really nosey.

He must get the drift I’m not much of a talker, he looks back at the computer screen. “Let’s see what we have for classes,” he mumbles as he squints at the computer screen.

“I want in Professor Prescott’s class,” I mindlessly blurt. My cheeks warm as the guy looks at me with furrowed brows. Smart move, Harley.

“Um, okay,” he replies slowly, the way his eyes look at me I can tell he’s suspicious. I grit my teeth, stupid move on my part to seem so eager.

“I just, I heard he’s a really good teacher is all,” I shrug, trying to play it off. I smile and bat my lashes like Tickles does at the club.

“You know he’s married, right?” He raises a brow at me, thinking I’m interested in boning the teacher. I fight against the smirk on the edge of my mouth. Sleep with the teacher? Fuck no, I’d much rather kill the teacher.

“Yes… I do,” I drawl out, returning the glare.

“His wife volunteers therapy sessions here in the clinic once a week,” he informs, and my eyes bulge at this news. I’ve done my research on the bus ride here, I knew the daughter of the governor was a highly sought after therapist in the area, but I didn’t know she did volunteer work. Here!

I can’t believe her father would let her wander around without being protected. Maybe I should be going after her instead of the professor. Direct fucking target like I had planned.

I bite my bottom lip to hide the excitement. This is going a lot easier than I thought.

“I’d like to sign up for her sessions as well,” I inform with pursed lips.