Slamming the door to my dorm, I re-read the text from my eldest brother. I should've blocked him too.

Self-righteous prick.

Oxford sure as hell turned him into a fucking knob. No, that's not even true. He was a wanker before university, he's just worse now. Acting like he gives a shit. He couldn't care less about me. The more I fuck up, the more money he gets. That's all he cares about. He's just appeasing Mum and Dad in order to look like the perfect son.

.

Fuck! Like hell, she will! I slump down on my bed and scroll through my contacts until I reach Charles Knight. It was a heavenly day when Mum told me that my grandparents were moving to New York to be close to Aunt Bessie after Uncle Carlos' untimely demise.

Granddad Charles loathes me; always going on about how my behavior brings shame upon our family. Like he didn't fuck around in his youth. I found old prints in the attic of their Knightsbridge estate of him smoking a spliff. Bloody Hypocrite.

Hesitating for a brief second, I eventually press call and the line rings.

"Knight Real Estate Development, Veronica speaking, how may I direct your call?"

What? This is his work number? The fucker gave me his work number? What brilliant grandparents I have, simply marvelous.

"This is Oliver Knight," I mutter. "I need to speak to my granddad."

"Oh, Oliver," Veronica coos, her fake sweet voice forcing me to wince. "It's nice to finally talk to you. I'll transfer you over to Mr. Knight. One moment please."

Static holding music blares into my ear as I wait. Nice to finally talk to me? Load of shit. She probably doesn't even know who I am.

"Oliver, how kind of you to return my call," Granddad says, his deeply stern voice forcing me to sit upright. He's not even bloody here and I'm tense. "I was worried that something terrible had happened to you, gang violence or perhaps a motor crash."

I grind my teeth together. "You know, I keep trying to leave the gang but apparently I made a blood pact. When you're in, you're in for life. Nothing I can do about it."

"Listen to me, Oliver," Granddad states, a vein most likely protruding from his large forehead. "I do not have time for your poor humor and attitude, understand?"

I roll my eyes. "Lighten up Granddad, what's life without a little humor?"

"Oliver, I need you to stop talking and listen to me," he fumes. "In three weeks, I am hosting a fundraiser for a congressional candidate. You must attend and you must be on your best behavior, is that clear?"

"Can't, sorry," I say lightly. "I'm busy."

"I have not told you the dates yet," he states. "And I do not care if you have plans, change them. You are to be in attendance. No ifs, ands, or buts. Do you hear me?"

I sigh. "Why do I have to go? Clearly, this event means a lot to you so why would you risk having me muck it up? Hmm?"

"Malcolm Redford's platform is built on the importance of family values," he explains. "Elizabeth won't be in town to attend, so, unfortunately, I am left with no other choice but you. We need to show the donors that we are a united front. Malcolm's son will also be there. I believe you go to school together. "

"Redford?" Shit, I remember mum mentioning that name but I hadn't put two and two together. "What's his son's name?"

"Sawyer."

Are you kidding me? My granddad is supporting Sawyer's father's run for congress? Unbelievable.

"Why are you interested in politics all of the sudden?" I ask. "Real estate development a bit slow these days?"

"I do not need to explain myself to you," he states. "I just need you to show up, smile for the cameras, and not talk. Can you do that for me?"

"It seems as though I do not have a choice," I mutter begrudgingly. "You can tell your assistant to email me the details. I'll be there."

"Thank you," Granddad sighs. "I suppose you may bring a friend if you would like."

I snort. "A friend? What friend? I don't know anyone."

"Well you have two weeks to make a friend," he says in a distant tone. Oh, he is no longer interested in this conversation apparently. "Since you attend Hilton, I'm confident whoever you bring will be of the proper breeding."

I hate that term.

"Maybe I'll bring a mutt," I quip. "A little Shit-zhu crossbreed?"

"I am hanging up now, Oliver," he says. "I will see you on the 7th. Veronica will ship you some appropriate attire later this week."

"Not a fan of my '72 Zeppelin tour shirt?" I joke. "It was a good year for the lads."

"Goodbye, Oliver."

"Farewell, dear granddad," I say and hang up, reaching for my headphones. Fucking geezer.

Family values? He wants to showcase his family values? What a joke. Everything about this family is a lie. A polished, shiny load of shit. Nothing's authentic. Everything's a ruse.

And I'm just as guilty for going along with Kennedy's sham. Fake. Everything is fake.

Taking several deep breaths, I close the curtains and turn up my music, eventually falling into a dreamless sleep I wish would last for years.

***

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Toss off," I mutter, pulling the covers over my head, blinding light shining through the curtains. What the fuck? What time is it? What day is it? What planet am I on?

"Oliver! It's me. Open the door. I have your-" Kennedy pauses. "Thing."

Thing? Oh.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I stretch out my arms, my eyes darting to my uniform balled up on the floor. What? When did I change? And where the hell is Clifford? Is it Saturday? God, I'm so confused right now.

"Oliver!"

"Coming!" I groan, checking the time on my phone. Christ! It's already ten in the morning? I slept for seventeen hours? Is that even humanly possible? I drag my feet to the door and turn the handle, yawning as it opens. Kennedy's dressed in workout gear; black leggings, a hoodie, and a very tight sports bra. Almost too tight. "Well, let's have it." I hold out my hand, catching the gleam of sweat on her forehead. "Key?"

"Uh-" Kennedy stutters, her jumpy gaze raking over my shirtless body, the apples of her cheeks turning a rosy hue, her mouth slightly agape. "I-"

"My eyes are up here, love," I smirk, opening the door wider to give her a better view. I'm a generous soul. It's the Christian in me. Kennedy doesn't register what I'm saying, her gaze zoned in on my chest. God, she's shameless. "Would you like a photograph so you can gawk in private?"

"What-" She swallows, pressing her lips into a thin line, her sheepish eyes narrowing in embarrassment. "I wasn't-" She clears her throat, tucking a wayward hair behind her ear before aggressively shoving a pastry bag into my chest. "Here! Have a muffin."

"A muffin?" I ask, letting out an amused laugh as I take hold of the bag. Did she just give me her breakfast?

"It's blueberry," she peeps, noticeably avoiding looking at me. "It's...good. From Elle's...in town?"

"Yes, I know what Elle's Cafe is," I muse, oddly entertained by her stuttering. "Why are you giving this to me?"

"I-uh-" She bites her lip as she thinks, attempting to formulate a cohesive sentence, no doubt. "I ran into town to get you a copy of the master key and stopped for a snack. You weren't at dinner or um...breakfast so I thought maybe you'd be hungry or something." She pauses, almost wincing. "Is that plausible?"

I lean across the threshold and whisper, "Not at all."

She nods, taking a step back, a nervous giggle escaping her pink lips. "Well, we're just going to go with that anyway. Right so-" She tightens her ponytail before reaching into her pocket and holding out a key. "Here you go. Don't lose it, okay? I don't want to go back to town this week."

"Thanks." I narrow my eyes at her as I take the golden key from her hand, our fingers grazing. "Did you actually run to town?" I ask, scanning her outfit again.

"Yes, I just got back," she says, her eyes unable to focus on solely my face. This girl.

"That's a fifteen-kilometer round trip." I cross my arms, bulging out my pecs as I lean against the door frame, hoping to torture her a little more. "A long way to run."

"It's ten miles actually," she corrects me in a whisper as she runs a hand over her rising chest. Is she getting hot? Hmm. "We're in the States, remember?"

"How could I forget," I say, my gaze following the slow sweeping of her hand across her spilling tits. Does she know what she's doing? Bloody minx. "Are you turned on or something?"

"What?!" Kennedy freezes, dropping her arms to her side, her startled eyes darting to mine. Oh, finally some eye contact. I was beginning to feel like a piece of meat.

"You keep touching yourself," I observe, cocking my head to the side. "I can't help but think it's because you're turned on."

Her jaw drops. "I am not turned on!" she protests, shaking her head feverishly. "It's just hot in here and my hand is cold and I just ran fifteen kilometers. Miles! Fifteen miles. Ten miles! You'd be a little hot too if you ran that far, so don't stand there and make shit up about me being, you know... I'm not- It's not-" She takes a deep breath, her face crimson, her eyes bugging out of their sockets. "Put on a fucking shirt!"

"Why?" I ask, grinning at the blubbering idiot in front of me. "Am I distracting you?"

Kennedy tosses me a tight-lipped smile. "Nope. I'm fine. Are you distracted?"

I give her chest an obvious once-over. "A tad."

Kenny immediately zips up her hoodie in a huff, facing away from me. "So inappropriate!"

"Me?" I ask, laughing while checking out her ass. She must run a lot. "You were the one staring at me like I was an eclipse."

"I was not staring. I was-" She tightens her ponytail again. A nervous tick perhaps. "I was just-" She pauses. "I wasn't-" A beat. "Fuck," she mutters almost inaudibly.

"It's alright, love," I coo. "It's not your fault. I tend to get this reaction quite frequently. After all, it's human nature to appreciate a work of art."

She whips her head around, no longer flustered. "A work of art?" she asks, crossing her arms. "Is that how you see yourself? Wow, cocky."

I shrug. "Clearly that's how you see me."

"I'll have you know that I was looking at the mole on your chest," she says, pointing her finger. "It looks a little abnormal. Maybe you should-"

"Go get it checked out?" I smirk. "Like my hand?"

"Mhmm," she hums. "You seem to have lots of potential medical issues."

I chuckle, running a hand through my bed hair. "And you seem to have a lot of issues in general."

She blinks. "I would normally disagree," she says slowly. "But recent events have proved that to be slightly...true."

"Admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery," I note with a lopsided grin. "I'm glad that you're so self-aware."

"Ha ha ha," she scowls, sucking in a long breath. "You're so funny."

"I am, aren't I?" I ask with a smug smile. "You're so lucky to date someone with so many great qualities."

"Oh yeah," she snorts, taking a container out of her pocket and popping a blue mint into her mouth. "I really hit the jackpot. Arrogant and self-absorbed? Ah, sign me up!"

"I think you like it," I muse. "I think you find me exciting."

Kennedy rolls her eyes but there's a ghost of a smile gracing her lips. "Actually, I find you to be rude and irritating."

"And hot," I wink. "Lest we forget that."

"That's a lot of self-love you've got there, Oliver." Kennedy shakes her head, clicking her tongue cheekily. "I wish I had your confidence."

I snort. "I think you've got plenty of confidence, love. Not many girls would proposition a guy they barely know and break a plethora of school rules for the sake of social survival."

"No. That's not confidence, Oliver," Kennedy whispers in a low despondent tone, her face falling. "That's fear."

"Fear?" I ask, the atmosphere around us drastically changing, no longer light, no longer playful.

"What?" she asks. Perhaps she didn't mean to say that out loud. "Oh-" she chuckles nervously. "Um..nothing. Forget it." She half-smiles, checking the time on her watch. "I have to get some work done but I'll uh- see you in a few hours for Lemar's party, okay? My driver will pick us up."

She's deflecting but I don't care enough to pry. I don't care enough to ask why her eyes are glossy. Why she's fiddling with her zipper. Why she suddenly looks so lost.

"I was going to take my bike."

"Are you drinking?" she asks.

"Maybe," I say with a shrug. "Not sure."

"Then we're taking the car," she states firmly. "I need you alive."

Air blows out my nose. "Don't worry. I'm still here."

Alive but not living.

___________________

Ooooof. I wonder who Ollie will bring to the fundraiser...

Is this the beginning of #Kollie? I guess we'll find out.

THOUGHTS?

Kenny be like: