The Class Prince

Chapter 9: The Class Prince to the Rescue

Leaning against the ledge of the window from the building above was the last person I wanted to see.

"Did you just take a picture?!" hissed Rick, the first one to break the long silence.

"Oh, I forgot to mute it," murmured Ivan, completely ignoring Rick as he examined his phone.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!"

Ivan finally looked towards him as if he only just noticed his presence. Wow, even outside of school he had the ability to give zero fucks.

"You boys are making too much of a ruckus," he sighed. "If you don't want this picture to be reported to the police, then I advise you make your way back to your little rat holes."

"Ha, you think that we're scared of you?!" snorted Rick, straightening his back.

"'Six Rogue Teenagers Beat Up Helpless Boy in Dark Alley, Saved by Handsome Bystander'," Ivan said, motioning the palm of his hand from one side to the other as he was already imagining the title of the news article. "Sounds catchy for next week's headlines, don't you think?"

Rick's friends started to murmur among themselves until one of them finally had the guts to interrupt Rick's stare off with Ivan.

"You think you scare us?" Rick laughed. He let go of me and turned towards the prince, who was leaning against the ledge of his castle with a bored expression on his face.

"Why don't you come down here and show us how tough you are?" Rick challenged.

"Now why would I do something as dumb as that when I'm clearly outnumbered? Don't associate Desmond's stupidity with me."

And we're back to the hateful Ivan.

"Hey Ricky, maybe we should leave," he murmured. "You got what you wanted, we already beat the crap out of the guy."

"Hey, Rick, maybe we should leave," whispered one of the smarter ones. "We can't get in trouble with the police again. You're under probation, remember?"

Rick's jaw tightened. He was ruthless, but not an idiot. He turned towards me with cold eyes.

"This isn't over, Desmond. I'll come back for you," he muttered and I smiled.

"Sounds more like a confession than a threat, hawk nose," I smiled innocently. "Still not over me I see."

Rick kicked me in the gut, knocking the breath out of me as I gagged for air.

Okay, yeah, I totally deserved that one.

Rick spat a string of unintelligent words before leading his posse down the alley. When they were out of sight, I used the last of my energy to sit up against the brick wall, letting out quick, ragged breaths. It hurt. Everything hurt.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, trying to fight back the tears and nausea. I tilted my head back, involuntarily locking eyes with Ivan. Oh right, he was still here. I sat there, dreadfully waiting for him to laugh and make fun of me like he did this morning, but to my surprise, he asked a question instead.

"How long are you planning on sitting there like that?" he asked, leaning his cheek against his palm. "The back door's open."

I looked down and saw a navy blue door beside the dumpsters but didn't move.

"Suit yourself," I heard him mumble. I blinked towards him, my eyes widening as I saw him leave.

"I can't move!" I admitted sheepishly. Asking this guy for help was the last thing I wanted to do, but I didn't have much of a choice. He glanced towards me, scratching the nape of his neck and muttering something under his breath before disappearing behind the window.

The blue door opened, and Ivan stood at the threshold. The light behind him made him look like an angel who had come to my rescue. His dark hair was neatly slicked back, and he wore a starch white shirt with a nametag pinned on the left pocket. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing the veins that trailed down his strong arms, and he had a black apron tied around his waist. Ivan walked up to me and bent down to reach my eye level. I flinched when his fingers wrapped around my jaw to study my face.

Was he working as a waiter?

He walked towards me and bent down, reaching out to gently touch my chin with his warm fingers, examining my face from left to right.

"They beat you up real good, didn't they?" he muttered in a husky voice.

I looked away, feeling embarrassed that he had to see me in such a miserable.

He took my arm, gently putting it over his shoulders to help me stand. I winced in pain, biting down on my lower lip as I forced my bruised limbs to move.

"Don't be such a wuss," I heard him sigh.

"Shut up," I hissed, feeling every bruise ache as I moved my muscles.

His tone was crisp, and his words were harsh, but he let me lean against him. I could tell that he was being careful, taking small steps, and shifting his pace in ways that would make the pain tolerable for me. We walked through the backdoor and into the building. I felt vulnerable and pathetic leaning onto him, but I knew that my bruised legs wouldn't have been able to support my weight without his help.

What made this situation even worse was that any bystander could see the obvious contrast between Ivan and me. He was graceful, and I was clumsy. He was careful, and I was reckless. He was immaculate; I was bloody and bruised. Ivan tightened his grip around my waist when he noticed that I was slowing down.

We entered the building and stopped in front of a door that had the sign "staff only" hung on it. He tapped in a code before pushing it open, sitting me down on the nearest couch.

"My shift ends in ten minutes. Wait for me," he said. It was neither a request nor a demand. I noticed that his white shirt was covered in smudges of dirt and blood.

"Um..." My voice trailed. Without a word, he picked up a black blazer and swiftly slipped it on. He buttoned it up to hide the stains and ran a palm over the side of his hair to flatten out the stray strands. Each movement was quick and efficient. It was like watching a real prince. He caught me staring, and I averted my gaze. Ah yes, and then there was me, the miserable dirty peasant.

"Sorry about your shirt," I mumbled sheepishly.

"If you're going to apologize, you can at least try to make it sound sincere," he chuckled softly. I blinked, adjusting my eyes back towards him. As our eyes locked, I could feel myself getting lost in his grey hues, as if they were pulling me in like magnets.

I'm sorry, is what I wanted to say.

"That won't be possible," is what came out.

He gave me a small smile before leaving. As soon as the door closed, I let out a loud groan, finally expressing my pain as I clutched onto my aching gut. Everything felt broken and my body felt like it was on fire, a churning pain making it hard for me to even breathe.

I closed my eyes, the image of Ivan smiling appearing in my mind.

I didn't quite understand his personality. He looked at me with those heartless, cold eyes and spoke to me like I was nothing but trash, and after what happened yesterday morning, I was almost sure that he hated me. Yet, there was something in his actions that showed kindness and warmth.

Wait, why am I even thinking about him? Why should I care if he likes me or not, it's not like it matters.

My phone rang, breaking me out of my thoughts and I looked down at the screen with horrified eyes.

It was my mom.

It was past my curfew and I had already missed 14 calls from her. I bit my bloody lip, hovering my thumb over the call button, debating on whether I should face the consequences now or savor my life while I still had one.

But as I was arguing with my two consciousnesses, I accidentally answered.

Well, it was nice having a life while it lasted.