The Princes of Ravenwood novel Chapter 3

I still don’t know what to think about what Darius did during Gym Class. Did he break up with his girlfriend for pulling my hair? But possibly the weirder thing is I don’t believe this was Darius.

He looked exactly like the guy Barbie… I mean, Jane was hanging on this morning and the guy from my history class. But there was something different about him.

All three interactions I’ve had with him have been off. Like he’s three different people. There are three of him, which seriously the world couldn’t handle that many of them or has multiple personalities, which also doesn’t seem right.

I tried not to think about it as I made my way to my next class, physics. I could hear people whispering around me. “I heard one of them set their sights on her.” “I think it was Darius.” “Who knows.” “He dumped Jane for her.” “No way.”

The various whispers circulated and did clear something up. One of them. So, there is more than one Frost. I felt a fluttering sensation in my stomach at the mere idea of there being more than one Frost.

As instructed, I pushed the thoughts aside, found my classroom, and went to the table in the back. As I got out my book and notebook, I wondered who my physics partner would be. I just hope they aren’t some idiot that plans to make me do all the work.

“Hello again, Uchiha,” a deep warm voice greeting. I blinked and looked up to see the shadow that had fallen over me belonged to him. But is this Darius or someone else?

I furrowed my brow looking at him. He called me Uchiha. That’s what the one from this morning called me or said.

I glanced at his bag on his shoulder and noticed it was orange, just like the guy outside the office but not like the guy in history. So, does this mean he is the one from my Gym Class, or are there three?

“Frost. Want to tell me which one?” I asked, putting my bag on the floor.

His lips slowly lifted into a devious and panty-melting smile. He was an Adonis when he wasn’t smiling. This isn’t fair. “The same one I was this morning,” he shrugged, sliding into the chair next to me.

“Uh-huh. But not the one in my history class. And I also guess not the one that was in my gym class either,” I commented, trying not to let his proximity get to me. He must have known how he affected me as he casually slung his arm across the back of my chair.

“What makes you think that?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Because I’m not an idiot. You have an orange bag, the one in my homeroom had a black one. I can’t say what color bag the guy from Gym Class had since it was Gym Class. But you also don’t carry yourself the same. The one in homeroom was very serious, sitting straighter than my dad. And the one from Gym class was somewhere between. So again, which one are you?” I questioned