Heir Born

2 | Nate

There she is. Summer Lennox.

My worst fucking living nightmare.

Summer is beauty, confidence and grace. Naïveté, too. So poised. So well-put together. So unshaken. Even by me.

Though that might have something to do with the fact that she's heiress to my family's business rival — Lennox Enterprises, a media and AI-tech conglomerate spanning multiple continents. I should know, because the Vanderbilts used to be connected with the Lennoxes. Allies.

Summer's auburn-brown coloured thick curls cascading down her shoulders, and those big sparkling deep green eyes of hers are probably my weakness, seeing how I just ogled them like an idiot. I should be concerned that I've memorised the colour of her eyes and her hair. I should be, but I'm not. I remind myself to pay silent homage to her Caribbean-South African ancestors for bestowing her with all that beauty. And when she speaks? Fuck. That British-South African accent of hers always does me in. Like when she said my last name just now. Yes. I'm a little obsessed. Okay. A lot obsessed. Do I care? Not really, no. 

As she gets further and further away from me, I can feel the little hairs behind my neck still being jolted off my flesh. It annoys me more than anything because it means Summer is getting under my skin. Something no girl has ever managed to do.

You better stay out of my way, Lennox.

She and I have somehow successfully managed to steer clear of each other all through high school since leaving Chaucer Prep, barring a few random and boring moments in classes. Now that we're almost out of here, the last thing I need is a complication. And yet, I see myself jumping right into it. Head first.

"Let's keep it moving, Pres. I don't need drama today. Plenty of that at the courthouse." My tone clips as I motion to my best friend Preston and the rest of my friends to follow me. Which means ignore that entire situation that just played out.

I feel a hint of pain in my gut. In the pit of my stomach. And then a momentary sharp pain hits my chest. I know Summer is the cause. Fuck!

She seems so cold. I would be cold too maybe if my dad was being plastered all over the press because of the Vanderbilts. But it's clear from my sudden change in mood that it irritates the fuck out of me that she didn't say anything when I looked at her. Didn't even flinch.

Why do I care? She hates me. I hate her.

We sit down at our usual table. I catch Preston shooting me a questioning look. He can tell when I get into rabbit hole mode about someone. I shake my head imperceptibly, my gaze never leaving Summer, who's now all the way on the other side of the courtyard.

"Take it easy, alright?" Preston doesn't hold back when he means business. His tone is always telling. Chill on the outside, storm clouds and thunder on the inside. Okay, so my Summer chaos puts him on edge. Understandable.

"I'm good." I still don't take my eyes off Summer. My tone is equally harsh, it's obvious I'm holding a shit load in.

Look at her. You'd swear she didn't just try to unravel my soul with those beautiful eyes a second ago.

Behind us, the others from our group of friends do a shitty job of exchanging discreet knowing glances. Their expressions betray them. Curiosity. Concern. That's all I can see. In their defense, they've never seen anyone unnerve me as much as Summer does. I never allow anyone to shake me. Comes with the territory.

We all crowd around Avery, who's nose-deep in her laptop.

I love my friends. Even though I would never tell them that to their faces, they just know I do. Avery Cavendish is the brainiac among all of us. She always hacks into the most impossible places, and plays around on the dark web and shit. Genius.