Nova
The scratches on my arms are still red and scabbed in a few small spots, so I find another long-sleeved shirt to pair with black shorts left by Tabby. I have a feeling my wardrobe is going to shift to include a lot of the things she brought, but it would be silly to wear jeans when it’s almost eighty degrees outside when I don’t have to.
My legs are pale and are made to look even more so by the dark fabric of the shorts, and the small scabs on my knees are still present, but I’m tired of sweating my butt off, and everyone probably knows the story now anyway.
The house is quiet when I leave with enough time to grab a coffee and maybe a muffin or something from the Union if I think my stomach can handle it.
When the gate opens at the end of the drive, I breathe a sigh of relief that the neighbor isn’t around, then I make a quick turn so I can get out of here before he shows up. What Alden doesn’t seem to understand is that I would much rather just keep my head down and not be bothered, but I’m not going to stand by and let someone try to intimidate me. I’m sure he’ll get tired of screwing with me soon enough anyway.
When I walk down the long corridor from the back entrance, I feel like people are staring, but it’s just my head messing with me, because when I actually take a chance and glance around, no one is paying me any attention.
While I’m in line for coffee, I recall the map I studied of the school last night, but now that I’m in the building, I feel all turned around, like I might go to the wrong wing. Once I finally have my drink, I glance at the plaques on the walls to make sure I’m heading in the right direction as I speed walk to my first class. My stomach does a nasty flip when I realize not only are the doors closed, but there’s no one else around. I know I’m not technically late, but I’m cutting it pretty close.
Easing the door open, I keep my eyes lowered as I enter the room. Without looking at anyone directly, I assess the layout. The room isn’t overly large, but it’s sloped, with three sections of long tables descending evenly down it. The section in the middle is the largest, having four chairs positioned behind the tables, while the two side sections each have two chairs.
I take a seat at the empty two-person table in the very back row of the left side of the room and rush to get my laptop open, if only to have something to hide behind while I get situated.
My relief of finding an empty table so conveniently near the rear of the room is short-lived, however, when the girl in front of me turns around and levels me with a look of sheer disdain. I pretend not to notice the way her eyes narrow or her nose crinkles as if I smell bad, but her words are impossible to disregard, even though she’s talking to the girl next to her. “She’s supposed to be an Umbra, but it looks like she just rolled out of bed.”
“Anya.” The other girl darts her eyes over to me, not bothering to hide her smile, before focusing on her friend. “She’s off-limits.”
“He said we can’t touch her,” Anya reminds her friend with a malicious sneer still aimed at me.
I lean forward and keep my words soft, so the other people around us won’t be able to hear. “I bet it took you all morning to come up with this little act. Maybe even half of last night.” I lean back into my seat and let my face relax into a mask of indifference, then add, “How does it feel knowing you’ll never once cross my mind when I dominated your thoughts before you ever met me?”
Anya’s top lip lifts as if she’s about to snarl something at me, but the teacher in the center of the room speaks, and I avert my eyes to her, proving my words to Anya and her friend. I spend the next ninety minutes dutifully acting as if they don’t even exist.
Being in the back row offers the bonus of a quick exit, which I take full advantage of. I take my mostly full coffee with me and drop it into a trash container just outside the room. I have a few hours to kill between classes, and the library isn’t an option unless I want to sit at one of the shared tables on the main floor, and that sounds pretty damn close to torture right now.
Instead of turning tail and sitting out in my car, I force myself to take a spot at one of the small seating areas in the Union. The grumble of my stomach is what pulls me from the assigned reading pages about thirty minutes later.
I debate ignoring it, but I know I’ll regret it later when I can’t focus in my next class because I feel like crap. I hate that I have to decide between eating and possibly drawing unwanted attention to myself or going without to keep the status quo.
With one quick glance around, I leave my laptop and bag at my table and head over to the coffee shop to get a bagel and drink.
My steps falter when I pivot to return to my seat. It’s no longer empty. Morningstar looks quite comfortable with his tattooed arms splayed wide along the arms of the chair, taking up way more room than should be possible with just his presence alone. There’s a small part of me that gets pissed at how gorgeous he is. It doesn’t seem fair that he can be so attractive and such a jerk. I mean, being that pretty should make him nice, but he bumped along the mean tree at some point.
Alden’s words are in my head again, telling me that I antagonize him, and I know it to be true, but I don’t know any other way to behave.
“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me, Charity?”
Dang it, I was staring. I should pick up my computer and walk away, but I don’t have anywhere else to go. At least there are witnesses here. “Just wondering what I’ve done to earn the honor of your presence, Morningstar, and how to avoid doing it in the future,” I deadpan.
I’m not imagining the curl of his lip, but I don’t know him well enough to read the meaning. It could be humor, but he could also be imagining strangling me.
“Such a mouth you have. Did you pick that up off the streets like everything else?”
“Yup, cultivated right out of the gutter. You should run along, my kind of slum could be contagious.”
I lower myself into the seat across from him. I’m not dumb enough to get within striking distance. I watch his eyes go to the slathered cream cheese everything bagel cradled in a napkin in my palm before his eyes meet mine.
Unsaid words in a familiar manta filter though my thoughts. Do you really need that? Boy, you must be hungry. Are you going to eat all that? Purely out of spite, I bring it up to my mouth and take a bite. I may as well give him a reason to say something.
I barely taste the food because I’m too busy waiting for him to say or do something, but he just watches me, turning my awkward game around on me.
“So what do you need today?” I ask between bites. “If you wanted to be the first person to tell me how trashy I am” —I make a check mark with my finger— “someone already beat you to it.”
“Did they now?” he questions while I take another bite.
“You’d be so proud.”
“Care to tell me who I should thank?”
“I’ve already forgotten her. The delivery was amateur at best.” I lift my eyebrows, hoping he catches the hint and realizes I’m talking about him too.
“Well, when you’ve been around the block as many times as you have, it’s hard to come up with something original,” he defends smoothly.
“Touché,” I agree, even though it’s the furthest thing from the truth. Spending months of your senior year of high school in the hospital and mourning your parents’ deaths puts a damper on your social life, at least it did mine. I’d go so far as to say I’m downright sheltered. I’ve been worrying I would end up as one of those twenty-four-year-old virgins you hear about. Now, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal in the grand scheme of things. “On that note. I have a proposition for you.”
Morningstar moves his tongue behind his lips, licking his teeth, and it’s predatory. It almost makes me back down, but I’m already committed.
“Why don’t you enlighten me as to why you abhor my existence, and after, I will promise to stay as far away from you as possible?”
“Big words for a girl who barely made it out of remedial English.”
That one stings. Not only is it proof that someone showed him my test scores, but he’s calling me stupid. I didn’t even know I did that badly, which means his comment could be fitting.
I look up when I realize my eyes are on my lap. Fuel is the last thing I need to give him, and showing him he hurt me would do just that.
“It’s a good thing I’ve been offered this superior education.” My teeth remain mostly clenched, but at least I didn’t let him stun me into silence.
“Why are you here, other than the obvious, that is?” Morningstar asks.
“First, I need to know what you assume ‘the obvious’ is to answer your question.” I might as well bleed him for any information since it seems to be so elusive here.
“The Umbras’ estate isn’t up to par with ours, but I’m sure it’s much more comfortable than what you’re accustomed to.”
“Ah, so I’m here for the big house and comfy bed,” I surmise.
“I’m sure the new Porsche doesn’t hurt either. What did you have to do to get that out of old man Rory so quickly?” The insinuation is enough to make me gag, but I don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I taunt instead.
“Maybe I’ll have to find out for myself.” His glowing blue eyes seem to darken with his words, and I don’t miss the way his gaze travels over me in a way that shows signs of interest, but it feels tainted.
“Doubtful,” I counter because I don’t want him looking at me like I’m a thing he can have if he deems me worthy.
“I showed you mine.” His tone is harsher, but still suggestive. I don’t think Prince Morningstar likes to be denied, even if this is all a game to him.
“I’m honest enough to admit opportunity is part of why I’m here, but I’m not looking to take over some old family rivalry. I don’t know what your beef is with the Umbras, and I don’t really care either.” Lie. “So how about you forget whom I’m related to and just ignore me like you do everyone else at this place?”
A muscle ticks in his cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that I noticed how he barely acknowledges anyone else’s existence.
“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask, deflecting from the fact that I just admitted to paying attention to him.
“It doesn’t matter. You being here at all is a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because there are only two kinds of people, Charity.” He leans forward so his elbows are on his knees and his tattooed hands are hanging between his spread legs. “The ones under me, and the ones against me, and I haven’t figured out which one you are yet.”
I shrug with what I hope is indifference before pulling my eyes from his intense gaze. “Maybe that’s because I’m neither. I am not your enemy, and I’m not your subject.” The utterance it muttered in a hushed tone as I realize there are people around watching us, and they are not even trying to be discreet. I feel like I’m being judged from every direction.
I lean forward to shut and snag my laptop off the table between us. I’ll have to step into his space to get my bag, but I’m hesitant. Something in my gut is telling me not to let Lucian Morningstar anywhere near me.
“I need to get to my next class,” I tell him as I stand, hoping he will get up and leave so I can get my bag and get the heck out of here.
“I’m not stopping you,” he says innocently.
Even though warning bells are going off that something isn’t right, I still bend forward and reach for my bag, which means I’m leaning over him when he loudly says, “I know you’re used to fucking as a form of payment, but I’m not interested. Don’t touch me again.”
My entire body freezes except my eyes, which go straight to his. The icy blue gaze that meets mine is flat, even as heat and humiliation crawl up my neck to flush my cheeks. I’ve actually been stunned into silence. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t touch him and wasn’t even planning on it. All that matters is what he said and the harsh whispers and snickers I hear filling the space.
When I can move again, I make a point of jerking my bag up from the floor, but I don’t run from the Union like he wanted me to. I put my back to him, which is probably a mistake, and then I walk away with my chin tipped up and my eyes focused only on the long hallway in front of me.
