So that’s what I do. I order food delivery and binge watch shows I haven’t had time for. Inside this room, I’m safe from facing any of them. Breaker respects my wishes and doesn’t come knocking at my door for the rest of the week. After I email the dean, blaming my absence on the flu I’d lied about last week, I turn off my phone to ensure complete seclusion.
It’s easy to pretend everything is well when I’m hidden away.
*****
The sun shines through my curtains, waking me before my alarm. If I’m being honest, I didn’t get much sleep last night. I woke up several times from a too real nightmare, gripping at my stomach and leg to check for fresh wounds.
I shower and dress in my uniform as if it’s any other day, but this particular Monday morning brings a whole different meaning to fear. In reality, this day is unlike any I’ve had on the Glass Heart Academy campus. Leaving the safety of this room means something. I will have to make a choice today, and I’m still not sure if I know what that will be.
It seems being hidden away hasn’t done anything but bide my time. As I wait for the last minute to leave, I fire up my phone for the first time in a week. Messages ding and alert me of my absence in the world. The first five are from Delaney, proving I’m a shitty human being and friend. I owe her better than a disappearing act.
I make it unscathed through campus. My pea coat keeps the cold air off my skin. Winter reminds me of Reed. She loved everything about the season. Ski trips and hot chocolate. When we were younger, she’d wake me up to make midnight snow angels, like we were the original Elsa and Anna. We’d run out in our pajamas and snow boots and fall into the white powder.
Lost in my memories, I enter the lecture hall to find it empty. Déjà vu. First period with Byron isn’t the way I want to start my morning. A quick glance has me anxiously settling into my seat. I take out my notebook and start doodling in the corner of the page to distract me from overthinking.
A coffee cup appears in front of me. I follow the hand attached to the warm nectar and come face-to-face with Byron.
“It’s just coffee, Palmer. I figured you’d need some this morning,” he says, showboating it in front of me. When I don’t take his peace offering, he sighs and retreats to his desk.
After a minute, when I trust myself, I lift my stare. Byron’s head hung low, he grips the cup so tight, it’s a wonder it doesn’t burst. He must feel my stare because his head shifts, and our eyes lock. Neither of us look away, even knowing we should.
There’s an unspoken bond between me and him, something we won’t ever be able to erase from our history. His eyes hold the evil I know in the world, and somehow, the same eyes hold this desperation I can understand and relate to.
“Here.” Breaker sets a coffee cup in front of me. “There’s a double shot of espresso in there. Figured we err on the side of caution.”
“I’m still not sure if I’m talking to you,” I whisper. “Any of you, for that matter.”
“Well then, I’ll just take my coffee elsewhere.” He reaches for the mug, but I snatch it before he can. “Oh, I see. So, my coffee is good enough, but my friendship isn’t?”
“This is a good start.” I take the first sip, the hot liquid warming my throat. “Thank you. I really needed this.”
“It’s my pleasure, Palmer.” Breaker bows, making a show of his kindness as he hops over the row of desks to take the spot behind me.
Our classmates shuffle into the room. Some take an extra second to gawk at me. This is nothing new. Ever since their teacher, unbeknownst to them, decided to make me into a human pin cushion, I’ve been quite the circus attraction. Their attention isn’t anything interesting. It seems my absence has piqued their growing minds.
Breaker’s fancy ass loafers on my chair remind me he doesn’t travel alone. The Glass House Boys are a package deal. Where one is, the others follow close behind.
“Take out your notes from last week,” Byron tells the class. Uncomfortable from not knowing what he’s referring to, I discreetly check around the room. “Palmer, go ahead and share with someone for now, and then we can get you copies.”
As I turn to ask Breaker to let me share his, a shadow emerges over my desk.
“She can share mine.”
At the deep roar of the voice, the hair on the back of my neck rises, and my heart beats double time. I lift my head, and there he stands.
Marek Hawthorne. The boy of my nightmares and my wildest dreams.
Our eyes lock, unbreakable and accusatory. He remains unmoved as if he’s waiting for me to give him permission. My breaths build until they’re heavy in my chest. Marek runs his hands through his hair, showing off how gorgeous he is. There’s no denying it, even with the knowledge of the person behind the shiny exterior.
“What was that you were saying about the hand holding not meaning shit?” Breaker whispers in my ear, ripping me away from the spell Marek has me under.
“Shut up!” I swat his hand away from my shoulder.
“I’m just saying, the sexual tension could be cut with a dull knife.” He snickers, drawing away from me and settling into his seat.
Marek sits beside me. His unsure movements give me great pleasure in knowing I’m making him uncomfortable.
His notes are placed between us. I dare a glance and find them meticulous as if I took them myself. Bullet points and color codes adorn the pages. I flip to the next to find the same care taken on the others. I look over in surprise, and he shrugs, a cocky grin adorning his face.
“I notice things, Palmer. I figured, when you decided to return, you’d need your notes, so . . .” His eyes soften just enough to not have me afraid.
“So, you took notes the way I do to make it easier for me, as if I hadn’t missed a beat,” I finish the thought.
“Monsters do good deeds, too.” He turns to the front of the class, acting as if everything is right in the world.
For the remainder of the period, we sit harmoniously side by side. Marek doesn’t try to convince me of anything. He jots down more notes and listens as Byron lectures us on the importance of American Literature. As the last word leaves Byron’s mouth, I pack my stuff and race from the room, wanting to put some much-needed distance between Marek and myself.
That boy is intoxicating. Despite me wanting nothing to do with him, my body has the opposite reaction. Several times during the lecture, I had to remind myself not to reach for the hand he so kindly left dangling next to mine.
“Wait up, Palmer!” Marek shouts.
“I have somewhere to be!” I yell a complete lie at him.
As I breech the exit of the building, a hand wraps around my arm, stopping my escape.
“You forgot your coat,” Marek says, lifting my arm and helping me into it. “Wouldn’t want you to freeze out here, now, would we?” Over my shoulder, I inspect him. His eyes are a mixture of velvet and steel. Damn, he knows how to use them. “I’ll see you around, Palmer.”
I watch, completely dumbstruck, as Marek walks away with Dixon and Breaker flanking his sides. Before they’ve gone far, Breaker turns and winks, causing me to laugh. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Being lost inside my own world doesn’t keep me from noticing the major security presence on campus. Students walk from class to class, ushered by bodyguards. Fear permeates the air, and for the first time, I feel a little less alone. Everyone is afraid, and that somehow brings me sick satisfaction.