Chapter 15
Ihave always had a soft spot for sunny winter days.
We don’t get much snow here, so the world isn’t exactly a picturesque wonderland, but there is something incredible about a sun-drenched, frosty morning.
The light is sharp, clear, making every brick and branch on campus stand out in high definition.
I’m not in any particular hurry as I walk across the quad, even though I have been late for literally everything for the last two days.
I can’t help it. My head is a permanent fog of daydreaming, all thanks to Devlin’s presence—or the lingering memory of it. Every time I close my eyes, I feel his hands on my waist or hear that gravelly voice calling me sweetie.
I tell myself that today, I’ll finally emerge from this cocoon. I have to.
Sasha is coming over this weekend, and I need to prepare for the inevitable collision of my overprotective brother and my possessive… boyfriend. Devlin refuses to call it “just dating”, just like he refuses to call our upcoming trip next week a “surprise.”
“I’m taking you away for the weekend, Val,” he had said, staring at me with that intense, unblinking focus. “It’s not a surprise. We’re going.”
When I asked where, he just grunted and kissed my neck until I forgot the question.
Now, all I can think about is what he’s going to do to me when we’re finally alone, away from dorm walls and campus gossip.
Suddenly, the campus loudspeakers crackle to life. Monica’s voice blares across the courtyard, and my stomach does a slow, painful somersault.
“Good afternoon, campus dwellers!” Monica’s tone is particularly vindictive today. “This is Monica Vance with your daily dose of reality. Let’s talk about the upcoming Valentine’s fundraiser for the ‘sad hamster’ room—excuse me, the Rescue Center.”
I freeze. Oh no. I completely forgot.
I promised Monica I’d give a speech about her band during the event, but Devlin’s dramatic stage-leaping antics totally derailed my brain. I never followed up with her.
“It’s so strange, isn’t it?” Monica continues, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.
“That someone as wonderful, handsome, and intelligent as our very own Valentine Wylie doesn’t have a special date for his own romantic fundraiser.
I mean, the tragedy! So, I have a suggestion.
Maybe Val should sell the chance to go on a date with him to the highest bidder. Who wouldn’t want a piece of that?”
I stop dead in the middle of the pavement.
Students are actually turning their heads to look at me. I feel my face catch fire. I try to smile nervously and wave at a passing freshman, but inside, I am dying.
I am actually decomposing on the spot.
Suddenly, the radio feed cuts out with a violent screech. I hear Monica’s muffled squeals and a crash, like a chair being overturned.
Then, a deep, low, unmistakable voice fills the air.
“This is Devlin Bower speaking,” he says. His voice is so calm it’s terrifying. “Monica has stepped away… to take a break.”
My jaw drops. My palms start to sweat instantly. Devlin, no. Please don’t.
“Regarding Monica’s announcement,” Devlin continues. Every student within a half-mile radius is now standing perfectly still, listening. “Regarding the ‘lucky person’ who can find a date with the head of the rescue room. Valentine Wylie.”
He pauses, and I can almost feel the weight of his stare through the speakers.
“Pick me, Valentine,” Devlin says. His voice is serious, devoid of any playfulness. “Pick me, Valentine Wylie. Or I’ll eat you.”
The final sentence is delivered with such firm, predatory gravity that the entire quad stays silent for a beat before I burst out laughing. It’s so absurd and dark, and so perfectly him.
I find my feet and start sprinting toward the student union where the radio booth is located.
I have to get to him before he actually puts Monica in a locker. As I run, the radio goes silent for a moment, then the sounds of groaning and grumbling return to the airwaves.
Monica is back on the air, sounding comically angry and aggrieved.
“As always, we see that everything to do with Val Wylie involves taking something away from me!” she huffs, though she sounds more annoyed than truly hateful.
“I’d like to remind you all that the ‘rescue room’ stole my rehearsal time!
But fine, I have news. Crimson Requiem is recording a new album, and we’ve found a rehearsal space in the sports complex.
Apparently, the hockey team decided to get ‘charitable.’”
I smile as I run. He did it. He got her the space.
“And just to remind you,” Monica grumbles, “it’s kind of better to be kind than mean, so go support the fundraiser.
I personally saved four hamsters, and they’re much better company than most of you.
Also, all of you, you should stop accusing me of writing dirty Valentine’s Day cards!
I write songs, not smutty notes. If you want to know who really did it, look at a certain newly-formed couple.
Sweet, demure ‘Lizzy’ and her rugged hockey boyfriend Marcus.
It’s very, very interesting how he got his hands on her, isn’t it?
Maybe they wanted to play Cupid with a bit of a dark twist… ”
I don’t hear the rest.
I reach the building just as Devlin steps out of the side exit. He looks exactly the same as always—black hair messy, eyebrows furrowed in a permanent scowl—but when he sees me, his expression shifts into something possessive and hungry.
“You’re actually late for our ‘date’,” he growls.
Before I can say a word, he reaches out, grabs me by the waist, and lifts me off my feet.
I’m dangling in the air, laughing, as he claims my mouth in front of everyone. He kisses me with a frantic, public intensity that leaves no room for doubt.
“I chose you,” I whisper against his lips when he finally lets me breathe.
“You didn’t have a choice, sweetie,” he mutters, pulling me closer against his chest. “You were mine the moment the rain hit your face.”
I lean my head against his shoulder, watching the winter sun glint off the frosty grass.