19. Stella
19
Stella
My lunch tray clatters on the table as I set it down with too much force. The pasta slides around, narrowly missing a slip off the plate. I was barely paying attention to what I grabbed today. My mind is still stuck on last night.
I kissed Clay.
I kissed him.
Where did that even come from?
It broke my heart to see him spiraling like that and to know I was the cause. I should’ve thought more about how my words would be interpreted. It’s plain to see how much Clay cares about those he reaps. All of the stories of his time before he arrived here illustrate the care and kindness he gives the souls in his charge. Knowing that my words hurt him and left him questioning everything made me ache with the need to fix it.
I don’t know why I decided to fix it with my lips, but I would be lying if I said something didn’t light up inside me when we kissed. It’s hard to describe and unlike anything I’ve felt before. It felt like pieces of us were woven together, becoming something stronger. It was over too soon, and now I wonder if he would want it to happen again.
Because I think I want it to happen again.
But then Clay missed breakfast, and I’ve never known him to skip a meal. Maybe he was avoiding me, or maybe I made him uncomfortable.
I hope I didn’t. I would hate to think that I ruined our friendship.
Tree and his coven sit across from me, their trays only featuring very rare steaks, as always, and glasses of water. Rolf’s hair is pulled back from his face today, highlighting his sharp bone structure. “You look troubled, Stella,” he muses.
“I’m fine,” I dismiss. “Just have a lot of my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Sia asks, leaning forward on her elbows. “Or do we need a girl’s night?”
My eyes light up. “I’ve never had a girl’s night before!”
Sia gapes at me, stunned at my admission. “How have you never had a girl’s night?”
“I couldn’t keep close friends when I was hiding my spirit. Only acquaintances.”
“Well, you have me now!” she says, grabbing my hands. “Let’s do a girl’s night, please!”
“Girls night?” I hear Jules say behind me. She daintily sits next to me, her perfectly curled hair and pink babydoll dress bouncing with the movement. “I could use a girl’s night.”
Edgar, Tree, and Rolf still struggle around Jules. She says meditation has been helping with reining in her siren song, but she still attracts a few admirers unless she focuses on it.
Ryan and Clay don’t seem affected by her at all anymore.
“Then it’s settled!” Sia says triumphantly. “Friday?”
“What’s Friday?” Clay asks, taking a seat on the other side of Rolf.
Hearing his voice has the tangle of nerves in my chest loosening.
“A girl’s night,” Jules responds, oblivious to the tension I feel settling on my shoulders.
It’s hard for me to make eye contact with him. I’m afraid of what I’ll see. I’m no stranger to rejection, but for some reason, I know if it comes from that male, it will hurt more than anything else I’ve experienced.
But when I peek up from underneath my lashes, I realize my fears are unfounded. Clay is gazing at me as if I am the answer to all his problems.
“That’s a great idea. Am I invited? I should be invited. I can be one of the girls.”
Ryan sits down next to him, bumping shoulders with the Reaper. “No, you cannot be one of the girls.” His voice is touched with humor, and his eye sparkles. “You’d be the ugliest girl I’ve ever seen.”
“You wound me!” Clay cries, clutching his chest. He pantomimes falling over into Rolf’s lap. The vampire is unamused and shoves him away.
Lunch is easy, with everyone chatting and laughing together like we’ve known each other our whole lives. It’s a stark contrast from the students closest to graduation.
The tables full of second years are quieter and more muted. While they still talk and laugh, the brightness isn’t there for most of them. While Tree’s coven isn’t there yet, I have noticed that Edgar and Rolf do seem a bit more reserved lately. A few third- and fourth-quarter students seem close to that level, but compared to those of us in our first quarter, most of the second years might as well be zombies.
I was surprised to learn that zombie are not real spirits. They are strictly a myth caused by the misinterpretation of a necromancer’s reanimated corpse. They need a master to control them.
I still don’t trust the other students to tell me the truth if I ask what is happening here. Those close to finishing are all in on the Robert Sinclair programming and are sure to report me if I take even the tiniest toe out of line.
“Stella, I asked if you were ready?” Ryan says.
“What?” I startle, looking at my Cyclops. He looks so handsome today in a green shirt that matches his eye and a pair of brown trousers. He’s always so put together. His monocle hangs from the neck of his shirt by one of its legs.
“It’s time to go to Meditation for Violent Spirits,” he reminds me, standing up from the lunch table. I can’t help but notice how his muscles flex under his clothing.
He may be a gentle male, but his spirit is built for battle, and I am willing to be conquered.
Why am I sexualizing my friends so much? Gods, I’m a creep. I need to get my libido in order. It’s like, since I read that I can’t have sex, it’s all I want.
I drop my tray off and wave at our lunch companions before falling into step behind Ryan. “Right, right. After you!”
We walk silently, but I keep catching a glimpse of him looking at me from the corner of my eye. He flexes his hands and inhales sharply before saying, “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
“What makes you think something is wrong?”
“Your energy is different.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” I brush imaginary dirt off my leggings in a pathetic attempt to appear casual.
Ryan’s large hand lands on my shoulder. “It’s not nothing, Stella. You’re clearly going through some turmoil.”
I chew on my lip, looking up at him from my position well below his towering height. Ryan is massive, easily over seven feet, which isn’t surprising given his spirit. His hand takes up a lot of real estate as it wraps around my shoulder, his large fingers traveling down my arm. I place my hand over his and sigh.
Ryan is one of those supernaturals who makes me want to open the vault where I keep my feelings. A part of me knows that all of my secrets would be safe with him and that he wouldn’t judge me for anything. If I ask him to be somewhere, he will be there. If I need him, he’ll help in any way he can.
So why am I so afraid to let him know what happened?
Is it that I don’t want him to know I kissed Clay because I think he’ll judge me? Or is it because I don’t want him to think I won’t kiss him, too?
Because I would definitely kiss Ryan if the opportunity arose.
I would question the sanity of anyone who wouldn’t want to climb him like a tree.
I blink past those thoughts, wondering where they even came from.
“I am worried I will ruin a friendship with feelings that I’m having. I don’t know if they are reciprocated,” I say quietly.
“What sort of feelings?” he asks. His voice sounds almost hopeful, but that can’t be right. Ryan has been nothing but a respectable friend to me.
He doesn’t see me that way.
“More than friendly feelings. And it’s not like I have so many friends here that I can risk losing some, you know? This place sucks, but you all have made it more tolerable, and I can’t lose that.”
There it is. That’s the truth of the matter.
I don’t hate it here as much as I should simply because of the spirits I have met and surrounded myself with. I have a comfortable place to sleep, all the food I could want, and great friends. If you removed the brainwashing and spirit-breaking, what more could I ask for?
Ryan clears his throat, rubbing his large hand on the back of his neck. “Based on the evidence available to us at this time, I would assume that your feelings are most likely reciprocated,” he says quietly. “I don’t think you would go wrong by sharing them.”
My laugh stutters. “We must be looking at different evidence because from where I’m sitting…” I inhale deeply. Clay is friendly with everyone. There is nothing different about the way he interacts with me.
“Stella, I’m not sure how you have two eyes and miss something I can see clearly with one.”
“Did you make an eye joke? Who are you, and what have you done with Ryan?” I peek around his shoulder as if searching for the real Cyclops.
Ryan stills me by placing his large hands on my waist. His fingertips touch as they circle my torso, making me feel daintier than I ever have before. “I’m glad you confided in me, Stella because I’ve been wondering the same thing. I’ve never been in this situation before, and I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.”
My nose wrinkles as I try to process what he’s saying, but I’m so distracted by the way his hands feel on me, by the rise and fall of his chest against mine, and the one piece of dark brown hair curling onto his forehead right now.
Before I can reply, before I can even move, Ryan’s lips are on mine in a soft, tender kiss that makes my knees buckle.
Electricity thrums in my veins at the contact, and the feeling of a chain stretching between us, linking us together, overwhelms my senses. It’s different from how it felt as if Clay and I were woven together when we kissed, but no less impactful.
I realize here and now that I want both of these males, and I don’t think I could choose.
Which could prove to be a problem.
But that’s future Stella’s problem because right now Stella is enjoying the feel of massive hands squeezing her waist and the soft, plush lips of her Cyclops suite mate.
When Ryan pulls away, a flush runs up his neck and across his cheeks. I’m sure I have a matching one. The kiss was sweet and gentle, his tongue delicately brushing against my lips before he pulled away, teasing me for what more he could offer. I beam up at him.
“Well, hi, big guy,” I whisper.
He unwraps his hands from around me and places one on my lower back, pushing me forward. “We’ve got class, let’s not be late.”