7. Wren
It takes me most of that hour to find my way to the hall that houses all the professors' offices, where they meet with their students as needed.
This school is huge, like Hogwarts big, for no damn reason. Sure, there are a lot of subjects, but it’s not like we're learning to fly broomsticks. Why do we need jogging distance between three buildings and a million classrooms down seventy-plus halls?
Maybe I should have let Julez show me around; as much as I hate to admit it, maps and I aren’t always the best of friends.
I mean, I can read them in theory; it’s the practice that gets me.
But at least I’m not late.
I fold up the welcome letter with his room number and our appointment time on it, slide it into my back pocket, then move forward and rap my knuckles on the door a few times.
It’s quiet, and I stand for a moment, worried I’ve got the wrong room or time, before finally I hear movement, and I let out a breath of relief.
I square my shoulders and stand as tall as I can, five-foot-nothing, and file away any emotion that might be on my face.
I just need to get in, get my schedule, and get out. Guidance counselors are glorified babysitters, here to help new students get a feel for school and talk them down should they crumble under the pressure.
I’m used to it, though; this school isn’t enough to touch what I’m used to, and I don’t need some old man trying to make me talk about my feelings.
Which is why I completely lose control of my face and feel my eyes go wide when the man who opens the door isn’t the slightest bit old and is easily the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Wren?” he asks, and his voice rolls over me, making my head spin.
We stand for a moment before he cocks a brow, and I realize he’s waiting for my response.
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out with a nod and almost melt into a puddle on the floor when his lips kick up the slightest bit.
“Come in, have a seat.” He steps back, sweeping an arm out toward two chairs that sit just inside his office, opposite his desk.
Again, I stand for a moment before I can make myself move, scurrying past him to fall into a chair as I hear the door close behind me.
Get it together, Wren. He’s your guidance counselor and a professor, which means he definitely won’t be interested in you!
By the time I’m done giving myself a pep talk, he’s moved back to his desk, and when I look up, I find his bright green eyes assessing me.
He looks nothing like any teacher I’ve ever had before. He’s tall and built. His white button-up shirt hugs his arms and chest tight enough that I almost worry he’ll pop a button if he breathes too deeply; not that I would complain.
His hair is brown and long, pulled back in a man bun that has no right looking as good as it does, and his face has a full beard and mustache to go with his strong jaw.
For as long as I stare, he does the same, as if unable or unwilling to look away. Or maybe he’s just weirded out by the fact that I’m staring at him.
I clear my throat and force my gaze away, looking around the room at literally anything else.
My eyes fall to the bookshelf built into the wall and the very old-looking books that line it.
It’s an impressive collection, and I have to remind myself this isn’t the time or place.
“Um, I’m Mr. Adler. I’ll be your guidance counselor for the year.
If you need to talk, help with classes, or assistance, you can schedule a meeting with me at any time.
My office hours are on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but if it’s really important, feel free to email me, and we can set something up.
I’m going to have our first meeting this Saturday just to ensure all of your classes go smoothly, and then we can discuss how often to meet from there. ”
I nod as he speaks to show I’m listening, though I still can’t make myself look at him yet. My cheeks are still warm, and if I look at him now, I know I’ll just end up flustered again.
I hear his chair turn before the click of keys has me glancing over to find his focus, thankfully, now on his computer.
“I’ll print off your schedule and all the information you need in order to go down and collect your books and uniform…
” He spins his chair around and grabs the freshly printed papers from the printer behind him before spinning back to face me.
He looks down at the paper for a moment, his brows scrunching in confusion.
“You appear to have a few extra classes…” He looks up, gauging my reaction.
“Yeah, I missed some time. I thought I might make up for it.”
‘Missed some time’ is putting it lightly; I’m a year behind.
I watch as his eyes soften, and I regret having brought it up. Of course, he knows I missed time, and given that he has access to my file, I’m sure he knows why.
Crap.
“If you need to talk about—”
“No!” I shout before I can stop myself. I take a deep breath to settle my racing heart and try again. “I’m good, thanks.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, and honestly, he’d be stupid if he were, and while he’s a few things, I’m pretty sure stupid isn’t one of them.
Fuckable, yes…
Ugh, why am I like this?
I reach my hand out for the paper, and he hesitates a moment, looking down at it before he looks back at me and sighs, handing me the paper.
I quickly shove to my feet, more than ready to leave, but I’m not fast enough, and he doesn’t take the hint.
“I’m here if you want to talk…” I pause but refuse to look at him. I don’t need the pity I know I’ll find in his gaze. I just need to graduate and get away, be free of this nightmare I call “life.” “About anything,” he adds almost as an afterthought, but somehow it still feels sincere.
I don’t need a friend or a shrink, though.
I need my brother back.
I need my parents…
I swallow past the lump in my throat and head for the door without so much as glancing back.
The door falls closed behind me, and I take off down the hall, not sure where I’m going but also not giving a damn. I just need to put some space between him and me, but more importantly, the memories.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even notice Julez until he’s damn near on top of me. He drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side as he falls into step beside me.
“Damn,” he whistles, leaning down so that he’s not towering over me. “You’re really not playing around with this whole brainiac thing, huh?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about my schedule, and I blame his proximity.
I also blame him for the fact that I didn’t even realize Titus was on my other side until he rudely snatches my schedule from my hands.
He’s literally done nothing but glare at me since I first walked into the dorm room yesterday. Why would he give a damn about what classes I have?
I move to snatch it back, but Julez holds me close, steering us down a hall I don’t think I’d been down earlier. Then again, I could be wrong; at this point, they're all starting to look the same.
“Hey, I need that!” I say, looking back over my shoulder the best I can as Julez drags me forward and Titus continues to lag only a few steps behind.
As much as I might wish I had an eidetic memory, I don’t, which means the two minutes spent looking over my classes didn’t cut it.
Even more so, they might as well have not even existed because I was too worried about my meeting with Mr. Alder to even be able to tell you what a single one of them was.
Great.
Just as I mentally accept the fact that I’ll have to go back to him and have him print me another copy, the paper is held out before me. Julez slows us to a stop, and I’m left facing a very pissed-off-looking Titus, my schedule in hand.
It’s a shame he has such a poor attitude; he really is beautiful, if not a little intense.
His amber eyes are sharp and let me know nothing gets past him, and his slightly darker complexion makes them pop even more.
He looks like he could be a model with his high cheekbones, strong jawline, and thick, voluminous hair.
It’s black, short on the sides, and combed back on the top.
He’s pretty; there’s no hiding that, but the slight growth of hair on his face makes him look almost rugged despite it.
I glare right back at him as I reach out, snagging it back. The second I have the paper, he turns away, stalking back down the hall the way we just came.
What is his problem?
“Let’s get you something to eat, and I’ll show you around, huh?” He phrases it like it’s a question, but he’s already leading me through the school, and yeah, I might need a guide.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m not hungry, but right before I can, the air is filled with the most delicious aroma, and my stomach grumbles.
Traitor.
The laugh that rumbles through Julez vibrates through me, and I purse my lips in annoyance but stay quiet.
This time.