Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
the olive branch
MATTY
The vibration of my cell phone against the desk interrupts my concentration, the screen lighting up with a notification.
Gia: Still think you’re gonna make it out tonight?
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I reach over to pick it up, quickly typing a response to her message.
Matty: Don’t think so, sorry. I’m still finishing up some work.
I set my phone back down with a sigh, glancing at Blair over the top of my computer monitor.
Her face is lit by the glow of her own screen, her plump lower lip pinched between her teeth and her brow furrowed in thought. I will those espresso eyes to lift and meet mine, but they remain intently focused on her work, seemingly oblivious to my stare.
My phone vibrates against my desk again and I look down at it as Gia’s responsive message flashes on the screen. No words, just a sad face emoji.
Damn.
Gia is attractive, kind, and seems to actually like me, so why am I forgoing a night out at the local bar with her in favor of sitting in the dark with a girl who despises me?
If anyone were to ask me that, I’d say it’s because I’m dedicated to my work, but I know the real answer is a lot more nuanced.
Blair and I have been working together in the hunter taskforce for an entire week now, and we’ve actually accomplished a lot in that time, despite keeping our communication to a minimum.
I’ve been respecting her boundaries and playing by her rules, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on my efforts at establishing a friendship.
I’m just slow-playing this, hoping she’ll warm up to me with time.
Persistence always pays off. Cam eventually came around, and he was a lot meaner than Blair at first brush.
She probably doesn’t even realize how much progress we’ve already made.
I feel her watching me sometimes as we work– at first, she glared with animosity, but over the past few days, those looks have shifted to curiosity.
I swear there’s even been a few times where she seemed tempted to strike up a conversation.
I’ve been watching her, too, mostly because it’s hard not to.
All the women here are undeniably beautiful, but Blair just has a special something that sets her apart from the rest. Maybe it’s because she’s different, with her gothic style and sharp tongue.
Maybe her broken pieces call to my own on some deeper level.
Whatever it is, she’s captivated me without even trying, to the point where I’ve begun to fantasize about her whenever I’m alone.
What can I say? I’m a man, and she’s hot.
I’m constantly wondering if that raven hair of hers feels as soft as it looks, my fingers itching to run through the strands.
The way her lips pout and twist as she concentrates sends my mind drifting off to filthy places, especially when she absently chews on the end of her pen as she works.
Blair has no idea what she does to me– or perhaps she knows and just enjoys putting me through the torment.
That’d track, actually. She doesn’t seem like a girl who misses much.
Blair yawns, and I glance down at the clock on my screen.
It’s getting late. Cam and Avery left the command center hours ago, but I resolved to stay until the last task on my list for the week was ticked off– and though we didn’t plan or discuss it, Blair seems to be doing the same.
The overhead lights are on a timer, so they went out long ago.
Neither of us got up to flip them back on.
I guess we’re both content to sit in the dark behind the glow of our monitors, hiding from the world.
She must use work as a distraction, too.
My phone vibrates again, a Snapchat notification lighting up the screen this time.
I pick it up and double-check that my volume is off before swiping to open it, a video of Gia in a skin-tight dress filling my screen.
I watch the short clip play, Gia taking a shot and dancing with her friends, then blowing a kiss at the screen before it abruptly ends.
My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I debate how to reply, but then Blair yawns once more, stealing my attention.
I flicker a glance in her direction, taking advantage of the few seconds that her eyes are closed to appraise her. Blair and Gia couldn’t be more opposite. Aside from their dark hair, there isn’t a common thread between the two girls. Gia likes me, but… I like Blair.
Her eyes pop open, and I quickly avert my gaze and look back down at my phone, closing out of the Snapchat app without replying and setting it back down on my desk.
“If you actually took your job seriously, maybe you wouldn’t still be here,” Blair comments as she focuses back in on her monitor.
I just grunt in response, resisting the urge to roll my eyes.
Blair doesn’t know it, but she’s the reason I’m still here.
I finished up my last task twenty minutes ago.
I’ve just been keeping busy since, cleaning up my files and re-organizing my desktop icons.
I could easily leave now and go meet Gia at the bar– I’m sure she’d be glad to see me.
Instead, I’m lingering in solidarity, patiently waiting for Blair to call it a night.
It doesn’t seem right to leave her all alone here. We’re supposed to be partners, even if she has been giving me the cold shoulder since we met.
It’s after midnight when she finally starts packing up her stuff, shutting off her computer and pushing up from her chair.
“Heading out?” I ask, glancing up at her.
“Mhmm,” she hums in acknowledgement, avoiding making eye contact with me as she slings the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder.
“See you Monday, then?”
She dips her chin in a barely discernible nod, turning on a heel and strutting toward the door.
I watch her disappear through it, then wait a few minutes before shutting down my own computer and tossing my things into my backpack. Slipping it on, I exit the command center and make my way through the darkened hallways of the squad complex to the dorms.
It’s unusually quiet tonight, everyone either asleep or out having fun somewhere to kick off the weekend. Again, I could go meet Gia… but there’s something else I have in mind. Something that involves less clothing.
While shifters and humans are more alike than I ever realized, their comfort with nudity is something I’m still struggling to adapt to.
They never bat an eye at getting naked, and though I’m not puritanical by any means, the shower situation here is awkward as hell.
One side of the locker room consists of a dozen showerheads along the wall– no stalls, no curtains.
Everyone just showers together out in the open, and because I can’t not blush when I see a naked woman, I choose to shower in the middle of the night, when nobody else is around.
It’s less than ideal, but far better than the embarrassment of popping a stiffy in the shower at the sight of boobs. I learned that lesson the hard way.
After stopping off at my dorm room to gather a change of clothes, I make my way down to the locker room, confident it’ll be vacant since it’s after midnight.
When I push open the door to enter, however, I’m greeted by the soft echo of running water.
The overhead lights are off, the interior lit only by the dim wall sconces that are difficult to see by.
I squint through the darkness, unable to discern whether anyone’s there from my vantage point.
As I move further inside, I make out the shape of a small figure huddled on the floor beneath one of the showers. Her back is against the wall, knees pulled into her chest and a curtain of dark hair hiding her face.
Is she hurt?
Aiming to investigate, I cautiously advance toward her, the sound of water splashing against the tiles masking both my footsteps and the girl’s muffled sobs.
"Are you alright?" I ask hesitantly.
She abruptly snaps her head up, recognition slamming into me at the sight of her scowling face.
"Get out!" Blair snarls, the words tearing from her throat.
I flinch back in surprise, spinning around and hightailing it the hell out of there. The second I’m on the other side of the door, though, I freeze. Then I turn around and go back in.
Blair’s still right where I left her, huddled beneath the shower with her face buried in the tops of her knees. Grabbing a towel off the rack, I advance in her direction, clearing my throat to announce my presence.
She lifts her head, dark eyes shining with anguish when they meet mine. Then she opens her mouth– probably to yell at me to get out again– but I beat her to the punch.
“I can’t leave you like this,” I say as I come to a stop a few feet from her, crouching down so we’re at eye level.
Blair frowns back at me, brow furrowing. "We’re not friends, Matty."
"I know," I rasp, extending the towel toward her.
Another olive branch.
She snatches it from my grasp, face screwing up in rekindled anger. "This is all your fault, don't you get it?" she chokes out.
"No, it's not," I reply calmly, maintaining steady eye contact. "I wasn't there that day. I'm trying to make amends for my part in it, but…” I trail off, swallowing thickly. “I can't bring your mate back, Blair."
"You're right,” she whispers, shoulders drooping as some of the fight drains out of her. “You can’t, so just go.”
Fuck.
It kills me to see her like this, broken down and sobbing on the floor. She’s clearly in pain, and while she may not consider us friends, I’m a damn human being with compassion. I’m not walking away when her grief is so palpable.
I’m no stranger to the dredges of grief.
I still grieve every Guild soldier, and while I don’t regret helping take them out, the guilt for my involvement in their demise will haunt me forever.
Our situations are different, but loss weaves a common thread between Blair and I, whether she wants to admit it or not.
Pushing up to my feet, I step closer to the shower and crank the dial to turn off the spray, lowering myself down to sit against the wall beside blair.
“Tell me about him?” I ask quietly, ignoring how quickly the water on the floor soaks into the ass of my jeans. “What was his name?”
“Dylan,” she sniffles, wiping her nose with a wrist.
I dip my chin in a nod. “Did you love him?”
She doesn’t reply, the silence between us hanging heavy. I shift my weight uncomfortably, lips parting to retract the stupid question I just asked, but then she draws a shuddered breath and drives a knife straight into my gut.
“I would’ve, if given the chance.”
I drop my head back against the tile, squeezing my eyes closed and dragging a hand down my face. “I’m so sorry, Blair.”
“Sometimes I think it’s a good thing I didn’t really know him,” she murmurs, staring down at the tops of her knees. “It already hurts so much, but if I knew him, it probably would’ve been worse, right?”
“But you wouldn’t have always had to wonder,” I reply, thinking aloud.
She lifts her head, turning it toward me. “Exactly.”
Some fragile sense of understanding passes between us as we hold eye contact, but then she looks away and the moment’s gone. Blair pushes up to her feet with a heavy sigh, wrapping the fluffy white towel around her body as I rise to stand beside her.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, swiping wet strands of dark hair away from her face. “For the towel.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmur, holding her stare. “For the towel.”