Chapter 6 Mara
SIX
MARA
The library is all but deserted this late at night as I settle into our usual corner with Jasper Thorne, spreading my organic chem notes across the wooden table between us.
When I finally have our setup settled, I fall into the chair opposite of him.
A small smile tugs at the corner of his lip when he sees my shoulders finally relaxed.
I swear he’s the human equivalent of a deep breath.
Most men who are part of Omega Chi Kappa are loud, abrasive, rude, and just downright abysmal to talk to.
But Jasper is… different.
His blond hair sticks out from under his backward black baseball cap, curling just above his eyebrow. His cut-off gray shirt allows me full view of his sleeve of tattoos on both arms—inked with roses and geometric shapes that, if I stare at too long, I find myself getting lost in.
Jasper catches my eye and signs, “You ready?” Raising his eyebrows in question.
He doesn’t speak. Maybe that’s another reason why I can tolerate him more than most. I’ve never asked him why he’s nonverbal, but it works out for me, seeing as silence is something I prefer.
I nod. “Ready.”
A friend of mine in elementary school had a little sister who was deaf, and I remember watching them sign to each other on the playground.
That day, I went home and begged my parents for sign language classes until they finally caved.
It was one hobby that my father didn’t squash—probably because he could exploit it later on in his career, which he did.
We dive into the session, working through the few homework assignments we have due this next week.
“Explain this reaction mechanism to me,” I say, tapping a diagram of a nucleophilic substitution in his textbook. His blue-green eyes hold mine for a moment, searching for an answer.
He takes a deep breath and tries to explain. “Okay,” he signs slowly. “The hydroxide attacks the carbon. Leaving the group is bromine, so it’s an SN2 reaction… backside attack.”
As he signs, I sketch a quick arrow-pushing diagram in his notebook to illustrate what he’s explaining.
I lean over the table to show him, and a stray lock of my dark hair slips and falls in front of my eyes.
Before I can tuck it back, Jasper reaches out gently and brushes the strand behind my ear.
His fingertips graze my neck for barely a second, but I go completely still, my heart doing a weird little flip at the brief contact.
It’s such a simple, platonic gesture, but try telling that to the heat creeping up my cheeks.
I duck my head, pretending to fix my diagram to hide my blush.
Focus, Mara. This is a study session. I’m his tutor.
He doesn’t seem to notice my fluster. Instead, his fingers run over my drawing. The tendons in his forearms shift and I find myself staring at the rose wrapping around his right forearm. And when he twists his wrist, I see the tail of a dragon curling toward his elbow.
He clears his throat, snapping me out of my trance.
“Exactly! SN2—one-step bimolecular. Good. Good.” I shake my head and take a deep breath.
Later, Jasper fumbles through a particularly-convoluted reaction mechanism, “Nope,” I tease, tapping my pen against the table. “You flipped the nucleophile and the leaving group again.”
Jasper groans, dragging a hand down his face.
He’s trying. I respect that.
“You’re getting there. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Jasper smiles, sheepishly, then signs back, “Thanks. I’m just not naturally good at this stuff,” rolling his eyes in that quiet, self-deprecating way he does when he’s not sure if he’s joking or judging himself.
I narrow my eyes playfully. “What’s your major again?”
He signs, “Business,” and then adds quickly, “But I need this class for the pre-med core. Technically, I’m trying to double major with bio-psych, but… chemistry’s not exactly my thing.”
“Ah. So you just like to torture yourself?” I tease, lips twitching into something close to a smirk.
He groans again, slumping forward in his chair, head in his hands for dramatic effect. “It’s evil. This whole subject is a scam.”
“Well, unfortunately for you, it’s a required scam,” I remind him. “But you’re doing fine. You just need more practice.”
He peeks up at me through his fingers, then drops his hands and straightens. “One step at a time, right?”
I nod. “Exactly.”
His smile deepens, and I catch a dimple in his left cheek that I haven’t noticed before. Weird, the things you start seeing once the frustration clears.
He signs, “So… what about you? Are you actually into this stuff, or just a masochist like me?”
“I’m a control freak. So, yeah.”
He laughs with a soft, breathy exhale. “Figures.”
“I like rules that can be bent without anyone noticing,” I add, tapping the edge of the textbook. “Organic’s not intuitive, but once you understand the patterns, it obeys. Unlike people.”
That makes him pause, just for a second. Then he nods slowly, like he’s filing that away.
“Your brain is terrifying,” he signs.
“Thank you,” I deadpan, and he grins.
We fall back into the rhythm. Problem after problem. Reaction after reaction. He misses some, gets others right.
I try not to notice the way he watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. Not in that gross, assessing way some guys do, but like he’s studying me the same way I’m trying to decode these molecules.
We’ve almost made it through the entire problem set when he nails a substitution mechanism all on his own and drops his pen in triumph, flashing me a wide, crooked smile, like a kid who just beat the final level of a game.
“Nice!”
He practically beams. “I never thought I’d feel this smug about organic chemistry,” he signs, leaning back in his chair like he just conquered the world.
I smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head. We still haven’t touched aromaticity.”
His grin falters. “Cruel.”
I give him a shrug.
I’m halfway through writing out the next formula when I notice Jasper’s gaze flick over my shoulder. His posture stiffens almost imperceptibly, alerting me that something—or someone—is behind me. Before I can turn around, a booming, grating voice speaks above me. “This your tutor, Jass?”
I practically jump out of my seat, my pen dragging a jagged line across the page as I twist toward the voice. And, of course, there he is.
Talon Reed.
Red hair tousled like he just rolled out of someone’s bed, wearing that smug, shit-eating grin. He leans against the bookshelf like he owns the place, which, knowing his frat-boy god complex, he probably believes he does.
I catch the faint scent of cigarettes beneath a lazy layer of mint gum. He tried to cover it up at least.
“Jasper and I are classmates,” I snap before he can say whatever stupid thing is already on the tip of his tongue. “Doing homework. Fuck off.”
Talon doesn’t even blink. He cocks his head like I just complimented him. “Y’all fucking?”
My jaw drops. “You’re the most disgusting person I’ve ever met.”
“More disgusting than Dredyn?” Talon tosses back, eyes twinkling with mischief.
It’s a toss-up. “Close second.”
“Aw, Princess,” he coos, pushing off the shelf. “You always this desperate for attention?”
I arch a brow. “That’s rich coming from someone who can’t walk into a room without announcing himself like a human foghorn.”
Talon just grins wider, like I fed him cake. “Oh, I get plenty of attention. Usually from people who aren’t this uptight.”
“Then maybe go get some of that attention somewhere else,” I mutter, flicking my hand toward the mess of flashcards and diagrams between Jasper and me. “We’re a little busy here.”
He ignores that. Of course.
Instead, he drags out the empty chair beside me and plops down like he belongs. Like I didn’t just tell him to fuck off two seconds ago.
His knee knocks against mine under the table—hard enough to feel, soft enough to question. I go still. My brain screams at me to scoot away, to shove him, to say something, but my legs betray me. So I sit there, heart ticking a little too fast, suddenly hyperaware of the heat bleeding off him.
Jasper says nothing beside me, but I catch the smallest flicker in his expression—a barely-there crease of his brows. He’s just as annoyed at our interruption.
Talon, oblivious or pretending to be, snatches one of my flashcards from the stack and holds it up like it’s a menu at a strip club. “Cyclohexanol… oxidation… fun times,” he drawls, pretending to yawn.
“Give it back,” I grit out.
He twirls it between his fingers. “You’re so serious. Is this what you do for fun? Tutor guys with nice hands and pretty bone structure?”
I snatch the card back, giving him a flat look. “Delusion really is your kink, isn’t it?”
Talon laughs, full-bodied and unbothered. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”
I shoot a glance toward Jasper, silently apologizing for the circus. He just taps his pen against the desk once and signs, “Ignore him. He thrives on chaos.”
Talon catches the movement. “Oh. You know ASL? I mean… I guess it makes sense considering Jassy-poo doesn’t really talk. That’s hot.”
“Wow,” I deadpan. “New low.”
“You wound me,” he says, placing a dramatic hand over his heart.
“Not yet, but I’m considering it.”
He smirks again. And then, mercifully, he stands, dragging the chair back with an obnoxious screech.
“You’re feisty when you’re trying not to be into someone.”
“I’m not into you.”
“Sure you’re not.” He winks before turning his attention over to Jasper. “We were curious who you were going to have tutor you. I volunteered, you know.”
I snort. “You’re a communications major. What the hell do you know?”
Jasper signs, “Leave it. Both of you.”
But Talon just grins wider, clearly ignoring the warning. “Anyway, I didn’t drop in to ruin your little study date—”
“It’s not a date,” I interject swiftly, probably a little too loudly. I immediately regret the intensity of that denial when I see Talon’s grin widen and Jasper’s eyebrow quirk upward. Great. Now I sound super defensive.
Talon steps back, tossing his hands up. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two nerds to your hydrocarbons. Don’t let me interrupt true love or whatever.”
He’s halfway turned before he adds, “Dredyn’s gonna lose his shit.”
I stiffen. “Why would he care?”
Talon shrugs one shoulder. “He just doesn’t like sharing.”
I gape at him. “I’m not his. I don’t even know him.”
He hums noncommittally, already walking off, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. “Tell that to him.”
And then he’s gone.
Silence stretches between Jasper and me.
I press my hands flat to the table to ground myself. “And they’re your best friends?”
He nods, signing, “He’s always like that.”
I give him a weak smile. “It’s so fucking irritating”
There’s a pause. Then Jasper signs, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, “I’m good.”
He watches me a moment longer, then gestures back to the notes. “We can stop if you want.”
But I shake my head, reaching for my pen. “No. I want to keep going.”
Jasper gives a small nod, tapping the next problem on the worksheet. I slide it toward me and lean over the paper.
We pick up where we left off, slipping back into our rhythm like Talon never happened.
But still, somewhere in the back of my mind, that name clings to me.
Dredyn.
He doesn’t like sharing?
Well, I’m not a thing to be owned.