Chapter 16
I manage to spend the weekend avoiding Knox, sequestered with Trinity and Edward in the med wing, where we do our best to cheer her up without much success.
It’s also a reprieve from the constant looks and questions about my own botched initiation.
Silver and Hazel come to visit, and though they try to act normal for her sake, I can tell they’re uncomfortable.
I understand why. They’re worried for Trin, of course, but being associated with either of us risks their reputation with Fiama now.
It’s our friendship up against their family legacy .
. . Still, I won’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt.
But I must eat eventually, and Knox finds me in the cafeteria on Monday at lunch. He drops into the seat next to me without being asked. “Why am I hearing rumors that you’re hanging out with the scat?”
“I’m not hanging out with him,” I say. “And don’t use that word. It’s vile. He happened to be nearby when Trinity fainted, and he carried her to the med wing. He was actually really helpful.”
I recall my conversation with Rook when I found him outside the med wing the other day. He claimed he was just standing there, but I can’t shake the feeling that he was waiting for me. Which is ridiculous. Why would he do that?
“You let him touch her?” Knox asks with obvious horror.
I give him a disgusted look. “What do you care? You didn’t even ask if she’s okay. Or me, for that matter.”
Knox rolls his eyes, picking up his fork and shoveling potato salad into his mouth as Jackson and Sal sit across from us with their lunch trays.
“Hi,” Jackson says, his gaze darting between us.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.
“You clearly have something to say.”
He shrugs as he picks up his mug and sips his coffee. “You sure give us a lot to talk about these days.”
“Jackson,” Knox says, a warning in his tone.
“I’m not trying to give her a hard time. Poet, I’m not. I’m just worried about you.”
Sometimes Jackson is very good at sticking his foot in his mouth, but his heart is in the right place.
“I’m okay,” I say.
He gives me a knowing look before he glares at Knox.
We’re interrupted by the arrival of Winter and Lacey, both of whom I’ve been avoiding like the plague.
Knox made good on his word to have my room cleaned up and new uniforms delivered.
I also suspect he said something to the girls, because they’ve gone from openly hostile to pretending I don’t exist at all, which is perfect.
I welcome that. Hopefully, we can keep this up for the next three years.
Winter sits down on the other side of Knox, while Lacey plops down beside Jackson and immediately starts giggling and tossing her hair.
Jackson focuses on his food, mostly silent, and I watch them, realizing what’s going on.
Jackson is totally clueless that Lacey is into him.
Unlike Sal, who’ll go down on any girl who gives him the time of day, Jackson has always been a bit more reserved when it comes to women.
And it’s not for lack of options. He’s got that quiet, broody thing going on that makes him seem a little mysterious.
He really isn’t, but the vibes are immaculate.
I’m not sure whether I should encourage Lacey’s attraction, so she has something to focus on beyond hating me, or if Jackson is way too good for her and deserves someone better.
The conversation continues as I pick at my food, realizing I don’t have much of an appetite.
I scan the cafeteria, noticing Rook near the counter, holding his tray between his large hands.
As if feeling my attention, he glances over, and my chest squeezes with a foreign sensation that feels like a very bad decision.
I quickly look away to meet Knox’s narrowed eyes, as though he’s trying very hard to put something together.
Rook is now shuffling his way between the tables, searching for an empty seat.
I should never have looked over, because Knox clearly noticed and is now focused on Rook.
Though the bruises on Knox’s neck have faded since the day Rook humiliated him, Knox has clearly been plotting his revenge.
He has a look in his eye that suggests the time has come.
So I do my best to distract him. Something tells me that Knox can try, but he’ll lose to Rook every time.
“What’s on your schedule this morning?” I ask, tugging on Knox’s wrist, but he ignores me as he continues staring at Rook.
I brace myself because I know that look far too well. I’ve played witness to it since we were six years old. He’s definitely plotting something.
Something reckless.
As Rook passes, Knox sticks his foot out. It all happens in a flash. Rook smoothly steps over it and spins around, his fist cocked. It connects with Knox’s face with a crack. Knox’s head whips back, and he tips over, scattering plates and glasses of juice everywhere.
A general rush of shouts and screams accompanies dishes clinking and people leaping up from their seats to avoid the mess.
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath as Knox groans and flops onto the table. Blood oozes from his nose, dripping down his face and pooling under his chin.
Rook leans over and hauls Knox up by the back of his shirt before pulling him close. “Didn’t learn your lesson last time?” Rook snarls in his ear. “Fuck off and leave me alone.”
Then he shoves Knox away. Knox slides off the seat, landing on the floor. Through it all, I can’t seem to move. Why am I always next to Knox whenever this happens?
Also, why was that kind of hot? It wasn’t. Skies, I need therapy.
Rook wipes his nose with the back of his hand, glaring at me and everyone else.
Inexplicably, his tray is still balanced in his other hand. Even the glass of water remains upright, and I swear he didn’t spill a drop. Okay, that is kind of hot.
He continues his way down to the end of the table, where he slams into his seat, picks up a bun, and tears into it with his teeth.
While he stares ahead, chewing slowly, I think he’s trying to make it seem like he doesn’t care, but I suspect this all bothers him more than he’s letting on.
Understandably. A part of me wants to go over and apologize, but I don’t think either of us wants the attention that would draw.
It’s better for Rook if I keep my distance.
Knox is such an ass. Did he really think he’d trip him like some dumb high school movie from the Warming Age?
“I think he passed out,” Sal says, hovering over Knox. His left eye is already swelling, and blood continues to drip down his face.
Jackson sighs and plants his hands on his hips. “Great. Now he’ll never shut up about this.”