Chapter 11
Skully
“Excuse me,” I mutter and go to step around him. It isn’t Heath’s fault his brother is a jackass, but my guess is that the brothers probably share their opinions of my dad and me.
“Your dad said you were living on campus,” he says to my back, and my feet stop moving.
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, trying to push aside the friendly tone in my voice. His statement hangs between us like a warm invitation, rather than the sharp and cutting words his brother used. While I would like to keep walking away, I realize how bratty that would seem. Spoiled. Hot-headed…
“Yeah, I moved in with Baylee,” I grit out with a tight smile on my lips, turning to visit with the guy who is most likely going to become my stepbrother.
He nods, like he already knew that little tidbit, not that I’m surprised.
His gaze tracks over me, and I feel suddenly self-conscious about my wide-leg jeans, scuffed Jordans, and cropped, black graphic t-shirt with the artwork of a woman’s hand, adorned in rings and red nail polish, flicking the middle finger up.
It’s pretty fitting for this moment. Even still, I find myself fingering the edges of my jacket nervously.
“That’s cool. How have you been?”
My brow rises at that loaded question. He may be cute and look innocent enough, but I don’t trust any Danvers. “Adjusting.”
“Right,” he acknowledges, and his hand comes up to rub the back of his neck almost sheepishly.
“Well, got to get to class,” I tell him, keeping my tone light and my smile in place. “See you around, Heath.”
He looks puzzled for a second at my friendly wave and quick escape, but recovers fast enough, giving a small wave in return.
After I’ve made it several feet, only then do I dare to turn and glance over my shoulder.
Thankfully, he’s kept moving, and I exhale the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
That was a little too close for comfort.
I’ll have to double my efforts not to get caught up with anyone else from my old life.
The rest of the morning passes uneventfully.
I successfully dodge around the more occupied areas of campus and find secluded paths between the buildings where my classes are located.
Part of me dreaded the stares that might follow me or the mindless gossip, but so far, there has been none of it.
My name isn’t whispered in the wind, and no one is lying in wait to confront me.
It’s almost as if my past self doesn’t exist here, or if it does, I no longer matter.
Not that I want the rumors from River Falls High School following me around.
If I have to be here, I want a fresh start.
I want to be different from the girl they remember.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and for one fleeting second, I panic, remembering the unknown number from last night.
My gaze darts around, taking in the smaller clusters of students and the giant stone and brick building where my political science class is located.
No one is watching me, thankfully, and my magic calms beneath the surface again.
I grab my phone from my jacket pocket and tap the screen open.
Dad. My stomach twists in knots all over again.
Ever since he made his demand for me to return, we haven’t talked.
Thanks to Aunt Loreli, I have successfully dodged any attempts at contact from him.
DAD: Family dinner this Friday at the house.
My teeth sink into my bottom lip so hard that the coppery taste of my blood fills my mouth, while my knuckles turn white from the grip on my phone.
I refuse to let him dictate my time. After the accident, he didn’t reach out until he needed me here after the blast. And I may not remember it, but it’s been said more than once, the only reason he brought me here the last time was because my magic made its appearance.
Not once has he acted like my father or shown he cares about me.
If the rumors about the cliff had been true, how is it that my own father hadn’t known what his daughter was going through?
He was all-knowing in the kingdom, so how did he not know what my life had been like?
Furiously, calmly, my fingers dance across the keyboard before closing out of the messages and pocketing my phone.
ME: Sorry, new job just started. I’ll be working. Raincheck.
It’s a half-truth. I am hoping to have a new job after my interview, and I suspect that if hired, I will be working most Friday evenings and weekends in a busy college bar. If I’m not already working this weekend, I am not above begging my new boss to put me on the schedule.
“I’m sorry, what?” I glance from Topper’s mouth to his eyes, making sure I heard him correctly, then drop my eyes again to the t-shirts he’s holding out to me.
My interview went well, and the manager asked when I could start training. Since my afternoon is free, the one bonus of morning classes, she let me start today.
“I know it’s weird, but it’s how we show our support on meet days.” He huffs lightly and holds out the four shirts for me to choose from. I glare at the images of Madden, Aero, Killian, and Heath printed on the material.
“Oh, really? Do you have to wear a shirt with some random guy’s face across your boobs?” I accuse, my arms crossing over my chest. I absolutely refuse to wear a shirt with any of the guys who may or may not have made my life miserable two years ago, but are absolutely not my friends now.
“Yes. We all do. It’s school spirit. Girls actively fight over who gets to wear who, and I always pick the underdog, which is Heath this year, as he’s a freshman,” Topper explains, while glaring back at me.
“Why can’t I have one of the other guy?” I point to the board of the top five-ranked swimmers for the school. Number four seems to be missing from the t-shirt pile.
Topper pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oliver’s girlfriend is Stassia.
Stassia works here as a bartender. She is the last person you want to piss off on busy nights when you need your drinks cold and fast,” he explains while handing me the t-shirt with Oliver’s face on it.
Objectively, he’s a very good-looking man, but just because I have his shirt does not mean I want to fuck him.
But I’d choose this and Stassia’s wrath over wearing any of the others’ faces on my body.
“Is Stassia here?” I ask, scanning the mostly empty bar and restaurant.
Topper nods to the farthest bar by the small dance floor, where a very gorgeous woman with wild, curly black hair is stocking booze. My fingers clench around the shirt he handed me, and I walk over to her.
“Stassia?” I ask, giving her a small smile as I approach. From far away, she was pretty, but up close, this woman is gorgeous with bronze skin and sharp, caramel-colored eyes.
She glances up, and her brow rises. “Are you the new girl I’m training?”
I nod and place the t-shirt on top of the bar. “I just wanted to ask first if it’s okay if I take one of Oliver’s t-shirts for meet days? Topper said you’re his girlfriend, and I don’t want to step on any toes.”
“You don’t want one with the fierce four across your tits?” she questions, looking me up and down.
“There’s a history I’m not going to get into, but no. You seem decent, and if this guy is your boyfriend, I’d rather support him than the other four,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulders.
I can practically feel Topper and the other servers’ eyes on us, drilling holes in my back with their curiosity. Stassia’s head tilts, contemplating me, and for a few seconds I worry that this plan isn’t going to go in my favor. Then her lips twitch, and she shoves the t-shirt into my arms.
“Oliver will love that the new hot chick is wearing his face.” She laughs when the smile on my lips dims. “I swear it’s fine. I actually think it’s impressive you came over to ask me. My man can use all the support he can get.”
I exhale and gently fold the fabric up, shoving it into my backpack. “Thank you. I never would want to disrespect the woman the guy was seeing.”
“I can tell you’re a girl’s girl,” Stassia says, her lips tilting into a smile. “Go put your stuff in the lockers, then meet me back here. I’ll show you how to stock the bar and get ready for the evening.”
Turning on my heel, I walk back to Topper, who is watching with part amazement and disbelief on his face. “She’s letting you wear an Oliver?”
“I asked nicely,” I tell him, giving a small shrug of my shoulders.
He laughs and motions for me to follow him. “I’ll show you your locker.”
We walk to the back, and I stash my stuff before grabbing an apron and a bar towel.
Topper gives me a quick rundown of the back area, where the tips go, where extra pens and paper are if I ever need to help serve food, and lastly, where the schedule is that shows which sections or bar I’m assigned to.
After that, I meet up with Stassia again, and the real work begins.
By the end of my shift, my arms are burning, and I can barely feel my feet.
It isn’t until Stassia hands me a small portion of her tips from the night that I feel this as being progress.
The lights inside the bar flick off as soon as we all head out the front door.
The sky is completely dark, the moon hidden behind clouds, when I start walking back to campus.
Each step I take, my magic tingles beneath my skin, and I fight the urge to look behind me.
Warmth fills my stomach, and my fingertips spark as I walk faster.
The hair on my neck catches a breeze, and chills run down my spine.
I’m being watched, followed. I swear I can feel their heartbeat alongside mine.
My legs move faster until I’m almost running down the path that leads to the road where my apartment is.
Each of my breaths are deep as I fight to keep the fear at bay, while holding my magic back instead of letting it out for protection.
The worry about humans seeing is the only thing keeping me from reacting.
This path is too open, and anyone could see.
There’s a thud behind me, the sound of a twig snapping, and I sprint forward.
Every time my feet hit the pavement, I swear there’s an echo that sounds behind me.
My eyes glance over my shoulder, but there’s only shadows and darkness.
Shit. My arms propel me faster ahead, and my backpack bounces against my shoulders painfully with every motion.
The apartment comes into view, and I force myself to move faster.
My lungs squeeze painfully, fear choking my throat.
Right as my hand touches the door handle, my body is shoved against the glass, and a cold force crashes into me.
My ears ring, and I almost drop to my knees from the way my sight turns blurry, and it feels like my energy escapes me.
Falling to my knees, my hands catch on the cement.
The electric purple of my magic zaps at my fingertips.
I force my head up, looking around, only to find the parking lot and surrounding area empty.
I need to breathe, to fight through it. My chest heaves while I worry about taking a deep breath in and out.
Slowly, my sight comes back into focus. My hearing returns, and the sound of my blood pumping furiously in my veins fades.
“What the hell,” I mutter to myself, placing my hand on my chest, willing the rapid thumping of my heart to slow.
My magic pushes and pulls at me. Without any other options, I glance around once more before opening my palm up to the sky.
Purple swirls leech out, circling around me before shooting across the dark sky.
I wait and breath in, feeling the wind. Breathe out, hearing the rustle of the trees in the breeze.
My eyes open, and my magic returns, pouring itself back into my palm and leaving a loving caress in its wake.
There’s no threat nearby. Whatever just happened is gone.
It’s done. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or something darker, but right now I can’t bring myself to care.
My body aches, and I’m unwilling to let the success of my day be overshadowed by whatever this was.
Resolve sets in as I open the front door and head for the stairs to my floor.
The place is quiet when I get in, and I turn off the lamp that Baylee left on for me before tucking myself into my room.
Flicking on my bedside lamp, I set my bag down, and my eyes drift toward the window.
My magic hums again, but I’m already on my feet, walking over.
My eyes glance out the window and down the abandoned streets.
Nothing moves in the shadows. “I’m losing it already,” I murmur to myself, reaching for the curtain.
My fingertips touch the material, and just as I close it, the shadows move.