Chapter 27
Sadie
The trees in the quad flutter with orange, yellow, and ruby-red leaves. Students move in clusters, wearing scarves and coats.
A professor crosses the quad with papers tucked under an arm to keep them from blowing away in the swirling breeze. The overcast sky hangs low and gray, clouds skimming the highest turrets of Darkbloom.
The Bindery overlooks the quad, and I sit at a quiet table near a window, books and study notes spread out before me. The café has become my favorite spot to spend time when I have no afternoon classes, like today.
Stained-glass lamps emit colorful glows, threadbare embroidered rugs cover the hardwood floors, and a dancing fire crackles in the hearth.
Looking more closely, I realize the professor in the quad is Professor Worthington.
He slows down when approached by Chuck Fairchild.
The two men have a brief discussion, ending when the student advisor strides away suddenly, as if wanting the last word.
Professor Worthington frowns after him thoughtfully.
“Here you go,” says the waitress, delivering the steaming mug to my table with a smile. “Maple pecan latte and a chocolate croissant.”
“Thank you so much,” I say.
The mug warms my fingers as I sip the drink. Licking cinnamon-sugar foam from my lips, I dwell on Lucan and the fact that I slept with him.
The whole thing is difficult to wrap my head around. What it meant. How I feel. If I want to see him again or run away.
The morning after, I left as soon as I could, once his father was gone. I needed a chance to think and decompress, but thinking has done little to untangle the situation in my head.
Lucan has proven capable of violence. He beat the teeth out of the fedora-wearing guy at my poetry reading just for heckling me. What’s more, he has the resources to get away with anything.
Yet I keep recalling my reaction when I found him after fleeing my attacker at the gala. I felt safe with Lucan on a fundamental level. Should I listen to that instinct? Or are my instincts faulty due to my physical attraction to him?
The sex was good. So damn good. I never knew sex could be like that. He made my body feel things I didn’t know were possible.
Though I tried to hide what we’d done from my roommates, they knew right away. Juliette said it was my swollen mouth, while Clara insisted I carried the aura of sex. This horrified me, especially since I had scrubbed my entire body in Lucan’s shower before leaving.
Lucan is violent, invasive, and obsessive. Is that what it takes to capture my attention? What does that say about me?
Maybe that I’m no angel either. But unlike Lucan, I hide my dark parts. What if that makes me worse than him?
Rearranging my skirt, I shift in my seat. It’s been days since we had sex. The delicious ache between my legs is fading. In an effort to satiate myself, I bite into the chocolate croissant, buttery flakes raining onto the plate.
Lucan and I come from such different worlds too. Could I ever truly belong with him, among his people? Not that he’s asked me to. For all I know, he’s done with me. We’ve barely spoken since we had sex.
Midterm exams loom and I need to focus. So while I devour the croissant, I pick up my pen and get to work. Like always, I quickly become lost in writing.
During class, Professor Worthington hinted about our creative writing exam. We’ll each need to produce a short story using different themes and genres we pick from a hat. He said it would be fun. Zahra asked, “For whom?”
My head is down as I practice writing dialogue when a large shadow falls over my page.
For half a second, my hearing readjusts to the room around me.
I register the new, hushed silence, like the whole café is holding its breath.
The Bindery is usually filled with humming conversations and the whirring coffee machine.
My pen pauses mid-sentence, because I know it’s him standing over my table. If not by his scent, I would know him by my increased heart rate and the electricity in the air. My body senses him.
The chair across from me scrapes softly against the floor and Lucan sits down without an invitation. Raising my head, my eyes meet his striking gaze.
The effect he has on me is stronger than ever. My mouth dries and my blood warms.
What’s he doing here? What does he want?
He reaches over and removes the pen from my hand.
“You’re done for the day,” he says like we’ve already discussed it, except we haven’t.
“Says who?” I ask.
Lucan throws down the pen. “I’m taking you on a date.”
Intense whispering takes place to my right. I glance over at the table of seniors staring at us and holding a discussion. Snatches of their conversation reach my ears.
“Did he just ask—?”
“Is she that girl who—”
“No way…”
One snaps photos of us on her phone.
“Oh really?” Leaning back, I fold my arms. I refuse to behave like his timid fangirl just because other students are. “When did you ask me for a date? I think I’d remember that.”
A guy to our left pretends to read a book, but his eyes are perfectly still as he eavesdrops.
Lucan doesn’t seem to notice anyone else. He’s completely at ease being scrutinized in public, and acts as though our spectators don’t exist. Except I know he’s not acting, because he’s genuinely that confident.
Arrogant, I would’ve said just weeks ago. Days ago. Maybe I even want to say it now, given his cool smirk in place of an actual answer to my question.
It seems he’s not done with me though. He wants to see me again. My racing pulse tells me I’m glad on some level. Probably a very foolish level.
“I can’t go on a date,” I say.
“Why not?” he asks.
“I have to study. Scholarship student, remember? If I fail a class, I don’t have parents who’ll buy me a building.”
“You have me to buy you a building,” he says with a straight face, as if he means it. “Next excuse?”
I touch my knitted sweater. “I’m not dressed for a date.”
“You’re perfect how you are.”
Heat travels up my neck to my cheeks. I cringe knowing everyone can see his effect on me, including him.
“That’s sweet,” I say, trying to play off my discomfort.
Lucan leans forward. “There’s nothing sweet about what I feel for you.”
I believe him. There was nothing sweet about what we did at his penthouse either.
He observes my empty mug. “You’ve had three coffees and no food.”
I don’t even bother asking how he knows, because there are black domed cameras on the café’s ceiling.
I point at the plate of pastry crumbs. “I’ve had—”
“The croissant doesn’t count, it’s mostly air. You need real food. I’m taking you to dinner.”
“But I had a whole study plan for this evening. First I was going to—”
Even as I speak, Lucan gathers my notebooks and papers in a stack, then grabs my leather satchel. He places a hundred-dollar note on the table without looking at it.
My shoulders slump. “But I—”
Lucan gives me a knowing look, like this conversation was over before it started.
And maybe it was. Saying no to him is incredibly difficult, and I’m not even sure I want to anymore. Maybe a date would be fun. I could do with a break.
“Fine,” I say as he pulls out my chair. “I guess I could eat.”
The guy next to us abandons all pretense and gawks openly. Students at the other tables do the same. Even the barista pauses at the coffee machine, watching.
Feeling uncomfortable, I walk ahead of Lucan while he carries my belongings. The whispers follow us all the way to the door, and people snap more pictures.
Outside, cold air bites at my face and I inhale deeply.
“Is it always like that when you’re in public?” I ask.
He blinks. “Like what?”
“Never mind.” I chuckle. “I guess you’re used to the attention.”
“You’d better get used to it too. People want to know who you are. I could make them stop though, if you like?”
“No,” I rush to say, fearing the lengths he’d go to. “It’s fine. It just feels odd, that’s all.”
Lucan places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me to his car. He’s pulled up in a spot that I’m pretty sure isn’t actually a parking space.
“Where are we going anyway?” I ask as I step into the passenger seat.
“Dinner,” he says. “I told you.”
Sounds simple enough. So why does a nervous trickle run down my back?
He closes my car door before I can ask for more information.