Chapter 2 Orion #3
At lunch I sat with my mates: Emery Wallace and her boyfriend Tucker Hill.
Rhett Calloway and his girlfriend Aria Kingston—who looked more like vampire siblings than boyfriend and girlfriend—Gideon Foster, and Elowen Blake.
Elowen was a pretty blond whose expression turned borderline predatory as soon as she saw me.
She’d been pursuing me since the end of last year, and I’d considered giving in.
She was beautiful, popular, and had made it abundantly clear I’d never want for her affection.
But after the fiery introduction to Harper Bennett, Elowen—and everyone else at the table—seemed like characters in a book I’d read one too many times.
“Orion, my man,” Tucker said. We clasped hands, and he pulled me to him for a hard thump on the back. “Ready for crew tryouts this Saturday?”
Of course I am, I wanted to snap. I’m always ready. My entire life is being ready.
I flashed him a grin. “You know it.”
He grinned back. “Fuck yeah.”
Truthfully, crew was one of the best things I had going at CHA. Being out on the water, the exertion of rowing, the teamwork, the freedom from all the mental strain of school… It shut off the noise of grades and the expectations of everything I was supposed to become.
And piano?
My pulse quickened just thinking about it, but whether out of fear or excitement, I couldn’t tell.
I’d avoided the Arts Wing for three years until this year, when my schedule allowed room for an elective.
Piano was a door I’d closed on purpose, a version of myself I’d buried, and now I was opening it again.
Why? Would I even know how to play anymore?
But even as expert as I was at burying feelings, I knew the answer to that. And I only had to make it through one more class before I’d be sitting at a baby grand.
With Harper…
“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Rhett snarled, cutting into my thoughts. “Why is Coach making us try out for crew if we were on the team last year?”
“To ensure we haven’t slacked off all summer, mate,” I said, half hoping Rhett had done just that. Technically, he was a friend, but I also suspected he’d knife me in the back if it came down to him or me getting a seat.
“No worries,” Tucker said. “There’s nobody new this year that’s good enough to steal a seat from our crew.”
“Hm,” I said noncommittally, glancing around the cafeteria.
I spotted Harper’s striped dress immediately.
I’d just vowed to keep everything still and calm, and yet I itched to go talk to her.
To set off another round of bangers and fireworks, explosives and pyrotechnics.
To have a different conversation from the one I’d been having with this group for the last three years.
Perhaps one that blew down walls, and plumbed the depths until it found something…
Real.
I looked around the table. None of these friends knew the first damn thing about me.
I was one of the most popular guys in school, with no shortage of female attention.
A “manwhore,” as the Americans liked to say.
Everyone knew my name, yet I was close to no one.
They only knew the fun guy who made them laugh, not the guy with the messed-up brain and crushing loneliness…
Shut it. You have everything. No one likes a whining wanker.
I found myself scanning the cafeteria again, but Harper was gone.
“Two more classes to make a better first impression,” I muttered.
But I arrived late to history. She was in front. I was in back, sitting next to the pretty actress, Tessa Carlyle, whom I began flirting with immediately. Like a program I couldn’t override.
Strike two, Mercer.
I hustled to piano class—almost ran, actually—but arrived to find the dozen or so others in the class gathered around the door and a messy, scrawled note that was taped to it. Professor Wolfe had cancelled due to “unforeseen circumstances.”
Disappointment sank sharp teeth into me. This new professor, Ezra Wolfe, was rumored to be someone famous too. Legendary, even. But perhaps the delay was for the best. It was day one, and I was already bloody beat.
I caught Harper’s eye as she turned to go. She went one way while I went another. When I turned to look over my shoulder, heat swept over the back of my neck again, this time pleasant. Wanted. Her eyes flared. She quickened her step and rounded a corner, out of sight.
Strike three.
“It was lovely to meet you, Harper Bennett,” I murmured.
Back at my two-person apartment in Atlas Hall—the international dormitories—my roommate remained absent as well. I’d been told his name was Easton Locke and that he was a junior, but I’d yet to see him in the flesh.
Maybe he’s an actual vampire, currently sleeping under his bed.
All I knew of him was that he played guitar and rode a motorcycle. This I deduced by using my exemplary powers of observation: He’d left an instrument case and a motorcycle helmet on his side of the bedroom.
I opened my chemistry book and used my iPhone’s Spoken Content function to read Chapter 1 out loud. I committed all of it to memory, then all of Chapter 2 for good measure.
I was exhausted by the time I’d finished. But Harper needed me to not let her down, so I wouldn’t.