Chapter 23 Monroe #2
“Today, you will work in pairs, shifting in and out of your earthside and harbinger forms. I will walk around the room and mitigate any issues, but by this point, everyone should be able to shift, even if it’s inconsistent.
” His lavender stare snags mine, and I forget to breathe.
“If your partner gets stuck, come grab me immediately.”
Without hesitation, Cherri grabs my hand and guides us over to the front corner of the room. I blink away our professor’s all-too-penetrating stare and glance at the other pairs spreading out.
Cherri nudges me with her elbow. “You first, or me?”
“Um.” I gnaw my bottom lip. “How about you?”
“Sure thing!” She pulls her dress over her head and shrinks down into a small black puff with auburn patches. A few beats later, she pops into her harbinger form.
“That was amazing. Your shift has gotten so smooth.”
She preens at the compliment, then claps her hands together. “Okay, your turn now. You’ve got this.”
I clear my throat, undoing the straps of my suspenders and tugging off my shirt. Cherri’s eyes go wide, but a moment later, her shoulders drop. She leans in. “Where’s your you-know-what?”
“Makeup can be pretty magical.” I smirk, and finish undressing.
One of my former clients was a ballerina who taught me a few things about stage makeup and covering up scars. I was able to snag some at Kendrick’s school for when they put on shows. It took a lot of trial and error to color match the right shade of pink, but you can’t see the ink beneath.
I release a shaky exhale. Despite him not being in my line of sight, Briar’s attention on me is warm as the sun and he’s just as dangerous to look at. I can’t allow my nerves to show in front of him.
Visions of my clients, Beth, Richard, my grief group—all the people who need me—shuffle through my mind like a deck of cards. Each face carries an ache, a longing to watch over and help them however I’m able. If I could do that, maybe I’d be more open to embracing this new existence.
A tear streaks my cheek, and I swipe it away with my palm. Closing my eyes, I wiggle my nose, and the world becomes colder.
Wider.
I shrink down, down, down.
My ears flop at my sides, and I blink up at Cherri who’s bending down and quietly applauding. “I didn’t know you’d been practicing.”
I have been for weeks, but nothing’s happened.
“You’re so cute!” Cherri coos. There’s no mirror to see what I look like, so I take her word for it.
Before this lucky moment slips away, I wiggle my nose again, and with a pop, I’m tripping over my feet.
My head hurts, dizzy with the rapid shift.
I’m about to collide with the floor, but strong hands sweep under my shoulders and hoist me up.
I stare at the rose gliding across Briar’s knuckles and then finally work up the courage to meet his lavender gaze.
However, he’s not looking at me. He’s staring at my boobs, which are on display because I’m completely naked.
It’s probably not a good sign I’m very okay with that.
His brows bunch and he clears his throat, making sure I’m stable and standing fully upright.
“Well done,” Briar says, the praise filling my chest with sunshine. I did it. Finally.
He steps back, and I don’t miss the bulge beneath his jeans. The memory of inked vines along his shaft appears in my mind, and the air around me sweetens.
I spin quickly and I’m back in my outfit from earlier. Something brushes against my skirt. “Wha—”
“You didn’t fully shift back,” Cherri says, glancing upward.
I slide my hands back into my hair, bumping into the bases of my ears. Long, floppy white-and-gray ears.
Fuck my life. Or rather, my afterlife.
Everyone is staring at me, either in shock or pity. Disliking both expressions equally, I wiggle my nose once, twice, three times, refusing to panic in front of them.
“Back to practicing, everyone.” Briar shoots them all a warning glare from beneath his spectacles. “Cherri, why don’t you join the group over there?” He gestures toward Dani and Skylar.
“Come get me if you need me,” she says, heading to the corner where Skylar and Dani are taking turns timing how quickly they can shift in and out of their forms.
Must be nice.
The last thing I want is my peers believing I’m incapable. Still. I furrow my brows and keep trying, ignoring Briar, who’s lounging atop a desk, hands clasped, watching me. After about ten more attempts, I give up and plop onto the floor, resting my back against the window.
“Class dismissed.” Briar’s lavender stare pierces mine, making it clear that I’m not included in that command.
“I’ll wait outside for you,” says Cherri, squeezing my shoulder.
Once the last harbinger is out the door, I turn toward my professor.
“I know you don’t want my help, Dr. Tanner.”
“You’re right, I don’t.” The words are clipped and sharp as thorns, a warning meant to keep him at a distance. But he doesn’t retreat. He sits on the desk and waits.
The heat of embarrassment spreads through my chest. “I know I need to be able to do this to join in this spring.”
“No one is pushing you to go. Most Blooms take many seasons to feel ready.”
“I’m ready,” I huff. I’m really not, but I have to be. “Fine,” I huff. “Tell me what to do.”
The ball of his throat works, flowers undulating all the way to where his trimmed beard frames the angle of his jaw. I nibble my bottom lip.
He’s hideous. You aren’t even a little bit attracted to him.
If I say it enough times, maybe I’ll eventually believe it.
“Would you be up for being walked through a few troubleshooting techniques?”
I nod.
“Look at your reflection.”
I do as he asks, taking in the two long gray ears patched with white, one flopping over at an angle. I wonder if that’s what my whole body’s like in my other form.
Briar stands behind me, a towering oak covering me in his shade.
“Now ground yourself and close your eyes.” I spread out my toes in the dirt.
“Picture your ears folding back into your hair, rolling in inch by inch by inch.” The low, dulcet way he says the last sentence makes me shift on my heels, and I have to swallow down the images it brings to mind.
“Ground yourself,” he reminds me, as if he can tell I’ve gotten distracted. I do as he says, pressing the balls of my feet into the dirt.
Scrunching my nose up, I wriggle.
And wriggle.
And wriggle.
“I’m never going to get this.” I groan.
“Just—”
“I know you’re trying to help me, but it is what it is.” I pat the top of my head between my ears. “This is how I look now.”
“Think of them as fluffy accessories.” He almost chuckles, but my glare makes him clamp his lips shut.
I sigh. “I’ll just be rocking bunny ears and a puff ball above my ass for the foreseeable future.”
“I mean, a puff ball sounds fun to play with,” Briar says with a smirk.
I swat his shoulder. Is he…flirting with me? My tail perks up at that, lifting the hem of my skirt. I slide my hands down to smooth it and shake my head. I can’t entertain this. He’s with Corrigan and I want out of Florezca.
“What if I told you I had a foolproof way to get your appearance back to normal?”
“I’m in.” There’s no hesitation in my voice. I need every tool I can get.
He lifts his hands up in the reflection, gesturing toward my ears. “May I?”
My brows furrow, but I nod. He trails a finger from the tip of my ear down toward my scalp. It feels incredible. My shoulders go slack, and when he reaches the base of my ear and begins rubbing back and forth, scratching the spot, the ball of my foot thump, thump, thumps against the dirt.
I shift to lean into his touch, but then the ears disappear and the cottontail zips beneath my tailbone. “Wow. That was—”
I blink wildly.
“Yeah, ear scratches are the best.”
I picture a chestnut bunny in my lap, stroking that very same spot and savoring every satisfied thump of his paw. The corner of my mouth lifts.
“Surefire way to relax when you’re having a block.”
“How do I ensure I don’t keep having them, though?”
“Magic is a form of energy. When it is stoppered, it doesn’t flow freely enough to use.
” He bends and scoops up a small pile of dirt.
With a nearly imperceptible wiggle of his nose, a large peony blooms up from the dirt cupped in his palm.
He holds it out for me, and with a shaky hand, I take it, twirling it between my fingers.
It nearly blends in, the flower the exact hue of my skin.
I brush my thumb with the velvety petals, and he sucks in a breath, focus glued where I hold his flower.
Leaning over me, he rests an elbow against the windowpane.
If I had a heartbeat, I’m certain it would be rioting in my chest. I’m about to stroke his beard and savor the contrast of the rough stubbles against the silky petal held in my palm—
Knock, knock, knock.
I jolt against the window, and Briar’s spine stiffens. We turn toward the doorway where the dean is watching.
“Monroe, would you please come into my office?”
“Of course.” I hold out the peony between us for him. “Thanks again for the help, Professor Briar.”
He takes it, albeit reluctantly, then steps back, the musky vanilla with the undercurrent of something woodsy wiped from my atmosphere. The flower disappears, recaptured by his palm, and he slips his hands into his pockets. “Anytime, Dr. Tanner.”
The dean’s gaze flits from me up to him. “You should come too, Professor Briar.”
She doesn’t wait for his response before her bare feet pad against the dirt, heading down the hall, and I’m certain whatever she wants to see me—us—about, it’s not good.