Chapter 9
I pull into the lot a little later than usual.
Sunglasses stay on as I kill the engine.
The black eye is far from fading. The bruising on my neck is worse.
Still shadowed purple near my collarbone, where even a basic t-shirt can’t quite hide it.
I slide out of the truck like nothing’s wrong.
Rafe leans against his suv, arms crossed, squinting against the sun. I keep moving, eyes forward.
“Silas.”
I don’t stop.
He pushes off the suv and closes the space in a few easy strides. His hand catches my arm. I stop, mostly because I’m too tired to fight it.
“Miss me already, Captain?” I say, flashing a grin he doesn’t return.
He steps in close, eyes flicking over my face. The sunglasses don’t save me. His fingers grip my jaw, tilting my head.
I try to joke. “Easy, man. Buy me dinner first.”
But he’s not joking. His eyes move from my cheek to the side of my neck. “He’s never home, but when he is, this is how he chooses to spend his time?”
My grin falters. I pull away, adjusting the collar of my t-shirt like that’ll fix anything. “It’s fine,” I mutter. “Nothing worth talking about.”
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks. That’s the vibe I was going for.”
Rafe exhales through his nose. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t raise his voice, but the air around him changes.
“Fine?” he echoes. “That’s what we’re calling this now?”
I turn sharply, sunglasses slipping slightly. “What do you want me to say?” My voice is louder than it should be. “You always look at me like you’re one second from losing it. Like this is your problem to fix. But it’s not.”
He looks at me for a long beat. Something flickers behind his eyes but before either of us can say more, “Save it,” Archer says as he walks up. Calm, but his voice cuts through the tension like a blade. “You’ve got an audience.”
We both turn. Standing a few cars away, halfway to the courtyard I see them, Morella and Liv.
Morella’s eyes are soft and knowing. She sees it.
All of it. Liv just looks confused, caught in the middle of something she doesn’t understand.
I straighten up, push the sunglasses back in place, and let the grin slide back on like armor.
“Come on,” I mutter. “Let’s go pretend we give a damn about class.”
We start walking and I don’t look back. But I can feel eyes on me the whole way.
Afternoon sun slices through the windows, warming the back of my neck and making the paper in front of me glare.
Ms. Braun’s up front, talking through molar mass conversions or some other nonsense that feels about as useful to me as a third elbow.
The information swims. My fingers twitch against the edge of the desk.
I tap my pencil repeatedly. The bruises on my neck itch under my collar, and the one under my eye throbs with every heartbeat.
I can feel Olivia looking at me again. She’s not obvious.
She’s not trying to make a scene, but it’s there, subtle and insistent.
I don’t even have to glance over. It’s been happening since I sat down.
The occasional shift of her weight. The rustle of her notebook.
The way her pencil hasn’t moved in ten minutes.
I know what she saw this morning. I know what she’s thinking.
Maybe she thinks she’s being discreet. Maybe she thinks I don’t notice.
But I notice everything. My shoulders tense.
I shift in my seat. Try to refocus. She doesn’t stop.
I clench my jaw. Try to tell myself it’s nothing.
Try to breathe through it. Try to pretend her attention isn’t needling into the soft, already-torn pieces of me.
I turn to her slowly. My voice comes out quiet, but the edge on it is unmistakable, sharp enough to cut bone.
“Look, Princess. Normally your attention’s all I could hope for, but today you’re getting on my last nerve. So go stick your nose in a book or, better yet, stare at Trent here. He’d probably love it.” It hits hard. Harder than I meant.
Her whole face shifts. Whatever expression she had falls away like glass shattering. She blinks, stunned. Then turns her gaze down to her desk, spine straightening like she’s been slapped. Next to her, Trent stiffens and pretends to suddenly be very invested in the periodic table.
Ms. Braun pauses her explanation. Her eyes flick toward us. She sees the bruise, but she doesn’t say a word. Just goes back to the board like nothing happened. Her expression though, it’s the look of pity.
I stare down at the worksheet, fists clenched beneath the table, jaw locked so tight it aches. I didn’t mean to snap at her. I’m sick of being stared at like I’m going to break. Like I already have, and everyone’s just waiting to see what the wreckage looks like when it finally hits the floor.
When the bell finally rings, chairs scrape back, papers shuffle, footsteps echo. Everyone’s in a rush to be anywhere else. Liv’s gone before I even glance up.
I stay seated.
Ms. Braun walks past my desk, stacking graded quizzes. She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t say anything. Once the last student’s gone, I exhale, like I’ve been holding it in since the second I stepped through the damn door.
My arms fold onto the desk. I lower my head onto them, close my eyes and bury my face into the crook of my arm.