Cameron finally has his hood down. His hair is styled and out of his face for once. He got a French crop haircut this morning along with his shot? I try to picture what the hell a Dark Forces barber would look like, and for some reason only Sweeney Todd comes to mind.
The lower half is fade cut shorter than it was yesterday and reveals tattoos on the side of his head. “MORI” is spelled out in all capitals right behind his ear. The tattoo is so small that it could fit on my index finger, but it suits him.
Cameron tilts his chin up and lets his head fall back against the glass. It makes his Adam’s apple more prominent as he leisurely watches the other cadets practice. He pulls out a black Zippo lighter and sparks a cigarette. I focus on his tattooed fingers, a few inked in rings around the middle and thumb, as he opens and closes the lighter a few more times. The clicking sound that the metal makes is oddly satisfying.
“How long have you been in the Dark Forces?” I don’t expect him to tell me much in detail, but I’m curious.
A low hum rolls from his throat in thought. “Around seven years and trust me, you don’t want to know what I did to get here.” His British accent makes it sound almost harmless. I want to see what he’s truly capable of. Cameron inhales slowly and holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment before blowing it out and turning his attention to me.
I don’t look away from his steely gaze. Instead, I search for what would make such a handsome, intelligent man become this. Does he think the same when he looks at me?
“Are you really going to kill me out there in the field? It’d be a shame if I make it out of the trials just to fall prey to your handson a mission,” I mumble against my arm. His eyes narrow, making the dark rings beneath them more prominent.
“I don’t know.” He pauses and takes me in, eyes tracing the edge of my lips and the curve of my throat. “I hope not.” He holds the cigarette out to me and places the end his mouth just touched between my lips.
A strange flutter moves through my chest at his words and gesture.
I consider him for a moment before I inhale slowly and taste the bitter tobacco that has a woodsy hint to it.
I blow out the smoke, never letting my eyes leave his. “Why?”
A gentle smile grows across his lips. “I’m not sure yet. It’s just a feeling.”
8
EMERY
Days pass quicklyin the Under.
The mornings consist of exercises around the arena, followed by hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. We get free time to do what we want, during which most people either choose to practice more, try to make truces with temp squads for the trials, or rest…which usually involves hooking up in the showers or barracks.
I spend what little free time I have studying others’ tactics while they train or listening in on who has an alliance so I can avoid certain groups and take note of those who might be open to working together. Although the latter is difficult to imagine when Cameron is always looming nearby, reminding me and everyone else that I’m stuck with him.
I suppress a groan at the idea that I’ll likely end up relying on only him as a “friend” in the trials.
The library is one of the only quiet places here in the Under.
Either no one cares for reading or they undervalue the power of intelligence. I conclude that it’s both. Well, everyone besides one cadet who is in here almost as frequently as I am. He’s quiet and keeps to himself, always reading at least two books from his pile stacked at the end of his table.
It’s not much of a library. It’s more like a storage room with mildewy stacks of paper, what with there only being a few aisles of books, gray brick walls, and a grim, luminescent flickering light that gives me a constant headache.
I glance over my shoulder at Cameron. He’s leaning against the wall a few feet away, watching me, as expected. My eyes hold his for a moment before I resume writing in my journal. “Why don’t you just come sit down instead of staring at me from over there?” I mumble as I pen down the best way to break someone’s hand. I don’t know where they got these books; they’re absolutely ruthless and I love it.
Cameron is an interesting man. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the past week, it’s that he’s really good at keeping his distance from everyone, including me. He prefers to observe and be alone. Although, I’m starting to grow fond of his presence. The only time he lets himself be close to me is when we’re sleeping or eating. Our twin cot has become a beast of its own.
Fondness is the death of the foolish.I scribble the words furiously a handful of times in my notepad to remind myself to not be an idiot.
But foolish I’ve become. I’m much too comfortable falling asleep with his broad chest against my back. Our legs tangle often, and I almost always wake up with his hand around my waist. I’ve been spared from waking up with his morning wood against my thighs because he’s always awake before everyone else, including me.
And I plan on figuring out what he’s been doing so early in the morning.
Cameron finally relents and sits across the table from me. I’d prefer that he sit beside me so I don’t feel his gaze as much, but it can’t be helped. It’s better than him standing and being a broody asshole.
The other cadet glances up briefly at us before darting his eyes back to his books. I’ve only gathered that he has brown hair and freckles. He hardly looks up enough for me to remember much else about him.
“What are you researching anyway? I doubt you’ll find anything in here to help you in the trials.” Cameron crosses his arms and slides back in the chair until his knees accidentally brush against mine. He sets down the book he carries around all the time. I notice some torn out pages from other novels placed inside.Odd.
My eyes move to his, and a breath stalls in my lungs at the lazy ease in which he can look so lovely while giving me such an apathetic gaze.
