Typical college bars were loud and crowded, with the proof sitting around the corner. This one, however, sat apart from its brethren. Velvet upholstered booths hosted groups speaking in hushed tones. A serious energy carried through the air, making me think of business meetings and backroom deals. Not university students overindulging on a weekend.
“And here we are!” In the furthest, darkest corner, he waved at a large corner booth. Talon was seated with their back to the wall facing us and smiled in greeting. Niffy had her back to us, flipping through the pages of a large book, but her hand stilled as we settled in alongside them. Moth took the bench with Niffy, and Talon scooted over to give me space on the opposite side.
“Blondie. Nice of you to join us. We were beginning to think you were avoiding us,” Talon parroted Moth’s statement.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry if I gave that impression—”
“Relax.” Talon nudged my shoulder. “I’m just teasing. New girl, and new school, and new classes and all that. No biggie.”
“Yeah, right,” I trailed off, infinitesimally relaxing.
“So, you found a stray,” Niffy directed to Moth. She’d already shoved her large, leather-bound tome into her bag and shoved it under the table.
“Oh, don’t be sour, Niffy. Blondie here is exactly what we need to liven up the afternoon. It was getting too stuffy with you two boring bozos.”
“Speak for yourself! I am not boring,” Talon countered, with a crooked smile on their face. They bantered with Moth for a few moments, leaving me in silence with Niffy, who grimaced at the nearly empty beer in front of her as if it had personally wronged her.
“Oh, my bad. Do you want a drink, Blondie?” Moth asked.
“Sure, that would be nice.” He jumped up almost before I finished speaking. I blinked back my surprise. Instead, I plastered a mask of cordiality onto my face and turned to the other friendly face. “How are classes going for you?”
Talon vented a half-scoff, half-laugh. “God, half the students I’m surrounded by are complete idiots. We’ve barely dipped our toes into anything of real substance and already people are falling behind.”
“Not everyone takes on extra courses to show off their high IQ,” Niffy shot back.
Talon smiled as if it had been a compliment, then shrugged. “Well, some lesser individuals shouldn’t take more than what they can handle.”
“Who are you to judge what they can handle?” Niffy sounded teasing, gaze snapping from Talon to me so quickly I almost missed it. “Not everyone is prepared for what’s coming their way.”
“They rarely are,” Talon answered, grinning, and their tone sent a trickle of ice water down my spine.
Luckily, Moth returned with a tray bearing a pitcher and an extra glass. The prickling tension faded as conversationpicked up. I clasped my chilled mug, watching bubbles pop in the foam as they returned to casually talking about classes or assignments. I joined in when prompted but reserved myself to watch and observe their interactions. From there, I could decide how I wanted to present myself if our interactions turned into friendship.
Talon went on to complain about their professors, and my thoughts slipped through the cracks of my mental barrier. In those secret corners I faced memories of an ocean-eyed professor, and an unwarranted flush of heat swept through me.
“What can you tell me about Professor Quinn?” I blurted.
Three sets of eyes turned to me. I instantly regretted asking as silence stretched and embarrassment pricked the back of my neck.
“Luther Quinn?” Moth asked, mouth curling over the name with some semblance of distaste.
“Yes,” I drawled hesitantly, looking between them.
“History professor,” Talon stated, clicking a nail on their glass “Tenured, and notorious for being a hard ass. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’m in his class…”
All three cringed. Niffy looked away, gripping her beer tighter. Talon sucked their teeth with a dramatic cringe. Moth shook his head, chuckling before taking a large swig of his drink.
“Good luck to you then, Blondie.” Moth raised his drink to me. “If you make it through the semester alive, I’ll have to get you a gift.”
Forcing a smile, I swallowed a lump in my throat, but it only worsened the knot forming in my stomach. Their reactions told me I shouldn’t inform them about my upcoming role as Professor Quinn’s assistant. We weren’t quite friends yet, and there were some things they simply didn’t need to know.
11
Low echoes of conversation wove through the pub, broken up by the occasional clink of glasses and deep, baritone laughter. The scent of aged wood and beer permeated every dimly lit corner, enveloping me in a claustrophobic haze. Time slowed to an acute, molasses-thick crawl, sticky and cloying on my too-tight skin.
I was reaching the extent of how much time I could handle away from the sanctuary of home. There was no amount of beer that could make me comfortable around others when my social battery ran low.
