And that look searing at us from the Snake table only strengthens my urge to squirm away.
Mildred’s stare is matched with an ugly purple complexion of her rising blood pressure.
I keep my cheek to her and slip out from under Landon’s arm with a side-step.
He lets me go, and I march for the usual table.
Still, I’m certain Mildred’s glare is burning at me from across the hall as I slip into my seat.
Then Landon drops into the one beside me. “It’s Baltic over here.”
Serena glides into the chair beside him.
And I just stare at them, a stupid flutter of my lashes.
Before I can sputter out the question, the tangled string of words in my mind, ‘what the hell are you doing?’, Landon snatches a napkin from my tray and drapes it over his lap.
“How can you stand it?” Serena throws a withering look at the open doors, the doors that spill out into the atrium, then to the main doors of the academy—where the draught gets in from.
I make a face at her. “So don’t sit here.”
Her steel gaze slides to me.
I pluck the cup of coffee from my tray, my stare unwavering from hers. “Your nice, warm table is over there.”
She answers with a forced smile, slick and smarmy. It isn’t a kind look, and she turns it over to the doors as two seniors saunter in.
Dray and Oliver.
My brother startles as he throws a look my way—then realises who is sitting here with me. His fiancé at the bad table, with me, and Landon.
Oliver’s brow lifts before he pauses to plant a drive by kiss on Serena’s sharp cheekbone on his way to the buffet.
Dray rinses us over once with a cold look, calculating, always calculating, and before it can settle on me, I drop my own to the berries sprinkled over the porridge.
I keep my gaze down as they move through my peripherals, headed for the buffet, and it’s only then that I loosen a tense breath.
I swap out my mug for a spoon.
Landon starts mashing up the eggs with his fork. “Where are your spotty little friends this morning?”
The urge to look at him, to look at him with the knowing gnawing at me, is strong.
I fight it.
“Courtney was still asleep when I got up,” I say.
I don’t know about James.
He might still be in bed or maybe he’s finally wormed his way into the infirmary.
And that’s really who Landon is asking after.
“Doubt you’ll see them out of study hall this weekend,” I add, because I do have a deal with Landon, and I do need to pull my weight just a little more than I have been. “They aren’t immune to the exam stress.”
Landon hums, curt, almost like he’s utterly disinterested in the extra information I threw in there. He plays it off, cool, and starts on his breakfast.
Beside him, Serena drizzles honey over her waffles, and her voice is silk. “Asta cried herself to sleep last night.”
