Warm.
Tepid.
Coffee is best when it’s hot.
I have an hour, so I take the time to finish the cooling coffees, until I give up on the final and third mug, because it’s just too gross.
It’s then I start digging through my luggage.
I find the snowgear all the way at the bottom of the largest case, packed neatly by Abigail.
Thankfully, it’s the nice suit she packed, a soft cherry blossom pink with black strips up the sides, black boots and a hat to match. But as I get changed, my mind drifts to Courtney, and my gaze slides to her bed.
The curtains are parted, the pillows fluffed and duvet stretched over the mattress.
The imps have been here, tidied up already, and in that time, Courtney left the dorms.
I would have seen her in passing if she went for the mess hall. Since I didn’t, I’m guessing she’s gone to spend the whole day in study hall.
So boring.
Maybe there’s a flicker of something in me, a faint flittering speckle of excitement…
Not because I’m about to go on the slopes with Landon, but because I’ve actually got something to do. Something that, even though I hate it, might be… fun?
I stamp it down to a shadowy place, the part of me that’s always yearning.
‘A little too late,’comes to mind.
It’s all a little too late.
These offers of friendships, hands extended in the storm, the same hands that have shoved me over and thrown me aside and brought me so much suffering.
I can’t let myself be happy today, not even for a moment on the slopes. I can’t let a smile touch my face or a laugh bell in my throat.
I must force my mind to latch onto the image of Courtney in study hall and pretend that I would rather be there with her.
I hold onto that as I fasten my hair into Dutch braids, moisturise my face, then grab my ski mask.
I head down to the grand parlour.
Landon isn’t here yet, some minutes shy before the hour is up.
Asta is gone, and that in itself is a relief.
I feel a bit safer and drop into an armchair by the fireplace as I wait.
The smell of burnt coffee wafts from the whirring machine, and I fleetingly think that someone else should notice and properly clean out the machine.
I don’t.
I just watch the growing queue at the station as students slowly start to stream in from the main door, returning from the mess hall, and it all becomes so trance-like that I flinch when I hear him.
“Nice suit.”
I glance up at the wooden pillar and find Landon leaning against it.
The darkness of his complexion flickers with amber hues from the warmth of the fireplaces, and it’s lovely against the forest green of his snowsuit.
