“Back to that excuse again?”
She pushed him, and he stumbled. His eyes became wide and hard, but after a moment, he brushed it off.
“I deserved that.”
“You deserve much worse,” she said.
He smiled devilishly, like he was proud of himself. “Glad to see your fight is back.”
Kamine didn’t know what he meant by that, but the way he held himself made it seem like he was goading her into her anger, that he had purposefully wound her up.
“Are we done?” she asked.
He threw a rock at her, and she didn’t have a chance to catch it before it hit her.
“Ouch,” Kamine rubbed her thigh.
“Worth a shot.”
“You’re a horrible teacher.”
“You’re a horrible student.”
She didn’t need to listen to him insulting her. She stormed away, but he grabbed her wrist.
“Meet me here tomorrow night.”
I’d rather die, Kamine thought, but gave him the response he was looking for. “Fine.”
A clap sounded from the entrance of the classroom.
“Such a gracious teacher,” Kestra said in a condescending tone. “I remember when you were just like that. Causing trouble, and refusing to back down.”
“What do you want, Kestra?” Grimot asked from his spot. The large room seemed to shrink with her presence. He had nowhere to hide or run off to either, since there was only one way out, and one way in.
Kestra smiled as she realized this. She stood in front of the door, daring him to try to leave.
Grimot picked up the book he had abandoned, holding it tight like a security blanket. Then, he weakened his grip, embarrassed that he needed protection from her.
“Is she why you refuse me?”
Grimot couldn’t stop the deep and breathy laugh that escaped him, so low in his gut that it could be mistaken for a growl. Kestra always had to find ways to make it about her. When Grimot first arrived at the school, he quickly learned that the monster rumored to prowl the tunnels was her. She sucked the blood from the students and kept returning for more, hungry and determined. For some reason, when her teeth sunk into him, she had difficulty letting go.
“Are you lost?” he asked, not entertaining her unfounded jealousy.
“She’s pretty,” she said, drawing closer to him now. Her short dress displayed her pale legs, ones that once wrapped around him while he sunk into her. “If you like someone who looks like a lost puppy, that is.”
“If you don’t actually need me for anything, then you can leave.” He tapped the book against his thigh, becoming more agitated with every passing second. He didn’t want to escalate anything, but if she touched him, then he would not hesitate to push her away.
“You’re so tense.”
“I’m tired,” he corrected.
She didn’t stop approaching him. He stepped backwards. It wasn’t that he was scared ofher.It was that he didn’t know if he would want to stop if they started, andthattruth scared him. He hadn’t been with anyone since her. For five years, it had been just his hands.
“I know how to wake you up,” she said, her lips popping on the last consonant. She caged him against the wall, her strong floral scent assaulting his senses.
“No.”
