I try to pay attention to my essay. Bastian announced the details of his midterms the week me and Kai escaped to the coast. I had more than enough time to get it done, but I only finished it late last night.
My plan was to review it this morning, but my mind refuses to stay on topic.
First, the silence at the Airbnb felt like it was smothering me. So I left and came here.
But it’s even worse in here.
Coughs. The scratching of pens. Low murmurs.
Someone’s laptop plays a video they forgot to mute before they hastily silence it.
I rush to my feet, shoving my things into my tote.
Fuck it. I’m handing in this essay as is. If Bastian wants to fail me, so be it.
Kai looks up, plucking the highlighter from his mouth and frowning when he realizes I’m leaving. “Where you going? Your class only starts?—”
“Gonna get set up,” I cut in.
“I’ll walk you,” Kai says, hurriedly stacking his books under one arm.
“You don’t have to?—“
“Like hell I don’t.”
There’s something possessive and a little desperate in his voice. Like he needs to prove he’s still here, still fighting, stillmine…even after everything.
I want to tell him I can handle Bastian. I mean, I’ve been doing it without his help since I got back to Agony Hollow.
But I hear myself say, “Okay,” instead.
Kai’s hand finds mine as we walk up the stairs to the second floor. His palm is warm, slightly sweaty.
He’s nervous…which makes two of us.
“You’ve got this,” he says as we step onto the landing. “Your essay’s solid.”
“This is Bastian we’re talking about. Nothing will ever be good enough for him.”
“Fuck him.”
The knot in my stomach has nothing to do with my essay, and everything to do with the man waiting in room 102.
The hallway is crowded with students heading to various classrooms, their anxious chatter bouncing off the high ceilings.Bastian’s lecture hall door is closed, but students are already filing in.
Kai comes inside with me, and we both glance toward the lectern.
It’s empty. Bastian hasn’t arrived yet.
God, how I hope he won’t.
We sit in the second row, near the aisle, and my eyes go to the door every time it swings open to let a student in. No one says a word as they find their seats and arrange their blue books and pens with the grim determination of soldiers preparing for battle.
When Bastian arrives, he scans the lecture hall with the detached interest of a wolf surveying a herd of plump sheep.
Until those eyes land on me.
Hunger flickers in his gaze.
