I can feel my cheeks heating when I finally reach him.
God I’m such an idiot.
“Hey,” he says, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up. “How were your classes today?”
“I’ll live.” I shrug. “Yours?”
“They’ll live.” He smirks, and I laugh as we grab the to-go bags and make our way back to the dorms.
“We talked about this, dude. You have to wait at least a week before you threaten to eat people.”
Hs grins. “Even if they deserve it?”
“What could someone have possibly done to deserve becoming dragon chow on the first day back?”
“I’m pretty sure someone farted in my general direction.”
“Ah, yes. Off with their heads,” I giggle.
“See, you get it.”
People give us—well, him—a wide berth. It’s amazing.
Just as we get to the dorms, he lifts his head and inhales.
“Hey—before we go in...” He begins, and we stop off to the side. “I’ve been waiting to do this all day.” His hand brushes against my cheek and I tilt my head back, leaning into his warmth. When I look up at him, his eyes—even his cloudy white one—are full of moonlight. He lowers his face and gently presses his lips to mine. It’s the first time we’ve kissed since New Year’s Eve, and God, it’s just as good as I remember. The paper bag slips from my hands, hitting the ground as I stand on my tip toes to wrap my arms around his neck. It’s easy to melt into him when he slips his hands around my waist and pulls me into him.
We break apart at the sound of the door opening, and he hands me the bags of food.
“I need a minute,” he says when I notice the ring of gold around his eyes. “See you inside?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
He sits next to me at dinner with Milo, glued to my side, and kisses me goodnight at my door. I lay awake in bed, replaying every touch, every glance, before finally drifting into a dreamless sleep.
I’m so fucked.
I amsoooo fucked.
Sitting in the same classroom as Roth the next morning in Runic Studies is like being on a sinking ship with the shark from Jaws circling me. And that’s before he chooses the desk next to mine.
“Good morning.” It takes a second to register that he’s talking to me when I realize there’s not one around us.
Can I just ignore him? Is that allowed?
“How are your new classes.”
What in the ever-loving fuck is happening right now?
When Ramsey asked me that question last night, it put me at ease. When Roth asks me that question now, I want to run away screaming.
“Uh, fine,” I finally answer, wondering if it’s too late to flee. But my luck’s never been that good, because in the next moment the door opens as the professor storms in like a hurricane and flops down her pile of books on the desk by the lectern. She reminds me of a magical Ms. Frizzle with her barely contained curly hair pulled back into a messy bun as she launches into today’s lesson without a word.
“I’m assuming you have some level of understanding of Runic Studies if you were placed in this course,” he says. “This level, however, focuses on the application rather than theory.”
“Yes, I’m aware.”
“Good. So until—if, you have your epiphaneia, I will assist you.”
