“Why is that?”
Nope. Nope nope nope. I’msonot ready for therapy. “Just a knee-jerk reaction, I guess.” I shrug, trying to play off my discomfort, which of course he sees right through.
“Well. We’ll work through it. You’re not alone here, Nyx.”
Yeah, that’s the fucking problem.
I can handle the few friends I seem to have made. And maybe even something more with Ramsey. I can handle the tepid cease-fire between me and Thane, rebuffing Killian’s flirtations, and even Roth’s... civility? Fuck, I don’t even know anymore. But as the weeks pass, and Brandt pushes me to be more open-minded about myfeelings, my anxiety only gets worse. Because if Idohave my epiphaneia, then I’ll have a whole new set of things to worry about.
Maybe that’s why I crack and ask Ramsey on a date in a moment of weakness.
On Valentine’s Day.
I’m both relieved and disappointed when he seems as panicked as I am at the prospect, and try to save the last shreds of my ego by playing it off as a group invite that I extend to Milo, who is way too entertained by watching the two of us struggle to be normal people. But thank fuck we end up making plans, because the next day, Killian asks me out.
“Roses, candles, chocolates, the whole nine yards. What do you say?” He smirks as I note down the results of our latest experiment.
“I’m allergic to candles,” I deadpan, but he ignores me.
“I’ll wine you, dine you, and then carry you over the threshold to a bed covered in rose petals where I’ll ravish you the whole night.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” mutter as I look into the microscope, then pass it over to him. When he doesn’t immediately take it, I spare him a glance and notice the fuckboy façade slips for just a moment before he gives me that trademark smirk.
“Never had any complaints.” He shrugs, and finally takes the microscope.
But, much like I ignore my faux pas with Ramsey, Thane’s new awkwardness, Roth’s... whatever he’s doing, I pretend I didn’t see Killian looking like he might actually be disappointed. Because why would he? He’s got everything—everyone—that he could ever want. Including me, at least once, as much as I’m kicking myself for it now.
So that’s how we continue until Ostara, where Tori, Evie, and Brynne drag me to the beach, where most of the witches on campus are drinking around a bonfire that they don’t let me get within ten feet of. Others are setting up an altar near the grass-covered cliffs, including Vanna and Nikki. When we go over to greet them, they’re only slightly less aloof than Samhain. This time, after Esmé gives her speech about the cosmic renewal of energy, rebirth, and action undertaken beneath the dawn of an Aries sun—eerily similar, I notice, to what my demented tarot deck has been repeating in various forms over the past couple months—Nikki uses her earth magic to make the flowers and seeds on the altar overflow with blooms, pouring down the beach and climbing up the cliffs until the entire cliff face is a blanket of rainbows.
The wild ocean wind whips through the air, making the flames and flowers dance as fervently as the partygoers on the shore in the darkening night. It’s like something from a dream,but I can only watch from a fallen log on the edge of the beach as a bittersweet melancholy settles over me. I wish I could let go and enjoy it with my friends, but the last two times I’ve tried, I ended up in the middle of Thane’s OD, and staring at the ruins of the nicest thing I’ve ever owned. The memory of my dress—how I felt in it, how I felt watching it disintegrate, still makes my heart ache every time I think of the tatters under my bed.
Thane notices my silence the next day. Ironic, considering we don’t talk much aside from occasionally partnering on assignments, which I’ve had to pick up more and more of throughout the semester as it becomes clear he’s struggling with the material.
“Thane?”
He startles from where he was staring blankly at the assignment in front of us, and looks at me. “Yeah?”
“Do you… need some help? With this stuff?” I gesture with my pen.
He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, exhaling. “It’s not my best subject,” he mutters, making me laugh under my breath.
“What, 18thcentury trade agreements don’t get your blood pumping?”
“This is torture,” he complains. “How can you even remember all this shit?”
I shrug, noting down what McCall’s writing on the board. “I like learning. Before coming here, I basically taught myself everything when I didn’t get into college.”
“Think you could teach me?” He rolls his head to look at me.
“What, like a tutor?”
He straightens and cross his arms. “Yeah. Would you tutor me?” I open my mouth but he cuts me off. “I can tutor you. You mentioned you’re like, auditing some wielding classes now right? I’ll—I can help. With water. You help me with my shit and I’ll help you with your shit.” I want to say no, because I don’tneed to get sucked into anything involving the Heirs any more than I already am. But Brandt’s warning from the start of the semester about coaxing out whatever power I might have replays in my head.
It’s not a weakness to accept help.
Fuck, I really hope I don’t regret this.
“Okay.”
