Page 8 of Heartflame

We hit mile three, and I felt that familiar burn start to creep back into my legs. Usually by this point I could push through it, but today the frustration from this conversation was making it harder. Everyone on campus was talking about this dragon and I just didn’t want to hear about it anymore.

“Did you tell him off?” Greg asked.

“No. I had better things to do.” I shouldn’t have let him get the last word like that. I should have said something sharp, something that would’ve wiped that smug expression off his scaled face. But instead I’d just stood there like an idiot while he strutted away like he owned the entire campus. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

We rounded the final stretch of the course, and I could see the stone marker coming into view. My legs were screaming now, but I pushed anyway, channeling all my irritation into raw speed. Greg kept pace with me effortlessly. Fucking Greg.

“So… are you going to the big start of the year party this weekend?” he asked, blissfully changing the subject.

“Probably not,” I grumbled, stopping as we passed the finish line and turning my head toward the sky. I took a few deep breaths. “I don’t have time for that stuff.”

“You can’t be swamped with homework after the first week,” he retorted. “Come on. The whole team is gonna be there. You never come out to this kind of stuff with us! What’s the point of being in college if you’re not going to have fun?”

“I’m here to learn,” I sighed. “Why does everyone think that’s such a weird thing to do?”

Greg laughed, but there was an edge to it. “Fun and learning aren’t mutually exclusive, you know. Most people manage to do both.”

“Most people don’t have a business to take over the moment they graduate. They’re just skating by until that trust fund kicks in,” I shot back, wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. “Look, I appreciate the invite, but I’ve got enough going on right now. Between classes and running and⁠—”

“And brooding about some dragon who probably doesn’t even know your name?”

I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it again. Greg had a point, even if I didn’t want to admit it. The truth was, I was letting this whole thing get under my skin way more than it deserved to. One asshole in my class wasn’t worth this much mental energy.

“I’m not brooding,” I said finally, starting to walk back toward the athletic center. “I’m just focused.”

“You’re always focused,” Greg said, falling into step beside me. “That’s kind of your whole thing. But focus doesn’t mean you can’t have fun sometimes, you know?”

I didn’t respond. What was I supposed to say? That I was still living on edge all the time? That between everything that had happened with the Purity Front and the constant reminders that danger was real and close, the idea of just... relaxing at a party felt impossible? That every time I tried to have fun, I kept thinking about Xavier and his parents and whether there were people I trusted who were secretly harboring hate?

“Just think about it,” Greg said as we approached the locker room doors. “The party’s Saturday night. No pressure. But it would be cool to have you there.”

“I’ll consider it,” I lied, already knowing I wouldn’t go.

I peeled off from Greg and headed into the locker room, grateful for the excuse to end the conversation. My muscles ached in that good, post-run way, but my mind was still spinning. I grabbed my towel from my locker and headed for the showers, hoping the hot water would wash away not just the sweat and dirt, but also this irritating preoccupation with that stupid dragon that I’d have to see three times a week for the rest of the semester. And probably other places around campus too, given that he seemed determined to make an appearance everywhere and make sure everyone knew he was here.

I stood under the spray, letting it beat down on my shoulders, and tried to focus on something more productive. Advanced Potion Making was going extremely well. Professor Borago had actually complimented my work on the first day of class. That was a good sign too because my family’s entire business hinged on potion mixing. And I was hoping, with enough study, that I could slowly bring that business into the twenty-first century once I took over.

By the time I finished showering and got back to my dorm, I was feeling slightly more centered. I had homework to do. I had reading to complete. I had a full life that didn’t involve thinking about Aeron Pyre and his stupid, scaled face and the way he’d smiled like he’d found something amusing in my anger.

I pushed open my dorm room door and immediately regretted it.

Lysander was sprawled across his bed with not one, but two other people. A shirtless werewolf with dark skin and tattoos covered most of his muscular chest, and a lithe human man with blonde hair who was laughing at something Lysander had just said, his hand down the front of Lysander’s pants. They all looked up when I entered, and Lysander’s face broke into a grin.

“Oh perfect! Quill! Come join us!”

“Absolutely the fuck not,” I said flatly, heading straight for my desk. “I have homework.”

“It’s Friday!” the werewolf protested, sitting up slightly. He had a deep voice that rumbled like distant thunder. “Nobody assigns homework for the first weekend!”

“Yes they do,” I said, pulling out my textbooks and deliberately turning my back to them. “And you three should probably go find somewhere else to do… whatever this is.”

“Come on, man,” the blonde guy said, his tone playful. “You’re gonna spend your whole first weekend locked in your room? That’s depressing.”

“I’m not locked in my room,” I said, opening my Potion Making textbook with perhaps more force than necessary. “I’m being productive.”

“Productivity is so boring,” Lysander sang, and I could hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. “Besides, we’re just hanging out. Very innocent. Very platonic.”

“That guy literally has his hand on your dick,” I said flatly, still not turning around.