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“Hey,” a kid says, bumping into him and holding out his phone. “Can you type something for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” I say, taking the phone and waiting. “What should I write?”

I’m hoping it’s some sort of ‘hey, I’m drunk, come get me’ text. Instead, this guy opens his mouth and says, “fuck, baby, you’re so sexy. I’d love to see how far I can get down your throat. Send me a picture of you with your mouth open and tongue out.”

And just like that, my scowl is back on my face. I hand him his phone back. “I am not typing that,” I say quickly, walking away as the guy grumbles to himself about not being able to type it himself.

With a sigh, I find myself back in the treeline, watching the night unfold. Despite my best efforts, I keep finding myself watching Thane.

Chapter Four

Thane

I wake up Monday morning to my alarm going off. I shut it off quickly, not wanting to wake up Simon from where he’s sleeping across the room from me.

Today is the first day of classes. My stomach swoops with nervous energy. I already know where all my classes are thanks to orientation, but I still don’t really know what to expect. Will my teachers be nice? Will I enjoy the lessons? Can I handle this? Will I be able to handle the workload of my schoolwork on top of working at WraithMart?

I rub at my face before getting out of bed and starting to get ready for my day. As I go through the motions of showering, getting dressed, putting my jewelry on, and doing my hair, my mind keeps flitting back to the bonfire.

Great. First I’m anxious about school and now I’m anxious about my social life. From one anxiety to another. Why am I such a disaster? My sister and my mother always act like being an orc gives them some sort of emotional edge, like somehow our species makes us above feeling certain things.

If that’s true, I sort of envy them. My sister once told me she feels things like there’s a wall of glass between her and her feelings. I’m the opposite. I feel everything and I feel them so deeply it’s staggering. I feel like I’m constantly on the brink of becoming so overwhelmed I’ll shut down.

Meeting the doctor again was a pleasant surprise. Maverick. I’m really glad I got to explain to him that I’m not a teacher like he thought. Sure, it was embarrassing as fuck but now that the truth is out in the open, I feel a lot better.

I can finally stop thinking about him.

That’s what I tell myself at least. Now I just need my brain to listen and stop thinking about him.

I have to stop thinking about the little wrinkle in his brow when he’s watching people, or the way he gets a soft smile on his face when he’s helping someone. I have to stop thinking about the timbre of his voice. I have to stop picturing his handsome face.

Fuck.

After getting ready, I grab my bag and head out the door. The walk through campus helps to clear my head. I find my way towards the correct building and meander down the halls until I find the right classroom.

This morning I have Creative Writing with Mrs. Crimpton, one of my elective classes. I wanted something literary related so it wasn’t a huge leap from my other Library Science classes.

Mrs. Crimpton greets all of us with a grin. She stands on her desk, welcoming all of us with a wave. Simon is a fairy and yes, he’s shorter than me but he’s a giant compared to Mrs. Crimpton who stands at around six inches. I didn’t realize pixies were so small.

We’re given our schedules for the year and Mrs. Crimpton talks about her expectations. Ever since I was little, I’ve found an escape to life in books. I love reading about faraway places where magic can help save the day and the good guys always win. I’ve lost so much sleep between the pages of a good book.

It’s exciting, thinking about creating my own stories. It’s not something I’m naturally good at, but it’ll be a fun thing to learn and practice. It’ll be like stretching a new muscle.

Class goes by quickly and before I know it, Mrs. Crimpton is dismissing us with our first assignment. Just to get a feel for our skills, she wants us all to sit down and write a short story with exactly one thousand words. No more, no less. We can write about anything. My mind is already whirling, trying to come up with some sort of idea.

I pack up my things and head into the hallway. This class is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. Next, I have to head over to my Research Methods class. It sounds dorky, but I couldn’t be more excited. This is my first step into what I want to do with the rest of my life. This is the first step in chasing my dream.

At the same time, I can’t stop the anxiety from hitting me all at once. Is this really what I want to do? Shouldn’t I be back home with Blaire and Bax? Shouldn’t I be around just in case they need me? Am I being selfish by being here?

I tug on the end of my braid, a familiar gesture that helps get me out of my own head, the sting of it forcing me to be in the present. They both told me that Tess and I should go. Bax specifically said he didn’t want me to use them as a way to hold myself back.

Falling into the familiar pattern of taking care of them was safe, way safer than this. I know they’re right, but that doesn’t make any of this easy. I feel like a piece of my heart was left back home with them.

As best as I can, I clear my head as I step into the classroom. I sit down at a three-person table, waiting for everyone else to file in. As I wait, a human sits down beside me, followed by a gnome. They seem to know each other already.

“Hi,” the human woman says with a grin. “I’m Wanda. This is Percy. Is it okay if we sit here?”

“Yeah, for sure,” I say, waving at the seats. “I’m Thane. Nice to meet you guys.”