by Elena Monroe
Things weren't the same without Bolton’s presence lingering over everyone, hating that we could have fun and he wouldn't let himself even smile.
“Tell your boyfriend—”
I cut his words off before he could finish the sentence. “Are you deaf?”
I didn't even finish the comeback as I watched his face scrunch up in confusion at my left field question. After I waited long enough I finished, “I'm not his keeper. You wanna tell him anything? Find him yourself. By the way, not his girlfriend. We’re enemies slowly working towards frenemies.”
I slipped past him, reminiscing on the progress Bolton and I had made by seeing each other vulnerable. He had lost, only to have it rubbed in by this asshole, and he knew a sliver of me now that I wouldn't normally share with anyone. Somehow he lured it out of me effortlessly. I wasn't even completely sure how it happened.
The word “magic” came to mind.
Caellum didn't stop me; no one did. My storm out was complete when the cool air felt like relief from the tension Caellum dragged behind him.
The campus was a lot darker now, only illuminated by the lights hanging above the path between buildings. I squinted at almost every door, trying to place my own.
Note to architects: make buildings less similar on campuses.
Finally I found my building, after getting turned around a half dozen times. I pressed my fancy new keycard to the pad and watched the red light turn green.
Arbitrary, huh? Trust me, I'm on your side here. We are smarter than equating green to go and red to stop.
The door closing behind me was the only sound I could hear in the dark hallway. It was so quiet I heard myself shift from unfazed to paranoid easily. I wasn't afraid of the dark. I just knew that nothing cheerful ever came from the shadows and all that.
The dark, quiet, places were unsettling. I moved along the hallway, trying to find my room, closely looking at the room numbers and regretting leaving now.
“Arianna?”
I heard my name, but I hadn't recognized the voice saying it. No one used my actual name here. Not yet. I turned around slowly wanting to squeeze my eyes closed.
“What are you doing in the boys’ dormitory?”
Bolton said my real name, and his voice wasn't soaked in disdain. I didn't even know anyone knew my name, let alone him.
My brain wasn't catching up fast enough to speak when my eyes were boring into his shirtless chest. His illumined scantily white skin shone against the moonlight pouring in through the window. Every curve of his taut muscles made my mouth salivate.
“Boys’ dormitory? Damn. I should have waited for Luna.”
He stood there, leaning against the door, silently, like he refused to converse with anyone, hence not going for pizza.
I took a step closer, examining more of him when I saw the same type of scar as Luna. I could easily make out a ram’s horns.
How could they not notice this? Maybe I was the only one to see him shirtless.
“Hey, your scar; it's a ram, like the sign Aries... Luna has a weird scar on the back of her shoulder that looks like Cancer. What are you guys… in some kind of secret society?”
He didn't laugh or even budge. “Never seen a birthmark? Born with it.”
My eyes slanted down, and my tongue swiped against my teeth, like I was thinking with so much effort for a better excuse. If there was one, he wasn't giving it up.
“That's what she said too...”
He changed the topic without me being done with it smoothly. “Hot date, or you prefer sneaking into designated boys’ areas?”
I sarcastically, all monotone, pushed a “ha-ha” out. “Left without Luna. This place is creepy in the dark.”
He laughed walking without me further down the hall, but he kept talking so I knew to keep the pace. “Why did you leave without Luna? She hitting on Nyx again?”
My eyes went wide, and I was thankful this hallway was almost too dark to see.
“What? No? Caellum came looking for you, and I was over it. Gave him a heads up I'm not your girlfriend. You’re welcome.”
“I'm sure he did. You piqued his interest, New Girl.”
I kept following him up a set of wide stairs to a second level without questioning where we were going or why. I simply kept putting one foot in front of the other and fed my own motivation to keep up with the school’s king.
I refused to be deemed less than anyone, especially him.
“Not interested. The pretentious heartthrob vibe isn't my type.” I didn't think before I spoke, once again.
He stopped at the top of the landing, looking down at me, as all kings do, and popped an eyebrow, like I meant to offend him directly.
“I beg to differ. You're the one still following me, aren't you?”
“You've got the pretentious, asshole part down to a T. Jury is still out on the rest.”
A silence hit after he stopped responding and our back and forth faded. I let it, until he pushed open his door to a bedroom twice the size of my room I shared with Luna. I leaned in the doorway, completely aware that I was invited in.
“Nyx and Luna? Seriously?”
I watched him lay down on his bed, long and lean, starkly pale against his black sheets, and his hair still slightly wet. His blonde hair darkened from the water and stuck to his temples in a way I'd find annoying. The birth mark looked more like a scar in this light, and the edges were irritated with red.
“He's off limits. I know you're new and all, but maybe give it some time before you profess that you're into everyone.”
My fingers curled under, lightly at first as I pushed my nails into my palm. He inflicted emotional pain, so I created physical pain, drawing connections between the two.
“I'm not into anyone here, so relax. Your posse is safe from my seduction.”
He got off the bed in one motion, and his long legs took big steps. He leaned into the door, the thickness hitting him in the chest as he leaned into me. “More like claws.”
Without even a goodnight, he pushed the door closed, forcing me out of its way before it sandwiched any part of me in its frame.
I scoffed at his all-so-fitting door: black, with no clue as to who lived behind it.
Ours had our names with a white board, like anyone would use that over sending a text message. It was very Luna. She believed people could be good but I knew better.
Statistically, I'd seen every corner of the United States, and everyone was just as selfish and rude as the next town. I knew better than anyone; no one was going to look out for anyone but themselves.
Why else did I wear sarcasm so well? Because if no one cares, at least it's funny.
Bolton
This was the death I loathed most.
Actually, I loathed them all, but today was cheerleading tryouts on our field at the same time as practice, and I wasn't in the mood to hear Kate and watch her wearing her fake crown today.
Her voice was always soaked in this “too good for everyone” tone that made it hard to hear what she was saying without hating her. It was especially annoying, because she insisted on doing tryouts on the field, claiming it gave “intensity” to the process.
Intensity she didn't need her surroundings for.
I tossed my pads on the ground as I walked up to Nyx, who was not so inconspicuously scanning the new crop of freshmen trying out.
Some of them looked so nervous I guessed they wouldn't last the first half hour, while others looked too confident.
I watched the opposite direction, at our newly formed team still trying to get our bearings this season. Everyone was learning their place and trying to settle back into playing consistently again.
“Luna should try out.”
My arms folded over my chest as I watched the team get into formation I leaned back making sure my eyes connected with Nyx. “Excuse me?”
He coughed like he never meant to say it out loud, and I wasn't supposed to be caring enough to listen. “Yeah? She's cheer
ful and shit.”
I patted his shoulder in pity and let the small laugh take over my expression, a rare feat.
We both knew he liked Luna, and she obviously liked him, but nothing would happen, not now or later. Nyx was in the category of using them and dumping them. Not even for sexual favors, but homework, coffee, someone to cheer him during games.
Luna wasn't the dump them type. We all knew that. She was made of sunshine, love for animals, and too many damn feelings.
Nyx was anti-feelings, anti-happy, and anti-sunshine.
If you're asking me? He thinks he's unlovable. There's too much depth, and no one can swim.
The whole practice I could feel a thousand eyes on me, watching my every move, like I was some member of a boy band. Without looking, I could tell you their eyes were filled with lust and envy.
Every freshman assumed I must be dating Queen Bitch Kate just because of our repellant attitudes. Austin didn't care one bit. He swore by meditation and his fucking kombucha. Once I realized he didn't care, I stopped making a scene in order to set everyone right in one shot.
Austin looked at me as I caught a perfect spiral, and our look exchanged it all. This kind of jealousy of Kate only secured her empire for another year amongst a sea of insecure girls.
I shouted to the team to do our typical drills while I slacked off. As a co-captain, I pretty much made the rules, and if I was being honest I didn't need the practice. I'd been doing this half as long as professionals in the NFL. I drank my water, while I casually looked on to the girls trying out, spotting one not like the other.
New Girl.
Wasn't this a curious development. In her Doc Martens, all black outfit, and opposite of spunky attitude, she was trying out? Now, I was interested. It would either be the death of our Queen Bitch or a blow up; either way, I wasn't missing this.
Upper class man and myself decided practice was turning into being silent judges for the try out. We watched every girl do what was demanded of them, enthralled with calling dibs.
New Girl stepped up to Kate and the girls meant to be co-captains, but they knew better. This wasn't even playing ground.
Kate demanded to know if she could tumble, and with a huge sigh moving her shoulders, she pushed her finger in her mouth to fish out her gum and flicked it in the trash, before preparing for her next move. Effortlessly, she tucked and flipped, shocking even me.
She outshined every girl, even while trying to snuff herself out in all that black.
I liked black.
I liked dulling the rest down to see what really mattered.
I like the honesty of black.
Arianna did everything almost as good as Kate, and I wondered if she used to be someone else.
Someone less herself.
Someone less filled with sass and snark.
I watched until she was less focused on the try out and scanned the field. I made a point to stop paying attention before she could catch me staring. Nyx threw the ball my direction from the center of the field at full speed right past my head. He had good aim; anyone else and the ball would have collided with my face.
After practice ended, I looked around the field, but the girls already finished and left with almost no trace. I shook off seeing her one last time for no reason other than to feed my own irritation.
I swiped my gear up off the ground and headed for the showers. The overcast of Seattle wasn't a saving grace today; the heat still boiled and blistered under all our padding.
I walked down the tunnel behind the team when I heard the immature noises of something catching their attention.
Arianna. Places she shouldn't be, again.
I walked right by her, not stopping for any extra second. “Never learn, huh?”
She pushed off the wall, with her arms folded against her chest. It was hard to look past her chest that she was clearly outlining without trying. “Don’t pretend you weren't watching me out there.”
That was all I needed to stop me in my tracks. I was caught hating her less.
I dropped my gear again, but this time the thud against the concrete echoed in the tunnel. “No one was watching you, sweetheart.”
She didn't step closer to me or try to breach the gap between us. She was planted in her accusation. “Seriously? That's what you're going with?”
She was baiting me to confess, and I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction.
“Yes, Arianna, it's tradition. Upper class men claim their…” I caught my own words as they formed, swallowing them whole, all the misogynistic edges. “…territory for the season.”
“Who claimed me?” I watched the smile tug at her lips when she asked.
“Not me, if that's what you're asking.”
My response fizzled out the spark that twinkled inside her irises. I almost felt bad, but my desire to be honest always trumped anyone’s feelings.
She didn't respond as I felt her eyes take inventory of me: all honesty, brutal, and no cracks for any doubt. She was still the new girl. She was a risk that no upper classman was going to take on.
They wanted safe, no push backs… easy.
For the record? If we were choosing? I'd let our hate for each other simmer down into disdain if it meant choosing someone at Arcadia Prep.
She didn't need that kind of power in my real truth.
Bolton
Another late night meeting brought us together, like it or not. I was avoiding going, even though I knew the boys would show up at my door beckoning me to lead the way.
I wanted to stop caring and stop trying. I tried to wrap my mind around being perpetually 18 forever, but parts of me wouldn't budge.
Every part of me was stubborn, even my insides.
None of us would have chosen to be friends if it hadn’t been for this fucking curse, for Pandora’s stupid box, the gods dying—Pandora’s most dangerous weapons.
I was the only one who remembered life before this loop. The gods would play their tricks, or punishments, on the mortals, and we would be banished to a Pandora’s box so we couldn't influence humans like we were meant to do.
Without our influence, the humans worshipped many false gods, fell for everything, endured meaningless punishments, and didn't think for themselves.
Slavery was every color back then.
There was nothing we could do.
We went from being trapped in her box to trapped in a loop meant to keep us from the real world.
I was burdened with remembering for all of us.
I was jaded because of it.
Like clockwork, the boys showed up at my door, and I opened it, pushing through them without a single syllable. I was in an especially cruel mood, paired with nothing but bad intentions.
I felt Nyx’s hand land on my shoulder—a less personal attempt at comfort. No amount of comfort was going to fix me.
I snipped without turning my head behind me or in their direction, “Text Jasper. I want to have a party.”
Austin’s concerned and forever-even tone cascaded over me like a flu, poisoning my bad mood: “Doesn't every on campus have tests tomorrow? End of a unit.”
I stopped at the exit, turning around to face him with so much anger pulsing through me I wasn't sure if I'd actually hurt him. That was normally what happened when Rage’s claws dug into me deeply and drug me around like its own personal voodoo doll.
“I don't care what you call it, Austin. Make it a fucking study party.” My fingers tapped my own temple in a version of sign language meant for him to use his head instead of his precious heart.
The meeting was no different, constant bickering that didn't quicken or slow down any progress. It was stagnant noise lulling me into a deep sleep; that's how bored of it I was.
I wasn't about to come clean with how much I felt she was different. I didn't know what that meant yet. It could just be hormones… we had those now.
I sat in the circle completely uncaring, except for a possible party. I could blow off steam, find a dist
racting girl… anything other than thinking of the past and present that wasn't changing any time soon.
The twins dominated these meetings. Omari was the voice of reason, and Cheyanne was cutthroat. Pure fucking balance. The twins often toyed with magic and rituals, making them easily the most qualified to make decisions around determining the one.
“I'm gonna need her hair,” Cheyanne said, not necessarily to anyone in particular.
Leo and Beau both seemed horrified as they touched their perfectly manicured hair and even looked to each other as if they misheard her.
Cheyanne didn't joke, laugh, or even smile. She wore dark red lipstick and had obvious piercings instead of what girls labeled sexy (tongue, nipples, even further south). Cheyanne didn't ever shoot for sexy; she liked the toughness the nose and eyebrow rings gave her. Her stark pale skin and sleek, black bob only more her intimidation level rise.
I joked at her demands. “Right, we’ll just let Nyx have at her. He likes pulling hair.”
As soon as I said that, I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and force Luna out of my vision. I didn't, but I wanted to. Nyx even playfully hit my ribs in her honor. All these feelings made my monstrous mood grow.
I looked straight at Luna interrupting small talk. “Unless you finally want to admit you have a crush on Nyx?”
I watched Luna squirm in her seat under the pressure of my calm as I asked. Her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her eyes looked panicked as she looked to Nyx. She got up and ran out before any other words were said.
Guilty. Ashamed. Like an asshole. All the things I should have felt, but I didn't.
I was cutting through the bullshit with one question. And all I mustered up when all eyes were on me? “Oops.”
I wasn't going to pretend to be someone I wasn't and feel bad just so everyone else felt better. They didn't need false hope.
The meeting didn't go much longer before everyone broke off and the guys told the rest of the group about the party later. I honestly didn't care if anyone showed up from the group. I was at a breaking point and needed to blow off steam before I did more damage.
