Falling For Them: A New Adult Reverse Harem Collection

by C. L. Stone

  “Pay attention.” In front of me, Declan jots down a new fact on his digital notepad. “Don't risk being on restricted access the first day.”

  “But who cares how much funding goes into public health?”

  “The public. Now shut up,” Connor snaps from around me.

  The first to arrive for class, I confiscated a seat at the back, not too far away since the room only holds twelve desks. But I want distance between me and the first teacher. Last night, sleeping hadn't come easy. Myrrine's gentle coos in her sleep, combined with low snuffles from the closet, had jolted me awake so often I never hit REM cycle.

  When Myrrine arrives at the classroom a few minutes later, bodyguard in tow, she hovers for a moment, head swinging from my back location to the front row seats. She nibbles her lip for a moment, waves, and slides into the chair in front of the teacher's desk. Bodyguard takes a wide legged stance next to the door and proceeds to glower at every student who walks inside.

  My old racing competitors arrive in a group, swarm my desk, and drop into instant complaints about their roommates, who fill out the desks in the middle and front rows.

  Facing backward in his chair with one knee propped against the backrest, Declan points a thumb at his new roommate two seats away. I can't help peeking, despite zero desire to be caught up in gossip. The guy's lanky limbs protrude out from beneath his desk, too long to fit in the narrow leg opening. In profile, his Adam's apple bulges from his throat. Long fingers smooth his fine blond hair behind a pointed ear, only to have it flop back across his eyes.

  Declan doesn't tell the others his name, either because he doesn't remember or he doesn't care. What he does tell them is how the guy cried himself to sleep last night, a gossipy nugget he feels no need to whisper, despite his roommate's close proximity.

  I watch as the back of his freckled neck turns a bright red; his bony shoulders hunched forward. I kick the underside of Declan's seat hard enough to lift the back legs off the ground. My toes hurt, but he shuts up after he shoots a bewildered glance in my direction.

  The teacher arrives after that. I try to ignore them, pretend to be interested and listen to the teacher. An elderly man with white hair sports a tweed jacket, despite the mild climate control. But three hours later, I have to agree with Felix's groaned complaints. I can't bring myself to care about the healthcare system either.

  “Sparks, entertain me.” Felix nudges my desk with his foot and sends the stylus slipping across my notepad.

  “Shut up,” I hiss as I quickly swipe away the black line.

  At the front, the teacher turns from the vid screen. “Did you have a question about the graph, Miss Lonette?”

  “No, Mr. Halcroft.” I drop my hand down to my side and flip Felix off.

  “Does anyone have a question before we break for lunch?” He peers around the class in expectation.

  At the front, an opalescent arm shoots into the air. Around the room, students groan. Myrrine, the constant asker of questions. She's not winning friends today.

  Mr. Halcroft beams at her with starry-eyed happiness. “Yes, Miss Albonei?”

  “How does the government decide which funds to dispense to the general health versus the upper level health? There are more citizens in the city's lower levels, but more physicians in the top three city levels.”

  “An excellent question, and one we will discuss in depth when you return from lunch.” He taps the vid screen, and the graph disappears. “Mr. Baresly will meet you in the hall to show you to the lunch room.”

  “Finally!” Felix shoots up from his seat, and the teacher frowns at him.

  “I expect more participation from you in the second half of our lesson, Mr. Williams.”

  Felix stands at attention. “Not likely, Mr. Halcroft.”

  “He'll do better, sir.” Connor grabs the scruff of his twin's shirt and pulls him toward the doorway where the rest of the students file out.

  I notice Myrrine remains in her seat and waits for the rest of us to leave. Pushing Declan toward the door, I move to her side. “Aren't you coming to lunch?”

  “Oh.” She beams up at me, pink and yellow swirls in her cheeks. “Bastian will bring me my food. Please, go without me.”

  A heavy arm falls across my shoulders as Declan leans against me. “You don't have to take etiquette with the rest of us?”

  “I received instruction in etiquette the previous year.” She nods, smile in place. “It was a prerequisite for attending this year.”

  “Miss Lonette, Mr. Arrington, the rest of the class is waiting,” Mr. Halcroft calls from the door.

  “Coming.” I don't want to leave Myrrine, no matter how annoying she might be. Despite the smile, sadness pinches at her brow. “It might be fun to retake the class.”

  Pale blue eyes dart to the door and back. “I will be fine. Please do not keep the class waiting.”

  “You heard the lady, Sparks.” Declan uses the arm across my shoulders to turn me toward the door. “It's time we learn how to use a fork.”

  ~

  It was so much worse than learning to use a fork.

  Mr. Baresly turns out to be a short, evil man who carries a measuring stick in hand as he strides up and down the table length. His close proximity to our elbows makes him the ideal height to catch an improper bend of wrist while spooning soup from the upper curve of the bowl.

  Whap!

  The guy across from me yelps and drops his spoon; green liquid splashes across the table to stain the white cloth and form a ring beneath his empty water glass.

  Whap, whap!

  One sting from the ruler for the bent wrist; one for the clatter of the spoon; one for the mess. My shoulder stings in sympathy. I'd had the misfortune of allowing my spine to come within two inches of the chair's back. A sharp rap had quickly set me straight.

  I sip the cold soup from my spoon, careful not to slurp. Felix's cheek shows a one-inch strip of red from that mistake.

  At the end of the table, Declan's roommate cries into his soup bowl, red marks on both cheeks, wrists, and hands. More under his shirt. He'd earned Mr. Baresly's wrath at every turn and now has two minutes to regain control of himself. A timer hangs from the ceiling over his head, the seconds ticking away until his next reprimand. I guess the tears aren't reserved just for homesickness.

  “Is this how the high houses train their children?” Mr. Baresly slows behind Declan, ruler poised to strike. But, it seems he can't find any faults because he resumes his pace around the table. “Did you eat from the floor like mesuki?”

  The guy next to me glances up, surprised to be compared to the oversized halion rodents. His spoon clinks against fine porcelain, and he cringes, shoulders hunching around his ears.

  Whap, whap!

  “Do not chip your hosts serving ware. Respect for your host's possessions is respect for your host.” He presses the end of his ruler into my neighbor's back until he straightens. “Posture is divine. A straight spine shows confidence to your table partners, allows free flow of energy through the body, and promotes proper digestion. If you take nothing else from today, learn this habit. Ingrain it in your everyday practice.”

  With slow precision, I tip my bowl away from me and scoop out the last dregs of green liquid. What began as a pleasant and refreshing starter course has now settled into room temperature slime, the viscosity thickening with every minute that passes.

  Finished, I place my spoon on the clean plate beneath my bowl. The main course plate still sits unused beneath it. My stomach rumbles at the reminder that real food has yet to appear. Hands folded, I rest them on the gold napkin in my lap to wait. Around the table, other students follow suit as they complete the course. Even Declan's roommate manages to pull himself together and finish the course without further reprimand.

  Mr. Baresly circles at our backs, a predator on the hunt. At last, he stops at the table's head, empty of seat or place setting. He lays his ruler on the table and narrows his eyes at us. “Congratulations. It onl
y took an hour to finish the first course. Unfortunately, that leaves no time for the actual meal. On your way out, you will apologize to the cook for being such wasteful failures.”

  “Yes, Mr. Baresly,” we chorus. The first fifteen minutes of the lesson had involved detailed instructions on how to address the teacher, and we repeated it until even Felix fell in sync.

  “Spend tonight reflecting on how you will do better. Hopefully tomorrow, we will make it through the bread course as well.” He lifts his ruler, and a few of the boys flinch and then flinch again for the show of fear. He ignores them and points at the door. “You are dismissed.”

  We remain seated until he leaves the room. Even then, no one slouches. It could be a trick; the evil man could reappear, ruler swinging. Instead, we rise as silent as possible, hands on seat bottoms to minimize the scrape of wooden legs against the tile floor.

  I set my gold cloth napkin next to my unused plates and empty glass. We hadn't even made it to beverages. The school can't expect us to make it to dinner with so little for lunch.

  “Those carrots in the snack pantry sound delicious, don't they?” Declan whispers as he comes up behind me. Prearranged seating placements had separated us.

  “I'm eating a whole basket when class is over,” one of the twins adds. They must have circled the table to join us in the line to exit.

  At first, I'd felt relief at the break from them. I'm not used to so much attention, the constant physical contact. But once the reprimands started, I felt bereft. Felix and Connor lucked out with side-by-side place cards. Every time one of them had given the other a quick tap of camaraderie behind the teacher's back, envy had stung me.

  We make it out of the hell room. In the hall, we bow our apologies to the chef who waits with platter-laden carts against the wall. Silver domes hood the plates, but the rich smell of butter and grilled meat fill the air around them. Cloth covered napkins on the lower shelves hint at the aforementioned bread course. Felix stares at the carts, open mouthed, while Declan and I move past. The rest of the students shuffle ahead, back toward our main classroom. We follow at a slower pace.

  “Hey, you okay?” Declan's hand grips my shoulder, and I flinch at the sharp stab of pain. He releases me in an instant. “Crap, sorry. I forgot you got whapped.”

  “We all got hit at least once.” A twin groans from a step behind and I'm not sure why, but I think it's Felix. I picture him leaning on Connor, eyes wide and lip out.

  “Some of us more than once.” The dry tone sounds like Connor.

  “Don't remind me.” The groan comes again, then, “I'm still pretty, though, right?”

  “Sorry, bro.” I picture Connor draping an arm around his brother. “Hate to tell you this, but you're now the ugly twin.”

  “Sparks, tell me he's wrong.” Felix darts in front of me to block my path.

  The mark on his face hasn't faded. Instead, it rises to form a red welt, the surrounding skin an angry dark pink. I wince in sympathy. That's not going away soon. “You're gorgeous.”

  “She's lying.” Connor slides an arm around my waist. “Don't worry, you can still look at me.”

  Declan, ahead of us, turns to walk backwards, hands behind his head to flex his biceps. The short sleeves of his uniform shirt stretch around hard bulges of muscle. “Why would she look at either of you when I'm here?”

  “Boo.” Connor points both thumbs down.

  “Hiss.” Felix crosses both arms in front of his chest in a stop motion.

  “Don't be jealous.” Pop pop go the biceps.

  Connor leans close, nose nuzzling through the curls to reach my ear. “He practices that pose in the mirror.”

  I cough out a laugh, hand over my mouth, and Declan frowns as his arm drop to his sides. “What?”

  We round the corner into the hall to our classroom and find ourselves alone. Through the open doorway, I see the rest of the students, faster than us, have already resumed their seats. Mr. Halcroft waits at the front of the room, pointer tapping against the desk as he faces the door.

  Declan nods at him as he enters first and scoots along the wall to the back where our empty seats wait. Connor's arm drops away as he pushes me through the door ahead of him. Myrrine, at the front, leans around her neighbor to send me a happy wave. Fluttering my fingers back, I scurry to my seat and slump down. Instant pain rocks through my body as my spine meets the hard back of my seat. I straighten with a jolt.

  “Welcome back, students. I see that lunch has invigorated many of you.” A small smirk forms on Mr. Halcroft's face as he gazes at us in front of the holo-screen. I glance around the classroom. All of the other students sit, backs ramrod straight. Some wince as they squirm to find the least uncomfortable position. “Now, we left off with a question from Miss Albonei. Would anyone like to voice an opinion on how the government decides where to allocate health services?”

  To my right, spine rigid, Felix grits through his teeth, “Kill me now, Sparks.”

  6

  MOODY MONDAY

  “Six hours is too long for one class.” Felix groans when Species Resources comes to an end.

  I stare at the notes on my tablet, numb from information overload. The black scrawls on the screen devolve from somewhat legible at the top to incomprehensible at the bottom. I can't even read my own notes.

  “It wasn't that bad.” Declan unhooks his school bag from the side of his desk. It dangles from his fingers as he stares at the black holo-screen in a daze.

  “It was… informative.” Connor removes his glasses to rub at the pressure indents on his nose.

  “Too informative,” Felix mumbles.

  I don't know how they can form sentences right now. All of my energy disappeared, sucked out by graphs and charts and numbers I can't bring myself to care about. The brown carpet on the floor entices me to sprawl out and close my eyes, take a moment to rejuvenate.

  The rest of the students flee. Even the teacher hurries out, steps eager to get away. Myrrine bounces on her toes in the doorway, bodyguard at her side as she glances back at our small group. I wave her on. Her yellow tinted cheeks and sparkling blue eyes signal an energy level I can't deal with right now.

  Connor spreads his hands on the desk as he pushes to his feet. “Come on, we don't want them to lock us in.”

  “Is that possible?” Felix leaps up, then falls back down to hang his head between his knees.

  Connor and Declan ignore him to collect their things before they head toward the door. I glance from them to Felix, concerned they abandoned him.

  “You okay?” I swing my legs around, moving to the edge of my seat to bend over him. Soft black hair sifts through my fingers as I brush his bangs aside to check his temperature.

  “Yeah, just stood up too fast. Got light-headed.” With a groan, he leans into my touch. When his head rises higher, I lean back to give him room. Instead, he reaches out to wrap large hands around my calves and pull me closer. “I should rest for a minute.”

  I grab my seat as he nearly pulls me off of it, gaze intent on my lap. Panicked, I kick free. “No, no, no.”

  “So mean.” He rubs a hand through his hair, the messy waves flopping across his forehead.

  Warm imprints from his hands cling to my skin, even through the black slacks. Ignoring them, I grab my bag from the side of my desk and toss in my tablet. Now, I know why the others left him behind, the drama queen.

  Connor smiles down at me as I join the guys at the door. “He almost caught you.”

  “I'll be more cautious next time.” I shift my bag's shoulder strap to find a comfortable position that won't aggravate the welt across my back.

  “No way, that takes away all the fun.” Declan nudges his shoulder against his friend, and they fall back into the hallway.

  Irritated, I follow them out. “Who says I want to entertain you?”

  Halfway toward the exit, Felix catches up. He sneaks behind Declan to drape his arms over his friend's shoulders, slumping across his back to drag them b
oth to a stop. “Carry me back to the dorms. My brain's fried, I can't remember how to walk.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Declan chuckles as he crouches to hook his elbows around the other man's knees and lift him onto his back.

  Felix rests his head on his friend's right shoulder, injured cheek angled out to avoid being jostled as Declan pushes back into motion. “You're the best, Dec.”

  Connor shakes his head at the pair. “You're spoiling him.”

  “Shut up, bro.”

  “He did good today.” Declan hitches his passenger higher so his legs don't drag at the school bag on his hip. “He stayed awake for the entire class.”

  “Only because he got whacked so many times by that ruler at lunch.” Connor peeks at me as I trudge by his side. “How you doing, Sparks? Your shoulder hurt?”

  “I'm good.” I stop playing with the strap of my bag. “What about you?”

  Connor pushes his sleeve up and rotates his arm. A thick, red stripe curves around his forearm. It crisscrosses a second mark that disappears beneath his shirt. “Guess I need to keep my elbows off the table, huh?”

  Sympathy pain throbs across my back as I reach out to lay a gentle finger next to one welt. Twice the width of my finger, angry heat radiates from the mark. The muscles flex under my touch as he winces.

  Guilty, I pull back. “Sorry, didn't mean to cause you more pain.”

  “No, your skin is cool.” He reaches for my hand to places it back on his arm, over the welts. “It's nice.”

  “Really?” I shift until my fingers extend over more area.

  “Yeah, really nice.” His low voice sounds thick. It makes me think he's lying so I won't feel responsible for causing him more pain. But just in case, I keep my hand in place.

  “We should check the snack room back at the dorms.” The fine hairs on his arm tickle my palm, making me want to smooth them back. “They might have ice.”

  “That would be good.” He clears his throat. “If they do, I can help hold your ice pack for you. The back's too awkward alone.”