by Luna Pierce
“This was too much fun, can we pleaseeee have a party again tomorrow night?” Remi pleads on the walk back to campus, hours following our dance party.
“Yes, yes, yes. Tomorrow!” Kyra agrees.
I glance at Deghan. “You in?”
He frowns. “Can’t. I have a thing.”
Cameron slurs, “Haven’t you heard it’s bad luck to be in the woods on a full moon?”
“Tomorrow is a full moon?” I question.
He nods. “And I’ve heard stories…”
“Yeah, what about?” I like a good story.
“He’s drunk, I wouldn’t listen to anything he has to say,” Deghan interjects. “Right, bud, let’s get you back to your dorm.”
The way he drags him away seems something other than jealousy, something more like he’s hiding something. Maybe he’s scared of the stories of the woods on a full moon? Maybe he knows something about them? Whatever it is makes me wonder what he might be hiding. It also reminds me of how little I know about him.
“Okay, hug time,” Deghan says, letting go of Cameron so he can reach out to me. “I had a wonderful evening, Miss Willow. I am forever grateful that you made it to the party.”
He grabs on to me, reeling me in for a warm embrace. His arms wrap around me tightly, and I find comfort in the way my body presses up next to his.
He leans in close so just I can hear and says, “I didn’t forget, you still owe me a secret.”
I tug him in closer, reeling in his warmth and smell—something like citrus and honey and a touch of cinnamon. I’m surprised by the contentment I discover in him, lingering for probably an awkward moment, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he doesn’t pull away. He breathes in deep and relaxes into me.
His weight becomes heavier, and then it dawns on me. “Deghan?” I shake him a little. “Did you just fall asleep?”
He starts and seems embarrassed as hell, his perfectly tanned cheeks showing signs of redness rising. “Shit, I’m sorry. I haven’t been sleeping well.” He rubs his neck. “Why are you so comfortable?” He smirks and nudges me.
“Get to bed, both of you,” I command with a stern pointing of my index finger.
Cameron leans in for a chaotic hug, and even though he’s much shorter than Deghan, his embrace is great, too. It’s a quicker one, given Cameron didn’t fall asleep on me, but enjoyable all the same, his gorgeous golden locks falling in his bloodshot eyes.
The rest of the boys and girls exchange pleasantries, and when we reach the center of the building, we all head our respective ways. Lillian and I hold on to Kyra and Remi, leading them safely to our dorm. And because Lills and I are thankful for them primping us for the party, we find their makeup remover wipes and night creams and do our best at eradicating all the crud from their faces. We strip their shoes but leave on their clothes, letting them deal with that one in the morning.
With a glass of water and aspirin on both of their nightstands, Lillian and I tuck our girls into bed, standing back and admiring like the proud moms we are. Maybe not so proud that they’re drunk, but proud that they’re our friends and we had such a great night tonight.
“Now it’s our turn,” I say to Lills.
She throws me a face wipe, and I sit next to her on her bed, the exhaustion from the day finally catching up to me.
“Did you see him?” she asks.
“How did you know?” Astonishment damn well lines my face.
“You didn’t seem to continue scanning the crowd for him once you came back, so I assumed he found you.”
I don’t want to lie to Lillian, so I tell her the truth. “Yeah, is that bad?”
“I think you should do what makes you happy. But also be careful.” Such kind advice.
“That’s really sweet of you.” I smile. It’s nice to have someone rooting for me. “Speaking of sweet of you, umm, who was that guy you spent most of the night dancing with?” I nudge her arm.
She turns red and averts her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I’m teasing. But really, who was that?”
“I think it was Cameron’s friend, or, well, it could have been Deghan’s. Either way, his name is Ethan.”
“And… tell me more!”
“You’re becoming just like them.” She nods towards the sleeping beauties and laughs.
“Hey, you keep my secrets, and I’m forever grateful. I hope you know I’d keep yours, too.” I don’t know why she does this for me, but boy am I grateful.
She sighs. “Okay, okay. His name is Ethan, uh, I said that already. He’s super nice. We have the class after lunch together, and he sort of asked me today if I would be going to the party. I was so nervous, and I freaked out, so I said no, told the girls I was busy. But then you pressed, and I really did want to see him, so I caved.”
“Aw, that’s so exciting,” I say cheerfully.
“He was so surprised when he saw me. His eyes lit up, and it really was so adorable. Part of me felt like he went just in case I did. I saw him before he saw me, and he looked so bummed, like he was forcing conversation with his friend, then he lit up and pretty much walked right over and spent the rest of the night with me. He didn’t even blink an eye when I told him I didn’t drink. He actually dumped his beer out and started drinking a Coke. I was so mind-blown. That’s never happened.”
I lean in and hug her, feeling her excitement seep from her pores. “I am so unbelievably happy for you, Lills.”
She hugs me back tighter than I expect, but not in a bad way, like she really did need it.
Moments later, I situate myself on my bed, reeling over the evening. Cameron’s bright and contagious personality, Deghan’s calm and cool charm, Silas’s ever so serious and utterly captivating existence, even Sydney’s grouchy occasional glances from across the way.
My lips turn into a smile, and my eyes close, the heavy weight of them dragging me under and into a deep sleep.
A nudge interrupts me from my slumber.
“Are you okay?” Remi hovers, a tinge of concern on her face.
“Yeah,” I answer sleepily. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nearly one in the afternoon. Do you usually sleep this late on the weekends? I thought you died of alcohol poisoning or something.”
“I don’t drink—it’s a family thing, I can’t. And no, I don’t usually sleep this late. Are you sure it’s one?” I grab my cell from the nightstand, 12:53 p.m. staring at me deafeningly. “Christ.”
I look Remi over, not a trace of the drunken night left. “By the way, a huge thanks to whoever took my makeup off and moisturized. You are a saint by all accounts.”
“You’re so welcome,” I grumble, lifting the covers back over my head. My stomach grumbles in response, and I call out, “I’m starving.”
“You missed breakfast, sleepyhead,” Remi chimes. “Kyra and Lillian are off doing whatever those two do, but I think Lillian brought you something. It’s in the fridge.”
“I need a cup of coffee. Why is it that I didn’t drink but I’m the one feeling hungover?”
“No clue, girlfriend. I always make sure I alternate water between drinks, so I don’t feel like garbage the next day, plus it hydrates the skin, you know.” She plumps up her cheekbone while inspecting it in the mirror. “But if you need coffee. There’s a teacher’s lounge in the north wing that has an espresso machine, I’ve heard. They don’t lock the door, so it’s free game.”
My mood perks up at the sound of espresso, and I make quick work of brushing my teeth in our little dorm room sink and throw on a pair of shoes. My gray sweatpants and oversized white t-shirt will have to do, I need java.
I’m jogging down the south wing stairs when it dawns on me, I have no idea which room the teacher lounge is. I guess there are only six rooms, so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. But then another realization hits me: the north wing causes me to see things, and feel things, and really freaks me out. Going there alone is sort of risky, but I shouldn’t have anything to worry about, right? It�
��s a part of the school like all the other wings. I have nothing to be afraid of.
I make my way around the radiant indoor garden and through the foyer, settling my gaze on the entrance to the north wing. No purple shadows appear, no creepy haze hovering near the doorways, just a normal hallway.
I peek into N two, no coffee maker in sight. N one and N three are also a miss. I finally hit the jackpot when I poke my head into N four, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans filling the air. It’s like I’ve died and gone straight to Heaven. If that sort of thing even existed, we won’t get started on that one right now.
I approach the machine, scanning the buttons and contraptions, trying to figure out how to brew a slice of bliss without breaking it. The door creaks open, and I turn abruptly, like I got caught doing something wrong.
“So jumpy,” he says, almost patronizing.
What the heck did I do to this guy?
His bushy eyebrows compliment those radiant green eyes that meet mine. His dark hair flows, longer on the top. The sun hits it and shows a bit of golden-brown. It’s strange to be so… alone with him.
I sigh. Sydney. The last person I was hoping would walk through that door.
Chapter Twelve
“Espresso? Latte? Americano?” he asks while strolling up next to me.
Is he really asking me drink choices right now?
“Umm…” is all I manage to say.
He points to the machine. “I’ve already figured it out. I practically live on coffee. What are you wanting?”
“Latte, I guess.”
“Hot or cold?”
“Hot works for me.”
“Vanilla, caramel, or plain.” The way he goes through the motions would make one think he’d never showed such weird animosity toward me in the past.
“Vanilla.”
“What about milk choice?” He opens the small fridge and peeks inside. “Looks like there’s skim, whole, and almond.”
“Almond.”
He pushes a few buttons, the machine rumbling to life and spewing out deliciousness.
“Why are you being nice to me?” I blurt.
He glances over his shoulder at me. “I’d really prefer you not to break the one thing keeping me sane around here.”
Oh. Maybe he’s stressed and that’s why he’s being strange. But he also could have just noticed that I was alluding to him being mean, and he didn’t deny it.
“Well, I’m sorry then.”
He actually looks at me this time. “Sorry for what?” He almost laughs, a bit of surprise lining his face.
“You said the coffee maker is the one thing keeping you sane around here. It kinda sounds like you’re going through something, and I’m sorry for that. I hope it doesn’t last long.”
“Can I be honest with you, Willow?”
He remembered my name?
He hands me a mug of steaming happiness and takes his into his hand, situating into a nearby seat.
I follow suit. Apparently this is going to be a conversation type thing. Never would have expected this, especially out of him.
“You’re either hiding something, or you don’t know you’re hiding something. And I’m not quite sure which one it is, and it’s really bothering me.”
At this, my eyes widen, the too-hot-to-drink latte failing to bide me time.
“Excuse me?”
“You really have no idea, do you?” He traces the rim of the cup with his finger and meets my eyes. The normally callous look is replaced by intrigue.
“Can you just tell me what it is that you think I’m hiding?” I implore.
“Technically, I can’t. You have to sort of figure it out yourself.” His tone is serious, but this has to be a joke.
“You’re kidding. I’m being pranked or something, right? You come across all nice, then freak out when we shake hands, become an asshole, and then make it up to me with a fancy cup of coffee?” I swing my gaze across the room to see if anyone else bears witness to this nonsense. “I’ve been nothing but nice to you, and you’re treating me like some kind of freak.” Then it hits me. “Did Allie put you up to this or something? Because of Silas?”
Sydney’s brows immediately furrow. “Silas? What about Silas?” Urgency is heavily attached to his words.
“Well, did she? Tell me the truth.”
“Silas is dangerous, Willow, you need to stay away from him.”
Wow. Absolutely wow.
“I can’t believe she put you up to this. What, is she putting out for you? What are you getting out of this?”
He shakes his head and puts his arms in front of him in an attempt to calm me down. “Okay, take a breather for a second. To confirm, no. No one named Allie put me up to this. I promise you that.” His energy feels pure, like a cool cotton blanket.
“Oh,” I say, shrinking into myself. “Then what does Silas have to do with anything?”
He sighs. “He really is dangerous. And if what I think is true, you need to be extra cautious with him. His kind. They’re dangerous.”
His kind? What does that mean? What is he saying? What does he think is true? How can I be this oblivious to whatever he’s alluding to?
“Can you please tell me what’s going on then?” I finally lift my cup to my lips, sipping hesitantly from the very top, careful not to burn myself. An “Mmm” escapes me.
“I wish it were that simple. And I’m surprised you don’t already know, yourself. That’s what makes this an incredibly bizarre situation.”
“You’re literally killing me here.”
What’s with all these guys and their fucking secrets? Is it just the guys I come into contact with or is this every single guy on the planet? This secrecy is driving me insane.
“Okay, I’ll try a different approach.”
I tilt my head, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Do you ever…” he rubs his chin, “do things you’re not really sure how you were able to do them? Or see things you thought other people were not able to see? Or maybe even feel things?”
I stand abruptly. What the fuck is going on? How could he…?
“I’m leaving,” I say, stone-faced. Without letting him object, I continue. “Thank you for the latte.”
“Wh-what? Leaving?” He stands, too, confusion racking his features.
But I see all too well what’s happened here.
“I’m just trying to help.” Sydney raises his hands in defense.
I smile fakely and don’t say another word, letting the door slam behind me and making my way from the lounge. I can’t believe he would do such a thing. And I have no idea how he pulled it off.
He read my fucking journal.
I burst through my dorm room door and head straight for my bed, sitting the delightful yet tainted cup on my nightstand.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what crawled up your ass and died?” Remi stands bug-eyed, waiting for a response.
“I… where is it?” I mutter, wildly searching through my backpack. I slam the notebook onto the bed and rip open the pages. It’s right here. How could he have read it if it were right here? He must have snuck in. Maybe while we were at the party? But he was at the party? At some point he could have left, came up here, read it, and disappeared. Disappeared. A chill rises up my spine.
By now, Remi has taken up perch at the end of my bed, hovering above me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m pretty sure someone read my journal. But it’s been with me, minus bathroom breaks and during the party.”
“Are you saying someone broke into our room?”
Lillian and Kyra appear now, arms crossed, looking a bit confused and concerned.
“I knew this thing was a bad fucking idea.” I throw the notebook across the floor and into the corner.
“What’s happening, Wills?” sweet Lillian coos.
Tears well, and I fight back the urge to let them loose. I will not cry, I will not cry. What is wrong with me? What is wrong with him? An unsettling thought creeps in, and
I look at each of the girls for a brief moment. If he didn’t break into the room, maybe one of them took it to him? Maybe the person I should be most skeptical of is right here in this very room? But how could that be? We’ve already grown so close, and they’re my friends. But maybe that was a mistake.
Without saying a word, I exhale, walking over to the notebook, gripping it firmly in my hand and ignoring all of their words as I walk straight out the door.
I make it downstairs and manage to wipe away the one lone tear that makes its way down my cheek. I round the corner, head through the dining hall, and spot the exact thing I’m looking for. A random group of kids who were smoking at the party, grossing the non-smokers out.
“Hi,” I say politely. “This may seem like an odd request, given we’ve never spoken, but do any of you have a lighter I could borrow for a few minutes?” I force a smile. “I’ll bring it right back.”
The group looks me over. Finally, a dark, long-haired guy glances down at the notebook I’m white-knuckling and reaches into his pocket, revealing a navy-blue lighter.
“You are a life-saver. Thank you.” I take it from him graciously
He vaguely nods. What a lively bunch.
I continue on my journey, straight out onto the outdoor patio and toward the clearing in the woods. At least I’m familiar with that area by now, and they should have exactly what I’m looking for. A place to burn these damn pages without catching the whole place on fire.
Stopping just shy of the burnt-out firepit from last night, I kneel to the ground, opening the notebook. I rip out all of the written pages, knowing damn well I’m going to have to come up with more words for a grade, or deal with an incomplete for those days. I can’t risk someone else invading my privacy like Sydney did.
I run my thumb along the guard of the lighter, hitting the spark wheel and igniting the flame. I hold the paper in my other hand, letting the fire take hold, the satisfaction of destroying my evidence sinking in.
One at a time, I burn the pages. The first one didn’t really need to be ripped out, given there weren’t too many juicy details to be had, but the second one, I decided to trust in the pages and let a few things slip. I won’t make that mistake again; I should have never been that foolish.
