by Sadie Moss
I roll my eyes. “Sure. I’ll do my best.”
Cam salutes me, Asher nods and smiles, and Dmitri is doing a great job of staring at the wall like I’m not here.
If his family doesn’t approve of him being an Unpredictable, his shitty attitude does make a lot more sense—but I have to admit, I’m still a little tempted to punch him in the mouth just to get a reaction.
I make my way through the thinning crowd toward the staircase Cam indicated and wander around the third floor for a few minutes searching for my classroom. It takes me a few minutes to find it, and when I walk inside, I find a wide room with tall windows on two walls and desks lined up in orderly rows. It’s large, but still smaller than I expected. Then again, this is a small school, relative to the sizes of the other magical academies. It makes sense, since Unpredictables are so rare. But it doesn’t bode well for my avoiding my three oh-so-pleasant roommates.
Sure enough, they’re already in the classroom when I arrive. Alyssa is holding court in the back with Megan, Kendal, and some other girl I haven’t seen before, and her blonde hair flashes in the light as she whips her head around to stare at me.
Ugh.
Since they’re in the back, I choose a desk up at the front, just to make sure I’m out of their way. I don’t want to get busted by the teacher for being in the middle of a fight I didn’t even start.
Not that I start fights.
I just finish them.
But today, I don’t want any trouble, so I studiously ignore Alyssa and her cronies as I plop into a seat right in the front row.
I know that’s a mistake the moment the professor walks in. My gaze lands on him as he settles in behind his desk, and my stomach feels like it’s doing backflips.
Because I know this professor.
I really know this professor.
Roman is none other than my bar alley hookup, Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
He looks even hotter than I remembered, wearing a suit in what’s probably an attempt to intimidate the fuck out of his students—not like he needs the help—and also possibly because he’s on the younger side for a professor and wants to make sure we all listen to him and respect him despite that. Which is totally fine and understandable, except that his charcoal gray suit and dark blue tie make him look good enough to fucking eat. They highlight the strong lines of his body and muscles I’ve run my hands over, and suddenly all I can think about is how badly I want that tie wrapped around my wrists while he bends me over a desk.
Oh God, it’s gonna be a long semester.
Roman looks over the crowd of assembled students, sees me—and his eyes widen.
Yeah, this must be a shock for him too. Especially since classes have already started. Any unpleasant “oops, I accidentally fucked my future student” surprises should’ve happened last week, not now that he’s already been teaching everyone for several days.
I stubbornly look him in the eye, keeping a placid expression fixed on my face. I’m willing to pretend it never happened if he is, and I’m more than ready to brush the whole thing aside. It’s not like we had a torrid affair that went on all summer. We fucked once, in the back of an alley of all places, and there sure weren’t rose petals falling from the sky.
Just an orgasm that curled my toes and set a new bar for men everywhere.
“Right,” Roman says, still staring at me. I make a mental note never to play poker with the guy, because his expression is completely unreadable. Then he shakes his head slightly and blinks before looking out over the other students. “I see we’re all here, with a new addition.” He glances down at a sheet of paper on his desk, searching for something. When he finds it, he reads the words slowly. “Elliot Sinclair. Everyone, please make sure you help her feel welcome.”
Fuck. I grimace and glare at him, although he’s no longer focused on me. Thanks for the call-out, buddy, I really needed that.
Another student scuttles in, making a beeline for the open desk next to me.
“Raul, so glad you could join us,” Roman says.
The poor kid looks horribly embarrassed, blushing. He’s on the thin side, probably a few years younger than me—which makes him young for an Unpredictable, I guess—and he seems kind of skittish. He doesn’t say a word as he throws himself into the seat beside me, sinking down like he’s trying to make himself disappear.
In spite of myself, I feel bad for the guy. I lean over and whisper, “Hey, at least you’re not a week late.” Then I hike both thumbs toward myself.
Raul smiles bashfully. He has slightly large front teeth, dark blond hair, and a smattering of freckles across his nose. “Thanks.”
I nod. I’m not really looking to make friends here, but with three roommates who clearly already hate my guts, I figure… why not be a little friendly and make sure fewer people on campus actively hate me?
Besides, Raul kind of reminds me of Maddy. There’s something really vulnerable about him that brings out the big sister feelings in me.
Cam was right—the Magical Control class is really interesting and seems like it’ll be helpful when it comes to getting a handle on my insane new magic. I just wish it had a different professor because, I’ll be honest, I have a really hard time concentrating as Roman goes through the lesson. I keep having flashbacks of our encounter in the alley, and heat pools in my lower belly, making me squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I could swear Roman notices every subtle shift and movement I make, but he never actually looks at me again for the remainder of class, so I can’t be sure.
Over the next couple weeks, I have to play catch-up with everyone else in all my classes. My professors are mostly sympathetic, filling me in on what I missed and giving me a chance to make up assignments I wasn’t here for. Roman might be understanding about it too, but I don’t know, because there’s no way in hell I’m going to talk to him. I doubt anyone would figure out what happened between us—but if anyone does find out, I could get in trouble, and that’s the last thing I need.
Cam and Asher are always popping up to help me out, usually with a yell of, “Hey, Sin!” from Cam. He’s taken to my new nickname with a vengeance, and I have to admit, it’s growing on me. I’ve always just been “Elliot”, or “Ellie” to Mads, and it’s kind of nice having a name that only means something to Cam and me.
It’s a relief to see the guys every time I cross paths with them. Raul and I have all the same classes since he’s a first year too, and by some unspoken agreement, we end up sitting next to each other in every one. He’s quiet, shy, and will whisper explanations to me when I get out of my depth in classes, so I don’t feel like an idiot. I can tell he feels as out of place same as I do, and I’m a lot better at taking licks than he is, so we kind of stick together. It’s nice.
My roommates… aren’t so nice. But I’m going to make it work. This isn’t high school, for fuck’s sake. I’m not going to let myself be bothered by their drama.
And when I have to, I can always hide out in the guys’ dorm. Cam, Asher, and Dmitri all share the same room, and I’ve got an open invitation to drop by anytime I want. I take them up on it pretty often, actually, and I’m amazed at how comfortable I feel with all of them after knowing them such a short time. Dmitri clearly doesn’t appreciate my visits, judging by the perma-scowl he wears every time I come over, but I’ve come to find pushing his buttons is fun.
All in all, I think I’m starting to get a handle on this magical training thing.
And then it all falls apart.
Chapter 11
We have a Physical Training class that’s mandatory for all three years. It’s basically just a glorified gym class, but whatever. Using magic is very physically taxing; it drains you. So a powerful magic user needs to be in great physical shape on top of possessing exceptional mental strength. Otherwise, they’ll struggle to control their magic, and that’s when accidents happen.
Gym was never my favorite period in high school, but considering that being in good shape could mean the differen
ce between life and death someday, I try to keep my internal bitching about the class to a minimum. I keep my mouth shut and do push ups, climb ropes, run sprints, and generally wish I was dead until I can go back to the locker room, take a shower, and start to feel human again.
But this time…
I walk over to my locker, dripping in sweat and feeling disgusting. It’s Friday afternoon, and unlike some of our other classes, we have Physical Training every day. I’m exhausted, I need a shower, and I wouldn’t say no to a massage if that were an option. My legs feel like cooked pasta.
Megan, Alyssa, and Kendal are all nearby. The fourth girl, I’ve learned, is named Cristina. Her father’s a big businessman with a lot of overseas connections. Alyssa was “kind” enough to inform me that Cristina was supposed to be their fourth roommate, or so all four of them had assumed, and the fact that I’m rooming with them instead is clearly unacceptable.
The four of them are all gathered nearby whispering to one another, clearly gossiping about someone. If it’s not me they’re bashing, it’s someone else—and I’m sure it won’t be long before they’re back on me again.
And here I thought I’d left all this behind when I was fourteen.
They watch me as I walk up to my locker and grab the handle. I can feel their gazes on me, but I don’t think anything of it—
Until I open the door and green slime explodes outward.
“Oh fuck!” I jerk backward, but I’m too slow. The slime hits me squarely in the face and chest. Ew, ew, ew. This stuff smells like shit. I’m just glad it didn’t get in my eyes. Is this stuff toxic?
I spit a few times to make sure none of it got into my mouth, blindly groping for a towel or shirt or something to wipe off my face.
My hand lands on what feels like my t-shirt, and I use it to clean off the worst of the goop. It doesn’t hurt, thank God. It’s not eating my skin or anything; it just smells like ass. I can feel everyone staring—but only a couple people are laughing.
Alyssa, of course, and her crew.
I toss my ruined shirt in the trash then turn and glare at them, my hands curling into fists. “Oh, you wanna go?”
I’ve just about had it with these fucking girls. You want to whisper and gossip and be passive aggressive? Fine, that’s your damn business, but you can’t get upset when someone finally decides to call you out on your shit and makes you face the music. You want to act like an entitled asshole? You have to be prepared for the consequences.
And in this case the consequence is gonna be me kicking their asses.
“Because that’s fine with me,” I growl, stepping toward them. “Then let’s go.”
Megan’s jaw drops, and Kendal looks like she’s contemplating turning and running, as though she didn’t quite sign up for a fight. But Alyssa just glares at me, her blue eyes cold. “Oh, like you could possibly—”
I’m not proud of this. I just want to say that up front. I’m really not.
But I throw myself forward and basically tackle Alyssa onto the floor.
It’s been a tough day, all right?
The bitchy blonde squeals, shrieking that I’m getting the goo all over her clothes, and she does manage to land a good punch, I’ll give her that. Everyone’s yelling as pandemonium takes over the locker room. A professor is going to walk by any second now and hear what’s going on, and I’ll probably get in trouble, but at the moment, I don’t even care. Not as I grab a fistful of disgusting green goo and smear it all over Alyssa’s face. Her howl of rage is the most satisfying thing I’ve heard in a long time.
She rolls us a few times, scratching at me with dagger-like pink fingernails, until we bang into the lockers and finally separate. We scramble back from each other and face off, both covered in the green slime. My chest is heaving, and my stomach boils with rage. It’s a damn good thing we’ve got our braces on. With the way I feel right now, I know my magic would be out for sure if it weren’t suppressed, and I’d be throwing everything I had at Alyssa.
She looks a mess right now, all covered in goo just like me, and I definitely got at least one good hit in—her eye’s starting to swell up. Ha.
“You’re insane!” she shrieks, her voice shrill.
“Says the girl who booby trapped my locker!” I yell right back.
Everyone’s whispering and pointing at Alyssa, and I think she’s starting to realize she’s not the one who’s coming off looking all that great right now.
“You got a problem with me?” I snap. “Then fine. But you settle it like a fucking adult. You don’t prank me. What are you, twelve?”
A few bystanders laugh. Alyssa goes bright red. “Well, you—you—” She cuts herself off with a scream of frustration. I keep waiting for her to stamp her foot like a spoiled toddler.
The other three girls glare at me and hustle Alyssa out of there. I just storm off to the shower. Good riddance.
I’m not looking forward to going back to my room after this. The goo takes a long time to wash off, but even when the smell is gone and the water runs clear, I stay in the shower, letting the steam and hot water surround me like a security blanket. I can’t stay in here forever, but I don’t have any other classes today—and as much as I’m not afraid to confront someone when I need to, that doesn’t mean it’s fun. The adrenaline from our fight is fading, and now I just feel frustrated, worried, and sick to my stomach.
Alyssa probably won’t report our fight to the school admins, and I know I won’t. But what if she does? Technically, I’m the wronged party here, since she and her cronies were the ones who booby-trapped my damn locker. But it’s not really gonna look that way if she points out her black eye—the one I gave her.
The way I reacted makes us both look guilty as hell. Would they kick us out of school for fighting? Shit. What would I tell Maddy?
My thoughts spiral as the water in the shower begins to run cold. Once I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed and really can’t think of an excuse to stay in here any longer, I get out and dry off. Then I head out to the lockers to see what can be done about my clothes.
Not much. Everything in my locker is covered in goo, and so are the gym clothes I was wearing when the whole thing exploded.
Motherfucker.
I’m not about to walk across campus in just a towel. I’ve got enough problems already, thanks. Getting in trouble for public indecency would just be icing on the cake.
All the other girls already left, so I can’t ask anyone for help. Not that I’ve got a lot of friends here. And I’m not putting my gooey, smelly clothes back on.
What the hell do I do?
I worry my lip between my teeth, wondering if maybe I should try to take my brace off, see if I can access my powers, and… well, honestly, I don’t even know what. That’s about as far as my plan goes. A knock at the door makes me jump about a foot in the air, and I hear it opening partway. A cement wall obscures the door from my view, but I spin around, prepared to face Alyssa in case she came back for round two.
“Hello?” a soft voice calls. To my shock, it sounds like Asher. “Um, Elliot? You still in here?”
“Yeah, come on in. It’s just me.”
I hear the door close, and then Asher walks around the corner. His nose wrinkles, and he stumbles to a halt when he sees the goo everywhere. His gaze lands on me standing in a corner wrapped in my towel, and heat flares in his green eyes, but pity softens them too.
It’s strange. Normally anything even resembling sympathy makes my skin itch, but from Asher, I don’t mind it so much. I don’t know what that says about him, or me, but I decide not to think about it too hard right now.
“Yeah.” I shrug, glancing around at the locker room. “It’s a mess.”
“You all right?”
I nod but don’t say anything else. Touchy-feely stuff isn’t really my strong suit. Then I notice he’s got some clothes in his hands, and my brows draw together. “What are those?”
He walks over and hands them to me. “For you,” he says qui
etly. “I overheard what happened. Everyone was talking about it. I figured you probably needed new clothes. I couldn’t get to your dorm, but…”
I take the clothes and see that it’s a shirt I’ve seen Cam wear, and a pair of Asher’s pants. Asher’s the smallest guy out of the three friends, so it makes sense he’d think I would have the best chance with his jeans. “This is really sweet. Thank you so much.”
“It’s nothing.” He flushes pink. “I’ll go find someone to clean up the mess.”
“You really don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Asher replies, his voice still quiet but firm. He starts to go, then pauses. “People get scared when something new enters their lives. So they respond by attacking it because that way they can feel in control again. That’s all Alyssa’s doing. I’m not defending her actions in any way, but… just don’t let her get you down, okay?”
He gives me a small smile, one that melts my heart, and then he hurries off to find someone to take care of the goo.
I change quickly. There’s no sense in delaying the inevitable anymore. When I’m dressed, I stuff what I absolutely need from my locker into my gym bag and chuck everything else in the trash. Then I march across campus in too-big clothes toward my dorm.
The shirt smells like Cam, the pants like Asher. They’re both warm, clean scents, and they complement each other perfectly—citrusy lemongrass and an earthier sandalwood smell. It takes a little effort to resist bringing the shirt up to my nose and inhaling deeply.
When I reach my dorm though, all thoughts of how good the guys smell evaporate from my mind. While I was taking my time showering and getting cleaned up, Alyssa and the others made their next move.
All my stuff sits in the hallway outside the room.
I know without even trying it that the door will be locked. Their message is as clear as if they’d scrawled it on the wall in red paint. You’re not welcome here. And they didn’t even bother to pack my things up before they moved me out. Shirts and clothes are spilled everywhere, all my worldly belongings piled up haphazardly. I just hope they didn’t break anything.