by C. L. Stone
“You don't need to.” But she's already walking away, strides long as she covers the space between her bodyguard and us.
“What was she talking about?” Declan asks once the pair sweep from the room.
I lower my voice, in case any teachers pass by. “She has some goo created by the Rothven clan that healed my back. I don't think it's allowed on campus.”
Declan's gaze shifts to my shoulder. “Can I see?”
“What are you two whispering about?” Felix pops back into the classroom, Connor on his heels.
“Caitlyn's been treated with magical Rothven goo.” He tells them.
“I'm not showing you.” I turn so my back faces away from them. “It's embarrassing.”
“Magic isn't real.” Connor removes his glasses and slides them into his pocket. “It's just a different scientific method that doesn't translate into human understanding.”
Felix raises his arm. “I believe in magic.”
“Shut up, no you don't.”
“The magic of love, bro. It's totally real.”
“That's not what we're talking about.”
“Love heals all wounds.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Did Myrrine heal you with her girl love? Because that would be hot.”
“You,” I point a finger at him, “shut up.”
“It's cool, I can keep a secret.” He sighs, gaze distant.
“Stop whatever you're imagining, right now.”
He hums, not meeting my gaze. “Yeah, super hot.”
“Connor, make him stop.” I feel a blush heat my cheeks. “Myrrine did not heal me with girl love.”
“So what was it?” Declan lifts my bag from my shoulder and sets it on my roommate's desk.
I stare at it, suspicious. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see the miracle of Rothven science.”
“I'm not taking off my shirt!” I tightly fold my arms under my breasts.
“You're wearing an undershirt.” He reaches for the top button at my throat.
I slap his hand away. “That's not the point.”
“I'll take my shirt off if it makes you more comfortable.” Felix untucks his shirt from his pants, fingers already at work on the bottom buttons.
“No, that's okay.” My eyes drop to the glint of his belt buckle, visible through the open bottom of his shirt.
“You sure?” His fingers move up, and another button slides free. Skin peeks through the opening.
My mouth goes dry as the patch of skin becomes more visible with every undone button. I drag my eyes away. “Yeah, I'm sure.”
“Does she look sure, bro?” Felix loud whispers.
“Not at all, bro.”
“Should I keep going?”
Connor slaps the top of his head. “Stop hitting on my girlfriend.”
“I thought she was my girlfriend.” He pauses, shirt half open, to glance up at me through his lashes. “You're mine, right, Sparks?”
I cover my face. “I'm no one's girlfriend.”
“Cool it, you two.” Declan pulls my hands down. “You don't have to show us if you don't want to.”
“It doesn't really matter, I guess.” He's right, I'm wearing an undershirt. Unlike Felix, who hasn't bothered to cover himself again. I turn my back to them and quickly undo my shirt, just far enough to shrug it off my right shoulder. “See? No mark.”
A tug on my shirt pulls it further off my shoulder, followed by a low whistle. “Brightstream, that's amazing.”
I stare at the back wall as I tell myself to stop, not be embarrassed. It's not like I'm naked. “Yeah, it tingled a bunch when she put the goo on.”
Warm fingers smooth over my shoulder, and I flinch. The touch withdraws. “Sorry, does it still hurt?”
“No, you surprised me.” I lick my lips, gaze focused on the desk while I pretend my face doesn't feel on fire. “It stopped hurting almost as soon as she put the salve on.”
“Let me see.” I peek back to see Connor move closer, eyes fixed to my back. “How big was the mark?”
Facing away again, I reach an arm back to point at my lower ribs. “Down to here.”
This time, when the touch comes, I'm not surprised. Connor's smooth fingers drift over my shoulder blade, soothing like a light massage. My muscles relax beneath his touch. Fingers entwine with my left hand. I glance over to see Felix, seated on a desktop, our hands clasped. He smiles up at me, a thumb tracing circles along my knuckles.
“It looks magical.” Declan says from behind me. A hand cups my bare shoulder, calluses rough on his palm. “The mark's completely gone.”
“Why haven't they put this stuff to use in the hospitals?” Connor's fingers drop to trace the top of my camisole, then dip beneath. “This should be in use everywhere.”
“I don't know, it came from Myrrine.” I stare into Felix's green eyes as he pulls my hand to his face, his breath ghosting across my knuckles. I shiver as goosebumps rise on my arm. “Maybe it's hard to make? Or it's halion exclusive.”
“Are you cold?” As Declan's palm slides off my shoulder to rub my arm, my camisole's strap falls off.
Cool air hits my chest, and I yank my top back up. “Okay, we're done. Shows over.”
I speed button my shirt, eyes focused on the task so I won't have to look at any of them.
“Do you think anyone else has heard of this stuff?” Connor sounds farther away now, closer to the door. I peek over to find him and Declan with their heads close together in discussion.
“They're total science nerds.” Felix whispers to me. “If Declan asks for a skin sample, punch him in the face.”
“Really?” I never would have guessed. But people don't look at me and think mechanic, so I shouldn't cast stones.
“Yeah,” Felix nods as he hops off the desk. “They won all the school competitions together.”
“You guys went to school together?” I shouldn't be surprised. Not everyone had home tutors like I did.
“Yeah, that's where we met.” He tugs on my arm, drawing me toward the pair. “Instant geek bond for those two.”
“Huh.”
I'm not sure how I feel about being viewed scientifically. On the one hand, way less embarrassed for being half naked in front of them. On the other, a little offended. I mean, I was half naked, well, maybe only a quarter naked. My shoulders were bare. One shoulder. Okay, I was fully clothed, and there's nothing to blush over.
Felix lets go of me to push his brother through the door. “Let's go. You're with me tonight, remember?”
“That's right.” Declan slings an arm over my shoulder to pull me against his side. “Sparks and I have a date to go on.”
“It's a heist, not a date.” I elbow him in the stomach.
“It can be both.”
Ahead, the twins bicker and push each other as they bounce down the hall toward the exit.
“No, it can't.” I ignore the tingles that travel down from his arm, through my body. My heart speeds up. “Dates are romantic.”
“Do you want romance?” Declan's hold tightens, his breath ruffling over the top of my head. “I thought you were more of an adrenaline junkie.”
My lungs lock up as my heart trips into a fast beat. Shaky, I forcefully draw in air. “Can't I want both?”
“I'll see what I can do.” His mouth presses into my curls, and he inhales. “I don't want you to be disappointed on our date.”
Even after he lifts his head, I still feel the press of his lips. I expel a shuddering breath. “It's not a date.”
“Just keep telling yourself that.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I have the next hour to convince you otherwise.”
8
THE HEIST
“I'm not sure about this plan.” I tug on Declan's arm as he edges toward the swinging door.
“There are only five servers, and they're all busy right now.” He nods his head toward the dinner buffet, in full swing. “We'll just pop in, grab the sugar, and get out before they're done serving.”
Behind us, the twins' voices rise in an animated debate over rice balls versus protein cakes. Nervous, I keep my grip on Declan's shirt. My heart thunders in my chest. This is nothing like the excitement from disc-bike racing. We're stealing from the school. Even though it was my suggestion, I regret it with every fiber of my being right now. “What about the cooks?”
“They'll be on break right now.” He tugs me forward. “Now, come on before someone sees us.”
We push through the door into the kitchen. “How are we supposed to find anything here?”
I stare around at the metal countertops and stainless steel appliances, wire racks stuffed with pots and pans, cutting boards with food still partially chopped.
“There's a pantry somewhere. The sugar will be there.” He sounds confident as his head shifts from left to right in search. At least, the room's empty for now.
Not seeing another door right away, I move around Declan toward the back, past the stovetops with pans of boiling water. Around the corner, I find a large metal door with a lever handle. I put my hands against the cold surface as I try to peek through a small window, inset above my head. Even on tiptoes, I can't see.
“What did you find?” Declan comes up behind me, arms bracketing my body, to peer inside. His spice cologne surrounds me as he presses close to get a better look. “It's a freezer.”
I duck under his arm to glance around. The freezer wall extends another few feet before it ends at a solid black door. A steady breeze circulates inward from it, and light shines through a narrow crack where it's been left open.
“Let's try this hall.” Declan peers down a short hall to the right that lines the back of the cooking area. Two doors indent the left wall with old-school lever handles. It makes sense. They wouldn't want palm scanners in the kitchen.
“Yeah, sounds good.” My pulse pounds as sweat breaks out over my forehead. It feels like we've been in here forever. We'll be caught any minute, either by the servers returning or the missing cooks.
The first door opens into a supply closet. Ammonia and mildew plume out before Declan can find the light switch. “Nope.”
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Blood rushes through my ears as I jog to the next door. As I crack it open, an automatic light flicks on. Relief floods through me to leave me light-headed. I clutch the doorframe.
“Good job, Sparks.” Declan squeezes my shoulder at the sight of the food lined shelves. Many house large white tubs for uniformity, the ingredient printed in black on the front. “Come on, let's find the sugar.”
He goes left, so I take the shelves on the right to skim the labels. The wire rack spans the entire wall of the room, seven feet long with a new level every two feet. None of the buckets on my side are what we need. I meet Declan at the back of the room where they store waist high barrels. He lifts the lid of one and scratches his head as we stare down at the white granules inside.
“What should we do?” I glance around the room, but don't find a smaller container to scoop some into.
“Maybe there's something in the main room?” He turns toward the door. “They have to have some way to transport it from here to the prep area, right?”
Voices float down the hall as the servers return to the kitchen.
“Hide!” Declan hisses as he shuts the door.
I turn in a circle, searching for a good spot, then drop to the floor and roll under the shelving unit. A moment later, Declan follows.
“What are you doing?” I squish my back against the wall as far as I can. “They'll see you like this.”
“Come here.” He wiggles and tugs until I sprawl across his chest so he can wedge back against the wall. The lower shelf presses into my back, smashing me into him.
I struggle to pull air into my lungs and wheeze, “Can you breathe?”
“It's kind of tight.” His voice comes out strained.
Overhead, the light flicks off. Complete darkness. Surprised, I lift my head and bang into the lower shelf. “Ouch! Why didn't you hide under the other shelf?”
“This one's deeper.” As he wiggles beneath me, my back scrapes against the metal wires.
“Stop moving.” I tuck my head into his chest and try to flatten myself out.
“Here, try this.” A hand touches my leg, high up on the thigh. He pats me, then tugs on my slacks. “Move your leg off to the side.”
Blood rushes to my head as I stiffen. “No. I'm not straddling you.”
“It'll relieve some of your weight.” Beneath my ear, his breaths sound strained.
“Are you saying I'm heavy?”
“I know I should say no right now, but...” he trails off to pull in another shallow breath.
I put my elbows against the shelf so I can push with all my might. The ingredients make it heavy, immovable. Instead, my body presses down on him, and I listen to all the air leave his lungs. “How about now?”
His hand taps at my hip, frantic. I release the pressure, and he coughs as his lungs re-expand. He gasps, “You're light as a feather.”
“Better.” I drop my leg to the side, knee bent up toward his hip. Impossibly, our bodies press closer together as the hard line of his thigh moves between mine. I tuck my head down further. “You better not say anything about this to the twins.”
“What's to tell?” His hand cups my neck before it moves to the back of my head. “What are you doing? That can't be comfortable.”
“Your chest is like a rock.” I reposition my head as my cheek slides off his pec.
“Come up a little higher.” His fingers find my elbow as he tries to nudge me up.
“Why?” I shimmy up his body, glad he can't see the blush that stains my cheeks.
“Stop, right there.” He pulls my head down, and I stiffen my neck in resistance. In the dark, I have no idea where his face is, but it must be close. His hand moves to my neck, thumb massaging the base of my skull. “Relax. It's not something bad.”
“I think we should go over our definitions of what that means.”
“Trust me.” But he stops trying to force me into position. Instead his fingers slide through my curls to rest against my skin.
Hesitant, I lower my head by slow degrees, until I land in the cradle between his shoulder and neck. “Oh.”
“See? This is much more comfortable.” His hand leaves my neck. It lands on my knee, pulling me closer.
“Yeah, you're right.” I now have some space between me and the bottom shelf. With my knee pressed into the floor, Declan breathes easier. I rub my nose against his neck and settle in to wait.
His warmth bleeds into my body, relaxing tense muscles. I blink heavy lids, not sure why I keep my eyes open when I can't see anything in the dark. I let them drift shut with a sigh. The last couple nights, I haven't slept that well. Not Myrrine's fault she coos in her sleep, but it's hard to get used to. Added to that, my anxiety over how I wanted to handle the guys today, and I'd stayed up most of the night.
Declan's head shifts so his cheek rests against mine. “You smell nice.”
“Myrrine says that, too.” I mumble without opening my eyes.
“Oh?” His stubble scrapes against my skin as he rubs our faces together.
“Yeah, she keeps sniffing me.” The stiff hairs irritate me, jarring me out of my sleepy state. I reach up to fumble over his head until I find his face. I pat his cheek. “Stop that, it hurts.”
“Sorry.” He settles down.
We lapse into silence. Lassitude crawls back over me as I let my breathing even out and synch with his slower ones. With a yawn, I snuggle closer. “You make a nice bed.”
“You make a nice blanket.” He rumbles back. “You falling asleep on me?”
“Might.” I pat his cheek again. “Wake me when we can leave.”
Laughter sounds in his voice. “What if I want to sleep, too?”
“You can't, you're the lookout.”
“When did we decide that?”
“Just now.” I cover his mouth. �
�Now hush.”
Against my palm, his lips curve into a smile.
~
The bed rolls beneath me. “Sparks, wake up.”
I lurch and slam the back of my head against the ceiling. “Ouch!”
“Hey, you okay?” Gentle fingers tangle in my hair.
“What?” I blink into deep black, my confused brain trying to defog enough to remember where I am. “Blaze?”
“Hey there, sleepy head.” The hand moves to cup my neck. “You were out for two hours.”
Memory catches up. “We're in the pantry.”
“Yeah, I think they left. I haven't heard anything for a few minutes now.”
“Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Nothing like being treated as a futon to let me know your true feelings, right?” He wiggles beneath me, and I realize I'm still lying on top of him.
“Ugh, sorry.”
“No worries, it was kind of nice.”
“If you say so.” I shift my weight to slide off him and freeze at the sharp pull against my hair.
“Hey, keep moving, my ass is numb.” He shifts to try to get out from under me. The pull intensifies.
I hit his shoulder. “Stop, I'm stuck.”
“Where?” His hands skim down my back, over my hips. “I don't feel anything.”
“My hair.” I reach back to feel a knot of curls stuck to the underside of the shelf.
“Okay, hold still.” His body tenses beneath me as he reaches up to try to untangle me. After a moment, he stops. “I need to move so I can use both hands.”
“Oww!” The fine strands of hair pull at my scalp with his every move. “You're going to rip it out.”
“Shh, it's okay.” His arm trapped against the wall pops free. Both hands return to the back of my head. “It's just a couple curls.”
Eyes scrunched against the pain, I try to keep myself still as he works. “Hurry up.”
“I don't want to rip your hair out.” His breath blows against my face. I jump, unaware how close his mouth was to me. “Don't move, you'll make it worse.”
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” he grunts. The tension against my scalp releases. “Got it.”