Falling For Them: A New Adult Reverse Harem Collection

by C. L. Stone

  “I’m sorry.” I managed to force the words from my throat. They came out a croak, too weak. He opened his mouth to speak, but I spun on my heel, hurrying off before my shaking legs could collapse beneath me. I could still feel the glare of his eyes, and the image of them was seared so firmly into my brain that it seemed like my neurotransmitters had gone and printed propaganda posters of him to hang up around the place. His eyes, like those of the driver, had been memorable. They had briefly reminded me of the spill of rich coffee, heady amber alcohol or pulled toffee. In short: addictive, and brown. Maybe it was the adrenaline, but what details I had noticed wouldn’t dislodge from my brain. Usually eye-colour was simple: blue, green, brown; flat, distinctive; light, dark. Was the sudden distinction of their features my own fault, or theirs? Someone shouted out, but I didn’t catch the word. I broke into a run. Once I was inside the halls I ducked through the masses of people, blessedly invisible once again. I disappeared inside the bathroom and shoved myself into a stall, collapsing immediately. Car… eyes… could have died… my panic tried to manifest in thought, but the words tumbled over themselves in their haste to be examined, and I ended up clutching my head until the racket quieted. I stayed like that until the bell rang, and then I forced myself to my feet. I splashed cold water on my face and ran to homeroom, heading toward the back row of seats with my head down.

  Mr. Thomas was already there, but he didn’t even seem to notice me as I sat down. After a few minutes, the door opened again and Mr. Thomas paused this time and looked over. The class fell silent and my heart thudded against my ribs, beating a pattern of trepidation. The boy with golden-brown eyes walked in, handing a note over.

  He was a new student—of course—but Mr. Thomas didn’t bother introducing him; he looked at the note, frowned, and crossed his arms. “You’re late, Cabe.” Cabe’s smile stretched, becoming easy and charming. Despite the fact that it wasn’t aimed at me, I found myself almost relaxing. It had that effect. “I got hit by my brother’s car.” He said it like the whole incident amused and perplexed him all at the same time.

  There was a scattering of laughter about the classroom, and I wasn’t surprised that most of the kids already seemed to know about the parking lot incident. The gossip mill was a mysterious system to me—it existed independently of whatever link in the chain I might have been able to provide, but I’d born witness to its velocity and power all the same. “You look fine to me.” Mr. Thomas didn’t sound too impressed. He turned and scanned the small congregation of students all staring at Cabe and whispering to each other like a singular organismic blob of secrets and judgements—all breathing and exhaling together as one festering thing—and then he waved a casual hand at… me. “There’s an empty seat next to Seraph over there, don’t be late again.” No there isn’t! My head snapped up and my spine straightened in an almost painful way, my teeth clamping together. Cabe looked toward the seat, and then his eyes shifted directly to me, pausing. The reaction was brief enough that I almost missed it: a slight arch to his brow, a curve of the lip, and then he was moving. Every other person tracked his progress as he sank into the seat and turned his attention to the front. I glared at the wall behind Mr. Thomas’s head as he worked to get the attention of the class again. I didn’t move until the bell rang for the next period, and then I jerked out of my seat, hastily gathering my books. I was ready to race out of the door before anyone else, but a tanned hand slapped lightly against my desk, and that was all it took. I stopped like he had concreted my shoes to the floor and blinked at his hand. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, until the students filed out. The hand was broad and long-fingered; clean nails, cut short. It moved toward me, a gentle touch at the base of my elbow.

  “Are you okay?” His voice had a slight accent, becoming more pronounced with his soft tone. I couldn’t pinpoint it, like it didn’t belong to any one place in particular. The most likely scenario was that his parents travelled a lot. My eyes snapped up, quickly taking in his face. His jaw was sharply prominent, his skin a dark tan that contrasted heavily with his white button-down shirt. His hair was dark brown, shorter on the sides and flopping over his forehead in soft curls. His brows were elegant, arching with masterful shadow to draw together a darkly appealing mien, softened by the hint of amusement that he attempted to hide from me. I would have labelled him a typical romance-book-Adonis, if not for the gentle humour that radiated off him. He wouldn’t have been able to muster a brood to save his life.

  I was staring at him, not answering, and Mr. Thomas had finished gathering his paperwork. “Hurry it along you two,” he prompted, heading for the door.

  “May I walk you?” Cabe asked, his eyes warm and full of gentle question. I managed a nod and he steered me for the door, maintaining a slight touch at my elbow. It switched to my back as we cleared the classroom, hovering but not really touching. It caught me off-balance, sending a foreign trickle of feeling along my skin—like someone had gently scratched up my spine with a bristly leaf—and causing my step to falter. “Your name is Seraph?” He had to hunch over a little bit to speak to me, and he still seemed amused by something. I flinched. “Yes, my name is Seraph, and no, my parents weren’t on drugs.” I muttered the last part under my breath, not in the mood for anyone to make fun of my name today. His smile widened. “I like it. If they weren’t on drugs then…” he trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the gaps.

  “Blame it on whimsy.” I kept my eyes fixed to the floor out of habit, and my hair sipped over my shoulder. The sleepy curls were tangled, forming an intricate, dark curtain to separate us. I didn’t push the barrier away, instead relieved that I could no longer feel his stare, as gentle and amused as it was. There was something different about this boy and his brother, and I had more than enough experience with different to know that it wasn’t always a good thing. He didn’t speak all the way to my next class, and it took that long for me to realise that he had pulled me out of the way of a moving car, and taken the brunt himself. I glanced sideways, slowing down with the door to my class in sight. He paused, and I risked a peek at his face.

  “You’re not hurt.” It was more a statement, but I asked it like I feared the answer anyway. He hesitated, and then brushed the hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. My face flamed bright despite the strange scratchy feeling that accompanied his touch, and he turned to face me fully. Other students were passing behind his back, slowing down as we had, peering at the two of us curiously. He seemed to be angling his broad shoulders in just the right way to hide me from them. “No, the car had almost stopped by the time it hit us.”

  I nodded, focusing on his feet. “Thank you.” The hallway cleared. He backed off me a little bit and I found myself meeting his eyes. “Knew you had it in you somewhere, Seraph. You’re welcome.” He smiled and spun on his heel, walking away with his hands stuffed into his pockets and a whistle floating casually down the hallway after him.

  I watched as he disappeared around the corner before I ducked into my class. I barely heard anything through the next two classes, and soon found myself curled onto a bench on the outskirts of the cafeteria, my stomach grumbling. My tablemate was a younger boy with freckles and sandy blond hair. He didn’t speak to me and I didn’t speak to him. It was the way we worked. I knew that his name was Matthew, because it was scrawled on his notebook. Cabe and his brother weren’t hard to spot; they were sitting centre stage, surrounded by the popular kids. I knew, realistically, that the whole cafeteria floor was one giant, level slab, but my eyes seemed to be tricking me into seeing them elevated in the centre of the room. Even the dim Seattle sunlight was spilling in from the cafeteria windows at just the right angle to bathe them in a natural halo of golden superiority. Lilly—one of the cheerleaders—was perched on the arm of the driver’s chair, while another girl framed Cabe on the other side. Cabe was entertaining everyone within hearing distance, easily, casually, like he didn’t know what out-of-your-element even meant. Everyone seemed to hang off his every word—la
ughing uproariously in all the right places—except his brother, who just looked bored. I watched as Cabe told another apparent joke, causing one of the football guys to lose control and fall out of his chair, knocking over a passing girl. I wasn’t entirely sure how, but his hands found their way up her skirt and then her chocolate milk found its way into his face. Cabe laughed at the spectacle, but his brother watched it all without blinking an eye. I tried to shrink back into myself, hoping that my clothing would suddenly grow several sizes and swallow me up, but it wasn’t long until Cabe found me, and somehow I knew that he would.

  He smiled at me the way you would smile at a crazy person that you didn’t want to frighten away, and then leaned over and said something to his brother, who flicked his eyes up and found me, automatically. Immediately. Like he had a stupid homing beacon or something. I flinched back with the suddenness of the movement and focussed on the table in front of me.

  Matthew glanced up from his iPad before nudging something into the centre of the table: an untouched peanut butter sandwich. All thoughts of Cabe and his brother were swept from my mind, and I stared at the sandwich, my stomach cramping up almost violently.

  “Go on,” Matthew said casually, like it was no big deal. He did this sometimes, but I’d never hesitated before now. I muttered my thanks and reached for it, barely tasting it before it was gone. My stomach knotted painfully, either from how hungry the sandwich had made me, or the fact that I hadn’t eaten in days… I didn’t know. I pressed a hand against the pain, waiting for nausea to roll through me. Every few months I went so long without eating that my first meal for days would make me nauseous. The bell rang and students dragged their feet, prolonging their conversations like they actually had important things that needed to be discussed. I stared at the tabletop as Matthew left quietly and the cafeteria gradually emptied. I heard Tariq’s laugh somewhere and it lifted me and stabbed me all at once. Once I was sure that I wasn’t going to be sick, I gathered my stuff and started to slide out of the booth seat. Or at least I tried to. There was a person blocking the exit.

  Stormy blue eyes arrested me, and I paused, half-raised from the seat. On some level I recognised that Cabe was standing next to his brother, but I was too focussed on the boy standing before me. I didn’t understand how they were related; Cabe was an angel dressed in devilish features, and his brother was the very opposite. He brimmed with the kind of roiling emotion that possessed enough force to hint at imminent explosive action—even though I suspected that he was usually in perfect control. Maybe it was the very harsh styling of his hair: the pure and untarnished gold was pulled back and forced into streamlined compliance, darker or lighter in some places, giving the impression that it would shift tint in different lights. His skin was pale, a smooth and unblemished canvas to frame the splash of blue vibrancy held in his gaze. He was similar in build to Cabe, but a few inches shorter and a little wider at the shoulders. I narrowed my eyes on the shirtfront before me, and then dropped my eyes to the accompanying pants. They were dressed more formally than the other students, and much much nicer. I didn’t

  exactly have an eye for quality, but even I knew that I could have probably traded in my mum’s old car for one of their outfits.

  No wonder the other kids idolised them already. People this good-looking shouldn’t be walking around in daylight like they had nothing better to do than pretend to be normal like the rest of us. “You’re right,” the brother said. “She doesn’t talk much. Is she still in shock?” I raised myself further out of the seat and shuffled to the end, stepping out. This brought me almost chest-to-chest with the brother, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out what they wanted. I slung my bag over my shoulder, shot Cabe a defiant look—because he wasn’t so scary to look at—and started to move off. Cabe stepped forward, blocking me.

  “Her name is Seraph, and she’s right there. All…” he cocked his head “five feet of her. Ask her yourself.”

  I made to go the other way, but the brother shot a hand forward, anchoring it against the back of the bench seat. I was boxed in. “Seraph?” the brother questioned, his eyes on me.

  I didn’t know if he was questioning my name, or questioning me. “Yes?” I tried to stare at my feet, but the brother was too close to me. I ended up staring at his stomach.

  His fingers caught my chin, lifting my head up. I jumped at the touch, and he blinked, surprised. The same feeling that had assuaged me at Cabe’s touch now radiated from his brother’s fingers, spreading over my neck and heating my cheeks. Cabe chuckled. “You idiot, Noah. You scared her again.” “Can’t help it.” Noah sounded angry. “I almost ran you over his morning.” He directed this at me, his eyes flicking over my face, and then lower, cataloguing all of me. “Yes.” I lifted my chin, forcing his eyes back to my face. “And you didn’t move.” There was something compelling about his eyes. They drew me in until the storm surrounded me on all sides, his influence closing in on me like an actual physical force, tossing around my thoughts before they turned to words and fell across my lips, extracting things from me that I hadn’t even admitted to myself yet.

  “I have no idea what came over me.” My voice was breathless. “I’m sorry. I—ah, I hope… there’s no damage?”

  He grunted. “I think your self-preservation mechanism is damaged.” Cabe punched him, and I glanced over into the warmer eyes, some of the tension draining away. “Ignore him.” Cabe smiled. “He wanted to make sure I didn’t break you when I fell on you. He’s a hard-ass, but he cares.”

  Noah stepped back, turned and thumped his brother in the stomach. “Shut up, man.” Cabe sucked in a breath and rubbed at his stomach. I used the moment to my advantage, slipping away from both of them. Cabe turned to the side as I passed, but caught my elbow again. “Let me walk you,” he said, still rubbing the spot where Noah had punched him.

  “Okay.” I didn’t pause, and he fell into step beside me. Surprisingly, Noah shadowed my other side. “Keep walking,” Noah barked at a group of lingering students who were leaning against the wall outside the cafeteria, whispering to each other and staring at us. I jumped and slowed my walk as the other kids snapped to attention and scrambled away. Cabe and Noah slowed on either side of me, and confusion descended like a heavy fog in my brain. This wasn’t normal, was it? “You seem to be settling in easily,” I finally said, not aiming the statement at either of them in particular. “Be careful. They might make thrones for you.” Cabe snorted. “High school. Always the same.” “Right.”

  “Who was your friend?” Noah asked. “What friend?” I searched my brain, trying to think of anyone that I might consider a friend other than Tariq. There was the girl that I sometimes sat with on the bus when we didn’t have enough money to put gas in the car, or the boy at the corner store close to the school who made terrible coffee but always smiled at me, or—

  “The boy you were sitting with at lunch.” Noah threaded me a look, arching his brows. “Ah, Matthew. I don’t know. Today was the first time we’ve actually spoken.”

  Cabe started to laugh, but Noah’s head snapped up, and they shared a look over my head. Cabe quietened.

  We neared my art class and I opened the door, trying to act casual when they followed me inside. Quillan glanced up from his desk, tilting his head to the side. He seemed to be expecting the new boys, but his eyes narrowed fractionally when he spotted me standing between them. It wasn’t a look I was used to from my art teacher, so I quickly slipped away from Noah and Cabe to find my easel in the back of the classroom. The rest of the students were all setting up and chatting happily. Art class was pretty relaxed. The boys approached Quillan and I watched them from behind my blank canvas. Quillan had his long legs propped up on the desk in front of him, his black hair waved back from his forehead, styled to perfection, as always. Quillan smiled easily and often, but the mirth never reached the darkness of his eyes. He was always approachable, always gentle, and yet he seemed so far out of reach that I sometimes wondered if he existed o
n a separate wavelength to the rest of us. We could see him, and interact with him, but he was only half here. Though Cabe and Noah were certainly visually impressive, Quillan’s looks bordered on unnatural perfection. He was lean, but towered over anyone in the vicinity, and there was always something commanding about his presence, a powerful influence that simmered in the soft black velvet of his eyes. His eyes were actually blue—he had told the class once—but I only ever saw the black. Most of the girls harboured secret crushes on him, but I had never held an attraction to him. Yes, he was beautiful, but he had become a guardian, of sorts, in the time that I had known him. He was always watching over me, his gaze protective, always checking up on me, his questions kind. They were talking softly with each other now, and Quillan slid a look to me, his squared jaw flexing with a half-smile. Shocked, I retreated behind my canvas again and blindly picked up a paintbrush. I arranged my paints, embraced the racing thunder of my heartbeat, and began to paint.

  *