by S. J. Black
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” he mumbled.
“Good.”
“Zara -”
“What’ve you got to feel shit about?” She scoffed lightly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the one carrying the giant L on my head.”
He shifted uncomfortably, brooding. “About that -”
“I don’t want to hear your sad excuses about why this is Baron's business or whatever. Seriously, save it for someone who cares but lucky for you though, it seems like the entire school does.”
“Don’t take this to heart -”
“Are you for real?”
“I’m serious -”
“And so am I -”
“Will you let me finish? -”
“No.”
“That’s mature.”
Zara whipped her head around. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Are you joking? You’re looking down at me and my maturity? Have you looked at yourself?”
Theo merely lifted his eyebrows, unfazed. “I’m not the one that’s being stubborn.”
“Ugh! You are literally ”
Mr Ainsley heard the commotion, ready to dispense his increasing frustration. “Miss Haife, this is the second time in -”
“Yeah, yeah, you know what, don’t worry, sir! I’ll see myself out to the headmaster’s office!” Zara exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table.
The rest of the class looked on in shock, finally acknowledging her existence. She turned around, raising her middle finger up. “And fuck you guys, I know you can see me!”
Zara stormed out of the door before hearing Mr Ainsley proclamations of anger echoing down the hall.
She walked out of the building, relishing the cool air breeze hitting her inflamed senses as she moved into the main building, wandering down the halls. A part of her was grateful that Theo hadn’t followed her, another part disappointed that he didn’t.
She didn’t know where she was headed, but the last place she planned to go was the headmaster’s office. She didn’t need another round of Headmaster Defoe’s judgment. It was bad enough that the entire school had submitted to Jasper’s demands, and now she was on her own. Even Theo tried to reason with her about her exile.
Because that was what it was; exile.
There wasn’t any point in sugarcoating the truth.
Zara found a cosy armchair near the library entrance by the window and she took a seat there, sighing heavily. No-one would find her here for another thirty minutes. Everyone was in class.
She rubbed her face, massaging the knots of tension lodged under her skin.
God, she felt exhausted, and it wasn’t even the end of the day. As she looked out of the window, she felt that eerie sense of danger. Glancing around her, she could see that she was alone.
So why did she feel unsettled?
As though someone was watching her.
Shaking her head, she got up and entered the library. Determined to not sit alone with her thoughts any longer.
The head librarian looked up from her books, her signature red rimmed glasses perched low on her nose. Ms Altagracia gave Zara a curious expression, tilting her soft, round face. She must have been over sixty, the telltale wrinkles etched into the corner of her eyes as she smiled softly.
“It’s a bit early for class to be over, isn’t it?”
Zara gave a sheepish nod. “Yes, I just...I just wanted to…”
“Be alone?” Ms Altagracia said knowingly.
“Exactly that.”
She sighed, considering Zara’s solemn expression. She removed her glasses, cleaning the lenses carefully, mulling over her next words. “Look, it’s none of my business, but if you’re in trouble -”
“Don’t worry, I shouldn’t have come here. Sorry, I’ll just go -”
“Now, did I say anything about that? Hm?” Ms Altagracia gave a kind look, sending a wide-eyed nod. “You can stay. Just make sure you actually pick up a book and utilise the library’s resources. Then I know you’re here to read and I’ve done my duty.”
Zara nodded gratefully, breaking into a small smile. “Of course, thank you.”
“Hm,” she murmured, putting her glasses back on and tucking into her latest read.
Zara strolled into the various aisles, meandering.
She relished the quiet of the old library. It was fairly dated and needed a heavy renovation, but Zara preferred the rustic charm it carried. It still held on to the remnants of the past, with its strong oak bookshelves and tartan grandfather chairs, alongside the wooden panelling of the walls.
Her fingers mindlessly trailed the spines of the books, caressing the golden and silver inscriptions of the titles. Her hands stopped to rest on a book. She took it out of the bookshelf, glancing at the cover.
Tess of the D'Urbervilles
One of her dad’s favourites.
She tried to love it in the same way, but her thirteen-year-old self at the time preferred to hide under the duvets and play on her phone. Zara held onto the book, finding a quiet spot to sit and read.
She sat on the windowsill seat, opening up the pages. The misery, the melancholy and the strength of the characters resonated differently to her now.
Was it age that did that?
A few metres away from her spot, Zara heard the doors of the library open, a padding of confident footsteps as they reached Ms Altagracia’s desk.
Who else was out?
Zara checked her watch.
10:38.
It was still class time.
“Morning Gloria,” a familiar, aristocratic drawl echoed.
Fuck this shit.
Was the universe out to get her?
Why?
WHY HER?
“Morning, Mr Rashford,” Ms Altagracia said ruefully. “Sent out of class again, I presume.”
His warm, velvet chuckle surprised Zara. She didn’t think he could emit anything but cold disdain. Her body remained rigid, paralysed with uncertainty.
“I suppose my new year's resolution didn’t last very long,” he said charmingly. “I was just hoping to spend some time in the company of good literary characters. But your presence is perfect for me."
God, he was worse than Theo’s attempts to butter up the teachers. Ms Altagracia gave a disapproving snort, shuffling some papers in the corner.
“That may be so, but I need you to actually pick up a book otherwise you have no use here, Mr Rashford.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Gloria,” he sighed. “I’ll amuse myself with some crime fiction.”
“And try not to disturb the others, please.”
Oh shit.
Zara cursed under her breath lightly. Her hands were digging into the thin pages of her book.
“Others?” Jasper said curiously.
“Well, it’s just you and another student today. I expect you both to keep quiet. I’m familiar with your excellent habit of distraction. As I'm told by your teachers,” she said pointedly.
“Ah, I shall do my best,” he said.
Zara could hear the faint footsteps echo in the distance, getting louder as he approached her area. He wasn’t too far now. Only a few more aisles and he would have her cornered.
Quite literally.
The universe was never her ally.
Fight or flight. Those were options.
Neither sounded appealing. Both scenarios would involve Zara actually encountering Jasper. He was in the way of her exit and within a matter of minutes, he would find her hiding spot.
But then a flash of anger ignited her resolve. He had already made her life miserable within the matter of days. She wasn't going anywhere. He was expecting a docile bird that would cower under his haunted gaze.
Well, she had enough of the Barons’ arrogance.
It was only a matter of time.
Two minutes later, his tall form appeared in the corner of her vision. His dark, brooding stare burned into her ski
n. She didn’t even try to pretend that she couldn’t see him.
Turning to face him, she gave him a hard, wordless expression. Jasper merely gazed at her, watching her face with a piercing focus that would have unsettled another girl.
Not by Zara.
She refused.
The uncomfortable silence felt like time had stopped. In reality, it had probably only been fifteen seconds, but it felt like fifteen hours.
“It’s not like you to be left speechless,” Jasper lifted his brow.
“I’d rather not waste my words,” she retorted. “Especially not on you.”
He took a step closer. An tense vein pulsed in the middle of his forehead as his eyes flashed a dangerous, warning look. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he sauntered closer to where she sat, relishing in the telltale signs of her discomfort.
“That mouth is going to get you in trouble,” he said tightly.
“I’ll be fine,” she smiled emptily. “Thanks for your concern.”
She turned back to her book, determined to give him the cold shoulder. Zara could feel the anger brimming from his body as it seeped into her consciousness. But she wouldn’t bend. She wouldn’t indulge him -
Zara’s book was ripped out of her hands as Jasper held onto it, glancing at the title page. Her face blushed in fury.
“Give it back,” she hissed.
“Tess of the D'urbervilles,” he noted derisively. He lifted the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smirk. “How very poignant.”
“I won’t repeat myself,” Zara stood up.
She didn’t know what she intended to do. Physically fight Jasper Rashford in the Barcourt library? She didn’t need to be psychic to know that the odds were never stacked in her favour.
His grey eyes pierced into Zara’s stony face, swimming in amusement. “Or what?”
She didn’t respond. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, her anger restrained underneath her skin. He noted the change in her body language, glancing down to her chest.
Fury burst into her consciousness.
“How dare you? -”
The sound of the book crashing to the floor echoed in the library chamber with Jasper cornering Zara into the corner, his firm hand wrapped tightly against Zara’s mouth.
Her eyes flared in shock and a slice of fear. The first trickle of vulnerability showed.
He crowded her senses, leaving hardly any space for her to escape him.
He was close enough for Zara to count the flecks of gold in his silvery gaze. The rise of his cheekbones cut into his harsh face, juxtaposing against the softness of his mouth and the thick lashes decorating his eerily cold eyes.
Jasper Rashford was a devastatingly handsome man. And that fact infuriated her.
Maybe if he had an ugly face to match his personality, it would make things less complicated. Her mind screamed at her description of him.
“You seem oddly tense,” he noted quietly.
She struggled against his grip, but he didn’t let go. He was enjoying this.
“I couldn’t quite catch that,” he drawled, leaning close.
She bit the inside of his hand with all of her might, digging her sharp teeth into his skin. He released his hand instantly, cursing under his breath, but he kept her arm in his hold.
“Get your hands off me,” she growled venomously.
“Or what?”
“Do you really want to entertain that thought?”
Jasper merely pursed his lips thoughtfully, shrugging. “I’m not afraid of a challenge. Go on,” he prompted. He leaned forward. Until they were inches apart, their mouths were horrifyingly too close for her liking. “Surprise me.”
Zara breathed heavily. Mortification was all she felt. She was cornered in every way, and he knew it.
Clicking his tongue, he tucked a stray piece of her messy hair behind her ear, considering her softly. She recoiled at his warm touch, slapping his hand.
“Don’t you touch me," she bit out.
“Take your mind out of the gutter, darling.”
“What do you want?” She growled, tensing her whole body.
She was ready to run. Kick him in the balls and run. That was an attractive scenario.
Jasper seemed to read her mind, gripping her close to him, shutting out any possibility of escape. His eerily cold, dangerous eyes searched her face intently, almost as though he was searching for the answer too.
The silence stretched into an uncomfortable pregnant pause; this was the longest she had been in his space without talking. If he felt awkward by this encounter, he showed no signs of it. He seemed to savour this moment. Having her this close to him. She shivered in fear.
Was he going to hurt her?
“Are...are you going to hurt me?” Zara murmured cautiously. The first sign of vulnerability was open on her face.
The question snapped him out of his reverie like a harsh splash of cold water.
“Hurt you?” He said tersely.
Zara inhaled deeply, raising her head with a steely determination. “You know what I mean.”
He instantly released his hold on her, seething at the implication of her words. His enraged expression burned into her skin, marring her with the accusation of her words.
“If I wanted to touch you, I would have done it earlier,” he said calmly.
It was eerie. The tone of his voice was in a sharp contrast to his tense, stiff posture. His hands clenched with an unrestrained emotion. “If I wanted to fuck you, I would have.”
“Even against my will?” Her face contorted in disgust.
He lifted the corner of his mouth in a derisive sneer. “With me, darling, there’ll be no force. You can be certain of that.”
“You’re disgusting,” she recoiled.
Zara straightened her back, moving a few spaces backwards, setting a comfortable distance between the two. Jasper chuckled lightly at her action, leaning against the frame of the bookcase, regarding her quietly.
“How’s isolation treating you?” He said knowingly. She didn’t miss the glint of mischief that flashed in his silver eyes.
“You think this is funny?” She hissed.
His sharp gaze never once left her form. “I think it’s amusing, yes.”
A horrible, heavy sinking feeling crushed her chest. Toying with her emotions was just a funny game to him. It didn’t matter if it was weighing her down, every day another person ignored her presence. Her very existence.
She took several steps towards him, wearing a stony mask concealing her emotions. He read her gaze with a certain fascination.
“You’re pathetic,” she breathed. Glaring at him with all her might, she revelled in the minor flash of surprise in his stoic face.
“Is that so?”
She said nothing. Her glare was her answer.
“Are you broken yet?” He said solemnly.
“Not by a long shot,” she growled.
A ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, a rare glimpse of pure amusement dancing in his eyes. His entire existence was a mind-fuck. How did he look like a regular teenager while talking of her destruction? Like they were discussing favourite football teams?
“You’re insane.”
He pursed his lips in thought. “You wouldn’t be the first person to call me that.”
“What is it you want?”
“Ah yes, before we get into that,” he moved around her, brushing past the skin of her hand, sending a flurry of goosebumps. She shifted instantly at the touch and she noted Jasper flinched away, almost as though the encounter scarred him. He swiftly took a seat in the window, leaning back with a confidence she only saw in a Baron.
The tables had turned. He was the one holding the power imbalance in his hands.
“I’d like to know what you think of me.”
“Excuse me?” Zara flinched.
“You heard me.”
“I really don’t think you want to know the answer to that,” she scoffed darkly.
“No,
go on,” he grinned like a Cheshire cat.
“Why? So you can torture me some more?”
“I don’t need another reason to do that, silly girl,” he rolled his eyes. He leaned his head against the frame of the window seat, watching Zara. “One’s enough.”
“Good to know,” Zara gritted.
“So answer my question,” he said seriously.
“What do I want? Well, on the very top of my list right now would be for you to leave me alone.”
“Interesting.”
“Why’s it interesting?” She folded her arms defensively, glaring at him like a hawk.
“Because it will not happen soon,” he replied at a tauntingly slow pace.
“Why?” She said. A good part of her wanted to shout and scream in his face, ignoring the environment she was in, but another part was just tired and wanted an answer to rid her of this day. She could really do without feeling like a ghost. “What do I have to do to get this to stop?”
“To get it to stop? Please, enough with the melodramatics,” he waved dismissively.
“I'm not being dramatic, I'm asking for you to back off. Leave me alone.”
“Many people have already done that. Thanks to me,” he tilted his head. “I’d say your wish has been fulfilled.”
“I want you and your stupid friends to stop this,” she clarified.
Her hand was itching to grab the book from the floor and get the hell out of there. But she needed him to leave first. Her pride refused to let her bend down before this man and grab something he threw on the floor.
“Reverse this stupid demand you’ve put on the student population.”
“Or what?”
He caught her there.
What could she do? Kick her feet and stomp in frustration? She did that for the last few days. Now, she didn’t really have many options. The teachers were useless; the elite protected the elite and although Zara wasn’t poor, she was ‘New Money’ - the traditional elite families ran this school. She had no choice.
She would have to bargain with him.
“Name your price,” she said firmly. “And no, this is not an invitation to be your sex slave or any slave of the sort; I expect a fair bargain. Name your fucking price so you can leave me in peace. I don’t want to fight.”