Chapter 2: Enemies Scolded Together
If patience was a virtue, then I was not virtuous at all, not when it came to Alexander Hawthorne which was always the case.
I sat in Headmaster Alistair's office, stiff-backed, arms crossed so tightly against my chest that I could feel my nails digging into my sleeves.
I've been to this office numerous times and mostly it was because of the overstuffed animal sitting next to me. Blue paint still clung to my blazer and shirt, tacky against my skin, a humiliating reminder of the morning's disaster. Across from me lounged the culprit himself, his long legs sprawled in the chair like he owned the place.
Alexander didn't even look guilty. His golden hair caught the light in a way that made it seem like he had a halo, except he was the furthest thing from angelic. He looked relaxed, smug even, as though being dragged into the headmaster's office was just another one of life's little entertainments.
Headmaster Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience.
"It's the first day of the new session," he said finally, voice low but sharp. "Your final year. And yet here you are, covered in paint like children. Do you both truly have no sense of propriety?"
"He started it…"
"She started it…"
Alexander and I said at the same time.
I glared at him and he replied with a smirk, which was his default expression. Everything should be replied with a smirk. Come to think of it, I've never seen Alexander angry. He always has that damn infuriating smile on his face every fucking time like he does right now.
Alistair's sigh was heavy enough to rattle the glass windows. I jumped in shock but then realised that was just the wind. He had no powers like that and this wasn't some fantasy novel I was reading.
"This." He said, "Exactly this. You're so focused on blaming each other you don't realize how ridiculous you sound. I should have known the two of you wouldn't change."
"I could change," I said quickly, heat rushing to my face. "If certain people weren't…"
"...breathing the same air as you are?" Alex cut in smoothly, his blue eyes glittering with amusement.
My jaw clenched. He made it sound like I was the unreasonable one.
Alistair slapped his hand against the desk, and the sharp crack silenced both of us. "Enough! I'll let this go because it's the first day, but hear me well, if I see either of you in my office for antics like this again, you'll spend the year in detention just like you did last year. Do you understand?" He asked us.
"Last year wasn't my fault…"
"She's the reason I ended up in detention last year…"
Alex and I said at exactly the same fucking time again and I glared at him. What was with this impeccable timing? What the fuck was going on?
"Do you have to speak the same time I'm speaking?" I asked him.
"That's exactly the same question I was about to ask you."
"Both of you, shut the hell up and get out of my office. Fix yourselves, I will not have you guys walking around in that eyesore."
"Yes, Headmaster," I said, lifting my chin.
"Yes, sir," Alexander echoed lazily, though I could see the smirk tugging at his lips.
Alistair waved us away, clearly eager to be rid of us before we shaved another ten years off his life.
The moment we stepped into the corridor, I quickened my pace. If I was lucky, I could reach the dormitory wing before Alex thought of something clever to say.
Of course, he caught up with infuriating ease.
"You know," he drawled, sliding his hands into his pockets as if the conversation with Alistair hadn't just happened, "I'm impressed. You didn't throw yourself at the headmaster's mercy like you usually do. Not one speech about how perfect you are compared to me."
I shot him a sideways glance. "I don't throw myself anywhere, Hawthorne."
"Oh, right. My mistake." His grin spread. "It's not his shoes you kiss. It's his arse."
My cheeks burned hot. "You are vile."
"And you're predictable." He tilted his head, that careless blond hair falling slightly into his eyes. "I mean, I thought you'd faint at the sight of paint on your precious vest. But here you are, still upright. I suppose I should congratulate you."
I pressed my lips together and kept walking. The students in the hall parted as we passed, whispering behind their hands. I could feel their eyes on me, on the paint staining my clothes, on Alexander at my side. They would twist this into something it wasn't. They always did.
We reached the split in the hall, where his dormitory wing stretched to the right and mine to the left. I stopped, grateful for the chance to put distance between us.
"Shoo away, Hawthorne," I said, turning to him with a pointed glare. "You're infecting the air."
He laughed, that infuriatingly warm sound that always made other girls swoon. I never swooned. Not once. "Oh, Marquez, don't be like that. Admit it, you're scared to walk alone when it's this quiet. But don't worry, I'm here for you. I'll get rid of the scary shadows."
"I'd sooner befriend the shadows than you."
He leaned in just enough to make my pulse skip, his grin sharp and knowing. "Lean on my shoulder if you get nervous. I promise not to charge for the service."
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" I sidestepped him, quickening my pace. "But unlike half the school, I don't like you, Hawthorne."
He snorted as if the very idea amused him. "A tragedy. Truly. How will I ever recover?"
He followed me right up to my door, like a shadow I couldn't shake.
At last, I slid my key into the lock, sighing with relief. Finally, sanctuary. Finally, a moment away from him.
The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open but froze on my feet. For a heartbeat, I couldn't process what I was seeing. My brain refused to make sense of it.
Then the scent hit me, coppery, thick, unmistakable. I knew the smell. I knew it a bit too well.
Blood.
My bed was drenched in blood.
The fear was so deep soothed in me that I screamed loudly.