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God, it's not fair how beautiful they both are. While Cain is traditionally gorgeous, to me, Jason is a lot more…interesting, I suppose. I've been fascinated, since before my first day here. I met him once as a child, though I doubt he'd remember that. It was so many years ago. He'd been so cold then. A little boy with eyes as empty and calculating as any man. Part of me had found him scary. The other part doodled his eyes day after day, never quite getting them right.
The second time I set my eyes on him, he was maybe sixteen, and so much colder. The compulsion to immortalize him on paper was stronger. I even tried to sculpt him, and that had been a disaster. I'm rather tactile; to sculpt well, I need to touch my inspiration. I suppose most amateurs have that sort of crutch. I doubt he would volunteer to model for me. Still, my mind races as I imagine sculpting those hard muscles, the long lines, the sharp jawline…
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How did my brain even go there? I'm supposed to talk to him, apologize about earlier, not gawk at him like a future stalker.
Jason tilts his head. "Nadia, was it?"
I bite my lip. He knows my name. A few days, weeks, or years ago, that might have been exciting—though baffling. The past three years, we’ve never exchanged a word, or a look, or a pencil, for that matter. I didn't exist in his world before.
Right now, I do, and it's simply terrifying.
"Sorry," I blurt out.
That was the best I could do in the circumstances, with the class half filled and almost ready to start.
The second bell rings as his tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. "You aren't. Not yet."
They both walk to their seats.
I fidget when I hear one of them drag a chair directly behind me. Cain's to my right, I can see him from the corner of my eye, which means that Jason's at my back. I fight the urge to turn around. I can't let them get to me.
A girl slides into the seat next to me, and I'm grateful for the distraction. I grin. "Melina!"
“Hey, Nadia,” she says, surprising me by remembering my name. We were both on the regular swim team, but we didn't chat often. Melina's another legacy. “How was your summer?”
“Pretty good.” I smile and lean closer to her, intent on putting the guys out of my mind. “I had my first tattoo done."
I seem to remember we had a conversation about body art last year. Melina said she had seven piercings and three tattoos already. I've caught a glimpse of some when she’s been in her school swimsuit.
Her eyes light up. “Oooh! Can I see it?”
“Not here, it's under all this." I run my hands along the lapels of my blazer.
Black with red accents, the uniform isn’t entirely terrible, especially since I dread to think how I’d stand out if we could dress as we pleased here. My wardrobe is mostly made of jeans and plain T-shirts, not designer staples.
“How about your vacation?” I finally get around to asking, but the English teacher clears his throat, and class starts.
I smile to Melina and start to sketch, forcing myself to return to my world, inside my head, where the two boys behind me weren't burning holes on my back.
You aren't. Not yet.
Twice, Jason has promised retribution, and something tells me he isn't one to make idle threats.
The teacher doesn't have to do much to get the class settled. Half the class is swooning over the guy. He's young, and good-looking, I suppose, though not my type.
"I’m Lennox Green," he says in a rich, soothing voice. He has the perfect voice for soliloquies. The sound is so smooth, I want him to keep talking.
Because he’s new, he makes us introduce ourselves one by one, calling us out alphabetically. There goes his appeal.
Jason is the first to go—he’s an Alden. He leans against his desk, hands in his pockets, and smiles at the teacher.
Fuck.
I’ve never seen a smile more fake. His eyes remain ice cold, like a snake’s.
“I’m Jason, but my mom calls me Jace, after some book she read to me as a child.” The girls fawn over him. If my eyes rolled any harder in my skull, they might just fall out. “I play football—tight end. I’ll follow in my father’s footsteps someday, and join the senate.”
Of course he will, spoiled-ass rich kid. He’ll be given the reins of our country like it’s his legacy, just like this school.
