Page 31 of Forged By Shadows
“No, clearly you have a fucking death wish for me.” Dax closes his book and swallows hard. “After this afternoon, if Wyatt saw me taking you to a ball, he would tear out my intestines and hang me with them.” I slump back in my chair, lips pursed. Yeah, Dax is sweet and thoughtful, but he’s not as bold as the others. Chewing on that thought, the tension grows thick between us. Suddenly, the two chairs either side of me are dragged backwards and I find Garrett and Huxley crowding my space.
“No need to pout, Peach,” Garrett tucks my hair behind my ear. “Axel is already taking you to the dance.”
“He is?” I ask at the same time as Huxley does. There seems to be more that the blond hanging over my shoulder wants to say, but I turn a quizzical gaze on Garrett. “Why?”
“Why wouldn’t the hottest guy want the hottest girl on his arm? It’s status quo,” Garrett smirks and shrugs. I’m not buying it. Now most of the library has emptied out, the three men sitting around me hang on some unspoken truth I’m yet to know.
Garrett reclines, threading his hands on his lap. As his smirk falls away, the weight of his burdens finally shows through. His eyes are still dark from bruising, but beneath that, there’s the hint of sleep deprivation. His mouth tilts, worry framing his unusually stoic features. I feel an ache to bring the smile back, to run my fingers through his brown hair and ease his troubles, but hiding behind a mask isn’t the answer. I need to know what’s tumbling around his brain as much as I need my next breath. Finally, Garrett sighs, his dark eyes traveling to the window.
“Axel deserves love. Fuck knows, he deserves it more than any other fucker in this world. He deserves to be with someone who can flaunt him, kiss him in public, hold him through the night. He deserves it all.”
I look around, finding neither of the other two will meet my eye. Reaching out, I push my fingers in between Garrett’s to hold his hand.
“From where I’m sitting, he has all of that. With you.”
Garrett’s laugh is bitter, that smile returning to push everything else into the background.
“You give me too much credit, Peach. It’s because I care for him, I won’t move on without finding a suitable replacement.”
“Oh, how romantic.” I deadpan. “How did you know my lifelong dream is to become a scapegoat for someone too afraid to admit he’s in love with his best friend?” My question goes unanswered. From the side glance Huxley gives me, it would appear I’ve summarized what everyone is thinking but would never say. As fun it is peeling back the layers to Wyatt’s tormented friends, I have a hard enough time keeping up with my own issues. Packing away my books and planting my bag on the vacated chair, I lean on the back of it.
“If Axel wants to take me to the Ball, he can grow some balls and ask me himself.” Arms instantly wind around my waist, a firm chest pressed against my back. Heated words are whispered into my ear, making me warm in all the right places.
“Avery, will you go to the Ball with me?” Axel breathes. I shudder at his unannounced appearance, wishing there weren't four sets of eyes watching me equally blush and melt. It’s hard enough to remember we’re still in public. Every day, these boys give me another naughty impulse. Very soon, something is going to have to give.
My lips part, a shallow breath escaping. Whiplash. That’s what this feeling is. Chronic whiplash. Every time I think I have a handle on my life, they appear to spin the world on its axis. It’s impossible to understand what I can’t control, and even more impossible to keep them away. I seriously need to get laid, I muse to myself, as the immediate available options stare at me, hanging on my response.
“Yes, Axel. I’ll go to the dance with you.”
Chapter Twenty Three
The only person loving the fact that I will be Prima Ballerina at the showcase is Meg. I have taken to late night practices, in a bid to keep busy, while she has taken to watching me through video call instead of studying.
“You need to extend your legs on the leap,” her entire face fills the screen. I’ve propped my phone up on the piano so she can see the majority of the dance studio. Theo couldn’t join me today, his musical talents were required at a bar mitzvah in the city. Letting my arms drop heavily from their poised position in front of me, I scowl at my best friend.
“You don’t even know ballet.”
“I know what looks good. You’re leaping as if you’re scared the ground might disappear beneath you. Let yourself feel the sensation of floating before you rush back down to earth.” I snort a laugh.
“You’re so full of shit. But fine.” Running back the music in my head, I start the routine from midway through, drifting from one practiced plié into an arabesque. For now, I’m sticking to the solo numbers, not trusting myself to ask my partner Trey to join my late-night sessions. He’s six-foot of lean muscle, blond swoopy hair, impeccable posture and gloriously gay. All the best men are, but I don’t trust myself to let that hold me back. I’m strung so tight, if he were to lift me above his head right now, I’d most likely arch down to try and suffocate him. My foot wobbles and I trip out of my rigid stance, grabbing the rail to stop myself from crashing to the ground.
“Woah, where the fuck did your mind just go?” Meg’s voice echoes, ringed with humor. She knows exactly where it went. Ever since I accepted Axel’s invitation to the Fall Ball last week, and avoided the Shadowed Souls like the plague ever since, my dreams have been more than vivid. I wake horny, I attend classes horny, I dance horny. Then, I made the mistake of drinking too much wine alone last Friday and spilling every confused, cunning thought that popped into my brain.
“So,” Meg continues while I roll my ankle. “Who was it this time?” I throw her my middle finger, half hobbling over to my phone. Only when she sees me wince does she grow serious. Her pale blue eyes widen and she nears the camera. “Wait, are you okay? Where are your compression socks?”
“I couldn’t find them in my bags. I think I left them back at the manor.” I huff, swiftly holding up my hand to cut off her next words. “And before you lecture me, I haven’t had time to order more. AP classes are hard, you know.”
“Bitch, I know. I’m taking three of them. Get yourself some damn socks.” I wave her off, bending to rub my ankle when Meg’s sharp intake of breath sounds through the speaker. I raise my brow in her direction but she’s looking off into the distance. “Avery, is there someone else with you?” My heart skips a beat as I stand back at my full height.
“No,” I mutter quietly. Shifting my body aside, I watch the reflection of the camera rather than turn around to face the truth myself. I don’t see anything at first. A large room of mirrored walls and an empty dance space. Until there’s the tiniest of shifts by the rear door leading to the dark corridors and dressing rooms. I feel the blood drain from my face at the same time my hand lashes out, grabs my phone and runs like my ass is on fire. I don’t pause to grab my bag and shoes, I don’t dare breathe in case it slows me down. Throwing the main exit open, I slam into a tall body. Hands grab me, tearing a scream from my throat.
“Avery? Hey, what’s wrong?” Theo gives me a small shake, his messy hair shadowed by streetlamps. My brain works a mile a minute to comprehend what’s happening.
“I th...I thought you were,” I fight to form a sentence. “Not here. You’re not supposed to be here.” Realizing he’s still holding me, I wrench myself backwards.
“My gig was canceled so I came to see if you wanted to practice some more.”
“Practice what?!” Meg screams through the phone in my hand. “Practice how blue Avery can turn if you strangle her?!” Theo’s brows furrow, his mouth open but I still take a step away from him. Clinging my phone to my heaving chest, I sidestep around him.
