Page 169 of Glutton for Punishment

Arwen

Iskip my next class.

Normally I’d feel guilty about it. Professor Lennox already looks at me like I’m a disappointing science experiment half the time, and the academy has become aggressive about attendance since the lockdown.

But right now, I couldn’t care less. There’s only one thing on my mind.

Alexi’s words have been rattling around in my skull ever since he threw them at me in the hallway.

Tell me, have you ever wondered why your friendship with Brix crumbled so spectacularly? Maybe you should ask him.

The problem is that Alexi shouldn’t know anything about that. How would he?

I told myself that Brix and I simply drifted apart after everything that happened last year.

His face flashes in my mind. The memory of when I’d gone to him after learning the truth about Ryker. Spiraling and scared. I’d already dumped problem after problem into his lap for months. He shut me out, unable to take the burden of more problems from me.

It was heartbreaking but understandable. My friendship comes with a lot of baggage.

At the time, I’d accepted it. What else was I supposed to do?

The hurt never really went away, though. Brix had been one of my best friends. One of the people I’d built myself around at the academy. Losing him that suddenly had felt like losing a wall I hadn’t known I was leaning on.

I desperately miss the boy with the warm chocolate brown eyes, who would always tell dumb jokes to lift my spirits when I was upset. The one who never seemed embarrassed to be seen with me when almost everyone else treated me like a disease.

This year has been different. He’s felt distant and maybe even a little broken. Quiet and withdrawn. The Brix I knew doesn’t seem there anymore. I wanted to check in, I really did. But I’ve been telling myself not to pry. When he’s ready, he’ll come to me.

That ends now.

I make it to the Wrath male dormitory on autopilot, barely registering the walk over. I stop outside his door and stare at it for a second, memories of rejection returning from that night. But I’m not that same scared person anymore.

Please be here.

I knock, and a few moments later the door swings open. Brix freezes at the sight of me, eyes wide.

“Arwen?”

For a second, he just stares at me. Then his eyes cut sideways down the hallway—a quick, involuntary flicker—before coming back to my face. His grip on the door shifts, and he pulls it slightly toward himself, like he’s already thinking about closing it. Something is very wrong.

“What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. My arms cross over my chest, a barrier against the tremor in my hands.

His expression tightens. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m pretty busy with homework and I’m already behind in—”

Irritation flares as I step closer, refusing to let him shut me out. “I know something is wrong, Brix.”

His jaw clenches as his hand grips tighter on the door.

“What’s going on with Ryker?”

His entire body goes rigid as the color drains from his face.

“I ran into Alexi, who told me to ask you about Ryker. Why would Alexi know anything about my friendship with you? Why would he tell me to ask about Ryker? What is going on?”

Brix looks away, and my heart sinks. Because that means he knows exactly what I’m referring to. Something has been going on behind my back. He swallows hard.

“Brix. Please. Talk to me.”