Page 3 of Revenant

“New York.”

“Ah, an American. You’re a long way from home.” Home. A word that carries so much meaning, but also none at all.

“Yeah, but I’m excited for the change of scenery.” The closest town is roughly thirty minutes away, no skyscrapers or city lights to cloud the night sky. I’ll finally be able to see the stars at night and listen to whatever animals inhabit the surrounding woods.

We fall into a comfortable silence, and I don’t mind. Taking in the school, I’m already captivated by its haunting beauty. We travel up a spiral stone staircase, and it brings us to a bridge connecting the two buildings. Ivory pillars stand tall to my left, framing the courtyard perfectly. The architecture is something from another world, worn smooth by centuries, yet absolutely breathtaking with all the stories the walls could tell.

Students pass us, whispering to each other, and I try to pretend I can’t feel them watching. “This place is incredible.” My statement seems to catch him off guard—like he wasn’t expecting me to say much else. But the stares are beginning to settle under my skin, leaving me feeling like I’m missing something obvious, and nobody has the nerve to tell me what.

“It’s definitely a work of art.” His gaze drifts up the stone above us, somewhere far past the architecture. “Questo posto seppellisce ciò che trova.”

I glance at him. “What language is that?”

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Italian. It slips out from time to time.”

“You’re Italian?”

“Born and raised. A long way from here.” His eyes soften, holding a tiredness the rest of his face hasn’t caught up to. Then it’s gone. “I came to follow in my family’s footsteps. They have a great deal of history with this place.” He keeps his tone light, but I catch the tension under it that it may be more of a burden. “Some bloodlines are just destined for Veilcrest.”

I want to ask what he means, but we go through a set of double doors, opening up to a common area. A few couches sit in a circle, a couple of matching chairs to break it up. There’s a small kitchenette along the back wall, with cupboards that no doubt hold snacks for late night study sessions.

He doesn’t stop, but I make a mental note to raid it the second I have a free moment. I haven’t eaten since my first layover, and at this point, I’d fight someone for a Pop-Tart. We end up going down a hall with a sea of doors lining both sides. I’m following him so closely that when he comes to a dead stop, I run straight into his back.

“Sorry,” I stammer, backing up a bit.

“At least let us get inside before you jump me, tesoro.” He’s quick with the humor, and it feels oddly comforting to be in his presence. Turning around to face me, those light grays pull me into their orbit once again. “Room 259, right?”

“Yeah. I made sure to memorize that part.” We both stand in the hall awkwardly. Well, maybe it’s just me who’s being awkward.

“Are you going to grab your key?”

Oh shit, right. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” Bringing my backpack to my front, I sift through until my fingers grab the only key inside one of the small side pockets. I hold it up like a victory. “I forgot I had that.” Could I be any more of an idiot? I made sure to put it somewhere safe, since I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached. It also doesn’t help that he’s making me feel all flustered.

I shove the key into the slot, grateful that it unlocks with ease, then look back at him. “Oh, I can take that now. Thank you for all your help.” God, do I look as awkward as I feel? Even if I do, I’m hoping he finds it endearing.

Not that I’d ever admit it.

He places my suitcase in my awaiting arms, and the second he lets go, it almost takes me down with it. But I quickly recover, not wanting him or anyone else to see me struggle. Fortunately for me, he pretends not to notice. “Are you sorted from here? Happy to help you unpack if you like.”

“That’s sweet, but I think you’ve seen enough of my…underwear on the first day. Let me keep what little dignity I have left.”

“Fair enough, but just so we’re clear.” He takes a step closer, then another. Before I know it, he’s all but caging me in, pressing his hand against the doorframe and leaning in close. My throat immediately goes dry, notes of amber and vanilla mix together that I didn’t notice before with the smell of rainfall. “Red is my favorite color.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment, and before I know it, he’s backing away.

It takes me a second to catch it—the way his eyes flick to my hair before he turns on his heel. “I’ll see you around,” he says, calmly, as if he had planned this all along.

Saliva finally coats my mouth, freeing my words. “Don’t count on it.”

“Sto contando i minuti alla rovescia.” He turns, giving me his back. It was almost enough of a distraction to forget that my arms are about to fall off. As quickly as I can manage, I press the suitcase against the doorframe with my body and turn to push the door handle down with my free hand.

Is the door made of fucking steel? Why in God’s name is it so heavy? I push it open with every last bit of strength I have, tumbling forward and dropping the suitcase as I do.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

I use my foot to scoot it the rest of the way into the room, barely clearing the threshold. “This is so stupid,” I mumble to myself, “of course you would fucking break.” I kick the worthless hunk of aluminum. It’s supposed to be sturdy, and maybe it was a few years ago. Actually, now that I think about it…it was probably a setup from my stupid aunt. She probably loosened the wheel before I left.

Satisfied that I showed the inanimate object who’s boss, I look up to take in my new home for the next four years.

My face immediately slackens, and I deflate, wanting to shrink into a ball of nothing. A girl stares back at me with a lazy expression, clearly witnessing my little mental breakdown and not looking the least bit impressed.