Making myself small for other people.
“Yo, Nori, you good? You look like a cooked shrimp down there,” Finnley calls down the table.
My eyes shoot up from the plate I’m currently hunched over just in time to see Ambrose’s gaze fall on me. His brow lifts in confusion, and he starts heading our way.
Dammit, Finnley.
“Hey brat, didn’t think you would be done yet,” Ambrose says as he reaches me. He sets his tray down and takes the seat next to me. “How’d it go?” he asks, genuine interest reflected in his eyes.
The brunette who was so shamelessly hanging on him mere minutes ago now stands next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder like a mark of possession as her unblinking eyes land on me. I give a slight eye roll and pull my gaze from her glare. Instead, I can now feel it burning into the side of my head.
“Honestly, I think it chewed me up and spit me out,” I admit.
Pushing my tray away, I turn and give him my full attention. “I was too confident going in, way more than I should have been. Nothing I studied for prepared me for anything that was on that parchment.” He narrows his eyes, the underlying insinuation hitting home. All the risk we’d taken wasn’t worth it in the end. It wasn’t even the same test.
“She’s not giving herself enough credit. She was one of the first ones done,” Mallory says, pointing her fork at me.
“That doesn’t surprise me. She always was the smartest,” Ambrose responds to her while winking at me.
My cheeks warm at the compliment.
“Or maybe,” the leggy brunette sneers down her nose, “she’s right and finished quickly because she got them all wrong.” She’s obviously not liking the attention I’m getting.
Trust me, I’d rather be in your shoes.
Before I can respond, Mallory beats me to it. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Who am I? I’m the girl who—’’
“That’s enough, Yaretta.” Ambrose’s words come out soft but stern, leaving no room for argument and effectively cutting off anything she was about to say.
I pick the apple off Ambrose’s tray and take a big bite, wiggling my eyebrows at her before shrugging at his amused expression.Sometimes the best thing you can say to hurt someone is just not to say anything at all.
Make them feel insignificant.
Conversation picks back up around us, and Mallory and Finnley start bickering about what fresh hell is going to be on the agility portion of the trials. I pretend not to see Ambrose pull his new flavor of the week down on his lap. Or the feline grin that she throws my way. Apparently, all is forgiven on his part.
His deep laughter and her shrill giggles are making me contemplate driving this fork right through my eye. Which means it’s as good of time as any to admit lunch is over.
Just as I’m about to stand up, the energy shifts around the table.
A familiar gravelly voice comes from behind me. “Tell me something, Ambrose,” he drawls. “How do I taste?”
It’s said just loud enough that classmen from other tables stop eating and chatting among themselves to watch what’s about to transpire.
Ambrose’s head whips around, a look of pure malice lining his face. “What the fuck did you just say?” he demands.
“Oh boy,” Mallory whispers. Her head is moving quickly from one man to the other, almost comically.
Slowly, I twist my upper body to look behind me as well. The first thing that hits me is how very correct I was in the images I had conjured in my head. He’s exactly what I expected him to be.
A walking menace to society.
Offering zero apologies for it, as well.
“I said, how. Do. I. Taste,” he repeats, with an emphasis on each individual word.
Dressed in all black, a Damascus dagger sticking out of a tactical sheath that’s draped across his chest, he oozes fuck-off vibes. He looks the same size, if not larger, than he did in full armor. How is that even possible? His stern lips are pulled intoa threatening sneer, and a challenging look fills his eyes. Deep brown eyes that never even look in my direction.
