“Thanks, Celeste, but I’m good.” I force a smile as I slowly rise to my feet, stretching my arms above my head.
The majority of students have already left the classroom. Even the teacher is gone, having grabbed her suitcase and marched out the back door as soon as she dismissed us.
Celeste’s smile falters at the edges. “It’s no big deal. I’m heading down there anyway.”
“I’m not hungry,” I say, placing my hand on Ansel’s bicep and giving it a tiny squeeze.
“Yeah, I’m not either.” He offers Dyson a tight smile. “You two can go on ahead. We’ll catch up when it’s time for our next class.”
Dyson, who’s still sitting with his feet propped up on the chair in front of him, smirks and folds his arms over his chest.
“No can do.” He tsks his tongue disapprovingly. “As your mentors, we’re required to remain by your sides twenty-four seven.”
Celeste laughs nervously and begins to fiddle with the ends of her orange hair. “More like twelve seven. It’s not like we’re sleeping in your rooms or anything.”
“Unless you want us to.” Dyson winks at me, and I curl my lip.
“I’d rather sleep next to dog shit.”
“You wound me.” Dyson gasps dramatically and grabs at his chest, sinking farther into the seat.
I roll my eyes.
“So tell me, Celeste,” I say and turn towards the nervous girl, “is it normal for the Trinity to assign a stalker for all new witches?”
“Stalker?” Her voice goes high-pitched.
“Wouldn’t a stalker imply that we’re watching you without your knowledge or consent?” Dyson muses, canting his head to the side as he considers it. “And you definitely are aware of our presence…just like I’m aware of yours.”
Once again, he winks at me, and Ansel takes a nearly imperceptible step closer to my side, his pinkie brushing mine.
He narrows his eyes at the obnoxious warlock. “What about when we go to the bathroom? Are you going to be in there as well, holding my dick?”
I almost choke on my own spit. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ansel speak like that before.
And yeah, this may be twisted, but hearing him say the word “dick” has a strange type of heat careening through me, migrating in my lower stomach.
Dyson blinks at Ansel, finally pulling his gaze away from me. “I don’t swing that way, but I’m always up to experiment if you are.”
“For the love of…” Ansel pinches the bridge of his nose and turns his eyes heavenward, as if praying for patience.
Dyson’s chuckle seriously makes me contemplate murder. I’m, like, ninety-nine percent positive I could get away with it.
“Come on. Let’s just go,” I say to Ansel, capturing his hand with mine and interlocking our fingers together.
His head whips in my direction, shock splayed across his face, before a tiny smile unfurls on his lips. The sight causes the butterflies in my stomach to go absolutely feral.
Dyson rolls his eyes, apparently annoyed he didn't get a rise out of us, before jumping to his feet and swinging his bag over his shoulder. Celeste moves to stand at my side, animatedly chatting about the next few classes.
As we reach the staircase leading to the floor below, I pause, pulling Ansel to a stop with me.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I say, spotting the sign.
Celeste’s brows furrow, and Dyson’s grin notches up.
“Need me to hold your dick?” he asks Ansel.
I’m already dragging Ansel in that direction, but I call over my shoulder, “No thanks. I can do that for him.”
