Ah, Gavin, I’d know his voice anywhere after years of decathlons and him insisting I’m a cheater.
“We’ll see about that,” I huff under my breath, more to myself than to him. Technically, I don’t need top marks; I just need to pass, graduate, and get the hell out of dodge. I’d had zero desire to get top marks prior to this moment… but when in Rome, I guess, because I suddenly can’t think of a single reason not to.
If anything, his being here will ensure I don’t get sloppy, maybe even make this fun, and it’s been a long time since I’ve had any fun.
The thought sobers me, and I almost miss Gavin’s reply.
“Yeah, we will,” he growls as he stomps past, glaring at me for a moment before he disappears out the door, slamming it behind him and making me flinch.
“Five bucks says he’s stomping his ass down to the library to study. Can’t have Pookie taking his title,” Julez says with a laugh, and none of the others argue with him, so I’m guessing he’s probably right.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell them that’s not what I’m here for, but I can’t, not when his stupid nickname all but error'd out my brain. I’ve never been so grateful that my back is to them because if he could see my face, well, I doubt it would be good for me.
Nobody’s ever given me a nickname besides my brother.
Oh no, abort! Bad idea.
Just the thought of him has tears welling in my eyes, my vision blurring, and I frantically try to blink them away. Silently begging any god that might be to help me hold it together.
I cannot cry in front of them; I won’t.
Setting down my plate and my half-eaten muffin, I grab my map and my phone and head toward the door. My appetite is gone, and my nerves are already shot even after just one day.
“Need a guide?” Julez calls as I grip the door handle, and I pause.
“No, I have a meeting with my guidance counselor,” I call back over my shoulder as I walk out the door, pulling it closed behind me a little harder than necessary. The sound bounces around the otherwise quiet hallway, and I breathe a sigh of relief, looking down at my map and other official papers.
I wasn’t lying exactly; I really do have a meeting with my guidance counselor, Mr. Adler, though it isn’t for another hour yet.
Could I have used the tour, probably? This school is huge, and from the little I’ve seen of the halls on my way up to the dorms yesterday, it’s all pretty old and similar looking, but I’ve never been a quitter.
I unfold the map they gave me at the desk that I’d been trying to look over a few minutes ago and head down the hall.
How bad can it be?
It takes me most of that hour to find my way to the hall that houses all the professors' offices, where they meet with their students as needed.
This school is huge, like Hogwarts big, for no damn reason. Sure, there are a lot of subjects, but it’s not like we're learning to fly broomsticks. Why do we need jogging distance between three buildings and a million classrooms down seventy-plus halls?
Maybe I should have let Julez show me around; as much as I hate to admit it, maps and I aren’t always the best of friends.
I mean, I can read them in theory; it’s the practice that gets me.
But at least I’m not late.
I fold up the welcome letter with his room number and our appointment time on it, slide it into my back pocket, then move forward and rap my knuckles on the door a few times.
It’s quiet, and I stand for a moment, worried I’ve got the wrong room or time, before finally I hear movement, and I let out a breath of relief.
I square my shoulders and stand as tall as I can, five-foot-nothing, and file away any emotion that might be on my face.
I just need to get in, get my schedule, and get out. Guidance counselors are glorified babysitters, here to help new students get a feel for school and talk them down should they crumble under the pressure.
I’m used to it, though; this school isn’t enough to touch what I’m used to, and I don’t need some old man trying to make me talk about my feelings.
Which is why I completely lose control of my face and feel my eyes go wide when the man who opens the door isn’t the slightest bit old and is easily the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Wren?” he asks, and his voice rolls over me, making my head spin.
