“I would’ve had flowers and chocolates ready,” he says with a lifted brow, “had someone bothered to inform me you werecoming.” His tone is easy. Light. As if I didn’t just nearly drown us both in a surge of magick.
He clears his throat, stepping back slightly as his fingers run through his damp hair.
“I told Magnus I’d give you the full officer’s tour,” he adds with a smirk. “So, just so I’m not a liar—this particular room is mine. Private hot spring, cold-plunge pool through there, sauna through that door, bathroom over there, and the shower-slash-changing room right here.” He gestures around us with mock formality.
“Quite the perk,” I say, looking around, “of knowing an officer.”
“I believe you meant,” he says, eyes locking with mine as he pulls me toward him, “quite the perk ofdatingone.” The words are teasing, but beneath them, something steadier hums. Possessive. Real. “I meant what I said, Celeste. I’m in this—all of it. All of me. All of you.” His voice is low but unwavering.
All of me.The phrase tilts something inside that I haven’t looked at for a long time. Because even now, I can still remember silver eyes that once owned every part of me, even the parts I tried to keep hidden.
Noa tilts his head, searching my face—quiet, intent—like he’s reading the truths I’m trying not to show.
His fingers hook gently under my jaw, warm and sure as he tips my chin up. His palm cups the side of my face, thumb brushing the edge of my lower lip—testing the space between us like a question he already knows the answer to. “I don’t do half-assed. And I sure as hell don’t do trial runs. Not when it comes to you. Not now that you’rehere.”
The last word—here—lands with weight, like he still doesn’t trust it to be real.
“I know, Noa,” I say quietly, the words threading between us like breath. I shove the memories of my past behind me once more and lock the door. “And what you asked me earlier? I’m in.You and me.” I reach for the hand by my face, pressing a kiss into his palm before releasing him. “I’ve been in since the very first second we met.”
Something in him softens—then sharpens. He pulls me into another kiss, deep and sure, and for a moment, I think my heart might break open from all the emotions floating through it that I’m not quite ready to name.
When he finally pulls back, there’s a crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well then,” he says, eyes dancing, “I guess we’ve got a statement to make. First event of the school year and all.”
He hands me his jacket, the fabric warm from his body, the rank and elemental patches glinting under the torchlight like a silent threat.
“Clothes on, Initiate,” he says, tone switching between playful and practical, though his eyes linger on me. “Or else we’ll end up spending the night in here, andneitherof us will be making it back to our squads.”
CHAPTER 7
Romantic attachments among students are neither prohibited nor officially encouraged. However, those who pursue them would do well to remember: at Whittaker, little remains private.
—Whittaker School of Magick Handbook for New Students,“Code of Conduct”
Back at Blue Dahlia Commons, I’m showered and dressed in jeans, a fitted top, and leather boots. Thank the gods we get to wear our own clothes for events outside of class. I smile as I grab Noa’s jacket to wear, slipping into its warmth as my other squadmates wait by the front door. Rozsen and Elliot are already firing off a thousand questions about him, alternating between teasing and legitimate curiosity, barely giving me a chance to zip up.
First-, second-, and third-years stream out of their dorm rooms, the halls buzzing with conversation as everyone heads toward dinner and the famed Flaming W bonfire. A fewwhisper as they eye me with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. A hush follows me like static when I pass.
I feel a glance or two of pure animosity from two third-year girls who come out of a first-floor room. I can just barely hear their low whispers of contempt as they eye the patches on my jacket.
I guess news travels fast…
A group of guys loiter near the stairwell, casting the occasional not-so-subtle look in our direction. One of them breaks away, pushing off the stair rail with the kind of self-assured ease that’s definitely practiced. His dirty-blond hair is artfully tousled—messy in the way only someone who checks every mirror can manage.
He saunters up to me, flashing a grin that probably works on most girls. “So this is the famous Celeste everyone’s buzzing about.”
“Famous is hardly the word I’d use,” I reply, matching his tone with a cool smile.
“Noa Gallegher’sold family friend?” He smirks, the insinuation hanging between us. “Quite the pretty picture the two of you made earlier—him walking you back here with his jacket draped around your shoulders.” He lifts a hand, casually brushing two fingers over the fire and fourth-year patches on my left arm. “Dash,” he says, offering his hand. “Third-year, Blue Squad.” A breeze curls around my wrist—gentle, coaxing—tugging me forward like the air itself is taking his side. “Air-wielder,” he adds, like it’s an afterthought… but the grin that follows is pure confidence.
I take his hand, more curious than impressed. There’s a flicker in his eyes when we touch—a dare maybe, and I can’t help but feel like I just became a challenge in a game I wasn’t aware I was playing.
* **
I walkwith my squadmates toward the quad, where picnic tables are piled high with food. I grab a bag of chips and a cheeseburger stacked high with extra pickles, then fish a cold Coke from a cooler half buried in ice. We settle in, eating together—easy conversation flowing before the crowd starts to thin around us.
Sawyer is mid-story, hands waving as he launches into an animated retelling of his summer adventures—something about diving and surf. Rozsen and Elliot interrupt constantly, chiming in with half-formed questions and bad guesses, talking over him and each other in equal measure.
Amelia and Peter sit at the far end of the table, their conversation quieter, more private. Ian and Nate have wandered off, chatting up a couple of first-year girls—Green Squad, if I’m guessing right.
