Page 32 of Stormbreaker

Because I was late? Because they heard me arguing with Knox in the hall? Because I’m sitting with a Solitude? Or because I chose Aria last night? There shouldn’t be so many reasons for me to be the center of attention.

“Now that everyone is here,” the professor says, “perhaps we can begin. Again?”

I’m going to kill Knox for this. Though making me late is the least of his crimes.

“As I was saying, I’m Dr. Sellers,” he starts with a braggy air as he lists a bunch of titles and accolades with acronyms I’ve never heard of.

Through it all, I can feel Rook at my side. Sometimes I think he’s watching me and sometimes just studying the room. What I do see are the people constantly glancing our way, focusing on me first, then on Rook as though we have anything to do with each other.

I inch away in my seat, trying to make it look like I’m simply adjusting my position, but the stool isn’t very big, and my butt slips off the edge. I catch myself just before I fall, and I’m sure no one would notice at any other time, but there’s way too much attention on me now to get away with it.

My cheeks heat as I push myself back up, doing everything I can to avoid eye contact with Rook. But another soft snort from his direction tells me he knows exactly what just happened.

Dr. Sellers is still droning on, loving the sound of his voice, and I try to tune him in. I don’t want to miss anything. Biology is understandably a big part of Storm Guard training, as it’s vital to understand how substances in the body react to the Spark generated by cloud bursts.

“Physiological changes from electrical stimulation include increased blood flow and effects on the peripheral circulation. Varying doses and durations of Spark result in alternating responses . . .” Dr. Sellers is saying now. “In front of you are several specimens of cell clusters that have been exposed to varying amounts and intensities of galvanic energy. Today, you’ll take a look and note their differences and similarities.”

He continues to discuss the research he expects and the report we must write with our . . . partner. At that announcement, I go still. Group projects have never been my forte, but an essay coauthored with a Solitude?

My gaze slides to Rook, only to find him tapping away on his tablet. I study the curvature of his profile. His straight nose and strong chin. The piercing in his brow. The bit of scruff on his jaw.

He’s clearly not like anyone here, but he’s not at all what I expected. There’s no denying that he’s actually kind of . . .

He looks up and catches me staring.

My cheeks burn with fire. I was about to indulge in a thought I should not be entertaining. It isn’t treasonous to admire a Solitude’s appearance, I think, but it would definitely get me on some kind of list or something.

I quickly look away, inspecting him from the corner of my eye as he scrolls up his screen.

Can he read? I admonish myself immediately for the thought. I shouldn’t make assumptions. But everything I know about Solitudes suggests school and learning aren’t high on their list of priorities.

Rook is attending this class, though, so that must mean something.

Skies, what is wrong with me? Why am I wondering any of this?

Dr. Sellers finishes his instructions, then pings our devices with a summary of our assignment. He heads over to a table at the side of the room and starts passing out microscope slides. Placing the small box on our bench, he looks down at me, and his gaze jumps between me and Rook.

“Will this be a problem?” he asks. He’s clearly addressing me. Despite my tardiness, forcing me to work with a Solitude still gives him pause.

Rook sits with his bent knees spread and his big hands on his thighs. I notice they’re covered in little scars that match the ones laddering up his arms. They’re nice arms. Thick with corded muscle and the lightest dusting of hair. I get a closer look at his tattoos and the varying sinuous lines denoting water and mountains, along with little stars joined by thin lines.

Why am I thinking about his arms now?

When I look up, our eyes meet, and I can’t decide what I read in his expression.

Is this a problem? Every part of me says yes. He’s a Solitude. Even sitting next to him is probably dangerous. But then something flickers across his expression. There for the barest moment and then gone. Something that speaks to a deeper nature under the wildness of his exterior.

I’m sure it’s nothing. Just because he’s kind of pretty doesn’t mean anything.

“If it is, you can take a zero,” says Dr. Sellers, and my head whips around.

“I’m sorry?”

“Your choices are to do the assignment with your partner or take a zero.”

Wow, that escalated quickly.

He’s giving me an out, but he’s still mad about earlier.