Page 6 of Coveted

The man is around thirty-five years old, with a wholesome aura, combed sandy hair, and preppy clothes.

“It’s gorgeous,” I agree. “Like a museum or art gallery.”

He waggles a playful finger. “You’re a freshman if I’ve ever met one.”

I wince. “That obvious, huh?”

“Indeed.” He palms his chest. “I’m Chuck Fairchild, Student Advisor. I’m here to help you with academic and personal support. I also coach the men’s rowing team.”

“I’m Sadie Marlowe. Creative writing major.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Sadie. And fantastic to have you at Darkbloom.”

Why couldn’t I have encountered Chuck as my first introduction to the college, instead of that raven-haired ice sculpture? The student advisor seems much safer.

“Are you finding everything you need?” he asks.

Scanning the milling crowd, I spot my luggage thief easily, thanks to his towering height and the way he seems to clear a path by default.

“Pretty much,” I say, keeping my eyes on the thief.

“If you need anything at all, I’m always available to my students,” says Chuck. “Anytime, anywhere. That’s my motto.”

“Thank you.” I return my attention to the student advisor. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do. Remember, night or day. I live here on campus.” Chuck passes me a blue flyer. “Here, you’ll be wanting to attend the Founder’s Run at dusk this evening. It’s a much-adored Darkbloom tradition. You can’t miss it.”

“What’s the Founder’s⁠—”

But a student bustles over to Chuck then.

“I got the TV role from the director you hooked me up with!” she says with a squeal. “I’m so grateful, Chuck.”

She engages him in rapid-fire conversation. Not wanting to lose my luggage, I take my flyer and move on.

If the thief wonders whether I’m following, he makes no indication. He looks straight ahead as he crosses under an archway, deeper into the building. I hurry through the milling people to keep up.

Will he dump my bags somewhere gross like a men’s locker room, forcing me to retrieve them? Or simply discard them in the trash?

I follow him up a staircase to where he strides along a corridor. Two girls nudge each other as he passes them. They look like sophomores at least, instead of newbies like me.

“Lucan,” says one, stepping forward as if to touch his arm. “So good to see you. How was your⁠—”

Without slowing, he steps around her and continues walking. The girl returns to her friend, and the pair eye him while whispering.

I finally catch up with him.

“Listen up, asshole—” I say, preparing to be hit with his menacing gaze again.

He casually places my suitcases on the carpet before me, as the girls down the hallway watch and murmur.

His blue eyes hold me hostage. The gravity of his stare feels even more disorienting within the confines of the building, as though having his attention is the same as being under a dark spell.

I return his glare like he’s not rattling me. Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I deny him the satisfaction of displaying my emotions.

He takes half a step closer, endangering the brave façade I’m putting on. His proximity sends warning sirens all through me.

“What kind of prank was that?” I ask, trying to break his hypnotic hold on me. “You take my bags to a random part of the college?”