Page 1
Chapter 1
Elias
As I stare at the same paragraph for the third time, I barely notice the gentle shift in the air when Haven leans closer. “Are you alright over there?”
Her voice breaks the quiet of the library, gentle enough that no one else looks up from their laptops. I blink at my open anatomy textbook after failing to process a single word about the cardiovascular system in the last ten minutes.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, shifting my weight in the hard wooden chair. “Just tired.”
“You’re always tired,” she notes, her pen tapping a steady rhythm against her notebook before she flashes a small smile. “When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”
I don’t have an answer. Sleep is a luxury I cram between delivery shifts and late-midnight study sessions, usually getting no more than four hours a night. It isn’t healthy, but I don’t have the luxury to rest the way everybody else in this academy does. If I sleep too much, I miss work; if I miss those shifts, my GPA drops below 3.8, and I lose my scholarship. My mom depends on me. She’s all I have, so every single dollar I earn goes straight to her medical expenses.
Haven watches me with concern, making a tight ache grip the center of my chest. Is she looking at me with pity? I don’t know.
“I like your bangs today.” She drops the heavy question and switches to a lighter topic. “Did you trim them?”
Heat crawls up my neck, burning the tips of my ears. I hacked at my bangs in the bathroom mirror this morning, fighting the uneven edges for twenty minutes so they would look good specifically for Haven.
“Yeah. My hair was getting in my eyes.”
“Well, they look good.” Her smile widens, reaching her eyes. “And that shirt’s new, right? The dark green looks nice on you.”
The shirt is six months old from a clearance rack, saved specifically for the days I know we’re going to have these study sessions together. Pathetic, I know.
“Thanks.” The word scrapes past my throat, slightly a whisper.
She keeps looking at me, and I know I should ask her out or at least flirt back, but my brain flatlines. She stands at five-foot-seven while I measure in at five-four, and she usually dates guys with broad shoulders who play sports; they probably have their life together. I try to bulk up by doing pushups on my cramped dorm room floor and eating extra protein when I can afford the groceries, but the progress crawls and I remain skin and bone.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Haven murmurs.
“What do you mean?” I ask, shifting my hands on the table. “Do I look weird?”
“You disappear into your own head, and I don’t think you’re even listening to anything I say.”
I put my head down, my eyes dropping to the spine of my textbook. If only she knew what I am always thinking about. I am thinking about her, and I am thinking about my life. Where am I gonna see myself in the next five years? Is she even going to be a part of my life, or will I be pathetic till the very end?
“I’m sorry,” I say, forcing myself to look back up. “I’m just thinking about this anatomy test next week. I’m not prepared or anything, so it seems I may have drifted off.”
Her expression shifts, the playful edge melting away to leave something soft and open in its wake. She’s giving me an opening, presenting the exact moment I’m supposed to be brave and ask her for coffee.
My phone buzzes hard against the wood, shattering the quiet atmosphere.
Three consecutive texts light up the screen, each with a delivery receipt.
Snatching the phone up, a knot of relief and sick disappointment twists in my gut. “Sorry. I have to—”
“Go make money.” Haven leans back in her chair, the soft look vanishing behind a blank stare. “I know.”
A bitter edge coats her words. She isn’t mad, but she isn’t happy either.
“I’ll see you later?” I stand up and shove the heavy textbook into my canvas bag.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I walk away before I can overthink the hesitation lingering in her tone, pushing through the heavy library doors to unlock my screen and pull up the delivery routes. My brain immediately calculates the distance and time for each stop, forcing my focus forward so I refuse to look back.
I finish the second delivery and head straight to the third, knocking on the door of one of the upper-tier dorms. The guy who answers takes the food, but his hand catches my wrist, his grip tightening as his eyes drag slowly over my frame.
