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And what the hell did the class president know that I didn’t?
* * *
I was surprisedto see Kace, of all people, when I emerged from the shower dressed once more in my academy uniform. His garnet red hair was highlighted by strands of gold and brown, brushed away from his face. His hands were shoved casually into his pants’ pockets as he surveyed me, leaning against the doorway of my closed room.
“Move,” I snapped.
“We need to talk.”
“Are you going to patronize me some more?” Without waiting for him to respond, I pushed him aside and shoved my key into the door. I wasn’t at all surprised when he followed me inside, regarding my tiny dorm room with rapt interest.
Ignoring my question, he mused, “Single rooms are definitely bigger than double rooms.”
“Get out.” I pointed a finger at the door to emphasize those two words. Kace’s dark red eyebrows rose, meeting his hairline, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he began to finger the numerous pictures I had pinned around the room. There was one of me and Beau, our arms around each other and large smiles on our faces. I remembered when it was taken, only a few months ago. We had just arrived back from our senior field trip at the amusement park, and exhilaration still rode us both.
“He loves you, you know that, right?” Kace spun to face me suddenly, the picture all but forgotten. I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Who does?”
“Beau.” That single answer was said with such conviction, such sincerity, I wanted to believe him. I honestly did. But I knew love, and what Beau felt for me wasn’t it. At least, it wasn’t the love I wanted him to feel. There were numerous facets of love, all grafted from the same damn tree. There was the love between siblings, between child and parent. There was the love between best friends. And then there was the love between two people whose souls cried out for each other. Two people who couldn’t be whole without the other one present. I wanted to believe that was what Beau felt for me, but I would only be deluding myself. He had never loved me the way I had so desperately wanted him to. He stared at me as a friend, his best friend, and nothing more. He cared about me the way you would care about a little sister.
And it hurt. It fucking stung to know that your feelings weren’t reciprocated. Falling in love was scary in that respect. You gave yourself over to someone, surrendered a part of yourself so completely, that it was impossible to differentiate between you and them. Your feelings and their own. But those feelings became distorted, broken, when you realized they weren’t returned. Your heart was still beating, your lungs still took in air, but you were no longer alive. That was how you could die while still living. A painful, excruciating death I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.
“Let’s not talk about him,” I said flatly. Each word was sharp, succinct.
A large, luminescent smile took over Kace’s face. It made him seem younger, happier, as if the weight of the world wasn’t resting on his shoulders.
“Okay. Let’s do something else.”
I snorted at his eager tone. He sounded like a damn puppy, and the last thing I wanted to do was give in to one of the men who had bullied me since I had first arrived here. His enthusiasm, however, was contagious, and I found myself raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“What do you want to do?”
“I’ll show you.”
Without another word, he grabbed my hand in his and pulled me into the hall. A few students talked amongst themselves, and they all said hi to Kace as we passed. Apparently, he was popular, no surprise. He had that type of personality. Energetic, larger than life.
My confusion grew when he pulled me into the abandoned kitchen. The kitchen staff, all current students, were nowhere in sight, and the lights were off.
“Why are we here?” I asked softly as Kace expertly made his way through the dark kitchen, relying on the waning sunlight piercing through the window. The appliances were brand new, but Kace moved past all of them to stop in front of large cupboards. Without preamble, he wrenched open the cabinet doors and grabbed a large can of…pudding?
On closer inspection, I decided that it was, in fact, pudding.
“Kace?” I quirked a brow at the strange man.
“I want pudding.”
Only minutes later, I found myself sitting cross-legged across from him, the large can of pudding opened and two spoons speared into its chocolatey goodness. Of course, we had to have an in-depth argument over the various flavors of pudding. I wasn’t one to discriminate between any sweets, but Kace was insistent that chocolate pudding was the best kind of pudding.
“What are you going to do when you get out of here?” Kace asked now, dipping his finger into the can. Screw sanitary concerns. It shocked me that he was speaking of the escape so brazenly, so openly, but then again, everything about Kace was erratic.
“I don’t know. Figure out what the hell is going on. Get the cops involved. The FBI.”
He gave me an irritated look.
“I meant after that.”
I was shocked to find myself responding.
