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“Leo is top of his classes. I’ve messaged him telling him to meet you at the library in half an hour. I’ve also texted you his number.” He looks too happy with himself and I want to wipe the look off his face entirely.
“Half an hour?! What the fuck, Milo? I’m a sweaty dripping mess and I can’t feel my legs, my brain feels like someone has tried to perform a hemispherectomy and I can’t feel my legs! Also, how’d you even get my number?”
He just laughs me like I’m oh so dramatic and throws my dance bag at my form sprawled out on the floor. “Peyton, and you better run, you definitely need that shower.”
I grab my bad, cursing him out as I sprint from the room and back to my dorms.
I shower in record time, throwing on a crop trop, jacket and jeans. I’m roughly shoving my hair into a high ponytail when Peyton places my books and a travel mug of coffee in front of me. I’m feeling a little pouty still from the pounding in my head, but I graciously accept it, taking big gulps as I make my way to the library. It’s not hard to spot the big scowly man in the center of the room, it’s almost comical how tiny the seat seems in comparison to his size. His books are spread over the space and he has a brown paper bag and travel mug with him.
I wander over, smiling at him a little sheepishly and slide into the chair beside him. He eyes me cautiously like he’s unsure of how I’m going to react which makes my embarrassment of the other night flare a little brighter in my chest. I want to thank him for doing this for me, especially since I can’t imagine he feels much better than I do right now, hell it’s barely nine o’clock and he had a gig last night.
The memory of him on stage has my heart thumping a little harder in my chest. I’ve never heard someone sing like they were pouring out their entire existence in the words. It’s like he uses singing in the same way that I dance, to expel his inner demons and I’ve never wanted to know them more than I do in this moment. At the very least, I decide I should apologize to him for the other night, I don’t understand what I said wrong other than point out the fact that Blakely still clearly has pissed on him to stake her claim, but I know that I annoyed him.
“Leo, I-”
“Let’s just start the assignment, alright? What part are you up to?”
As if the guy doesn’t seep sex from his very pores, but now the sound of his voice leaves me a little boneless. I can hear the same husky tones coming through, and a rumble that sounds like it’s coming straight from his chest. It's fucking divine. But it doesn’t stop me feeling the sting of his rejection. I take another sip of my coffee to try hide my nerves and nod my head, he’s taking time to help me, I can respect his boundaries.
“Um. The first part?”
“Are you kidding me right now? The first part? The assignment is due on Wednesday, Briar. How the fuck do you think you’ll get it done if you’re out all-night drinking and grinding over my friends in dark corners?”
Are. You. Fucking.Kiddingme? My mouth drops open, before I can splutter out a reply. “What the fuck I do with my body is my choice, asshole.” I am burning with rage. Burning! I know that my shameless, and very public, make-out with Nash might not have been the best thing to, and even though he low-key doesn’t hate me anymore we aren’t exactly friends either. More like civil acquaintances due to forced proximity.
Leo scoffs and shoves the paper bag at me before getting up a copy of the assignment rubric on his tablet. “Eat that, Milo said he woke you up this morning and I doubt you had time to eat when you changed.” He’s not looking at me, just jotting down bullet points of things for us to look at and discuss, and I’m thankful for it because I’m worried about turning into a blubbering mess at the sight of the breakfast burrito smothered in marinara sauce.
I thank him and tear into it, wolfing it down in minutes. Leo doesn’t comment on my unladylike eating, but I can see his lips pursed like he’s trying hard not to laugh. I’m favoring my right hand more and more lately, which hasn’t gone unnoticed by Peyton, and from the way that Leo stares at my left, I’m thinking he’s noticed too. My jacket covers the mess of my wrist which has swollen up the size of a small balloon and the ache is starting to spread down through my hand.
He clears his throat and starts stepping me through the assignment. The hour drags on slowly and when I check the time for the hundredth time in ten minutes Leo bitches me out for not focusing. He doesn’t let me leave until we have a solid plan formed of how I’m going to tackle the work and he gives me homework to complete before we meet up tomorrow to work on it some more. Homework!
I watch him as he scribbles notes down on his book and writes up a schedule of what he wants me to read and write so that I can not only complete my assignment, but so I can stay on top of the class work. He looks bored, like it’s all so effortless for him and it makes me wonder why he took the class. Not that I can judge, I took the class too, but I didn’t really have a choice. They don’t know that though. He's wearing a short sleeve shirt and I stare at the ink that’s normally hidden by the blazer we’re required to wear.
I stare at the intricate designs. His forearm dances in soft silhouettes of creatures, intertwined by what almost looks like a hand but it’s out of shape, the fingers outstretched and pointed, too long, and kind of creepy. The shadow designs almost look like they’re being looked at through frosted glass and not a shadow. The use of grey and black, the slightly blurred edging. I move up his arm to see two little pocket watches, both with different times and just higher than that, trailing down the side and back of his arm looks like demon wings. I wonder, not for the first time, how much of his body is painted in monochromatic colors.
I remember the eerie black creature on his chest, the hollow eyes that see nothing and the twisted crown on it’s head and how the picture was almost identical to that on the shirt he wore last night. I stare at his chest as if I look hard enough the ink will bleed through and I’ll see the tattoo on his shirt.
“What are you thinking so deeply about? If you frown any further I wonder if I’ll have to iron it out.” I wrinkle my nose at his comment, and he bursts out laughing.
“I was thinking about your tattoo. It was on your shirt the other night too wasn’t it?”
I don’t know what I said wrong, but his expression sobers, and he becomes almost stony in his demeanor. I think he’s about to ignore me before he nods, shocking me when he speaks. Whatever life was in his tone before is gone now.
“Pretty much. The tattoo was used as inspiration for the band. I know you’re woeful at history, but do you know anything about mythology?” I decide to ignore his jab because after spending the last hour with me working on our classwork, I can’t dispute it, and shake my head at him. He rolls his eyes like he’s not even a little surprised and continues.
“It’s Serbian mythology. My father’s Deda moved here from Serbia before he was born. The creature is a Bauk, a sneaky predator that devours its victims whole.” He makes a bite in my direction and when I laugh at him the side of his mouth tips up.
“So, you chose it because of your heritage then?” I can tell he’s hesitant to talk about it, so I keep my tone even, riding that line between relaxed and uninterested. Which is a total lie by the way because I amveryinterested, but I don’t want to push too hard and have him clam up all together. I think this is the first time Leo and I have had a proper conversation, he’s become a sort of quiet presence that I’m used to, but he shows me these little glimpses of who he is that makes me want to know more.
“Kind of.” He doesn’t elaborate, so I ask another question.
“Then why is it the band logo?” Leo leans in so close that I can’t see anything but those shining grey eyes staring back at me. Now that he’s so close, I can see the slightest flicker of pale blue, almost like whoever created him thought about using it as a highlighter against his moonstone irises. He's looking at me with such intensity that my stomach tightens in response.
“Who wouldn’t want to get devoured by a rockstar?” When he pulls back, I exhale the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.
“Is that what you want to be then? A rockstar?” He could. I almost wish I’d recorded him last night. Maybe I’ll do a deep dive and see if he’s got TikTok or a Youtube channel.
He shrugs a shoulder as he starts to pack up his things. I follow his lead, shoving my books back into my bag and taking the notes that Leo holds out for me. “I’m studying musical practice while I’m here, but it doesn’t matter what I want to do.”
