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Which is what I’d suspected, but it was nice to know it wasn’t all in my head. Florence had a sense about her. Like sheknewthese things. Like some modern-day Cupid incarnate, she just knew who liked who, and whether it was just sex…or something more.
“But I’m promised to his God. My prince.”
“And what does your clit say about that?”
“Some of us don’t have the luxury of listening to our clits, Florence.”
She snorted again. “Okay. But just say you did.”
I knew what it would say:Forget the prince, I want the big, bad wolf.But I couldn’t have the big, bad wolf. Of all the people I could get away with messing around with, Valen was probably the only one I couldn’t. And even if I could, Valen Kincaid had the self-control of a monk. He might have wanted me, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough – or be willing to betray his friend and God enough – to actually touch me.
“I have no power over it, so it doesn’t matter what my clit would say.”
She sighed. “All right. Enough study. We need tea and cake.”
I laughed. “I could be persuaded.”
“Come on, then.”
We were still in our uniforms, but we weren’t nearly as pristine as we had to be during class times. It was one thing that set me apart from the ‘normal’ Saints. They were always dressed up whenever possible. Appearances being important and all. I was far too lazy to change multiple times a day, something for which I blamed my much more level-headed Florence.
So naturally, on our way to the campus cafe, who did we see coming our way but Apollo and Valen?
They, of course, had changed.
Apollo was in his usual pale chinos and button up combination. If I recognised that short-sleeve shirt right from that distance, it was his blue Ralph Lauren shirt. His hair swept back from his face, which was its usual combination of haughty and beautiful. He walked across the school – and through life – like nothing ever fazed him, nothing bothered him, and everything was owed to him.
Valen, meanwhile, was the typical stark dark contrast to Apollo’s pleasant pastels.
He wore black trousers, and a dark denim shirt over a white t-shirt. The shirt sleeves were rolled up to his mid forearms, showing off the bottom of the tattoos that he never let show when he was in uniform. He’d also donned his typical accessories. Leather cuff on one wrist. Watch with thick leather band on the other. Big black ring on the middle finger of his right hand. Silver ring on the middle finger of his left hand. And Saint Benedicts Saints’ signet ring on the little finger of his left hand.
We all had a signet ring. It was one of very few pieces of jewellery we were allowed to wear during class time. The girls rarely wore theirs. The signet ring was more a bro thing, with them the ones who felt the need to proclaim to the world that the upper echelons of the elite had accepted them as one of their own. They were, after all, the ones with all the power.
Apollo was clearly in a mode. His swagger was a bright red warning light that he was puffed up on some high. No doubt he’d just had Valen stuffing a Saintling’s head in a toilet or something. I wasn’t privy (pardon the pun) to the entire catalogue of Saint hazing rituals. As the intended of the future-God, I’d been spared from anything but acceptance, though it often felt like I’d neither earned my place nor was I truly one of them; I was both inner sanctum and outsider. Without feeling like I properly belonged to one side or the other, I often felt lost as to my true place.
“He’s looking at you,” Florence hissed, elbowing me.
“Uh, no, he’s not.”
Because I was looking right at Apollo and he was focussed on a Magdalen across the grass. With an elbow into Valen’s side, I could guess how their conversation was going. There was very little difference in height between the two of them, so they didn’t have to bend far to confer.
“Not your pretend boyfriend, the other one.”
My eyes slid back to Valen, with a vague sense of surprise that they’d ever managed to slide off him in the first place. And I found he was staring right at me, all while his mental focus was trained on Apollo.
“Shall we say about nine?” Apollo suggested as they got closer to us.
Valen nodded. “Fine.” He stopped in front of me, and I felt my whole body warm under his stormy grey gaze.
Apollo realised Valen had stopped and turned to look at whatever had halted their progress.
“Harlow, hi,” he said with a warm smile. His eyes slid to Florence. “Florence.”
“Apollo.”
My best friend and boyfriend exchanged a terse nod, then Apollo was smiling at me again.
“Where are you girls off to?” he asked.
