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The fact that she’s doing this to them, distorting their thoughts, is starting to look irrefutable, even though they deny it so vehemently. A spell would prevent them from spilling the beans, right? I have to talk to Ash, I—
The classroom door opens and the last person I expect to see walks into class.
Jason.
The only free desk is the one beside mine—naturally, since I’mpersona non grataand nobody wants to be in my vicinity in case witchcraft and uncoolness are catching—and he sinks on the seat behind it.
“MonsieurKassidy,” the teacher says, not missing a beat. “Commentçava?”
He lets his backpack drop to the floor and closes his eyes without replying. The dark crescents under his eyes look like bruises. His cheeks look hollow and gaunt, his skin ashen.
“Jax,” I hiss.
He looks up slowly. “Huh?”
“What are you doing here? You should be in bed. Resting.”
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, right. You look like death warmed over.”
A faint smile tugs at his lips. Trust my Wolfboy to find that amusing.
“Seriously, Jax. What are you doing here?”
“I’m behind in my classes, and I have training this afternoon,” Jason says. “We have a match in a few days.”
“What?” I gape at him. “You’re in no shape to train or play.”
“I’m a werewolf.”
“You’re not immortal, though!”
“Mademoiselle Apollinari,” the teacher says, coming to stand over me. “Silence, s’il vous plaît.”
Great.I can’t believe he’s pushing himself like that. Then again, I remember our discussion about Emrys playing when he was so badly injured from the arrow in his chest.
I sigh. Pride. Macho pride. Boys are so stupid sometimes.
If only they weren’t so cute…
Jason proceeds to doze through French class, and I keep sneaking glances at him, half-worried about him and half-relieved to see him. The teacher isn’t as pleased and makes a couple of remarks on how Jason is so far behind in French that he’d better wake up and take notes.
Jason sleeps through all that. At some point, he starts to snore softly and I kick at his leg, waking him up, and by then the bell for the next class rings.
“What?” He blinks groggily, long blond lashes lifting. “What is it?”
“Class is over.” I get up to gather my stuff. “You slept through the class.”
“Fuck…”
The urge to go cup his face and kiss him is overwhelming. He looks adorable like this, sleepy, his hair sticking up at odd angles, flattened from the pillow. Obviously he didn’t even run his hands through it today and I long to do it for him.
I also want to check his injury, see that the stitches are holding, that the wound isn’t infected.
My hands shaking, I stuff my books into my backpack and sling the straps over my shoulders. “See ya, Jax.”
“Mia…”
