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“The politics are ridiculous,” Callan agreed, shaking his head. “I swear half my classmates are here to network, not to actually learn anything. And the other half are only interested in finding their soulmates.”
“Really?” Morgan wrinkled her nose. “That seems like it’d be—”
“—ahugedistraction from studying,” Callan agreed, his eyes bright with relief.
“Exactly!”
“You have no idea how good it is to hear someone else say that.” He paused for a moment, an oddly regretful expression passing over his face. “Oh, no. I’ve just realized something.”
“What?”
“Morgan, we’re nerds.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at that, and after a moment Callan joined her, shaking his head ruefully. She’d been laughing a lot tonight, first with her new friends, now with one of her oldest ones… it was surprising how good it felt. Was this why people made a point of socializing, even if the rest of their lives were busy? She was beginning to regret how dismissive she’d been of the section of the orientation that had dealt with the school’s social life.
“Holy crap. So youdoown real clothes.”
Morgan frowned as she turned to see a familiar figure swaggering up to join them at the bar. She had recognized Archer’s voice right away, but there was a strange, hard, mocking quality in it that she didn’t like at all. Neither did Callan, judging by the stiffening of his spine and the narrowing of his eyes.
“This?” She gestured down at her dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious—and more than a little annoyed about the implied slight to her regular wardrobe. “My housemate lent it to me.”
But Archer’s eyes had slid away from her almost immediately, and she realized he wasn’t even listening to her. Instead, he was sizing up Callan. He was standing far closer than he needed to, almost as though he was making a point of demonstrating that he was half an inch taller.
What the hell was going on?
Chapter 8 - Archer
The party was a triumph. People kept coming up to congratulate him on how well the night was going, and Archer was running out of patience with it. It was the simplest thing in the world to get a good party going. All you needed was a basic grip on what people liked to do, a decent venue, and the ability to assign tasks to people who were good at them. Brody had a knack for curating playlists, he’d noticed, so Brody was in charge of the dance floor. Zack’s family ran a catering business, so he’d been put in charge of the drinks. Archer had chatted with a few specific members of the academic staff to make sure nobody was going to rain on their parade regarding the drinking and loud music, and made sure to get the word out well in advance so people knew to get there. Then it was just a question of monitoring buzz in the leadup, timing his own entrance for maximum impact, then curating the vibe for the rest of the night. Any idiot could have done it, really… he could never understand why so many people managed to throw bad parties when it came so naturally to him.
But all night, he kept feeling like he was looking over his shoulder. His friends assumed he was keeping an eye on the party, which annoyed him, because he knew without looking that the party was going great. But he didn’t want to share the real reason he kept scanning the crowds… because the embarrassing truth was that he was hoping Morgan was going to show up. He’d never gotten a clear answer about whether she was going to come, and for some reason he’d chickened out of asking her that afternoon in class, when they’d submitted their papers to the professor. Something about the way she’d smiled at him across the room had made him feel… not scared. Absolutely not scared. What was there to be scared of? Nothing.
He kept hoping the preoccupation would go away once he was drunk enough, but if anything, the buzz of alcohol only made his mind go straying back to her more often. He got a few drinking games started with the guys, giving the energy a bit of a boost, then circled around to where the sound equipment was set up to pump the volume a bit.
And then he saw her. She was walking past the dance floor, and for a moment he was convinced he must have been mistaken. Every single time he’d seen Morgan, she’d been wearing some combination of loose-fitting slacks and a high-necked shirt or blouse that hid her figure completely. Even sitting with her in the library hadn’t given him any more insight into where she’d gotten clothes like that from, and it had felt rude to ask. The dress she was wearing right now, though… he felt his heart skip a beat, felt his dragon stir in his chest a little as his eyes roamed hungrily across the shape of her. What possible reason could she have had for hiding a body like that away?
He was halfway across the dance floor before he caught himself, shocked at what a dumb move he’d nearly made. Rushing up to her the minute she arrived, showering her with compliments? What kind of idiot was he? He had to play it cool, let her settle in first, give her a chance to spot him being the center of attention, then run into her later, by accident. This was basic stuff. What had gotten into him? He joined a few friends on the dance floor for a song, but his heart wasn’t in it. He kept glancing up towards the bar, where he could just see the green of her dress… the same green as her eyes. He couldn’t wait to see her up close, and when the song finished he headed for the bar, telling himself that he’d given it plenty of time.
He’d expected to find her alone. She was usually alone, when he saw her around the university… alone in the library, alone in class, alone even when they worked in groups. But Archer felt a strange heat burn through him when he reached the bar and saw her laughing with some guy. A tall guy with long black hair, not someone he’d categorized as important… wait, wasn’t he the guy who’d come with Morgan from that newly-discovered insula? Were they an item? They were certainly standing pretty close together, and he didn’t like the way they were laughing. Didn’t like the way the guy was looking at her. Didn’t like that the guy existed at all, in fact… and before he knew it, he was all but on top of them both, barely aware of what he was saying. He could feel Morgan’s disapproval, though… sense it in the coldness of her eyes when he glanced at her.
Well, there was no going back now.
“Who are you anyway, dude?” he demanded, keeping his focus on the guy. “You’re here at my party, but I don’t remember inviting you.”
“I’m Callan,” the guy said, sticking his hand out with a friendly smile that only made Archer angrier. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was an invitation-only event.”
“It’s not,” Archer said with a magnanimous shrug, accepting the handshake and resisting the urge to try to break all of his bones. “Just playing around. You two having a good time?” Maybe this was good, he thought through the maelstrom of alcohol and high emotion. Maybe this was a good way of getting to her. He’d had great success in the past with winning women over by talking to everyone in a room except them… maybe if he ignored her, it would make her want his attention even more.
“Yeah, it’s nice to spend some time outside,” Callan said breezily. “Perfect night for it, too. You’ve done well—”
“I can see you two are having a cozy little time over here,” he heard himself say, already impatient. He’d met a hundred guys like Callan before, he had him pegged. Guys like this were impossible to provoke into a fight. They acted like it was because they were such skilled diplomats, but really it was cowardice wearing a fancy hat. He didn’t care about Callan. He wanted Callan gone from this conversation. Gone from the beach, gone from the school, gone from the insula of Sanguine altogether. He’d organize the trip himself, if he had to. He certainly had the connections.
“Excuse me,” he heard Morgan say, her voice cold and remote as ice. “I’ve got to get back to my friends. Callan?” Archer gritted his teeth. She was looking past him like he wasn’t even there. “You’re alright here?”
“He’s great,” Archer cut in, dropping a heavy arm around Callan’s shoulder and tugging him against his side like they were old friends. “Me and Callan, we’re going to be best buddies, isn’t that right?”
Morgan lingered for a moment, shot Archer one last inscrutable look, then turned to leave. Archer opened his mouth to call after her, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Then she was gone. Callan had extricated himself from Archer’s grip, and he let his arm fall to his side again, feeling suddenly stupid. And just as quickly, that flared into anger again… which wasn’t helped at all by the look of thinly-disguised pity that Callan was giving him.
“Would you like some water?” He held out a bottle, and Archer briefly considered giving in to the fierce urge to punch him right in the face. It might make him feel better.
