Page 20 of Forged in Blood

He narrows his bright-green eyes and a few seconds later says, “One more.”

“Two?” I suggest hopefully.

“One.”

“Fine.” I press my lips together and try to think of the best one. But so many race through my head that I can’t focus. Finally, I blurt, “Are you really repelled by garlic?”

The booming laugh that explodes out of his mouth makes me giggle. I put my hands over my eyes and shake my head. Of all the things I could have asked, I can’t believe I opted for that.

His laughter subsides, and when I take my hands away from my face, he’s standing right in front of me. He rubs the pad of his thumb over my cheek, and I swear his touch sets my skin ablaze. “No, not repelled by garlic, Ophelia. Not by crucifixes or holy water either.” He winks, and if I wasn’t sitting, I would crumple to the floor because my legs just turned to Jell-O.

“G-good to know.”

His lips twitch, and his hypnotizing eyes lock on mine. I feel helpless. Like if he were to lean down and bite me right now, I would wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. Is this how they entrap their victims? Vampire voodoo?

“Be good, okay?” he says, his tone soft.

I nod meekly, which I know I’m going to be so annoyed with myself for later, but I’m literal putty in his hands at the moment. Without another word, he leaves my dorm room.

I should be relieved he’s gone, shouldn’t I? But instead, I feel lonely and…

And sad.

Which is ridiculous. I’ve spent my whole life alone and learned to find happiness in my solitude. This is my factory setting, so why does that emptiness inside me feel like it’s grown into a swirling vortex? And why do I feel like it’s going to swallow me whole?

Chapter

Twelve

OPHELIA

With a deep breath, I run my hands over the pleats of my skirt and check out my outfit in the mirror. Not that I need to, it’s the same thing I always wear. Plaid miniskirt, check; white tank, check; black lace-up boots, check; hooded sweatshirt tied around my waist in the event it gets a little chilly, check. It’s like my uniform. No, my armor. Myfuck youto the world. There’s comfort in the familiar, particularly when everything else around you is in a constant state of flux.

I give myself a reassuring smile and grab my backpack, ignoring the kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Partly from excitement, partly from nerves. Tonight I’m going to my first football game. Go Dragons…

I takemy seat in the second to last row of the student section. I’ve watched enough football on TV to know that the rules of seating do not apply to sports the way they do in the classroom. Here, the back rows aren’t for the cool kids.

The stands around me are mostly empty, probably because the Montridge Dragons football team is notoriously terrible, despite their awesome name. Apparently they only scored two touchdowns all last season.

Whatever the reason, it suits me fine because there are at least half a dozen empty seats on either side of me and I’m sitting close enough to the end of the row that I can leave whenever I want without any fuss. Not that I mind people, but there’s something about being surrounded by groups and couples that makes my solitude feel all the more acute.

The team takes the field, and cheers erupt from the meager crowd. I smile, glad that they’re not being booed. It must take a lot of guts to put yourself out there every week the way that they do.

“Is this seat taken?”

I tear my eyes from the field and look up at the source of the deep voice. He’s half-smiling. He looks almost… hopeful. I glance around. There are plenty of empty seats. Why does he want the one next to me?

“You’re here on your own too, right?” he adds with a self-deprecating laugh. “I find it’s always more fun to watch the game with someone. If you don’t mind?” He indicates the seat beside me, his deep-brown eyes crinkling at the corners when his smile widens.

I nod. “Sure.” Really? One word. One syllable. Is that all you have, Ophelia? I would face-palm myself if he wasn’t staring at me.

Why is he staring at me?

He narrows his eyes. “I think I’ve seen you in the dining hall. You’re in Vasilakis Hall, near the library, yeah?”

Why does he know what dorm I live in? Suspicion makes me edgy, but his vibe is so warm and friendly. He wipes his hands on his torn jeans, flicks his dark hair out of his eyes, and laughs again. “That must make me sound like a creep, huh?”

I don’t answer.

---