Page 26 of Forget Me Twice

The clock ticking away on the wall begins to echo like a drum snare.

The scratching of pens against paper scrape in my head like metal on metal.

I squint painfully at the time, relieved to find that there’s only a few minutes left in the lesson. It’s the lunch break next. I’ll be able to take care of my growing headache by spending a few sordid moments alone with my flask, and follow that up with a good dose of Rhett.

I breathe out slowly.

Solid plan.

I glaredown at my phone screen.

RHETT: Be there in 30. Had to shake some Suits.

Fucking Sebastian. Figures he would be having us tailed. His paranoia knows no bounds these days.

Pivoting on my heel, I decide to head to the dining hall to wait. There’s no reason to waste the most optimal time slot of the school day for me to head out on safari and observe the wildlife.

I’ll just have to be careful about how I use my focus when in a crowd that large. The last thing I want is a recall cascade of hundreds of names and profiles and the inevitable migraine that will follow.

Marching down the mostly empty hallways, I take a moment to admire the classic, dark academia vibes the Academy is serving. Impossibly high ceilings with massive, ribbed vaults. Clustered columns pitted by time and greenery. Windows with hundreds of stories hidden amongst their delicate patterns of frosted glass work and lead cames.

It’s only outshone in both size and grandeur by its more prominent counterpart, the Roxborough University.

I’ve long thought this preservation of gothic architecture is what truly separates the rival Twin Cities at heart.

Lexington crashed headlong into the new century by committing what I consider a veritable architectural massacre. With the exception of the poorer districts like South Lex, there’s barely a heritage building left in the place. It’s now an industrial marvel of glass and steel and concrete.

Lex City may be nice to look out, but beneath the glitzy surface, Sebastian’s influence has filled its core with rot. It’s a wonder Roxborough is nicknamed the City of Sin when Lexington is arguably a hundred times worse.

Pushing through the heavy double doors of the crowded dining hall, I’m not in the least bit surprised when a dramatic hush follows my entrance, the silence rushing in like the rapids of a river.

Like most common areas in the school, the large space boasts a vaulted ceiling and walls punctuated by a series of tall leadlight windows. The long space is filled to capacity by clusters of dark wooden tables with comfortable-looking bench seats.

At the opposite end of the room, another set of double doors sits open, showing a glimpse of a courtyard ringed by trees just about ready to turn.

I keep my sweep of the room light, trying not to look at any one particular student. I just need to get my bearings and a rough idea of the layout of the room before I can move.

Then I can spend the next twenty minutes or so working my way through the crowd and hope like hell that most of them keep a regular table so I won’t have to re-do this every day. If I have a mental map of where every person usually sits, I can find or avoid targets as I need to without looking directly at faces.

Low titters and a flash of Sloane’s red locks tells me that the Prefects and their whitelist minions are occupying prime real estate in the very middle. There’s a six-feet deep buffer of empty tables that surrounds their group, almost like a force field.

I haven’t been here nearly long enough to get a full picture of the Rox Academy hierarchy, but if I had to guess—and judging by the weird void of bodies nearest the center tables—I’d say the further out you go, the lower your notch on the pole.

I also catch a glimpse of Wren’s shock of white hair not far from the open doors, but I don’t linger too long on him. I only have a few minutes to take in as much as I can and this is the first time I’ve had an unobstructed view of the Rox Boys as a unit.

And what a view.

I allow myself to focus solely on their table, only to find them as equally focused on me.

Directly in the center of the room, the four kings of Rox Academy are lounging; comfortable and untouched in their lunchtime domain.

In fact, one of them is literally lounging. Propped lazily on muscled forearms, Lake is sprawled across the top of their table, one that looks like it would normally seat around eight. Both his blazer and shirt are completely unbuttoned, giving the room a seductive display of one very tanned chest and one very muscular abdomen.

A silver, cuban-link necklace is currently being dragged between his front teeth by his tongue.

He tilts his head to the side, sliding his attention down my body with a look so blatant and seductive I feel iteverywhere. Those unruly blond curls fall across his forehead with the movement, and he bites down on the chain, grinning.

There’s a small tattoo high on his chest, right above his heart, but I can’t make it out from this distance.

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