Page 44 of Bound By Water
“What do you want to eat?” River asks, tapping the tray in front of me.
I eye the food in the metal containers in front of us, then reach for a spoon to scoop out some scrambled eggs. “Eggs and toast are plenty for me. When I was going to school, I usually only had a protein bar in the morning.”
He piles his plate with a little bit of everything. “Breakfast is fuel for your brain and one of my favorite meals. Bacon, sausage, biscuits, eggs, pancakes… you name it. I love it.”
“If I ate all that, I’d be bigger than a house,” I tell him with a shake of my head. “And sleepy.”
“That’s the beauty of using your powers,” he tells me. “It revs up your metabolism. In fact, if you use them to the point of depletion, you’ll need to stuff yourself to recover.”
I look down at my modest plate of food. “I’ll take your word for it.” The only time I used my powers, I passed out afterward, but when I woke, I didn’t feel hungry. Just stressed.
Finding an empty table, I sit down and dig into my eggs. Not bad. “Needs a little salt, but they’re good. How is yours?” I can’t help but look at the pancakes, dripping with butter and syrup, on his plate. Exactly how I like them.
“Everything is good, but the pancakes are unreal,” he teases me. I glare at him, and he laughs. “Here. Take one. You’re drooling.” He places a single pancake on my plate.
“Mmm, thank you.” There’s something universal about pancakes. Both my dad and Lionel used to make them for me. I take a bite and let out a little moan as the thick syrup and butter hits my tongue.
“Good to see you’re eating,” Quaid says, striding up to us, energy crackling around him.
Choking down the bite, I look up at the intense man and see he’s carrying several items. At least he’s not scowling.
“Here’s a printout of your schedule and a map,” he says, handing me two pieces of paper and a tablet. “Your first meeting is in fifteen minutes with Beckett. He’s our resident psychiatrist. Everyone meets with him so he can help ease any concerns you might have and give you someone confidential to talk to.”
River snorts. “Pass.”
Quaid hands him a tablet. “The meeting with Beckett is non-negotiable. Your appointment is right after hers at nine-thirty. Once you’re done, take a look at the list of classes and decide which ones you want to take. I’ll meet you back here at noon to get the list.”
With a frown, I glance down at the papers in my hand. One of them has a complete list of classes with days and times. “Why didn’t I get to choose my classes?”
“Based on Brad’s assessment, we created a list of classes for you. Most of them are focused on learning survival skills and how to use your powers,” Quaid murmurs. “Don’t tell anyone about that class.”
Nervous, I look at River. “Why?”
River shares a look with Quaid. “Never give away all your secrets.”
Quaid dips his chin in agreement and looks at his watch. “Exactly. You’ll need to leave in the next ten minutes to make it to Beckett’s office in time. It’s on the map.” He leaves as silently as he arrived, and I can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes. That man rubs me the wrong way.
I’m finishing this pancake first, though. Hurrying, I quickly shove a couple more bites into my mouth and look over to see River laughing at me. “What? These pancakes are too good to waste.”
He waves a hand. “Take them with you. We can bring the trays back at lunch.”
I pause mid-bite and think about it. “I don’t like the idea of walking around with a tray. My schedule is packed.”
Ten minutes later, I’ve finished all my food, and after setting my tray down where I’m supposed to, I drag River out the door.
According to the map, Beckett’s office is in the building next to this one. Bright sun blinds me the instant I step outside, but I soak it in. It feels good to be out of the white sterile environment.
Numerous tan buildings surround this one. Well, technically, they’re a mustard-y brown color that sort of looks like a mix of tan and creamy yellow that looks like baby poo or something, but I can’t stomach the thought. Tan it is. My nose wrinkles at the sight of them. Does the military not believe in color? With a shrug, I open the door to the one in front of me and walk down the hall until I reach room 103.
Entering, I find a small sitting area with a few chairs and a door with a light on top of it. Having seen enough psychiatrists’ offices at the hospital where I did clinicals, I know the light is used to signal when another patient is in the room. Although it’s not on, the black and white clock on the wall says eight fifty-nine, so I sit down.
River grabs the seat next to me and continues eating his breakfast.
“Oh good; you’re here,” a smooth voice says, and I jerk my gaze back to the door where I find a tall, lean man in jeans and a green button-down shirt.
I’m pretty sure my mouth drops open. Thick, wavy brown hair frames a perfectly symmetrical and utterly stunning face with a square jaw, a strong, straight nose, and smiling lips. Light-colored eyes framed with black glasses should make him look stern, but the intelligence gleaming from the depths of his eyes makes him lean toward sexy serious. Is that even a term? Probably not, but it should be. Sexy nerd. Sexy smart. Sexy…
River leans over. “Are you okay? Nervous?”
