Page 25 of Nothing to Fear
“Communication doesn’t really seem to be his strong suit.”
“Okaaaaay. What about planning some sweet gesture? Show him that you at least want to be his friend and that you’re somewhat normal.”
That actually isn’t a bad idea.
“Well, if none of those things work, then you could always kidnap him.”
I haven’t ruled that one out either, sis.
The restof the morning drags on, and I find myself walking aimlessly through the school grounds until I’m facing the chain-link fence that surrounds the rugby practice field. Even though it’s Sunday, the team is out there practicing. I’m far enough away that Silas would have to be looking for someone to notice me, but close enough that I can see the strong muscles of his legs strain as he runs.
Had I known that rugby players wore short shorts, I would have shown up to watch them practice a long time ago. Theydon’t leave much to the imagination. Especially because they’re white with crimson stripes on the arms and Corvus on the front.White.
My eyes easily find Silas, just as they seem to lately, his blond hair pushed back out of his face, dirt spread across his cheek. Actually, he’s filthy. His legs are covered in dirt and grass stains, and an image of him all fours with his face in the dirt while I pound him from behind flashes behind my eyes.
Well, that’s new.
I don’t hate that idea.
In the very back of my mind, I’m reminded how much schoolwork I need to get done, how much I need to study to be prepared for the upcoming week, and that late tonight, I get to see Silas again in person.
I watch Silas practice until he leads his team into the tunnel to the locker room and out of sight. The croak of a raven from above me pulls my attention from staring longingly at the empty entrance of the locker room tunnel.
Standing outside of Harrow House in the middle of the night, hoping for a glimpse of him in his bedroom window? Still within the realm of what’s socially acceptable. Following him into a locker room? Probably frowned upon on so many different levels. Don’t think it would be breaking any rules or laws, though.
Just as I take a step forward, an invisible string between us pulls taut. Silas and his team leave the locker room from the other side, packing onto a bus in front of the stadium.
It’s the bucket of cold water I needed. Was I seriously just about to peep at Silas Blackwood while he was changing in the locker room?
I’ve officially stepped into stalker territory.
Back in my room, I spend the rest of the day working on assignments for various classes and putting time intoresearching the whereabouts of how to get into the Corvus Cemetery. I’ve been researching Corvus and the mystery behind the founding families for over a year now, and nothing has ever come up about how to get in. Whose buried there? Absolutely. But not how.
Since I’m a Gothic literature major with a focus on the occult, this should be a cake walk. But as I’ve come to learn while studying here, the school will bring you what it wishes you to have, and whatever it conceals, won’t be found.
An email notification chimes, and my heart sinks into my stomach when I see his name, the devil himself.
Mr. Ambrose,
I’m disappointed in your work ethic over the last two weeks. It seems as though President Blackwood and I are not on the same page with your academic standing. If I don’t see an improvement in both your work and your behavior, I will be forced to rescind Professor Mortwood’s agreement to write you a recommendation for your grad school application. There is no space for mediocrity or complacency, Mr. Ambrose. See that you remember that.
Professor Thorne
“Fuck!”
I shove my laptop across the desk in frustration. This is why I can’t have distractions. This is why I need to focus. I need to finish strong here.
Nothing else matters.
Chapter 10
Silas
The game against UConn was a disaster. My head wasn’t in it, and it trickled out and reached all of my teammates, infecting them with my nerves and hesitation. Every minute, every play, I felt the timer ticking down in the slowest motion I’ve ever experienced.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to be somewhere else other than on the field. I wanted to be in the archives with Asher. I didn’t want to let him down. I wanted to show him that he could depend on me, that I appreciated his time, and that I was willing to put in the work. We’ve been getting closer and closer. He’s become a good friend. I’m more myself with Asher than I am with my teammates, and I don’t want to lose that because of my own insecurities. It’s not Asher’s fault I’m a fucking mess. Even if I’ve taken it out on him for years.
Instead of being back at Corvus, I was forced onto the field at UConn, taking hit after hit as I fucked everything up. My body was physically present, but my mind was back at Corvus on a very specific man with hair the color of midnight.
