Page 29 of Bound to the Dorm Elf
My chest feels too tight and too open all at once.
I don’t trust my voice enough to answer, so I just nod and look back out at the city, letting the quiet stretch between us. It’s not an awkward silence. It’s… grounding.
Somehow, without realizing it, I’ve stepped into his orbit, and I’m not sure I want to step back out.
The wind shifts, carrying the faint smell of fried food from somewhere down the block, and the hum of the city fills the spaces between our words. We don’t move. Not yet. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to say something, or if he’s just… existing here, beside me, but for this one quiet moment, our silhouettes merge in the yellow glow spilling from my dorm window.
Two completely different shapes. One outline.
It’s stupid how much that gets to me.
The streetlamps below flicker, and my eyes keep drifting to the shadow we make on the balcony wall — tall, broad-shouldered alien and average human girl standing side by side, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. There’s a weight to it I can’t put words to. Like some part of my brain wants to file it away underpartnershipbefore I can argue.
I’m still thinking about that — about how safe and exposed I feel at the same time — when the door bangs open so hard the hinges complain.
“SKY.”
Syndee’s voice is like champagne being popped in the middle of a funeral. All fizz, no awareness of the mood she’s stepping into.
I turn just in time to see her totter in on strappy heels that could double as weapons, phone in one hand, half-empty cup ofsomething neon pink in the other. Her dress is made of about four inches of glitter and audacity.
“Oh my god,” she says without even breathing between syllables, “Kayla’s boyfriend’s cousin’s friend is throwing a massive thing tonight, like rooftop pool, DJ, real champagne not the knockoff, and we aregoing.”
Rovax turns his head toward her like he’s just spotted an exotic bird mid-mating display. His red eyes — faint under the glamour but still there if you know what you’re looking for — narrow slightly.
Syndee, of course, is oblivious. She breezes past him like he’s part of the furniture, throwing her purse on the couch. “I’ve already got us on the guest list, so all you need to do is shower, look amazing, and be ready in thirty.”
“I—” My voice cracks like I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “I can’t tonight.”
Her jaw drops. “Excuse me? Did you just turn down rooftop champagne?” She finally seems to notice Rovax, tilting her head at him. “Ohhh. Wait. Is this why?”
Heat crawls up my neck. “No. I mean, yes — but not like that.”
Rovax glances at me, his expression unreadable.
Syndee’s grin is sharklike. “Uh-huh. Sure. Just remember, if you get murdered by a hot foreign exchange student, Iwillput that on your tombstone.” She drains the last of her drink, tossing the empty cup into the trash with perfect aim. “Anyway, your loss. I’ll tell Kayla you’re boring now.”
She’s gone as quickly as she arrived, the door banging shut behind her. The scent of whatever fruity alcohol she’s been marinating in lingers in the room like glitter in carpet — impossible to get rid of.
The balcony feels different now. Less… ours.
I let out a slow breath, my eyes tracing the city skyline again. The outline on the wall is gone — she’d broken the spell without even knowing it — but I can still feel the ghost of it, the shape of us side by side.
I glance at Rovax. He’s watching me again, but not in the sharp, assessing way he usually does. It’s softer. Warmer. Like he’s trying to figure out something about me that even I don’t have the answer to.
I know I’m not going to forget this night. Not the shadow. Not the quiet. Not the strange sense that, for a breath or two, we were something that fit.
CHAPTER 11
ROVAX
The moment we step into the building, the air slams into me — hot, humid, thick with the stink of human sweat, sweetened alcohol, and too much perfume. It clings to the back of my throat, acrid enough to taste. The music is not music so much as sustained assault — a pulsing, repetitive thump that rattles the bones in my jaw.
I glance at Skylar, wondering if she realizes she’s just dragged me into a battlefield. She’s already halfway into the crowd, pulled forward by Syndee’s talon-like grip and some kind of magnetic social instinct I can’t begin to understand.
The space is a maze of limbs and flashing lights. I scan every face as we pass — not because I expect assassins, though that’s never off the table, but because I’ve learned in every world there are predators, and only fools assume they’re always the obvious ones.
“Relax,” Skylar murmurs over her shoulder. She’s trying to sound casual, but her eyes flick toward me in the way someone checks to see if their guard dog’s about to bite. “This is… normal.”
