Page 20 of Conner's Luna

I grin, a chuckle escaping me at her well-timed joke. She smiles back at me, and I feel my breath catch. The last of the sunlight glints off her hair. The reddish gold in the dark mass shimmers, highlighting how perfect her freckled skin and almond eyes are. I suck in a breath, inhaling her scent. Honeysuckle. That's what it is. I fucking love honeysuckle. There are hordes of the plants growing along the banks of the streams in ClearHowl land. In the summer as kids, we would walk around picking the flowers to suck the nectar right out of them.

She smells like my childhood.

"You sure you're OK?" I murmur. I'm suddenly desperate to keep my hands on her waist, right at the small gap between her waistband and where her t-shirt has ridden up.

Her smile grows impish. She looks... what's that word?Elfin, that's it.

I shake my head when my wolf wags his tail, the thud reverberating right through me. Holy shit, I am standing here like a douche, thinking about howelfinBailey looks in the sunset? I might as well hang up my balls, now.

She laughs. "I'm fine, Conner."

She's the one who pulls away. I tell her goodbye and watch her until the door closes behind her and I know she's safe. I don't remember the eyes in the dark until I am pulling out of Bailey's driveway. Scanning the forest, I scowl.

They're gone.

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6 - Bloody Notes

Bailey

I really can't stand this university. I refrain (barely) from rolling my eyes at Professor McGregor as she stumbles over her trite list of reasons for why I can't be in the Social Justice Club.

I don't even want to be in the club, or the SJC as it's known at C State, but it was the last on my list. Now my internship really is the only extracurricular I have. I blew every possibility unless I want to try and join a sports team. C State has sports out the yin-yang; varsity sports, club teams, intermural sports, recreational leagues... So many teams and not one that I'm good at.

I amnotan athlete. A mathlete, sure. I could be the ace for the Academic Olympiad Team, but they don't allow freshmen to join. I thought about trying out anyway, especially when I learned that Lydia is on the team for debate, but that's just my pure, unfiltered jealousy talking. I would be on the Science team, anyway, and I heard the debate team sucks, but... well, that's the jealousy again.

Professor McGregor finally winds down her rambling laundry list of lame excuses and I force a smile and a thank you before walking away. Why the hell does no one in this school like me? Do I smell? It's just too weird. I try to approach it all analytically, I do. Most students ignore me. Only a handful go out of their way to be jerks, but even my mind can't make sense of the Dean of my school hating me. Why?

Kismet rings its cowbell just after Professor McGregor scurries off to teach, I meandiscuss, bullying with the Social Justice Club. A body, much larger than mine, collides with my motionless one. My notes hit the linoleum and scatter.

"Clumsy whore," the words are hissed from Trey's mouth with razor-sharp disdain. My eyes fly up to his, startled and horrified at being this close to a man who makes my stomach pitch and roil sickeningly.

His vitriol is so searing that it steals my breath for a moment. Reason and logic crawl back in slowly, but they come. He looks livid and hateful, his eyes narrowed on me in disgust, but his insult is trite and only half-true.

I kneel down and start to pick up my notes. I label them and number the pages. It won't be hard to reassemble them, but I know better than to assume Trey is finished with his taunting. "Don't kick them like a petulant toddler," I warn him. "This isn't high school."

When I stand up, I meet his shocked gaze. My words seem to slowly sink into his brain. As slowly as the shallow, controlled breathes he is taking. I keep my eyes on his. I learned within the first week or two of the semester that I needed to keep my eyes on his. His body and face are drool-worthy. If I were honest,perfectis the word that springs to mind, but his eyes are truthful. His chocolate brown eyes pin me in place every time I look into them. He hates me and that kills the attraction I feel for him faster than the apple fell on Newton's head.

He and I are locked into a staring contest for a long moment as I fight the urge to fidget or start blurting out science jokes because you should always be like a proton and stay positive.

The moment is broken (thank goodness) when Braxton saunters up. "Hey, Bails," his quiet poise calms my nerves, and I can feel my body relax just a touch.

"Why are you here?" Trey snaps at him.

Braxton gives him an ice-cold stare, "Bailey is my partner for our organic chem project. We're prepping for our lab."

Trey grows. I blink at him, wondering if I'm imagining that the light grey t-shirt suddenly straining to hold in his pecs. I thought only girls have that problem in their chest areas, but the evidence in front of me says no.

"You take organic chem?" Trey scoffs at Braxton, but my project partner doesn't even flinch. He just smiles. "That's the shit I expect from this nerd, here," Trey gestures to me with his thumb.

"The nerd," Braxton matches Trey's sarcastic tone, "is the genius who will net us a perfect score. DNA structuring. I don't expect you to understand," he mocks Trey.

"Organic isn't bad. Chemistry is really just like cooking," I blurt out nervously. "You just can't lick the spoon," I say weakly as I tear my eyes away from Trey.

Braxton laughs, loudly, and slings one arm over my shoulder while the other deftly grabs my books from my arms. I glare a little at his well-muscled forearm easily hefting my books high like they weigh nothing.

Bailey, you really need to start working out. They're just books!

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