Page 104 of Spearcrest Knight

“What about her?”

Zachary sighs. “She’s getting full marks in all her essays in Lit.”

“Right?”

I stare at him.

“It’s just a point of honour,” Zachary says with dignity. “Every class we’ve ever shared we’ve tied in. We’re tying in Mr Ambrose’s programme. But now she’s beating me in English.”

“Oh.”

I stare at him. He seems almost too mature and old-beyond-his-years for this kind of rivalry, but I can tell he’s not joking. And I can sort of understand why you’d want to go toe-to-toe with Theodora—Zachary certainly seems like he would enjoy the challenge.

“Alright, “ I say, “well, I’ll do my best to help you. I’ve only ever got full marks in one essay, so I’ll bring a copy of that next time, but for now, I’d say we should focus on critical theory for the Austen unit. Are you doingPersuasiontoo?”

Zachary picks up his copy ofPersuasionand hands it to me. I flip through it to see highlighted passages, tabs and exquisitely handwritten notes in the margins.

“Alright, this is a good start. Should we start by swapping notes? I might have some stuff you don’t and vice versa.”

Zachary nods and we swap copies, both opening our notebooks. We work in silence: like me, Zachary doesn't seem much interested in making conversation and we only talk to clarify points. At the end of the two hours, Zachary is the first to close his books and stand.

“That was helpful,” he says solemnly. “Thank you.”

“Right, you’re welcome. See you Thursday.”

He gives a nod, grabs his stuff and leaves. I marvel at his stark professionalism and earnest solemnity. Why can’t every student here be like that? It’s easy to forget he’s one of the so-called Young Kings when his behaviour is so mature and polite.

Instead of following him out of the classroom, I fold my arms on the table and rest my head on my forearms. How did Beatrice get on with Evan? Did he let her teach him, or did he distract her with his big blue eyes and flirty smile? That sounds like something he would do.

And didn’t I tell him he was welcome to all the girls he wanted? I’m sure he doesn’t need my encouragement to do that.

But instead of thinking about Evan and Beatrice, my mind ventures into muddy, murky territory, straight into the memory of Evan’s vivid blue eyes and intense look while he worked me with his fingers. The aggression and hunger in his voice. His face between my legs, his lips gleaming with the wetness from my own orgasm.

His hoarse voice when he said, “You’re all I fucking think about, all the time.”

After all the lies Evan has spoken over the years, this didn’t sound like one. It sounded like the raw, painful truth. Even thinking about it now, it makes my heart beat faster and heat rises in my cheeks and chest.

Would anybody else ever make me feel the way he does? Would anybody else ever turn me on as intensely, as devastatingly as he can? What if my curse is that even though I hate Evan with every fibre of my being, he is also the only person who can make me feel the way he does?

That sounds like the sort of Greek tragedy stuff that would happen to me.

I shake my head vigorously and stand up.

I need to get a grip. To distract myself, I go for a swim. Except that when I get to the pool, it, too, is full of memories of Evan. Evan’s crooked grin in the bluish lights, Evan’s wicked laughter when he pulled me into the water, Evan pinning me to him by my waist, his hard muscles rippling against me.

I dive into the cold water, trying to shock the memories out of my head. I swim fast laps, hoping I can somehow outswim those stupid memories. My breath burns in my lungs as I force myself to keep going.

By the time I emerge from the pool, my eyes are aching with chlorine, my heart is hammering and my muscles are trembling, but I feel much better. Until I get to the diving board I’ve left my towel on. Because when I pick up the towel I grabbed randomly from my wardrobe, I spot the letters EAK monogrammed in gold in the corner.

I stare at the towel for a moment and then bury my face in it with a long sigh of despair.

33

Persuasion

Evan

Wednesdaymorning,ItrackZachary down in the corner of the library where he tends to spend his free periods nowadays. It’s snowing pretty heavily outside, and I stomp my feet at the entrance and brush the snow off my shoulders before going in. Even though I don’t spend much time in the Spearcrest library, it is practically hallowed ground here, and I know better than to track snow everywhere.

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