Blazing Academy: Semester One (Academy For All Things Scorching #1) - Avery Song Page 0,76

suggested. "Not because I don't want to see you drunk, but some of the drinks are spiked to give us a boost of flame, and I'm not sure how you'll react."

"Fair," I replied. "Do they have non-alcoholic drinks? I'm thirsty."

"Tons. Let's go up to the VIP area."

"There's a VIP area?"

"There's a VIP house connected to this one."

"Did I hear you correctly?" I questioned. "Because if my ears don't fail me, you just said there was a damn house connected to a house and it's only for VIP status. Actually, how are we even VIPs?"

"I'm a sixteen-year-old who looks nineteen and has loads of connections," he reasoned. "Also, I'm the only one in our group with VIP status. CloverSpell thinks I'm sleeker than the other two and only gave it to me."

I thought about it. "She's not wrong."

"I'm glad to receive your utmost approval." He chuckled and tugged me along until we reached the elevators. I had to admire the gold-plated doors, watching them open as a full mirror box opened up, the handles along the interior being made of stones.

"A-Are those real?"

"Yup. Swarovski crystals, all of them placed by hand." He directed me to enter first, following after as he pulled out his ID and pressed it against a scanner. A golden light scanned the card, and then when he removed it, he took off his glasses and looked into a screen that opened out from the elevator wall as the doors closed.

The square face scanner took a full scan of his face, and with a ding noise, the elevator began to move - not upward – sideways, to my left.

"Are we actually moving sideways?"

"Yup."

"Then can this really be called an elevator?"

"Uh." He actually paused to think about it. "Not really, but there are three floors in the VIP house, so it makes sense."

"Is this place specifically made for students?"

"It's specifically made for powerhouse young adults and potential horsemen.”

"Horsemen?" I recalled the few times I'd heard that term around here. "What exactly does that term mean?"

"I'll explain when we get to our private spot," he assured me. "I don't trust elevators."

"I feel like I'm in a spy movie."

"You could be." He slid his glasses on and moved closer until I was pressed against the mirror. I questioned his sudden movement, but the 'elevator' stopped, the doors opening as three people got on.

I met Westley's eyes, noticing they were observing mine carefully.

The sudden closeness brought on a palpable tension between us, not one that made me afraid or uncomfortable. Instead, I felt a magnetic pull that was desperate bring us together.

I bit my lip hard, noticing how he inched closer while his eyes remained locked on mine. It felt like we'd entered our own little world, surrounded by warmth that mingled and danced between the little space.

I'd never kissed someone before, and my heart began to race as the distance between our lips grew less by the second.

The ding of the elevator seemed to pull us out of it, the chatter and booming music flooding into the mirror box as the individuals that got on made their way off.

Westley blinked a few times before he looked back at the elevator doors.

"Guess we're here," he lightly declared, but it felt like he wished we hadn't reached our destined floor.

Taking my hand into his once more, he led the way out of the elevator into the less crowded room of people. This group of young adults looked a lot more sophisticated compared to the previous crowd.

It could have been their clothes, a mix of classy, vintage, and gothic, or their hairstyles, which were styled to impress, or the mere atmosphere that hovered around that gave off a completely different vibe.

Even the music was a shift from the banging pop, the sound a little softer, actually making me want to dance and move to the beat.

We reached a short line, and I noticed the few looks I got. A part of me worried that some of these individuals knew me from my past, but their intrigued gazes and the few purposeful licks of their bottom lips told me they were checking me out.

I wasn't too bothered by it, but I noticed how Westley released my right hand, only to slip his arm around my waist possessively as he pressed me against his side.

His eyes were still focused on the line, but the move made me feel really valuable to him. It was odd to feel like a prized possession, and I knew we were