I had gotten used to his tall frame always beside me, and that tense, electric energy he radiates.
Dean does everything efficiently. I’ve memorized the way he lines up his fork and knife beside his plate, how he butters his bread and how he sets his water glass down in precisely the same place after taking a drink.
I find myself setting out my own dishes in the same way, even though I’m eating lunch with Rakel, Anna, and Chay today, and not Dean.
“Nice to have you back,” Chay says to me, spreading out her own generous lunch, which includes three chocolate chip cookies.
“Are those keto?” Anna teases her.
“No,” Chay replies with great dignity. “I stopped doing keto over the summer when I went to Tasmania. I wanted to try the local food. And anyway, Ozzy says he likes me with a little more ass.”
“I bet he does,” Anna laughs. “You can have my cookie too—for Ozzy.”
“Are you guys still dating?” I ask Chay, pleased to hear an update.
“Yes,” she says happily. “I met his dad and cousins. We went bow hunting and cliff diving. Took a three-day trip to the barrier reef and swam with whale sharks. His dad is just like Ozzy, I felt like I knew him already. I think it was a good distraction for him. For all of us. Ozzy showed me his mom’s rose garden. I rode her favorite horse . . . He’s still sad, really sad. But he’s also himself, funny and playful and . . .”
Chay breaks off, pink-cheeked, thinking she’s said too much.
She’s clearly head-over-heels for Ozzy, despite the fact that they’re now long distance.
“Are you going to Tasmania again when school lets out?” I ask.
Chay shakes her head. “No. Ozzy’s coming to Berlin. I mean, if he still wants to in the spring.”
“I think he’d swim there if he had to,” Anna laughs.
“You can’t swim to Berlin. It’s land-locked,” Rakel says.
“Don’t ruin my joke with geography.” Anna pretends to scowl at Rakel, stealing one of her grapes.
“Make more accurate jokes.” Rakel sniffs, snitching Anna’s apple in return.
Rakel and Anna have formed their own brand of friendship, where they’re free to be as grouchy with each other as they please.
“Where’s Leo?” I ask Anna.
“Finishing up a history paper with Ares.”
“I wanted to congratulate him. I saw he’s Captain again for the Quartum Bellum.”
The vote was posted this morning. It was no surprise that the Juniors chose Leo once again, after he lead them to victory the two years before.
“I think he regrets ever wanting to be Captain in the first place,” Anna laughs. “The challenges are so goddamn grueling and the pressure’s sky-high. Everybody expects us to win.”
“You will win!” I say, with full confidence.
“You’re not supposed to cheer them on. You’re supposed to help our team win,” Rakel reminds me.
“No, I’m on Miles’ side about this,” I say, taking a bite of my sandwich. “The sooner we’re eliminated, the sooner I can stop worrying about something horrible happening to me in that cursed competition.”
As I set my sandwich down once more, Dean carries his tray of food past my table, flanked by Jasper Webb and Bram Van Der Berg. Our eyes meet as he passes, but he doesn’t speak to me.
I watch him cross the dining hall and take his seat on the opposite side. He’s facing me, and his eyes hold mine as he spears a carrot on the tines of his fork, placing it in his mouth.
Chay clears her throat.
“So . . .” she says. “What’s going on with our friendly neighborhood sociopath over there? You’re eating with us, and yet I can’t help but notice that Dean seems more interested in you than his carrots.”
“It’s not like that,” I say, dropping my eyes to my plate. “He doesn’t . . . like me, or anything like that.”
Even as I’m saying the words, I’m remembering the way Dean kissed me up against his bedroom wall. I’ve never imagined that a kiss could be so ravenous.
Anna is watching me, not with anger or jealousy, but with something very like understanding.
“Dean has his good points,” Anna says. “I understand that better than anyone. Just be careful, Cat. He can be cruel—and dangerous.”
Chay leans across the table to rest her hand on my arm, her blue eyes seeking mine out.
“He tried to kill Leo,” she tells me. “In our Freshman year.”
“Is that true?” I ask Anna.
She nods, her expression somber. “Yes, it is. Dean tried to drown Leo. And it almost worked.”