already have my head full of plans, and I’m thinking about only one girl.
“Hey, I wanted to thank you,” Leo says.
“For what?” I ask suspiciously.
“Well, for all the work you put in on the challenge, for one thing.”
“We came in third.”
“Made it to the second round, that’s all that matters.” Leo shrugs. “But mostly I wanted to thank you for helping Cat.”
“Why would you thank me for that?”
I bristle at the idea that I was helping Cat for Leo, as if she belongs to him. I helped her for my own benefit, if anything.
“Miles is gonna marry Zoe,” Leo says, as if stating the obvious. “So Cat is family.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Well.” Leo grins and gives me a friendly parting nod. “See ya around.”
“See you,” I say.
It’s the least-aggressive encounter Leo and I have ever had together. One might almost call it pleasant.
I don’t know when I stopped hating him. I didn’t mean to. The realization slowly came over me that hating him wasn’t getting me anywhere. It was a festering rot, eating away at me from the inside.
That’s not to say we’re friends. But I don’t seem to have the energy to burn with fury in his direction. Not with boxing five days a week and Cat in the evenings. My focus has shifted.
I hurry back to my room, having no intention of being late.
I dress and comb my hair in front of the mirror hanging on the wall.
Bram lounges on the bed practicing tricks with a battered deck of playing cards. His black hair has grown all the way down past his shoulders. I don’t know if he’s cut it once since Freshman year. The scar across his eye makes it look like he’s squinting in a suspicious way. Which he usually is.
“Where are you going?” he demands.
“Out,” I say.
“I gathered that. Where?”
“Gonna study,” I say vaguely.
I look at my reflection, stone-faced. I resemble my father. Which means I probably look like my Aunt Yelena, too. They were twins, after all.
I wonder if Leo sees his mother when he looks at me.
Probably not, since it was hate-at-first-sight with both of us.
But perhaps there was an alternate reality where we could have been friends.
I’ve been plagued with thoughts of what could have been, all my life.
How do people accept the one and only path they find themselves on?
No one else seems to suffer this endless anger at the hand fate has dealt them. Not even Bram, who looks like he’s about to push Mufasa off a cliff.
“I’ll come to the library with you,” Bram says, tossing down his cards and making as if to get up from the bed.
“No,” I say rudely.
Bram scowls. “What’s the deal with you lately?”
“You’re the one acting strange,” I say dismissively. “Pretending like you study.”
Bram is still throwing a few choice curses in my direction as I grab my bookbag and exit our room, without him tagging along.
I don’t mind bringing my books. Cat and I do study sometimes, when we’re finished with our other activities. And despite what she said, I’m not sure how many other activities there will be tonight. She can’t be more than half-healed.
Still, once I’ve climbed the fire-blackened steps of the Bell Tower, carefully avoiding the gaps in the stone, I set up my portable speaker so we’ll have music, and I light the dozen half-melted candles.
Do It for Me — Rosenfeld
Spotify → geni.us/bully-spotify
Apple Music → geni.us/bully-apple
Then I pull out my contracts textbook, settle myself on the pile of cushions I stole from the Keep, and begin to read. Only two weeks remain before end of term exams. I still intend to place first in my year. It will take all my focus to beat Anna, not to mention Ares, Isabel, and the other academically-inclined Juniors.
I’m so absorbed in contract law that this time Cat does manage to sneak up on me unaware. Her stealthy shadow crosses the curved stone wall and she stands before me, firelight dancing on her glistening black curls. Her skin glows copper bright and her dark eyes shine.
“There you are,” I growl. “Why are aren’t you naked yet?”
Obediently, Cat begins to strip. Once she’s down to her socks, I order, “Leave those on.” I’ve come to like those knee socks even better than full nudity.
“Turn around,” I say.
Cat rotates slowly on the spot, assuming that I want to examine her.
And I do—but not for the usual reason. I’m tallying up every cut and bruise on her slender frame, assuring myself that there’s no crucial injury