This Fearless Girl (St. Clary's University #2) - E. M. Moore Page 0,56
close our eyes, and our lips find each other. At first contact, it’s like a frenzied bomb has detonated. I wrap my hand around his neck to bring him even closer. We kiss until we’re breathless; until we’ve tasted every last inch of our joined lips and rivalled each other in passion.
The alarm on Lucas’ phone buzzes again, and we pull away. He reaches around me to shut it off and stares into my eyes. “Dakota....”
I swallow. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t know what these words will do to Lucas and me. Maybe I’m being selfish but saying them to him right now could ruin everything. And I would never want that.
A knock sounds on the door, and I close my eyes. Wyatt’s gruff voice barks at us. “Breakfast in ten. I made it for you motherfuckers, so you better not let it go to waste. I heard that damn alarm go off twice now.”
Lucas and I still stare at each other as I pull back, planting my feet on the ground and standing. “I guess we better get ready.”
“Of course.” Lucas pushes his feet over the side of the bed and sits. “Dakota, you know you can say anything to me, right?”
“Yeah,” I choke out.
I turn and escape into the bathroom. A moment later, the door to my room opens and shuts, and I let myself crumble a moment before getting my shit together. Maybe I’m catching up to them? Lucas said he wants to take care of me after this, too. That sounds like a promise of something post-treasure. Something that doesn’t have to do with the treasure at all.
I could curse my father out right now. My experience with people is just so—ugh—frustratingly non-existent.
But then I remember one important thing: Just because I haven’t really lived in the world, doesn’t mean I haven’t lived a thousand lives in books. Right now, I’m going to choose to be fearless, even if these feelings scare the shit out of me.
I take a deep breath and get in the shower, the promise of Wyatt’s food calling to me. The warm water exhilarates me as I untangle the knots in the back of my head with the kick-ass conditioner Stone bought. It would’ve taken me ages before, but now it only takes a few pumps of white cream to change a girl’s life.
After I dress, I head out toward the kitchen, the smell of bacon luring me. Wyatt can continue to get close to me all he wants as long as he feeds me his crispy deliciousness.
Stacks of pancakes sit on a plate, making my mouth salivate.
“Eat up.” Wyatt gestures toward a spot next to Stone at the bar. “We need to get our strength back.”
I sit, and Stone nods, “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
Lucas’ footsteps echo in the hallway. Instead of shying away from seeing him, I look up to meet his stare as it zeroes in on me. He sidles up and kisses me on the cheek. “Good morning, Wild Girl.”
My cheeks heat where he kissed me—a permanent imprint. “So,” I start, “all in all, I’d say we had a successful outing. We survived.” I smile. “My dad always said that was the most important part.”
“And we found where the lamp’s not,” Stone adds.
“Excellent point,” I tell him. “We’ll never have to look there again.”
Breakfast goes so smoothly that we’re pulling into Saint Clary’s in no time, and the familiar feeling of not belonging hits me in the chest. This is our fake world. The one where we try to fit in with society. Our other life? That’s the one where we really live. That’s what Lucas wants for me, right? Well, for everyone.
We climb out of the Audi and head up the stone steps. “What class do you guys have, anyway?” I ask Lucas and Wyatt.
Lucas shrugs. “We don’t have a class. We hang out in the library doing work or research while you guys are in History.”
My eyes round. “Well, that’s....”
“Surprising?” Wyatt guesses.
“A little.”
“It’s best we’re all together, right?”
“Right.”
I wave at them as Stone and I turn down the left corridor while they stay straight. We make it just in time for the start of the lecture. Our desks that Stone claimed are empty, so we take a seat.
For the first fifteen minutes of class, everything is normal—the drone of History boring me to sleep—until Meghan gasps behind me. “Who’s the hottie?” she whispers. “I’ll be his baby girl.”