A Deal With The Devil

The man Benoit

Astra's POV

“Shh, you’re making noise,” I whispered to Dera, leaning in conspiratorially. Her irreverent voice rose above the hush of turning pages and the whisper-quiet chatter of other students, drawing a few disapproving glances.

“Astra, please,” she pleaded in a murmur, making her way through my bag of gummy bears, her fingers dancing from one sweet, fruity treat to the next. Her bobbed brunette hair framed a face that was cute enough to charm her way out of trouble, but I wasn’t having it.

“Say yes to what, exactly?” I whisper-snapped, giving her a sideways glare. She was already reaching for the bag of gummy bears I’d stashed in my backpack, her fingers dancing among the fruity, sugary treats.

“Let’s go to the party, you’ll not love it, but please?” Dera’s eyes widened in faux-innocence, the pleading glint in their depths indicating that she knew I couldn’t resist. And she was right; I could do nothing but sigh in defeat. The things I’d do for this girl.

“Alright, but I have a condition,” I whispered back, feeling the corners of my lips twitch into a smirk. “If I go to the party, you bring out your books and study. Exams are a month away, remember?”

Dera’s shoulders slumped in defeated agreement.

“What kind of best friend makes conditions?” Dera chided, her playful expression morphing into mock-offense. But she knew as well as I did that she had no choice but to concede. With the smallest hint of a pout, she pulled her books from her bag, silently conceding defeat.

“Yes, I’ve been a terrible best friend for the last 13 years,” I sighed in playful resignation, flipping through the pages of my book as a distraction. Summer break was tantalizingly close, beckoning with the promise of peace and quiet; a reprieve from my everyday life, a chance to be sane—even if only for a few months. But my father’s upcoming travel plans, so meticulously hidden from me, hinted at a very peaceful summer.

In those moments of introspection, Benoit LaCroix’s face flashed across my mind. Two weeks had passed since our chance encounter, and he had left no trace of his existence, his name a phantom whisper in the night.

With the silence of the library surrounding me, the temptation to search for him and fill in the blanks grew stronger. But that knowledge came at a cost, a reminder that he was in a different world, one that could never be mine. A place where I could never hope to belong.

I wondered who he was, but I didn't want to know, rather I was scared to know, it would just ferment the fact that he was way out of my league and had forgotten about me, my eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the silence of the library was calling to me, to kill the noise in my head by searching for him.

As the minutes ticked by, the desire to find out more about Benoit LaCroix grew like a restless storm, brewing within my mind. Each page I turned seemed to whisper his name, taunting me with the unknown. But with every passing second, the temptation battled with the fear of what I might find. Would my search bring clarity or chaos? With each heartbeat, I inched closer to a decision, each breath a step towards the uncertain.

My fingers trembled as I typed Benoit’s name into the search bar. I swallowed hard, steeling myself for what I might find. But before I could even brace for impact, the results came up in a flash, revealing a profile so dazzling, it stole the breath from my lungs.

There he was, the very same man from that night, radiating a charisma that leapt off the screen and reached right into my heart. He was stunning, beautiful was an insult to his essence, and those eyes—they beckoned me with a pull so magnetic, it was a miracle I didn't find myself lost in them.

But as I continued reading, each word a drop of acid on my heart, the gap between us widened, separating us like a chasm I could never hope to bridge. According to the New York Times, he was America’s most eligible bachelor, one of the most influential people on earth, and one of the top CEOs under 30.

“What the f**k are…?” Dera’s voice pierced through the quiet like a gunshot. I jerked upright in my seat, slamming the laptop closed as quickly as I could.

Her hand clamped down on the computer’s lid, freezing my progress. A devilish grin spread across her face. “Oh hell, who’s this hunk?” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with delight.

I froze, my heart hammering in my chest.

“What do you want?” I hissed, my voice barely above a whisper. She knew better than anyone that I hated being disturbed when I was studying, but this time was different. This time, she’d caught me red-handed.

Her grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Astra. Very interesting secrets,” she said, her voice low and taunting. “You’re gonna tell me everything."

“I was calling you, but you were too busy drooling over the one and only Benoit LaCroix to notice,” Dera cackled, sending a chorus of annoyed whispers and piercing glares our way. Unfazed, she slung her arm across my shoulder, her weight pressing down on the armrest with a protesting creak.

“You know him?” I whispered, fighting the chill that rippled through my body at her nod.

Dera’s wistful smile twisted into a conspiratorial smirk. “The whole world knows this man, he’s everyone’s favorite bachelor,” she said. “But you didn’t, not until now.” The air around us suddenly seemed to thrum with electric tension.

“What do you know about Benoit LaCroix?” she whispered, leaning in as if we were co-conspirators. This human wanted to dig the truth out of my mouth.” I could feel her gaze boring into me, her presence suffocating me like a dense fog.

A flicker of fear darted through my veins, as if Dera’s probing had summoned a swarm of wasps, buzzing furiously at my mind’s edge. I averted my gaze, my hand instinctively reaching up to smooth my hair.

“Astra,” she said, her voice quiet but insistent, “how did you meet Benoit LaCroix?” I could feel the pressure in her gaze, her eyes boring into mine. “You’ve never mentioned him before. Why now?”

“And if it isn’t my favorite people?” The air was shattered by the sudden intrusion of an overly chirpy voice.

Dera’s head whipped around, her face contorted into a venomous sneer. “I hate this girl,” she hissed, slamming our books into our respective bags with a frustrated sigh.