“All evening with you to myself,” Sylas says with glee, his tone slick and flirtatious.
“As if things couldn’t get any worse,” I mutter, yanking open my desk drawer for a sheet of paper.
The drawer is only halfway open when poof—a burst of rainbow glitter explodes in my face. It showers over me like cursed confetti. I blow it out of my nose, coughing as stray flecks slide down my throat while my eyes sting.
Not again.
The students begin laughing, the same laughter from last week, when I tripped in the dining hall, and they all whispered insults under their breath. For a heartbeat, heat crawls up my neck, and the urge to run burns through me, but I force it back. Not this time. I’m done giving them the reaction they want. I force myself to breathe before I accidentally set the place on
