Chapter IV (part 2) -Aurora
1395 Words
«Freshman!»
The voice hits me like a warm, velvety shock.
My skin prickles.
That voice... no, impossible.
«Hey, freshman.»
A hand brushes my shoulder blade.
A light touch, almost absentminded — yet my body tenses as if it recognized something before I did.
I turn around quickly.
There he is.
He looks at me.
Those amber eyes catch mine without asking permission, and for a moment I forget where I am.
His freckles soften his features, but they're not enough to make that smile innocent: slow, confident, slightly ironic.
The kind of smile that makes you want to know what it would feel like against your skin.
Aurora, what the hell is wrong with you?
I blink, trying to chase away that absurd thought, but his gaze, that smile, stay there — on me, even without touching me — and my breath stumbles in my chest.
«Hi!» Alice exclaims, stepping between us with the worst timing possible.
He barely gives her a smile.
«Hi, Alice.»
But his eyes stay on me.
And I stay there too, suspended in them, like a magnet too fragile to resist his pull.
«I thought you might need this.»
He hands me a white bag, his fingers just inches from mine.
For a moment, I just look at his hand, then lower my gaze to the label: ice pack.
«Th... thanks,» I murmur, my voice lower than I'd like.
«Wait.»
He quickly pulls his hand back, then folds the bag and hits it with his fist, activating the reaction.
The sharp c***k blends with the pounding in my ears.
Under his shirt, the muscles in his arm tighten.
The cold hallway light outlines them.
And I... I can't look away.
He notices.
I can tell from that half-smile, that quick wink, as if he knows exactly what's running through my mind.
Heat rises in me.
My neck burns, my heart races.
I look away, pretending to adjust my bag, but my hands are trembling.
«Here we go,» he says, handing me the bag with disarming calm.
Our fingers brush.
Just for a moment.
Long enough for a shiver to run down my spine.
I pull my hand back suddenly, unable to stand the tension.
I clutch the bag and press it to my sore shoulder: the cold seeps through the fabric and soothes the sting, but it's not enough to cool the fire that's been lit inside me.
«You two...» says Alice, surprised, pointing first at me and then at him. «Do you know each other?»
«No,» I answer too quickly.
«Not yet,» he cuts in, one eyebrow raised, a half-smile curling his mouth.
Then he nods toward my shoulder.
«Mind if I take a look?»
I freeze.
I must have gone stiffer than I thought, because I see him narrow his eyes, waiting for my answer.
Just brushing against me already threw me off balance — what would happen if he actually touched me?
Yet he stands there, waiting.
Patient.
And I, inevitably, nod.
I hold my breath and move the ice aside.
His fingers barely touch me — warm, steady, confident.
He presses gently, moving my arm back and forth, drawing small circles in the air.
The pain is there, but it's just background noise.
What I feel now is the warmth of his skin, the slow, controlled rhythm of his touch, and my breath, which has completely lost its rhythm.
«It's just a bruise,» he says at last, and his voice changes: deeper, steadier. Professional.
«Keep the ice on until it warms up. Do it again every couple of hours for fifteen minutes. Same at home — you'll be fine by tomorrow.»
Then he gives me a smile that's different from before: no teasing, just calm, and a strange sweetness I didn't expect.
I nod, even though I doubt the heat I feel has anything to do with the bruise.
Alice watches us, her eyes darting from me to him, full of questions.
I'm about to say something, but the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway interrupts everything.
I turn: a tall man in his fifties with a brown briefcase approaches with a confident stride.
The professor. Again.
«Thanks for the ice,» I mumble quickly, clutching the bag to my shoulder.
«We should go.»
He glances at me sideways, slowly, as if reading me.
«Be good, freshman.»
And then he turns, without another word, walking away.
I stay frozen for a few seconds, still shaken, until Alice grabs my sleeve and drags me into the classroom just before the professor passes us.
We drop into the first two empty seats.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, set my bag down, adjust the ice on my shoulder, and try to catch my breath — as if nothing happened.
«So?» Alice grabs my arm — the wrong one.
I gasp, clenching my teeth.
«Ouch! Careful,» I hiss, leaning to the side to pull free.
She giggles, relentless, and keeps poking at me with her fingers.
«If you don't tell me, I'll keep squeezing.»
«What am I supposed to tell you, Ali?» I lower my voice, glancing around: two girls in front of us give us dirty looks, one even rolls her eyes.
I move my pen to the notebook and draw random lines, just to look busy.
«You and Thomas? What happened?»
The pen slips from my hand and rolls across the desk.
I quickly grab it, avoiding her gaze.
«Is that his name?»
Thomas.
Thomas. Even the name sounds good.
Smooth, like it was made for him.
«So it's true you don't know each other?» she presses.
«We... bumped into each other this morning,» I say quietly, running my free hand along the notebook's edge.
«And then?» Alice leans in, eyes sparkling like she's about to get the gossip of the year.
«And then nothing.» I shrug slightly, squeezing the ice pack that's almost melted.
«He helped me up and walked me to class. You saw the rest.»
«Mmm,» she hums, narrowing her eyes. «Don't get any funny ideas.»
«What?» I ask, pretending not to care.
Meanwhile, my pen keeps drawing hearts — half the page is already covered.
«With Tom, I mean. Don't get your hopes up.»
«Why would I? I didn't even know his name until a few seconds ago,» I reply, biting the inside of my cheek.
She raises an eyebrow, skeptical.
«Come on, your blush could be seen from a mile away.»
Damn me and my transparency.
«Anyway... Thomas has that effect on everyone. He's the classic lethal mix: nice, a little cocky, and drop-dead gorgeous. When he looks at you, it feels like you're the only one who exists. Too bad that when he gets bored, he goes back to her.»
I jerk my head up.
«Her?»
«His girlfriend.»
Not that I expected anything else.
I just... didn't think it would bother me.
I clear my throat, trying to sound indifferent.
«Do they have an open relationship?»
«I've never really figured out what's going on between them, but they always end up back in bed together. They're like two magnets,» she says, clasping her hands dramatically.
«In any case, she doesn't like anyone getting too close to what she considers hers. And since she's the dean's daughter... I'd stay out of her way. She can be pretty vindictive.»
A shiver runs down my spine.
It didn't sound like a relationship — more like possession.
As if he were a trophy to guard, not a person.
I force myself to stay cool.
«Good for them,» I say with a shrug.
«None of my business.»
Alice gives me a side-eye, smirking.
«I don't know... you look a little too dreamy for someone who doesn't care.»
I blush and rush to change the subject.
«Of course! Have you noticed where we are? Look around... I don't think I'll ever get used to it.»
It's an awkward change, but it works.
«Well, it's not exactly new to me,» she says smugly.
I smile at her and try to focus on the professor's rich, resonant voice, closing the conversation.
The lecture is actually interesting, but it ends before I've written a single note.
I silently scold myself, staring at the page in front of me:
a minefield of hearts in all shapes and sizes.
Original, sure.
Useful? Not really.
Damn it, Aurora.
- Writer
