Honeysuckles and Lavender

Chapter 2

A few weeks' worth of classes had passed. Every Thursday, I'd see that same man walking into his class late. I still didn't know what that class was, but I felt like if I went out of my way to find out, that would be crossing a line. Especially for a stranger. That didn't mean that I wasn't curious, but that curiosity could wait. Maybe Jessica knew. I have to remember to ask her about that later.

Aside from that, I found myself starting to get into a rhythm. I always worked better on a set schedule. Online classes during the day and night labs. I had a big culinary basics textbook open in front of me in the communal kitchen in the common area. Students were passing behind me, but I didn't want to distract myself.

I wanted to be prepared for my next basics class and had spent the past twenty minutes dicing onions and peppers to make Jessica an omelet. My dicing game is second to perfect. My beaten eggs hit the greased pan and slowly began to firm up.

Just at the right moment, I added the vegetables and cheese. With a thin rubber spatula, I gently lifted the omelet into a fold and . . . it broke. I looked at the rubber spatula, wondering what I did to have it betray me.

Oh, well. I smushed the eggs into a scramble. Jessica wasn't picky. She'd like this too. I looked at the imperfect pile of eggs and couldn't help but feel deflated. Discouraged. There were eighteen-year-olds poaching eggs that look like they should be on a cover of a Home and Gardens magazine, and I couldn't even get an omelet right.

What am I even doing here?

“Broke the omelet again?" Jessica asked from over my shoulder.

I made a small noise or surprise. I didn't even hear her come up with all the chatter of other students. I tried to sound enthused, but that fell flat. “Yeah, but you know, practice makes perfect."

“Still smells great, though!" Jessica encouraged. I smiled a little, but it didn't carry over to my eyes. “You're doing great, Astrid."

We carried our food over to the table. I had some crunchy toast for myself. I nibbled on the end of it, but overall, I wasn't hungry. I pushed the toast over to Jessica. “Here. I'm not hungry."

Jessica stopped eating. “Okay. What's bothering you? You were so excited last week."

I shrugged, looking past Jessica to all of the fresh-faced college students. “I just feel so behind. Out of place. I feel so old. How does it not bother you that we're living in a dorm with a bunch of barely legals?"

Jessica rolled her eyes at me, putting her fork down so she could look directly at me. “First of all, Dios Mio, you're twenty-five, not sixty. So cut that out right now. Second of all, first-years stay in dorms. We are technically first-year students at this university. Next year we can get an apartment."

I open my mouth to interject, and Jessica shoves her pointer finger right up against my lips.

“And thirdly, you are insanely talented. So, what if you've had a few bumps in the road? Buckle up and get over it."

Jessica's finger is still pressed up against my mouth. “Can I talk now?" I ask around her finger.

“Are you done with your pity party?"

“Yes," I grumbled.

Jessica beamed and removed her hand to resume eating. “By the way, these eggs are amazing."

I tried to fight the smile that tugged at my lips, but eventually, it won. “What would I do without you?"

Jessica reached over to grab some hot sauce and shook a little over her breakfast. “I dunno. Probably die." Jessica took another bite. “Listen, I know that starting over is hard. But you're getting there. Trust the process."

“Thank you. I needed to hear that." I pulled my toast back and nibbled on it some more. I have my basics class tonight, which also meant that I would see him again, just across the hall. “Oh, Jessica."

“Yeah?" she replied, mouth full.

“Do you know what's across the hall from the teaching kitchen?"

Jessica thought for a minute. “Some master's history lecture or something. Why?"

“Just curious. I keep seeing this guy over there."

“A boy, you say?" Jessica asked, raising her eyebrows.

“No, not a boy," I say quietly. I could feel my cheeks flush, and I try not to give Jessica the satisfaction, but by the time I look back up, she has a knowing expression on her face.

“Oh okay. Hmm, let me guess." Jessica pauses, leaning back and pressing her fingertips together. “Tall, really good-looking, a permanent five o'clock shadow and really blue eyes?"

My mouth falls open. Okay. That was actually kind of creepy. I narrow my eyes at her.

“Come on, Astrid, I know you. And I, unfortunately, also know your type. I met him briefly. He's a friend of a friend. Name's Rowan."

Rowan. Hmm. Why don't I feel satisfied with that information?

“Tread carefully. He's real serious," Jessica warned.

“I was just curious. He caught my eye," I deflected.

Jessica finished her breakfast and as she got up, she said, “Oh, he catches a lot of eyes. Anyways, I gotta run. Thanks for huevos. You got the dishes?"

I shooed her away. “I gotcha. See you tonight."

Jessica waved at me before grabbing her book and leaving the common area. I cleaned the dishes and wandered away to get myself a coffee before being camped out at my computer all day. My mistake was not making it a large.

My business class had proven itself to be really, really boring. I'm not ashamed to admit that I fell asleep after the third line graph and the sixth time my professor said, “resume walks." Thankfully, my camera was off. Or was it? Oh no.

I rolled over to look at my clock.

Please don't be 6:30. Please don't be 6:30.

The clock read: 6:31PM.

Sh*t.

I jumped right out of my bed, shoving my laptop and my culinary basics textbooks into my bag. I almost forgot my chef's knife, but I grabbed my knife roll and stuffed that in my bag too. Apron hanging off of my neck, I sprinted out of my dorm, down the stairs, across the courtyard, into the building.

Did I remember my headphones?

I opened my bag to glance inside. To make matters worse, in my panic, I stepped on my apron's strings and tripped. My bag fell outside of my classroom, everything in it, clattering out across the hallway. Including my headphones.

I was about to fall flat on my face when a firm arm gripped my waist, catching me mid drop. My heart was pounding in my chest as I slowly looked up. My eyes were met by intense blue ones.

It was Rowan.

I think I stopped breathing for a moment. I was absolutely struck off guard by how attractive he was up close.

As I stared into his eyes, I could swear that they were darkening. Like the color was changing rapidly by the moment. It was mesmerizing.

What was I doing? I should introduce myself.

My lips parted to say hello and then he was gone. I fell forward and caught myself before my face smashed into the tile floor. I was frozen. Stunned. Maybe shocked. No. I was absolutely flabbergasted.

Did he just drop me?

My eyes darted up to where Rowan was, and he had already retreated back to the doors and out of the building.

I was gathering my belongings and checking to make sure I didn't break my laptop. The TA met me outside the classroom and helped me gather my stuff. Despite the embarrassment of completely wrecking myself outside of my classroom, I found myself thinking one thought as I looked at the building doors.

What a d*ck.

*****

Rowan couldn't leave that building fast enough. Before he knew it, he was catching someone from falling, looking down at this adorable young woman. Her curly, thick obsidian hair was pulled back into a very messy bun. She had deep brown eyes that both held the knowledge of a life thoroughly lived, and the curiosity of a child. There were little indentions on her face like she had just woken up from an ill-taken nap. She was really cute.

He was about to say hello, awkwardly step back and help her with her things. Then it hit him. Her scent.

Lavender and honeysuckle.

His mouth began to water, and he grit his teeth together to fight the emergence of his fangs. His fangs cut into his cheek, and he ran. Rowan had been able to fight his cravings. Surviving on donor blood from his familiar. He was almost there.

The door to his apartment slammed open as he rushed to his fridge, threw the door open, and gripped a blood bag tight in his fist. It took all of his strength not to puncture it with his fingers on its way to his mouth.

As he fed, he slowly slid down onto the floor, relieved. But just the thought of honeysuckles made his mouth dry, and his fangs protrude again.

This isn't good. Not good at all.

From the corner of the room, a lamp clicked on, revealing Rowan's younger brother, Claude. “Rough night?" Claude asked. It was not a genuine question. It was snide and mocking.

“Get out of my apartment," Rowan stated firmly, standing up.

“You know this wouldn't happen if you would just take live feeds, like we're meant to."

Rowan scoffed, throwing away the plastic pouch. “Always the purist. What do you want?"

Claude stood up, not nearly as tall as Rowan, but he didn't lack any strength. “You need to come home. Mother needs you to take over."

“I'm not coming home. Get out of my apartment," Rowan repeated.

Claude sighed and walked toward the door. “You will come back home, Rowan. I'll make sure of it."

The door slammed once again when Claude left. Rowan was still a little shaky, and with Claude gone, he let his shoulders relax, deeply troubled.

Honeysuckle and lavender. Rowan thought before piercing another pouch of blood.