Chapter 9

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You'd think after spending an entire night in a hut with someone, mid-stage making out being involved, you and that person would've overcome your difficulties and be somewhat friendly to each other.

Well, you thought wrong.

Nikolai has been icing me out for the past week. When I woke up the morning after the storm, he had been gone, leaving only a cold bed and staff from the Academy that banged on the door.

He wasn't present when Mrs. Everlance ordered me to her office, giving me a long and tedious lecture about how dangerous my behavior was.

When our paths cross in hallways, his step quickens, and he looks in the other direction. In Chemistry or English lessons, he's the last to arrive and the first to leave, giving me no opportunity to talk to him.

He has stopped going for a run in the morning.

And last but not least, he had asked Noah to give me some handwritten index cards with the content of our presentation, along with the message that he had done it by himself and I just needed to learn my lines.

I should be relieved. This is all I've wanted ever since I arrived here a month ago—for him to leave me alone. But for some reason, it doesn't feel as good as I imagined.

I would never admit it out loud, even thinking it costs me most of my dignity. But I miss his snarky commentary on Mr. Morrison's lessons, the rhythm he drums with his fingers on the table when he's bored, his neat handwriting all over my notebooks, the fact that he reads books about feminism or POC struggles when he should pay attention in Chemistry, or that the only person he holds doors open for is Amy the secretary.

I miss it. Fuck it, I miss him. But he doesn't seem to miss me.

I had considered asking Addie about him, but what would I even say? 'Hey, has the boy that can't stand me talked about me by any chance? I kind of miss being annoyed by him.'

I don't even know why I'm being so clingy all of a sudden. It's not like I'm in lo-

"June? We're on the next page.", Cal shakes my shoulder gently, jolting me back into reality, that being French class. Much to my disliking.

"Oh, yeah. Thanks.", I whisper and flip the page in my grammar book.

"Are you okay? You look... exhausted."

"Thanks. Love to hear it," I deadpan.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," he hurries to say, concern in his voice. "You look beautiful as always. But your eyes have been closed for the past five minutes."

I don't quite know what to make of Cal.

The only time we hang out alone is in French class. Other times, I mostly see him at lunch or when he picks up Thalia from art class. The two of them are around each other almost always. At first, I thought he had a crush on her, but he recently told me that he's both aromatic and asexual.

The chances of him ever being in a relationship are exactly zero.

He doesn't talk much but watches everything closely, probably seeing more than anyone else does. And he might be even better at reading people than I am. Which is amusing when he lets you know about everyone's drama but less amusing when he knows about your own.

"You're doing it again," he mumbles, and my eyes snap open.

"Yeah, sorry," I say, scratching my forehead and taking a sip from my water bottle. "I've just kind of been on edge lately."

"Is it because you have stopped talking to Nikolai Coleman? Or he has stopped talking to you, might be a better description."

I choke on my water and have to cough so loudly that the teacher turns around and looks at me angrily before continuing the lesson.

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