The Taste of Silver | Fortune's Fool #2

01 | warmth of coldness

[ w a r m t h o f c o l d n e s s ]

♥ gabriel ♥

"WHAT THE HELL do you want then?" I said to the lanky squirming boy from my History class, voice frozen with chilling ice.

His wide eyes were full of some sick adoration as he stuttered, hands trembling in fear behind his back. "I-I just wanted to check you were okay with us doing the essay on King James?"

Unbothered, my silver eyes only momentarily lingered on him before moving back to my lunch.

"I don't care." The meal was placed on the varnished wooden table in front of me. "Was that all?"

"Um, I guess. Unless you want to decide on a time we can meet to work togeth-"

"No."

Ignoring him, I picked up the heavy silver cutlery stabbing a lonely piece of roasted broccoli. It was damn sad to think that a Michelin Star chef had cooked this. He was getting paid too much.

A couple of seconds later when I noticed that the stick with glasses was still standing there, my dark eyebrows pulled into a dead straight line.

Tensing my jaw tightly, I put the knife and fork back down.

"Is there anything else I could do for you, Isaac?" My low voice was laced with exaggerated politeness whilst surprise flooded his face that I knew his name.

Did he think I was an idiot?

"Well, no bu-"

"Fuck off then."

He scrammed under my glare before I could resume digging into my pathetic excuse of a meal.

A moment later, I was interrupted yet again when a slinky tall brunette dragged out the seat beside me on the central table of the dining hall. I hadn't even noticed her approaching.

"Something about humans," she narrated poetically, the thin rim of seafoam around her pupils flashing as she smirked. "They seem to love you more when you treat them like shit."

The fabric of her satin green dress reflected in the bright light of the majestic hall like leaves from the tallest trees in the rainforest. "It's the strange allure of rejection, isn't it?"

After glowering at the double meaning of her words, I continued eating.

"No, hello?" Resting her chin on her light toffee hand, she deliberately sat mere inches away from me with eyes piercing on my face like arrows.

"Not until you stop stating the damn obvious, Lisa."

From the side of the table, I caught Arlo briefly lift his head at my words, tufts of almost-white hair swaying, before sinking back into his seat and taking a sip from his black coffee. Furthest from me was Lexi and Prince, the pair of them engaging in a hushed conversation, probably about me.

Talisa laughed loudly with giddiness, leaning even closer to me and placing her hand on my bicep. I shrugged it off. Eyes swimming with dedication, she continued to lace her right hand with my left.

Eyes narrowing, I snapped my head to the side, my meticulously gelled back hair staying in shape despite the movement. "And how the hell do you expect me to eat?"

Her gaze ran through me from top to bottom. The sound of her voice was like a whisper on a dark night when one corner of her lip pulled sideways. "Your other hand seems more than
capable, Gabe."

I felt the warmth of her fingers momentarily spread into my ice-cold hand. Within seconds, the beam got suffocated by my darkness and the soft palm against mine became nothing more than a claw under the influence of lust.