It's a Cruel World, Sir (Student/Teacher)

17 | Being

It's literally as if Chase kissed the life into me.

"He gave you essentia," a voice says.

I whip around to Darestin, eyes wide. "What?"

"I guess in English it's called 'essence,' but it literally translates to 'being,' I think." He shrugs. "I'm not good at translating the old tongue to English. There are so many variations, and then you get into what modern day people know it as; it gets taxing."

I gape at him. "What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying Chase gave me some of his soul?"

He chuckles. "He doesn't have a soul to give, Vixen. Only living things have them."

I blink. "Wait. You two aren't alive?"

"Not technically," he confirms, shrugging. "We don't have a heartbeat, and we don't need to breathe. I don't even think we have a brain if you wanna know the truth." He looks contemplative, tilting his head as he rubs his chin. "Huh. On the list of things I don't think about, that's probably on the top."

"What hell are you two?" I ask. "Zombies?"

He snorts, shaking his head. "Chase was right: you're not very creative."

I huff. "Well, excuse me for not guessing strange enough species. Until I met Chase, I didn't believe in ghosts, let alone whatever you two are."

He chuckles. "Sorry for destroying your view of the world."

"Whatever." I cross my arms, determined not to let him get away without answering anything. "Will you at least tell me why he would give me... what did you call it? Essen-a?"

"Essentia," he corrects, grinning. "Get dressed. We'll talk more when you're not only in a towel."

"As if it matters," I mutter.

"It does," he assures me. "When Chase finds out that I'm here and comes to take me away, it won't look too good if you're only in a towel, now will it?"

I roll my eyes. "Like he's gonna care."

Darestin's grin is wicked. "Keep telling yourself that."

The dubious look on my face makes him laugh as he shuts the bathroom door, leaving me to myself so I can get dressed. I shake my head, trading the towel for the black tee and yellow boxers. I'm not sure what's with everyone and implying that Chase has some sort of attraction to me, but I wish they'd stop: it grates against me for some reason.

After throwing my hair up in a towel to keep it from soaking the back of my shirt, I step out of the bathroom.

Darestin's sitting on my bed, one hand pushing his hair back as the other stares at a pair of shorts. "Never pictured you as the type to wear daisy dukes. Not that I'm against the idea of you showing more skin," he says, his wolfish grin making me roll my eyes for the umpteenth time.

"They're Nikki's," I say, hopping onto my vanity dresser. "She left them here a few weeks ago, and I haven't been home long enough lately to do laundry."

"Oh~ Is Nikki the feisty one who doesn't like Chase?"

"No, that's Whitler," I answer.

He nods. "I like her," he says, flashing me a smile. "She's like a volcano: gorgeous but deadly."

I don't know why, but for some reason, I'm not comfortable with the way his eyes flashed silver when he said that. "She's out of your league," I retort.

"Ouch," he says, holding his chest like I shot him. "Careful with those sharp words, killer. What if you hurt my feelings?"

I roll my eyes. "Can you stop messing around and tell me?"