The Class Reject: A Martyr in Maelstrom (Book III)

70

By the time they reached the Upper East Side Apartment, Miren and Jeno were more mentally exhausted than anything. Somehow trudging through a million blocks in New York City was less of a chore than considering the future.

As Miren locked the front door behind them, she kicked off her boots and immediately went to the modern kitchen that looked like it belonged on the cover of Paris Elite Living. Her eyes landed on the elaborate wine display, and she briefly considered indulging in a glass before leaning against the quartz countertop and sighing dramatically. It was hard to place what exactly she was mad about--there were so many things to be mad about, so many people to be mad at. Including herself.

"Hey, try to relax," Jeno said softly, rubbing her back. "Wallace may be a genius but he's still a hot-headed sixteen year-old boy. He'll come to his senses."

"What if everything he's done so far is him coming to his senses?" She flexed her hands against the cool countertop, but even her joints were rigid. "He hates us. And I have no idea how to make him feel better. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Well that makes you and everyone one else on the planet," he reassured her, unzipping his jacket and starting for the closet in the foyer. "No more pity parties. You don't have to smile, but I don't want you beating yourself up. For the first time in a long time, we're at a standstill. All you have to worry about is maintaining your identity. But if you don't want to be Miles anymore, I'll stand by that decision too."

"What will it take for you to stop standing next to me?" she then considered, walking toward him. "Do I really mean that much to you, or are you too much of a good guy to admit that you've bitten off more than you can chew?"

"If I didn't want to be with you, you'd know," he humored her, his amber eyes steady against hers as he brushed a hand through her hair. "I'm not one to hide my feelings."

"You're right," she said, removing her wig. She brushed a hand through her curls, causing them to spring free in the air. "Better?"

"You know I love you in any shape or form." He kissed her forehead before moving to the couch. "I'm going to lie down for a minute. We can get food later. Try to keep calm."

"Alright. I'll find you a blanket," she offered. By the time she secured the extra linens, he was fast asleep. Smiling, she took a seat on the couch next to his feet, clutching the blanket to her chest. Something about him sleeping so soundly was heart wrenching. Before she became anything to Jeno, he wore a mask of indifference.

Now his expression was hardened. There was tension in his eyebrows as if he were having a bad dream that paralleled a just as conflicting reality. His straight nose, his jawline, his stupidly long eyelashes--everything about him screamed perfection. And yet, he was wasting his time on a girl that was anything but.

"Shut up," Miren told herself, before shifting toward him and nustling against his chest. His arm instinctively wrapped around her.

"Is everything okay?" he stirred mildly, his eyes still closed as he brushed a hand through her hair.

"Your presence calms me more than you'll ever know," she said instead, resting her head against his neck. "Thank you for putting up with me."

"I could say the same about you." He held her closer. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Then they drifted off to sleep together.

***

When she awoke, it was practically dusk. Sunlight no longer soaked through the wall-length windows. Instead, she could see a million city lights bleed through the self-automated curtains.