✦ ✦ ✦
MATTHEW HAD LISTENED TO HER.
Nearly a month had passed since she'd spoken to him.
The autumn was a thing of the past, overtaken by the looming winter.
The days were colder, thus the coats thrown over Arrowsmith uniforms got thicker, with heavier price tags attached to them. The night came sooner. By the time classes were over, the sun was setting. Thus, the days became shorter and the nights became longer.
Usually, the students of Arrowsmith took advantage of this, hosting dorm parties all from November into December, with plenty of liquor to keep warm. But since the events of Cyan Hall at the start of the term, the parties were scaled down. Freya certainly had no intention of attending any.
And if she happened to forget the season, she was reminded by the constant chattering amongst classmates about the Winter Ball.
I already ordered my dress from Paris.
Do you think Chad will ask me to be his date?
Apparently, the school decided they'd like to expand the already vast library, and was hosting a fundraising ball towards the end of the term.
The softness of the autumn had faded into a sharp-edged winter and Freya felt its unforgiving stab every time she found herself thinking about a certain pair of golden eyes.
In this month, Freya had mastered the art of ignoring everything which might hurt her. She knew this was not a good plan, for she would eventually have to confront Karsyn's worried eyes and her mother's knowledge about her past plans for Andre Kirova. She knew she was going to feel the hurt eventually, but if she ignored it, she frailly hoped, maybe it'd go away.
However, that did not seem to be the case with Matthew al Nassar. It had been twenty-eight days since they'd last spoken. She'd counted them.
But in those twenty-eight days, Matthew had not gotten the memo, for he was still trekking along the halls of Arrowsmith, still wearing the dumb uniform, still going to classes, still here.
As for Anakin Graves, Freya had not seen him since that day in the little kitchen in the warehouse. Raina had been rather remote since, eyes never meeting hers when they were together, a frown always pulling at her lips when she thought no one noticed. Freya did not have enough strength in her to confront Raina yet about the one thousand and one things that she had to.
She tried to forget all she knew about him. And about Anakin. About Kirova. About seeing Arin al Hassan that night. But her memory had always been sharp.
She told herself she didn't care about Kirova's business anymore. She'd lost the game, after all.
She was startled from her drifting thoughts by Julian. He was waving a palm before her eyes.
She blinked, shaking off the layers upon layers of thoughts that occupied her, to meet his wary stare.
"All good?" Jules asked casually, pushing a freshly brewed mug of coffee, that he'd just stirred almond milk into, towards her.
She smiled thankfully, accepting the mug, letting the warmth of the drink seep into her skin.
They were in the kitchen of Ebony House. It was a Thursday but both of them had no classes in the evening. The intention had been to take advantage of the free time and study. Freya and Jules had a Chemistry test tomorrow. There were books scattered across the white marble kitchen island. But left rather untouched.
"Just thinking," she said, shifting. Freya was sitting cross-legged on the island too, beside her books, this way, she was eye-to-eye with Jules who stood beside the counter, and saw the doubtful look in his eyes.
"About al Nassar?" Jules asked, leaning back against the other counter. His hands curled around the lip of the marble behind him. "I can still beat his ass, if you'd like."
Freya found herself chuckling.
Now, that was a sight she never wanted to see.
"Please don't," she said with a smile. "It's not that I don't think you'd win, it's that I really don't want to see it on YouTube once one of our classmates records the ordeal."
Julian grinned at her, his anger falling away. "I can beat their asses too."
Freya shook her head at him. "Jules!" She exclaimed. "Since when are you the violent one?"
He crossed his arms and levelled a stare at her. "Didn't you mutter that you were going to shove a piece of chalk down Monsieur Caron's throat during lunch yesterday?"
Freya recalled exactly that. Caron had assigned them a ridiculous amount of French homework. While Freya usually flew through those assignments breezily, with Amelie copying down translations on her bed, this week was jam-packed with assignments and tests. Plus, Freya was avoiding Amelie somewhat.
She knew Amelie wouldn't rub it in her face, that simply wasn't her nature.
But Amelie had been right about Matthew. He could not be trusted.
And Freya had barely stomached the knowing glint in her friend's eyes when she'd told them all.
Besides, Amelie seemed properly occupied these past weeks too. Apparently, Juliet had run into Candice Hargrove at Jacob Bale's party, which was why she'd looked as though she'd seen a ghost when she was running toward Freya. Then, she'd told Amelie.
Freya didn't know how they were handling that situation, or if they were handling it at all, but she was content to mind her own business. Actually, she was content to not think about her business either.
Which was why, these past few weeks, she'd spent most of her time with Jules because he rarely ever spoke about Matthew, and because he was her friend.
"Where is everyone else?" Jules asked in her silence. She'd always liked that Jules never let her drift too far into her head. His green eyes flicked to the empty foyer and the door which had not opened since they'd entered.
Freya hadn't really thought about that. Her brow wrinkled. Juliet too had a free afternoon but Freya hadn't seen her since their last class together which was Physics. And by now, the others should be done with their classes as well. "Juliet probably went to the library," Freya suggested with a shrug.
She didn't want to say that the atmosphere in Ebony House was tense, but it was tense. Again, which was why Julian was the company she needed.
She didn't know how to say it in words but if not for their meaningless conversations during lunch and his gentle text message reminders for her to go to sleep, Freya didn't know what she would be doing. Well, she did know.
She was thankful for him, nonetheless.
"How's Karsyn?" Freya asked. She rarely asked about Karsyn. Part of her was scared to.
After the conversation in the car park, Julian had informed her that her brother had confronted Matthew. She could only be thankful that it was done privately this time. She'd endured endless stares for the whole week after the altercation and whispers and gossip enough to make one's head implode. Even still, now, she'd feel the eyes in the room shift to her anytime he entered.
"He's barely in our dorm," supplied Jules. "I assumed it was because he was here with Amelie."
Freya hadn't been paying much attention.
She'd started a routine that required the least human interaction as possible, not inclusive of Julian. She liked to get up before even Maye, make herself coffee in the downstairs kitchenette, because the dining hall had not yet opened, and then run back to her room to hide.
However, one morning, about two weeks ago, she'd nearly dropped the steaming mug onto the floor when a boy came trekking down the stairs on silent feet.
She'd had to blink hard. But no, she was not imagining Grayson Winchester standing in Ebony House's foyer— those tattoos were unmistakable. His shoes were untied and his short hair amiss, his clothes in a state of disrepair about his body.
Freya's anger had been immediate. "Oh, let me fucking guess. When he couldn't get to me anymore, he sent you to seduce one of my friends. Who is it? Maye? Juliet?"
Gray hadn't flinched at her tone. Or the implication.
He'd only dipped his head and said, "He misses you, Freya."
Freya had almost chucked the steaming mug at the boy.
"Get the hell out of my house and stop fucking my friends," she'd snapped.
At that, Gray said nothing, a frown on his lips as he departed.
Not too long after, Maye appeared down the stairs. Freya didn't mention it. She only returned to her room, coffee in hand, an ache in her chest.
"Probably," said Freya to Julian, snapping back to reality. "I won't be surprised."
"He really likes her," commented Jules.
"She really likes him," agreed Freya.
Jules gave a laugh then, eyes bright. "Who would've thought? Ams and Karsyn?"
Freya sipped her coffee. "It's weird. But they're cute." Aside from the fact Amelie had not told Karsyn the truth at all and he'd just called their mother out of worry. She'd lied, per Freya's request, so, to this day, her brother still didn't know what she'd been up to with Matthew. One of these days she ought to tell him the truth herself. It was in the past, it didn't matter, right?
But, it seemed, what was in the past didn't too often stay in the past for Jules angled his head at her then, as his green eyes found hers. "We used to be like that, Freya."
She stilled. They had never talked about them. Not really. Even on the way to Helena's party, they'd talked about her revenge against Kirova and everything else, but the topic of them was left blatantly untouched. She had pretended not to hear the rumours circulating that she and Julian were back together, but she'd heard them.
Slowly, Freya set down her mug next to a pink calculator on the counter. She tapped her fingers twice on the cold marble if only to calm her nerves, then, she ran her fingers along her stockings, tracing the Gucci logo. Looking up at last, she willed herself to hold Julian's stare.
"Jules," she sighed. "I love you. I really do."
He glanced away, working his jaw as his eyes studied the stainless steel or the refrigerator rather than looked to her. "But?"
Freya twisted her fingers together. "But we're friends. Can't we just be friends?"
"Did you love him?" His tone was soft— it wasn't accusing— but it shut Freya down anyway.
She didn't want to talk about Matthew. Matthew didn't belong in this conversation. She curled her hands together, falling lethally silent as a chasm that she wanted to ignore made itself known again.
Julian bit his lower lip. "You still love him, don't you?"
Freya wanted to crack the marble counter she was sitting atop of into two clean pieces.
"I hate him," she breathed. And part of her meant it. "But we're not talking about him, Jules."
But they were, weren't they? Matthew's kisses had set her on fire in a way no one else's ever had, not even Julian's. His eyes had burned into the core of her very soul each and every single time he looked at her. And she hated it. She hated that she'd loved him in the space of a few months more than she'd loved anyone else.
Julian gave her a crooked smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. How'd it get here? Weren't they just studying? "Here's the thing," he said in a loose breath, "I still love you."
"I was miserable all summer. And when I heard you'd gone off with him the first day of school, I was jealous. And then, when you kissed him outside the dining hall, I was even more jealous. And then you left Helena's party with him." His hold on the counter was tight, one hand falling free to stressfully run through his chocolate brown hair.
"And here's the worse part, when I saw you fighting in the car park, I was glad. How horrible does that make me? I was glad that he'd hurt you, Freya."
When he was done, he pulled in a breath, as if she'd singlehandedly taken all his oxygen.
She considered his words carefully. Her response was a quiet one. "It's okay, Julian. It's okay." She slid off the counter to take his hand. "That just makes you human."
His hand was tense in hers. "You can't just ask someone to stop loving you, Freya."
She held his hand tighter. "No, you're right," she agreed. "You can hate me for that, that's okay. I can take it." Could she really? Julian had become her lifeline these weeks. Still, she meant it. "One day, you're going to fall in love with someone, Jules. And it's not going to be me. And you're going to be happy and she's going to be the luckiest girl in the world. I wish that for you."
Something in her eyes must've told him she meant it for he swallowed hard.
A long sigh ripped from him after a moment. "I'm sorry," said Jules, raking a hand through his hair. He pulled his hand away from her and though he hadn't meant to be unkind in any way, Freya frowned. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
She shook her head. "We were going to have to talk about it eventually."
He smiled at her weakly, green eyes scanning her face for a split second. "I think I have to go," he said, a little faraway. What had she done to him? "Are you going to be okay?"
She didn't know the answer to that question but she knew the answer Julian needed to get, so she nodded once, throat tight.
Surprising her, Julian pressed a kiss to the top of her head. And it felt nothing like when Matthew did it.
"I love you," she said, watching him gather himself and leave. She could only hope that he'd come back.
But for now, Freya was alone with her thoughts. And those thoughts were always occupied by flashing golden eyes.
✦ ✦ ✦
JULIET WAS LEAVING THE SCIENCES BUILDING, a thick volumed Chemistry textbook pressed to her chest, her LV backpack strewn over one shoulder, when she stopped.
Helena Chapman stood, tapping a heeled boot on the steps of the building. Her blue eyes fell onto Juliet immediately.
There could be no other reason she was standing out here in the cold. And she looked like she'd been waiting a while.
"You've been avoiding me, Grimaldi," spoke Helena, not a single waver in her voice. But her eyes were wary, as if she half-expected Juliet to hit her with the textbook. Juliet couldn't blame her. Most of their altercations in the past had involved certain levels of threatened violence. Except that one.
Juliet exhaled. She really didn't know what to say. Never had she expected Helena to confront her about this. After all, a long month had passed and neither of them had acknowledged the other's existence. Juliet had too many things to worry about and she didn't feel like adding a conversation with Helena to the list.
But, it seemed, Helena wanted to have a conversation.
"I haven't told anyone," Juliet said warily. "If thats what you're worried about."
"Neither have I."
"I don't intend to tell anyone," stated Juliet. "So, we can drop it. I have a test tomorrow to study for—," Juliet was about to walk past Helena to the library when the girl took a sudden step, blocking her path.
Juliet balked, surprised.
Helena seemed nervous. "Listen, Juliet," said Helena, the use of her first name startling Juliet. She'd gotten so used to Helena snarling Grimaldi like it was a curse. "I've been thinking a lot since. . . yeah. And I've realised some things."
Juliet's brows wrinkled. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Can you stop being bitchy for two seconds?" Helena insisted, a dark look passing over her face.
Juliet took a step back, quick to roll her eyes, but Helena had started talking again.
"I'd never been with a girl before," continued Helena, in a somewhat quiet voice. Juliet was mildly surprised by this. She'd never have guessed with the way things had gone down that night. "And I enjoyed it."
Juliet blinked. "Helena, are you coming out to me?"
Yet another irate look passed over her face. "So, what if I am?"
"I just—," Juliet was at a complete loss for words. "Why?"
Helena's eyes burned into hers. She took a step toward Juliet and Juliet had to stop herself from stepping away. This might've been the first time she was intimidated by Helena Chapman and that was because she had no idea what was going on. Because," she stated matter of factly, "I enjoyed it."
Juliet would be lying if she said she hadn't too. It had been absolutely random, a little insane and unpredictable. And with the way her life was going, it had fit in well. A little piece of chaos she could've called her own.
Still, she stared long and hard at Helena. There was not as much anger burning between them as there had been there. In fact, the anger was minimal, just a bit of mild irritation. Juliet didn't know how to speak to Helena without growling at her like an animal.
But she tried, for the sake of the small, strange glimmer in the redhead's eyes.
"Let me get this straight, just in case I'm reading between the lines wrongly here," Juliet spoke out loud, just to make sure this wasn't a fever dream, or a nightmare, since Helena was here, after all. "You're proposing we be fuck buddies, Helena?"
✦ ✦ ✦
MATTHEW WAS LEANING OVER A MAP OF THE CITY, studying the marks that Roza had left in pink permanent marker.
He was interrupted by the sound of clicking heels. He'd come to associate that sound with a certain pale-haired girl. However, Atalanta's hair was dark gold like his mother's and she was most certainly not invited to the warehouse.
"What are you doing, Matty?" chirped his sister, approaching around a stack of new crates, tugging off her long coat.
"Atalanta," Matthew said, straightening to stare at his sister head-on, "please stop trespassing onto Du Morts property."
This was about the millionth time his sister had barged into the warehouse since their fight. She did this at least twice a week. One Saturday he woke up to her banging on his bedroom door. And if she wasn't barging in, she was calling him endlessly. And when he didn't respond, she was calling Grayson.
And the dumbass would answer the phone too.
"I was in the area," she said casually. "Uncle Malik sends his love." She brandished a white paper bag. "And I brought you falafel from our lunch, so don't be so grumpy."
Ah, today was Friday. Matthew felt a spike of guilt for not attending the jummah in his uncle's mosque, while his sister had.
Part of him didn't think he belonged in that building anymore, for starters. He might take a step in and the roof would crumble atop his head. So far he had fallen. God probably looked down at Matthew and shook his head.
"I don't want falafel, Atalanta," said Matthew flatly, wrinkling his nose at her.
His sister rolled her eyes at him. "You know, when you were a baby, you used to make that same face. I must argue though, it was cuter then."
Just then, Grayson down the spiral staircase, making Atalanta perk up.
"Hello, Gray!" cheered Atalanta. "Would you like to see Matthew's baby pictures?"
"No," interrupted Matthew sharply. "He would not."
Atalanta gave a bored sigh. "My brother, the bore." She pushed the bag of falafel in Gray's direction as he approached their table. "I've brought falafel. Can someone thank me?"
Grayson accepted the bag and dipped his hand in, pulling out a fried piece of falafel. "Thank you, Atalanta."
She clapped her hands dramatically. "Oh, manners!" She shot Matthew a look. "If only you were my brother, Grayson. It seemed he has none of those."
Matthew gave a hard sigh and ignored Grayson's playful grin his way. "Aren't you an attorney now? Don't you have important things to do?"
"I'm not allowed to check in on my little brother?" Atalanta asked. Matthew watched her slyly scan the maps on the table. He didn't hesitate to close them all up under her stare.
She'd been doing this ever since that argument. Showing up randomly at the warehouse when she knew he'd be there and not-so-slyly trying to figure out what he was doing and whether it was dangerous enough for her to start a fight. So far, she hadn't started a fight but he expected one eventually.
"I'm fine," he said flatly, walking around the table. "Besides, I was just leaving. I have to get back to school."
Atalanta frowned then. She hadn't expected that. Matthew had ditched the tie and blazer in his car, knowing full well he would appear far too preppy in the getup and Gray would never let him live it down.
"I don't get why you're still going—," Atalanta started.
"An education," Matthew stated, rolling back down his shirt sleeves, desperate for this conversation to be over so he could leave.
"You were perfectly fine skipping school for two years," hummed his sister. When Grayson, chewing his falafel, nodded in agreement, Matthew shot him a glare. His Second only shrugged.
"I studied online," defended Matthew, walking past his sister. But truthfully, he'd barely kept that up. It was difficult to manage an education, he'd learnt, while running a gang.
"So, why don't you go back to doing that?" challenged his sister.
Matthew didn't dare turn to face her, knowing his face would give him away.
"This sudden thirst for education has nothing to do with Freya, does it?"
Atalanta clamped a hand on his shoulder and whirled him to face her. "Leave her alone, Matthew," said his sister. "You broke her heart."
"Lana," he said, throat suddenly dry, "I just like the art classes at Arrowsmith."
It was the poorest lie he'd ever told. And everyone knew it.
"I know, I broke her heart. I'll leave her alone. She wants nothing to with me anyway." Speaking the words made him feel a little ill.
But it seemed like it was Gang Up on Matthew Day. Grayson's electric blue eyes found his. "I think you being at that school everyday makes it worse for her, mate."
He closed his eyes. Maybe he was being selfish. She'd been so clear. As clear as ice. As cold as a snowstorm. We're done. Don't talk to me ever again.
But something like what they had couldn't ever just be done. Maybe he was being a fool. Maybe he should let her go. Maybe she wanted him to let her go.
But he'd said it to Raina on the steps of Ebony House. I have to try. He couldn't let her go just like that.
Matthew shrugged off Atalanta's hand and turned his back on Gray. He knew they had his best interests. They didn't want to see him hurt just as much as they didn't want to hurt Freya anymore. But this was his heart.
"If you really want to help me, Lana," he said, walking away, "you'll help me fix this."
✦ ✦ ✦
JULES HAD NOT TEXTED SINCE YESTERDAY.
Freya had spent a long time alone in Ebony House after he'd left. And in that empty silence, she was reminded of Westshire Hall. She'd never felt that loneliness in Ebony House before. Until then.
How had everything gone so wrong? How did she manage to fuck it all to shit?
It had ripped her to the core.
She fled the house when the silence grew too thick, ducking into the woods. She knew the path like the back of her hand. She knew Dickie's hours like her own name. But the fourth year and his stash of designer drugs for sale were not in the usual spot.
She'd walked through the darkening forestry for a while, thinking perhaps he'd moved since she'd last bought from him a long time ago. Too long ago. But no, he was not selling there anymore.
Half of her had been thankful. She hadn't been able to act on that dark impulse. Another part of her wanted to storm over to Richard's dorm and demand he sell her. But she knew that wouldn't work. Matthew had mentioned once that Dickie had been apart of Du Morts. She had no doubt in her head that Matthew himself had stopped the fourth year's sale on campus. And half of her hated him for it. And the other part, the other part made her hate herself. Because she loved him for it.
So instead, she'd trekked back to Ebony House and thrown herself into a fitful sleep, haunted no longer by Kirova's cold eyes, but by Matthew's warm golden ones.
Now, it was after lunchtime on Friday and Freya hadn't heard from Jules. She'd spent most of the day stuffing information about Le Chatelier's principle and why water is water into her head, distracting herself from the world and studying for her Chemistry test in the process.
By one, she'd grown restless of staring at her scrawling handwritten notes and needed a break. She didn't bother with her coat, which she'd thrown over the empty chair in the mostly vacant library beside hers.
She stepped out the side door of the library, instantly assaulted by the brisk wintry air. However, she was shielded from any breezes by the corridor-like feel of the space. The arched roof above her head covered the space between the library and the building beside it. Freya found herself leaning against the library wall, inhaling the cold air that made all the hair on her skin stand up.
She didn't like the cold. She'd much rather be warm. But she liked that it sharpened her. And she needed to be sharp, because she had an exam and also because she felt like she was on an edge at the moment. And any wrong move would send her tumbling. She wanted to fall on the right side, she really did.
Just as that thought crossed her head, as if summoned by fate, Matthew al Nassar turned to come into the little hallway to enter the library. He paused at the sight of her and those golden eyes softened before he turned back around to leave her alone.
A month had passed and he'd listened to her.
Freya found herself talking to him though. "Why are you still here?"
He stilled, clearly surprised she'd spoken to him.
He turned back around and those eyes settled on her, leaving her with a million feelings she couldn't name.
He'd been out, probably to the warehouse. She knew this because his tie was missing, leaving the golden skin of his throat open for her eyes. He'd once told her he always ditched the tie and jacket of the uniform when he went in the warehouse. He'd also been less strict with shaving, she'd noticed, as if he'd forgotten. For instance, right now, there was an enticing shadow along his jaw.
Matthew took a step into the darkness of the hallway. "Do you want me to leave?"
It was the first time she'd heard him speak in a month.
"Leave this hallway or leave Arrowsmith?" Freya sighed, pulling off the wall.
Matthew studied her. "Both."
She felt the lie around on her tongue before speaking it. "Yes."
"Liar," he breathed.
Her eyes glinted then. She was confused as to why she was even talking to him, but she was. "So are you," she replied.
She watched him walk further into the hallway, until he was facing her, his back against the wall of the other building. In the shadowed space, his golden eyes shone. She felt the alarms in her head blare in six different languages.
Don't.
But she let him look at her and she didn't walk away, even though she probably should.
"You never let me explain that," stated Matthew, inclining his head at her.
Her reply came out cold, just like the air in the hall. "I don't even think you have an explanation."
He didn't react to her tone of voice, merely pushed off the wall, narrowing the space between them. "You asked me if any of it was real."
Freya felt the need to dissolve into the wall at her back. She'd started this conversation, she knew. But why had she done that? She didn't like the clench of her heart that came with his words.
"And then you just asked me why I'm still here," he said huskily.
"Matthew—," she started. She needed to leave. But at the sound of his name coming from her lips, they both paused.
He lowered his gaze to hers intently. "Do you want your answer?"
She looked away. She had once wanted to drown in those eyes. And she just might.
"No. I don't."
"Liar," hummed Matthew once more. She wasn't prepared for his touch, but it came anyway, fingertips warm below her chin as he lifted her eyes to his. "What do you want, Freya?"
She'd been so charmed everytime he'd asked her that question. Now, she wanted to flee.
She broke away from his touch, eyes flying anywhere but on him as she peeled off the wall. "I have an exam. I don't have time for this."
But the way he said her name stopped her from taking another step. "Freya."
It was almost pleading.
"I'm sorry," he said, eyes shining, face absolutely devastated. "I know I hurt you. I'm sorry."
Was she still breathing? The air in the hallway felt sparse.
"I'm sorry," he was still saying. She wondered if he'd fall to his knees.
She might just fall too.
"Shut the fuck up, Matthew," she found herself saying, startling both of them.
Then, she surprised herself even more, hands curling into his hair and crushing his lips against hers.
Shock made him still, until something shook his shoulders violently, cracked him open, leaving him unravelling, just like the gaping chasm in her chest, and Freya found herself against the rough stone wall with Matthew's scalding mouth kissing her back.
What was she doing?
She had no damn idea.
But he was saying her name. Less like a plead and more like a prayer.
She'd never needed to know the answer to that question. His hands on her hips were real. His kiss was real. The small morsels of oxygen she managed were real. It was so real that she could ignore the emptiness in her chest and all the things that caused it because whenever she was with him, it suddenly became filled, even if he was the one who'd opened it up this time.
When he slowed the kiss down, she recalled the last time they'd done this. She'd tried to convince herself that they had been a violent flame, burning out too hard too fast, leaving her to sweep up ash in the aftermath. But that image didn't fit with that night. No, they could be tender, they could be gentle. They were not violent lovers as she'd tried to convince herself.
Matthew's mouth found her neck. Freya was infinitely thankful for the fifth period, which kept most students in class at this time, for she had very little control over her volume.
How foolish was she to think this couldn't be real?
When his hand found the space of skin where her stockings started and her skirt ended, she knew she wasn't going to pull away anytime soon. But his painter's fingers didn't move an inch before he looked down at her, a question in his eyes. She was far too quick to nod. And he was a little too quick to smirk at that.
Then, his mouth was back on hers. Slow and tantalising. A smirk against her lips as she gasped when his hand wandered upwards against her skin.
The cold of the day was lost. No, all Freya felt was a fierce blaze as Matthew slowly, skilfully lured her off an edge, his lips once again finding home at the side of her throat, his hands finding home elsewhere.
She found herself saying his name. Between little breaths. Just his name. Again and again.
At last, when she finally fell off the edge, she crashed, with nothing but a pair of light brown eyes burning along the lines of her face.
He gave her a long moment to breathe. Then, much to Freya's indignation, Matthew pulled away completely as she finally caught her breath, his hand falling away from between her legs.
His eyes were playful as he took in her rumpled self.
By comparison, he was a little better off, she guessed. As for Freya, her legs were weak and her skin was burning and she was shooting a fierce look at Matthew. "What are you doing?" Come back. But her pride kept her from saying that.
He was fixing the cuffs of his shirt, eyes dancing upon her. "You have an exam. Don't you remember?"
He shot her a smirk before turning away.
She stopped him with his name. His name, which reduced her pride to tatters, which brought her to her knees. "Matthew."
He whirled right back around, peering at her over his shoulder. He looked rather amused with himself. However, his expression turned somber when Freya said shortly, "You can stay."
A lifted brow. "In Arrowsmith or in this hallway?"
She tilted her head at him. "Both, if you'd like."
The crooked grin returned. "I'll settle for Arrowsmith. You have an exam. I couldn't stay here."
Freya narrowed her eyes at him.
But she couldn't ignore the persistent pound of her heart. Yes, she'd been a fool. Yes, he'd lied. But they were not perfect. It was part of the reason she'd fallen so hard and so fast to begin with. And sometimes love made you weak. But more often, it made you stronger.
His laugh was light. He seemed surprised by the sound of it, eyes widening then settling back on her as he said tauntingly, "Good luck on your exam, Freya."
✦ ✦ ✦
hi, guys
thank you so much for the kind feedback, I hope you like this chapter.
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