“I’m joking.” She paused before adding, “Well there might be beer.”
“I thought the boys and girls were in separate wings?” I pulled at my ponytail, flicking my head upside down and scraping my fingers through the reddish chestnut strands before tying it back up again, this time into a messy bun I secured with pins. The moment it was up, errant red wisps instantly fell down. It wasn’t worth the fight to tease them back up again—my hair had its own agenda which I was never a part of.
Patting the bed, she told Buster to jump up.
“Phil, don’t do that, he will make it all slobbery and hairy.” She pulled a face and glanced at the bedsheets. Under closer investigation I could see he’d already managed to make them hairy and disgusting. I narrowed my eyes at him as he circled four times on the mattress before creasing his giant body into a ball and positioning himself directly on my pillow. “Thanks, Buster.”
“He likes you; he doesn’t sleep on just anyone’s pillow.” She snorted and pushed her glasses up her nose.
I appraised the dog who was now licking his ass on my white pillowcase. “Really?”
“Nah, not really.” She waved her hand in circles and dramatically groaned a bored yawn. “Come on, we haven’t got all night, all the good stuff will be gone.”
I checked myself with a sweeping glance in the mirror. My blood froze as I blinked at the reflection staring back at me. What was that?
I chuckled nervously as I glanced down and double checked my dark jeans and white stretch tank.
There was a very good chance I was losing my mind.
“Happy?” Phil asked oblivious to my trembling.
“Sure.” I turned my back on the mirror, my heart pounding. My fingers shook as I grabbed my room key and slid it into the pocket of my jeans.
That wasn’t what I’d seen when I’d looked in the mirror. I’d seen her. The girl from my dream. Hair all wild tangles, her dress bedraggled, and a red cape's hood covering half her face—my face.
“Where is this party?” I jogged to keep up with Phil’s determined step. A gentle bass of music thumped from somewhere on our floor. “It’s not here in our dorm is it?”
Phil grinned, her eyes alighting with mischief. “Of course, we are where all the best parties are at.”
“As opposed to…?” Her hand reached the door of room two. From under the doorway bright coloured lights pulsed.
“The boy’s dorm. We take it in turns.”
My stomach twisted with a nasty stab. My hands clenched into tight fists and the thud of my heart in my chest deafened whatever Phil was saying. Her mouth moved, glossy lip balm catching the dim glow of the hallway, but I couldn’t hear her above the boom, boom, boom, settled within my rib cage.
“Who brings the contraband goods?” I shouted as if I were at a club and couldn’t hear over the music, but I knew who she was going to say, even before her lips formed the first letter. My hands curled ready to throw a first punch.
“Tristan, of course.” She pushed on the door and ice filled every cell in my body. Of course, it was him.
His gaze was locked on the door as it opened as if he expected me the way I already knew he was there. His hand, clutching a plastic cup, froze midway to his mouth. The flimsy plastic gave way under his tightened grip, and knots of muscle strained in his neck as his eyes fixed on where I stood on the threshold.
“Come on, Mae, let’s get a drink.” Phil slinked into the room. From my peripheral vision, I sensed it was packed—bodies moving with the beat of the music. But unable to focus on anyone but him I stayed rooted to the spot. Phil left me at the doorway as she threw herself into the party, calling out her welcome to all the nameless faces watching us arrive. Buster sat at my feet, a deep rumbling growl vibrating through his fur against my leg.
“Phil, I can’t,” I called, to tell her I couldn’t enter, couldn’t stay. Couldn’t do anything apart from want to fly through the air and rip at Tristan Prince’s skin with my fingernails, but his voice cut through the air.
It rang like a clear sharp note. Speaking straight to my pounding heart. “Don’t worry. I’m going.” My eyesight dimmed with every vowel and consonant he muttered. He wasn’t even shouting over the noise of the music—I could just hear him, as clear as if he were stood next to me whispering in my ear.
Ripples of hostility scored the air.
Horrified, I rooted still. The fact I hated him impulsively was one thing. That was my inexplicable issue. The fact he clearly felt the same about me, was something else.
He brushed past my almost frozen form in the doorway, his arm skimming the chilled skin of my arm. Pounds of furious anger mingling with an unknown quality rushed through me at the touch of our skin. It burned, and I jumped out of the way.
We’d never even spoken, yet he was going to walk out again, just like he had in English.
Like shit he was.
I paced after him, surprised at how much floor space he’d cleared in the time I’d been frozen and stuck. “Hey,” I shouted, but he didn’t slow down. His wide shoulders, and burnished gold hair stormed to the end of the corridor and down a winding staircase. The moment his head dipped from sight, the furious rage within me subsided.
Hesitating, I glanced back at the party where my new friend was probably having a whale of a time, drinking some illicit contraband delight.
Contraband bought by Tristan.
“Damn.” I cursed and began to sprint, skidding down the steps. A far-off door slammed and I barrelled towards it.
I pushed through a door finding only another empty corridor on the other side. “Shit.”
“Stay away from me.”
I jumped at the vicious chilled
