Page 43 of Sinful Storms

In nomine iustitiae, omnia iustificata.

21

ARIA

Iglared at the back of Tristan’s head, pushing aside the hollow feeling that had been there ever since that night at the manor. Up at the front of the classroom, Professor Watkins spoke animatedly about revision plans, but my mind was drifting.

That night… Tristan had finally come back to the party and drawn me aside. He’d told me that his grandfather had more or less confirmed what we’d found in those missing pages—that my great-uncle had been taking part in a secret society initiation ritual, climbing the bell tower, when he’d fallen. He’d also told me that his grandfather was the one my great-uncle had been tutoring—or one of the students he’d been tutoring, at least, and he’d been there with my great-uncle for his initiation.

Aside from Tristan’s brief summary, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet, and after he’d updated me, he’d disappeared. I hadn’t seen him again that night, not even with his friends. Ever since we’d come back to school, it felt as if he was avoiding me. In fact, it was more than avoiding. He’d been acting as if I didn’t exist.

I didn’t care.

I shouldn’t care.

I didn’t want to care.

I cared, and I hated him for making me care.

We were in our politics lesson, and he hadn’t even attempted to sit next to me. He’d entered the room without even bothering to spare me a glance and taken a seat in the front of the classroom.

The chair next to mine remained empty.

Quinn looked straight ahead, her eyes hidden by huge sunglasses as she gazed across the field to where the lacrosse team were warming up. Her elbow nudged mine discreetly. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Why was I here? Why had I allowed Quinn to drag me to lacrosse practice? Now I couldn’t take my eyes off fucking Tristan Smith-Chamberlain, just like the cluster of giggling girls a little further down from where we were standing.

“Aria.”

“Quinn.”

She sighed. “You know you can trust me, right?”

I adjusted my own shades, resting my arms on the barrier that separated us from the field. “I know.”

“I’m worried about you,” she admitted quietly. “You’ve been…quiet since the manor. Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.” When she turned to look at me, sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head so I could meet her gaze, I gave in. I kept my own sunglasses on, though. I needed that barrier. “Oh, okay. Something happened. Me and Tristanwent snooping in his grandfather’s rooms. We found the missing pages of the notebook.”

Quinn nodded. “Roman said. I mean, he didn’t tell me anything really. He said he didn’t know much himself. Just that the pages had confirmed what we already knew, and they mentioned the initiation ritual. And he said that the society was disbanded after…after the accident.”

“Yeah. That was it, really. We found the pages, and then Tristan’s grandfather caught us. I was scared, Quinn. I didn’t think I would be, but seeing him there just made it all seem real.”

“I can’t even imagine. What happened when he found you?”

“Tristan made an excuse for why we were there, and I ended up leaving them alone. I went back to the party, and a little bit later, Tristan showed up again.”

“Right.” She nodded. “That was when we were dancing together with Elena?”

“Yeah. When I left you both to get a drink, he found me again.He just… After he told me what his grandfather had said, we agreed to draw a line under it all. There’s no point in dragging up the past anymore. We have our answers, the whole thing is clearly upsetting for the people involved, and so that’s it. Done.”

“Done,” Quinn echoed, her mouth turning down.

“Done. There’s no reason for us to spend time together anymore outside of a group situation. He’s…well, he’s Tristan, and I’m me, and we hate each other.”

“Aria.”

“Don’t.” My voice wobbled, and I hated that Tristan could affect me like this. We meant nothing to each other. We’d been thrown together by circumstance, a temporary blip in our antagonistic relationship, never to be repeated.

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