Page 29 of Savage Sacrifice
It gets me up in the morning, it gets me through classes, and it gets me through the day, including any catty interactions with Bianca. The one thing it doesn’t do is help me have a good night’s sleep.
“Let’s not bank on it, Polaris,” he states with a tight smile, and my brows furrow slightly, but I quickly offer a stiff wave and bolt for the exit.
I don’t take a breath until I’m outside the lecture hall and hurrying down the hallway. He’s nice enough, all of the professors are, but there’s always something in his eyes, like he knows the world on a deeper level, as if there’s so much he’s not saying, yet there’s no hidden meaning among it all.
I can’t explain it, and it would definitely sound dumb if I said it out loud. Perhaps it’s because he has excelled in his area of expertise, psychology. Maybe the look is all-knowing because he understands how our minds work.
Exiting the psychology building, I pause on the top steps, silently thankful that he held me back so I can bask in this moment alone. Usually it’s too busy to stop here, but it offers the prettiest view of campus, and it does something to settle my soul.
From this slight elevation, it offers a glance over the huge lawn in the center of the buildings. Students gather in huddled groups, some hunched over reading, others laughing and joking, while a group of giant guys throw a football between them. It’s rowdy and exhausting just to look at, but it’s exciting, and the flower beds that frame the wooden benches around the outskirts are so pretty I want to pick every single one of them.
Happy with the peaceful moment to bask in the lively atmosphere, I take the steps down and decide to join the crowd. I’m only walking through, but it fills me up with positivity as I stride down the path, unsure where to look first so I can take it all in.
Forcing myself to breathe it in is a trick I’m playing on myself. The first day I arrived, I rushed everywhere in a state of blind panic with my head down, and it did nothing good for my mental state. Today, I’m forcing myself to keep my head up and fake my blossoming confidence.
I take a deep breath, letting the late afternoon sun wash over me as my eyes latch onto a familiar face at the end of the pathway. I smile, and he waves.
Ben.
Out of all of my roommates, he’s by far the nicest one.
Bianca is catty and judgmental, while Foster gives off an aura of anger and frustration that makes me uncomfortable. Ben, onthe other hand, is always smiling, always positive, and always making sure we’re all okay.
Picking up speed, I hurry toward him, happy to have someone to walk back to the dorm with, but I barely take two more steps before a force knocks me from my side and I tumble to the ground.
The wind is knocked from my lungs as my back hits the concrete walkway, and my body stiffens, bracing for my head to do the same, but something cushions the blow, saving me from an even worse headache.
Disoriented, I blink through the panic to find a guy looming over me. His blue eyes twinkle with mischief, his blond hair is swept back off his face, but it’s the apologetic smile on his lips that I focus on.
“I’m so sorry, I was going for the ball and?—”
“Can you get off me?” I blurt, my voice raspy and breathless, but the words are firm.
His eyebrows gather in confusion for a moment before he nods, climbing to his feet before he extends a hand to me.
I stare at it, unsure whether to take it or not. There’s a weird knot tightening in my gut and I feel icky from his body pressing against mine. I need some space to figure myself out.
With my mind made up, I press my hands against the concrete and push myself to my feet. I keep my head down as I gather myself, acutely aware of him brushing his hands off on his pants as he accepts the rejection.
“I’m sorry about that. I was heading for the ball and it was a little too late by the time I saw a flash of your hair,” he states, and I force myself to look at him, offering him a tight smile as I grit my teeth, feeling my jaw flex with the movement.
“It’s fine, honestly,” I mumble, and he nods.
“I’m Grant, by the way.”
I force my smile wider as I roll my shoulders back, ready to move around him, but the second I take a step, his hand wraps around my upper arm. I stiffen, dread coiling in my veins as I forget how to speak, glaring at the point of contact instead until he takes the hint and releases me.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen hair quite as silvery as yours before,” he breathes, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip as I tighten my hold on my backpack.
“Thanks,” I breathe, desperate not to be mean, but the awkwardness is making it harder and harder.
“Are you free tonight? I would love to take you out.”
My cheeks burn and I chance a glance over his shoulder to find all of his friends waiting, watching, and smirking.
I hate it.
Clearing my throat, I bring my attention back to him, using the moment to really take him in. He’s at least six feet tall,waytaller than I am, and his shoulder width is definitely intimidating. His blond hair is messy, his lips full and teasing, while his eyes still carry that same mischief I first spotted.
