Page 19 of Sol
Trent -- Student
Astrange buzzingnoise dragged me from mysleep.
Where wasI?
I lookedaround.
Holy shit.Spain.
Turning off the alarm on my phone, I checked thetime.
Holy shit, my class started in forty-five minutes. My alarm had been going off for who knows how long. And I didn’t know the way toschool.
Racing down the hallway, I took the world’s fastest shower—no time to make sure everything got cleaned in the proper order—slid back to my room, got dressed, then, nabbing a hunk of bread from the dining room downstairs, headed out on the streets of Granada at breakneck speed with my equipment—phone, wallet, key to the room, and the letter fromDegan.
My heart thudded in my ears, and my fingers tingled. Being late was not how I planned on starting class. No sleep for a really long time plus jet lag fucked me over. I was all turned around, as far as what was day or night, and which way to go in thiscity.
Consulting my phone, I started following the directions to the school. If I walked really fast, I’d make it with five minutes to spare. I lifted my foot off the curb to cross, but an obnoxiously loud moped buzzed by like a tiny flying vehicle out of Star Wars, forcing me to retreat. My heart raced in myears.
Nothing to worry about, Milner. Just amoped.
These fucking enginenoises.
I resisted the urge to swear at him—he wouldn’t hear or understand me anyway—took a deep breath, then darted through a break in traffic to the other side of thestreet.
Since I’d been in Spain, the noise, the heat, and the crowds had been making my Spidey senses ping, scanning for potentialthreats.
I was so close to fulfilling my mission, but my blood ran through my body so fast I thought I’d explode before I madeit.
And I hated the conversation I had to have with her today. Thinking about it set my jawtight.
But I’d let her cry. I’d hold her. She’d need some time. I’d give her whatever she needed.Whatever.
I loped along a narrow street, then up another, and found my way to the translation school, withFacultad de Traducciónwritten over the whitewashed building in blue tile. I strode to the office, jerked out my ID, scrawled my name on some papers, and finally received back an official-looking stack of documents, full of stamps and seals, Spanish bureaucracy at itsfinest.
Come on, come on. When would I seeher?
The registrar handed me a map of the school and showed me where class was. I took off sprinting down the hall, turned the corner, and ran full-force into Danika Anderson, grabbing her to keep her from falling back. In the process, she dropped her purse and scattered her papers all over thefloor.
“I’m so sorry,” I gasped. “Forgive me. Let me help you.” I knelt at her feet and gathered photocopies of a class syllabus and news articles. Her tiny toes were painted blue, with little daisies onthem.
“Trent! It’s so nice to see you!” she said, then she laughed. “I saw your name on the class list and couldn’t believe you’re here! You’re here!” She regarded the sprawl on the floor. “Yes, I could use somehelp.”
Being this cheerful? She definitelydidn’tknow.
While she seemed the typical upbeat Dani I knew, I could tell she was flustered, because when she crouched down next to me, her hands trembled as she helped to pick up herthings.
First day jitters? Or—not to be presumptuous—was it because I wasthere?
Once we stacked up everything, I handed her a set of notes written in Spanish, and remained near to the ground, mirroring her. The letter in my back pocket was burning a hole in it. I could just grab it and hand it toher.
But that wasn’t the way to do it. I’d talk to her after class.Gently.
“Here you go,” I said. “Yourthings.”
She stayed crouched, too. At first she didn’t glance at me. Her eyes traced down my arms, taking their time on the colorful tats and bulgingveins.
Then her huge, blue eyes, like miniature Earths, locked on mine. Stunningly beautiful in the most painful way possible. She had the ability to do that to me. To make me want her. And she was always just out ofreach.
