Page 101 of A Drop of Anguish
“I’m glad someone d—” Elliot freezes as a shadow falls over the table.
Jarron’s face is expressionless when he says, “Mind if I sit here?”
My stomach does a stupid flutter.
“Of course not!” Janet answers quickly with a near-panicked expression, looking around for an open chair. Jarron wordlessly finds his own, scooting in behind Janet, Marcus, and Thompson, across the table from me.
I smile at him, but it flickers out quickly. Not because I’m unhappy he’s here, but because my mind is spinning through entirely too much, and most of the feelings welling up are not things I want to give much attention to.
Then, the ridiculousness of the situation hits me, and it seems the rest of the cafeteria as well. The chattering rises to a crescendo.
Jarron, the Crown Prince of the Under World is sitting at a Minor Hall table, next to a low-level human, a troll, and a pixie.
But then again, as I look around at the friend group we’ve established, there’s also a Major Hall mage and two Elite wolves. Maybe this isn’t the outcast table anymore.
Jarron fidgets with his silver rings. It’s the only sign he feels anything more than ease and confidence. When I glance up, I meet his dark stare, and a jolt of emotions I won’t dare name shoots through me.
I force logic to take hold. Jarron is my friend.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him with a soft smile.
His throat bobs.
“It’s about time you joined the cool table,” Thompson says, elbowing Jarron’s bicep.
Lola darts around the table like she can’t control her happiness. She settles back down on her perch and then forces a chat about Janet’s painting project. Janet explains that she’s sketched the layout—she decided on a carnival theme.
“Ooh, that’ll be so cool,” I tell her.
“If I can get the music right, it will be.”
“Oh, maybe I can help,” Lola offers happily.
Elliot asks a few polite questions about the project. He seems genuinely interested by the end of the conversation. As a shifter, magic is not his strongest suit. But he seems to like understanding people different from himself, which I can respect.
For the first time in weeks, I’ve stopped noticing the reactions happening around me. All that matters are the people here with me.
Jarron’s body language oozes ease. He does that powerful alpha male, casual slouch that I secretly like, but I also notice the tension in his shoulders that he tries to hide. And I think everyone notices the way his attention continuously darts to me then back to his hands, or whoever is talking at the moment.
Elliot is a bit distracted most of the time, but it’s still kind of nice having him.
“So, Lola,” Thompson drawls, “what’s up with you and Stassi?”
Lola’s wings tinkle, and she glows slightly. “Oh, nothing really. He’s fun to flirt with, but I don’t think anything will come of it.”
Elliot snorts. “True. Hard to imagine a long-term relationship between a wolf and a pixie.”
Lola rolls her eyes.
“Why don’t you have a pixie mate?” Elliot asks. “Don’t you usually have an arraigned mate early in life?”
Lola doesn’t respond to that, and I watch her reaction carefully. She doesn’t giggle or correct him, but she also doesn’t wiggle or sparkle like she would if she were being bashful.
“You’re, like, not even around pixies ever. I always assumed you were a major dud or an outcast or something.”
I glare at Elliot. “How is that something you say to someone?”
He blinks at me. A low sound reverberates from Jarron’s chest, and that’s when Elliot seems to realize how rude the comment was and blushes. “Oh, sorry. I don’t usually hang with people who care about that sorta thing.”
