Page 31 of Requiem

Rachel never mentioned Noelani to me. She never talked about any of the students here at Toussaint. As far as I was aware, she was terminally bored here and couldn’t wait to escape. I had no idea she was involved with Theo like that. That they were actuallydating. She never even mentioned his name. To think that all of these other people knew that part of her life better than I did makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Noelani allows another stretch of silence to span out between us, but eventually she says, “Anyway. Enough about Theo. I have to get to the library to finish my science report or I’m going to miss my window to get at the textbooks. You wanna come with?”

I consider her proposal: sitting in the old Toussaint library, the weight of an even deeper, more oppressive silence pressing down on me, pretending to study, and I just can’t do it. “No, you go on ahead. I’ve finished my report. I’m so sick of being cooped up inside. I think the fresh air will do me some good.”

“All right. If you’re sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you at dinner. We can study together tonight for a while as well.”

“Okay.” She gathers her things and heads off, striking out for the main building. I watch her go, wondering if I’m making a mistake by not going with her, but it really is a beautiful day. It’s a lifetime since I’ve seen the sun, and the unexpected warmth of the day so late in the year has me feeling languid and loose, like my muscles are melting off my bones.

Taking off the light sweater I put on this morning, I wad it up, stuffing it under my head. Rachel and I used to do this on our summer breaks—lay out in the sunshine, telling each other stories and jokes until we were so drunk from the heat and dizzy from our laughter that we passed out.

I wake with a start some time later, shivering against a cool breeze that skates over my skin. The sun is gone. My arms and legs are bristled with goosebumps, and the grass that was warm and cushioned before now feels damp and sticky. Blinking up at the welter of clouds that have gathered while I was asleep, I see that it looks like it’s about to rain.

Well, that didn’t last long.

I fight off a wave of vertigo as I rise, and nearly have a fucking heart attack when I realize that Theo is sitting Indian style in the grass a few feet away. His battered notebook rests on top of one of his knees. He twirls a pen lazily around in his right hand, looking off into the distance, down the hill toward the valley where the First Night party took place.

“Jesus. Forfuck’ssake. What the hell are you doing?”

“Sitting,” he answers, not looking at me.

“I can see that. Why are you sitting so close tome?”

“You looked cold.” He nods to my legs, which have been covered with a plain black hoody.

I tear it off me, tossing it to him. “I don’t need you performing random acts of kindness for me, asshole.”

“Okay. Catch fucking pneumonia, then. See if I care.” He takes the hoody, his notebook and his pen, and gets up. He’s about to walk away, but my dumb mouth opens before I can gag myself.

“You really think covering my legs while I’m sleeping makes any difference to what you did?” Such a paltry action. If he thinks following me around and doing small little deeds like that will make me forgive him, he’s got another thing coming.

He stops. Turns around. “I wasn’t trying to earn your forgiveness, Voss.”

“What then? You just love poking the bear or something? You wanna feel how much I hate you? How much I fuckingdespiseyou? Is that it?”

He gives me a flat, cold smile. “I don’t give a shit if you hate me. Go ahead.”

Infuriating. Absolutelyinfuriating. “Your arrogance knows no bounds. I don’t need your fucking permission! You killed my best friend. I will hate you until the day I die, and I’ll find a way to hate you long after that, too. I will nevernotfucking hate you. I—”

He drops to his knees in front of me. Moves so quickly that I don’t have a hope of stopping him. Suddenly, his hands are in my hair, and his mouth…

Oh god.

His mouth…

His lips crash down on mine. He kisses me so roughly that I can’t breathe, I can’t move, react, think. What the hell is hedoing?I press my hands flat against his chest, ready to shove him off me, brimming over with so much anger that I think it might kill me. But then…

What amIdoing?

I don’t push him away.

The smell of him hits me—bergamot. Mint. Fresh, cool winter air—and something happens inside me. A part of me cracks open. A sob slips out of my mouth and into his. The sound is so broken and pained, so animal-like and wounded, that my mind just goes…blank.

The press of his mouth grows gentler. His hands slide down to the tops of my arms, and he holds me carefully in place as he urges my mouth open. His breath comes hot against my face, quick and urgent, fanning over my cheeks, in and out, in and out, too fast. When his tongue dips past my lips to stroke against my tongue, I go rigid, paralyzed by a fear I cannot reckon with.

His lips…

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