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Clausen leads our next group session again. Daniel’s empty seat comes as no surprise either, and I force a brief conversation with Sara to distract myself and put on a show for the director. I feel his attention as I perform with an animated discussion about the previous morning’s group activity.

Typical generic themes dominate today’s class, minus the drama of personal attacks.

I even do an admirable job of ignoring the empty chair, except for the occasional natural glance.

After an excruciating hour of awkward silences, shallow responses, and nervous filler words, Clausen dismisses us to the morning activity.

Sara and I stick together, continuing our earlier conversation about our previous lives and future hopes.

In fact, it’s becoming obvious that she’s not just a prop in my scenes for Clausen.

I enjoy her company and think maybe we can develop an actual friendship.

But there’s no such thing as optimism at Madison Academy, as evidenced by the announcement of today’s mandatory boardgame triathlon.

“Are they serious?” I ask.

Sara rolls her eyes. “Unfortunately.”

“How old are we?”

“Last time there were prizes.”

“You’ve done this before?”

“Once a month.”

I sigh and scan the other students who appear to have similar opinions. How is this not daycare again?

“So is it true you’re in Birchwood?” Sara asks as we saunter toward our first “event.”

“Yes. It’s a great room. I got lucky.”

“They all are, but I hear Birchwood is one of the best. What’s it like living with Ben Dormand?”

Somehow I manage to suppress my disgust. “It’s okay. He and Laura keep to themselves for the most part.”

“He’s so gorgeous.”

I shrug.

“You don’t think so?”

“I guess.”

We quiet and stare at the table. Checkers? Haunting visions, mysterious torture chambers, galvanizing relationship with the campus pariah—and checkers.

“Black or red?” she asks.

“Black.”

Sara’s mouth lifts in a mischievous grin as we set up the board. “So, obviously Ben hasn’t caught your eye. Who has?”

I concentrate extra hard on lining up the black disks in perfect rows. “No one, really,” I lie.

“Come on. I remember my first week here. Eighty other students my age, just like me? I had the whole place scoped out in hours. If we can’t find a guy here, what hope do we have?”

I force a laugh. “Is that why you enrolled? It’s your turn.”

She grunts and moves a piece. “Okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me his name, but what does he look like?”

I glance at her in amusement before focusing on my next play. “Nice try.”

“Ha. I knew it! So there is someone.”

“I didn’t say that.”

She gasps and leans forward. “It’s Thomas, isn’t it?”

I don’t want to encourage her, but come on. “The guy who sits at my dining table?”

Sara crinkles her nose. “Okay, no. That would be a terrible match.” She thinks for a moment, and I have to remind her again to take her turn. “Oh, wait! What about Daniel Mueller? What’s he like—for real? He’s in Birchwood too, isn’t he?”

I work to steady my pulse. “His room is. He’s not around much.” Casual. Good work. Focus on the game.

“But you’ve met him, right? I mean, outside of class. I think it’s great how you stood up for him. He can’t be as bad as everyone says.”

“Who really is?” Take the piece now or set up a double score next time?

“You’d think people here would be more accepting of each other, but it seems like we’re worse.”

“That was the point I was trying to make in group.”

Sara grunts and eyes her piles of lost pieces. “I stink at this game.”

“Maybe you should pay more attention to your strategy and less to my non-existent dating life.”

The triathlon proceeds about as expected and turns out to be less of a tournament and more like a group of people playing games for two hours.

Sara helps mitigate some of the boredom, and we even enjoy the final event that pairs us with charming roommates, Matthew and Connor.

The morning ends with the four of us planning a reunion after dinner that night.

I wave to Sara, and set out toward my table in the dining hall.

“Hey, Rebecca. How’d you do in the big triathlon?” Christopher asks as I take my seat.

“Fantastic.”

“What’s wrong? Not a fan of the Madison Academy Olympics?”

“Which countries medaled in checkers last year?” I ask.

My humor fades abruptly at the dark figure strolling toward us, hood drawn.

Without a word, he drops to the empty seat beside me, and my heart stutters before launching into a wild rhythm.

The entire day of denying his existence evaporates when his leg brushes mine.

Disguise my trigger? Impossible if he touches me.

“Wow,” Ben says, honing in on the late arrival. “I guess this is our monthly family meal. What’s the occasion, big guy?”

Daniel doesn’t acknowledge him, slouching in his chair and looking bored.

“What’s with the hood, though? Busy morning robbing convenience stores?”

The others seem just as uncomfortable as I am with Ben’s taunting, but no one interferes. Daniel is content to ignore him completely, forcing Ben to lean closer.

“Seriously, do you try to look like a criminal or is it an accident?”

Daniel shifts back lazily. “Wow, busted. The NYPD must have you on speed dial.”

I stifle a grin. Thomas can’t, and Ben burns at the jab. I prepare for fireworks. There’s no way this ends well.

“Show some respect,” he spits out, yanking off Daniel’s hood. His scowl quickly spreads into a grin.

No. No way. Not again. My stomach tightens as Daniel pulls his shield back in place, eyes blazing.

“Wow, okay, now I get it. Sorry, man. Didn’t realize you had fight club this morning,” Ben snickers.

Daniel doesn’t move, and I battle the storm in my head. Anger. Fear. Guilt. I may have done exactly what he wanted, but it doesn’t stop my heart from shredding at the evidence of his morning.

The staff enters, halting our discussion, and Clausen calls for attendance. Even he gazes at table four longer than normal after Ben announces all present.

By the time the meal is served, I can’t suppress my response any longer.

I use the distraction of the servers to shift my leg and settle against his.

The heat of the contact shoots through my skin, driving my mind in forbidden directions, especially when I sense his own strong reaction.

Maybe he got my note and forgave me. Maybe he’s been through Hell like I suspect and needs an anchor.

Either way, it takes every ounce of strength I have to maintain my visible distance and continue the facade.

Every inch of me wants him alone somewhere.

“So Dan, we missed you at the triathlon. You strike me as a strong chess player. I bet you would have rocked the tournament.”

I suck in a breath, hating Ben even more than usual. Only a monster would continue the attacks after seeing Daniel’s face.

Daniel ignores him and picks absently at the food on his plate.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Ben asks, waving his arms near his face.

I can’t stomach any more and shoot an annoyed look. “You’re making me seasick with all that waving,” I say dryly, and he misinterprets my remark as kinder than I intended.

He grins. “Sorry. I guess you wouldn’t want to join me on my parents’ yacht then.”

Laura grunts and smacks him.

“What? I was just being friendly.” The asshole actually winks at me. I’m definitely understanding the appeal of Daniel’s strategy to ignore him.

Lucy’s been strangely quiet since Daniel’s arrival, though, and I steal several glances in her direction.

Each time she looks ready to speak but never does.

Is it fear of Ben’s teasing that keeps her silent or something else?

I appear to be the only one not surprised when she finally squeaks out her question.

“That looks pretty bad. Are you okay?”

Daniel startles a bit, and I use the opportunity to study him as well. Our eyes meet, and my blood goes hot. He pulls his gaze away and focuses on Lucy.

“I’m fine. Thanks, though.”

She blushes, probably regretting her bravery. “You don’t join us a lot, that’s all. It’s nice to have a full table.” She offers a quick smile, which he returns politely.

“I’m trying to eat here,” Ben mumbles.

Daniel’s fingers tighten around his fork when Lucy shrinks in her chair. “Seriously? What the hell is your problem?” he directs at Ben, pulling off his hood so the other man can have the full effect of his anger.

“My problem? I think that’s pretty clear.”

Daniel isn’t intimidated in the least, but we all know Ben is.

“Yeah? Well, I’m only your problem because you never shut your damn mouth. Trust me, the only smart thing a moron can do is eliminate the evidence.”

Ben glares at him. “What does that even mean?”

“It means, shut the fuck up. You’re not funny.”

Ben’s face reddens. “They’re not laughing at you either, asshole.”

“I’m not trying to make jokes.”

He shakes his head in dismissal and focuses back on his plate, seeming oblivious to Lucy’s awed gawking.

Mine too, maybe, when memories of our kisses start plunging through me in sweet anguish.

Our legs no longer touch and the distance feels brutal as I lose control of my thoughts.

The painful longing. The fury of wanting him so much my tongue stings for a taste.

Right here, right now if he’d go for it.

I don’t care. My mind burns with images of each line and angle of his sculpted body, the tingle when I touched his skin.

My heart pounds in violent protest. He’s delusional if he thinks I can pull this off. What I wouldn’t do to pull that towel…