Page 5

I can diagram sentences later. For now, I’m grateful for peace as the conversation dwindles.

Constant newness and heightened emotions aren’t a good combination for my already overactive brain.

I try to laugh with my companions and pretend to be more fun than I am, but I’m teetering on the verge of collapse by the end of dinner.

Yep, I’ve spent my entire life longing for an invitation like the one I decline when they ask me to join them in the recreation center for the evening activity.

I’ve always liked solitude. Needed it, really.

That’s what happens when involuntary realties become preferred choices.

By the time dinner ends, I’m practically rushing back to the suite to recalibrate and give my exhausted brain a rest. No nasty looks or pounding attraction from confusing roommates, just calm and whatever magic my imagination invents.

Energized by the silence, I decide to explore the suite without distraction when I arrive.

I trace my fingers on the rich leathers, velvets, and woods of the furniture in the common area, mesmerized by the paintings covering the walls.

I’ve seen posters of paintings like this.

You put them in a decent frame and pretend you care about things like art.

They look really good above couches. Now, staring at walls of real ones, I learn I actually do like art.

They’re beautiful and creepy, giant rich people glaring down at me as if they recognize I’m a poor nobody who didn’t know real paintings were lumpy.

And now they’re mine. I will rule them as Birchwood’s newest princess, reigning in—

I spin around at the crash of a door and nearly collide with another student who bursts into the room.

He jumps back in surprise, his worn leather jacket brushing my arm and shattering my calm state.

My skin tingles from the contact as his intense gaze settles on me with suspicion.

His eyes, dark and seductive, sear into me—I can’t look away. Can’t even move or breathe or…

“You must be Daniel,” I force out. “I’m Rebecca.” I extend my hand and cringe at my lapse in judgment. The last thing this volatile moment needs is direct contact.

He ignores my gesture and narrows those hypnotic eyes.

“Why are you in our suite?” His slight accent only heightens my fascination, and I hate that Lucy is right.

More than right—he’s every kind of dangerous I shouldn’t want.

Tousled dark hair, day old scruff, a build that screams trouble for any dark alley threat.

No, Daniel doesn’t have Ben’s chiseled perfection, but his rugged indifference captures me on a visceral level.

Deep and hot that gaze breaches old defenses the longer we face-off.

Ben knows he’s beautiful. I doubt Daniel gives a shit that he can take a girl’s breath away.

“I guess we’re going to be roommates,” I say, heart hammering in my chest.

“Great,” he mutters. “Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

I nod, but a brain that’s never been good in social situations is totally useless now. Filter off. Autopilot on. “Busy schedule of beating people up, probably,” it blurts out because… oh my god!

His hard expression softens into shock which spreads into something else. Amusement, maybe? Deadly on him, and I force myself to look away.

“Why? You have someone for the list?” Is he fighting a smile? Gosh, I’d do anything to see what a smile does to his face.

Me? Still as awkward as ever. “No. Well, maybe Laura.” My hand flies to my mouth. “Crap, did I say that out loud?”

This time the right side of his mouth lifts in a clear smirk, and the marching band in my stomach launches a whole new anthem. Right. See, this boy should never be allowed to do something like release a sexy smirk. Where was that on the rap sheet everyone seemed so eager to recite?

“Yeah, I can’t see her being thrilled about a new roommate like you.”

My blood pounds harder as he scans me again. Slowly this time. Brutally, deeply boring that gaze into me until I’m mentally biting my knuckles to keep the words inside but…

“You’re not like what they said,” I vomit out.

Shit.

A dark brow lifts in a new expression I also can’t read. “Really.” It’s not even a question. More, vague interest, because he’s him, and I’m me, and neither of us knows what that means yet.

“What I mean is, you’re not…” And now my brain just stops altogether.

“Not what? You’ve known me for twenty seconds.”

My face is on fire. The burn spreads up and down my entire body until I’m praying for spontaneous combustion. “I know. It’s just …” He waits, and the silence sends me back to car-accident Rebecca while my head tries to catch up. “It’s just, they hate you so much.”

Any remaining amusement drains from his face. His fist clenches at his side. “Yeah? Maybe you should take the hint.”

I shrink at his harsh tone, but nineteen years of reading people from the inside makes me pretty good at interpreting the outside as well.

His anger is more forced than it should be.

Is he a walking car wreck too? I took the timid approach to survival.

It easily could have gone in another direction.

“In my experience, people often hate for the wrong reasons.”

His eyes darken, and I know I’ve struck close. I may not know him, but the others don’t either.

“What exactly do you want?” he asks. “Why are you grilling me?” His tone is softer now. Dangerous in the way that slight change sucks me in.

“I just wanted to introduce myself. Better now than some awkward midnight encounter, right?”

“Midnight encounter? Wow, you’re optimistic.”

The thought makes my pulse pound in unwelcome throbs, and I lift my chin in challenge. “Your brain went there, not mine.”

A faint smile flickers over his lips again before he sighs. “Fine. In the spirit of avoiding awkward midnight encounters, I’m Daniel Mueller.” He holds out his hand, and I freeze, trapped by my own stupidity. Now what? Should I touch him? How can I not?

“Rebecca Carson,” I say, tentatively reaching for his fingers.

Heat.

Spark.

Explosion.

Air rushes from the room in a violent jolt.

I gasp out a cry as my limbs go heavy and numb.

I drop his hand, practically throwing it back at him as the images continue shrieking through my head.

My eyes lift to his in horror and… God, I need something, anything, but all I can see is that room, and the screams, and the table, and I have no idea what to do with it as adrenaline gushes through me.

I’m shaking when I step back. “I’m sorry. I… You…”

He doesn’t move, those hypnotic eyes searing into me. I’ve seen them not-angry, not-amused. I’ve seen them shattered.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

I barely hear him, my voice a whisper when it finally comes out. “Why do you let them hate you? Why don’t you tell them the truth? About the room?”

And there it is: Naked fear. His mask slips beneath the horror of a question he shouldn’t understand. But he does. He fucking does.

“Daniel, wait!” I cry as he storms for the door.

“Stay away from me,” he spits back.

“Don’t leave!”

“Stay away!”

“We have to—”

We have to nothing because he’s gone.

My heart hammers in my ears as I stand frozen, the vision pounding through my skull in a merciless loop.

I don’t know what I saw, only that I’ve stumbled on a landmine.

Maybe it’s dormant. Maybe I’ve triggered a massive explosion.

By his reaction, I suspect both our worlds just collided in a furious vortex I can’t begin to understand. Or undo.

Madison Academy has a room that wasn’t on my tour. I don’t like it, but I can shrug off things like secret rooms and scary basements. No, it’s the image of Daniel strapped to a table and screaming inside it while our director observed with a calculated stare that’s left me paralyzed.

They want me to fear my troubled roommate.

What if I should fear everyone else instead?