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Chapter 13

Deirdre

“Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.” Edgar Allan Poe

O n Wednesday, Claire and I push through the heavy auditorium doors. The air is buzzing with murmured conversations and the rustle of paper as students file in, placing their analysis assignments in the basket that is sitting on Kieran’s desk at the front of the room. I grip mine a little tighter, as if it holds more weight than just ink and paper. When I walk by, I drop it in before making my way toward our usual seats. Quickly glancing around, I ensure no one is looking before casually placing the black journal just to the side of the basket.

Kieran is standing at the black chalkboard, scribbling away, seemingly oblivious to my arrival. I scold myself, reminding myself it's not like he can act any different toward me in the classroom. It would be a dead giveaway.

As we settle in, a cocky voice cuts through the chatter and a tall, athletic, blond guy approaches.

I sigh before I even turn to completely face him. I recognize the voice. Within the first week of class, Brandon Danforth, Kappa Theta Nu’s self-proclaimed ladies’ man and president—or, in my opinion, the world's most arrogant man-child—made his presence known, with stupid jokes or inappropriate flirting with every girl in the class. It is amazing to me that Kieran has kept his composure and not thrown him out on his ass.

I guess today it is our turn to endure his relentless flirting.

He leans against the desk beside us, his smirk all charm and mischief.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the prettiest girls in class.”

Claire practically vibrates in her seat. “Brandon!” she squeals, flipping her hair dramatically.

I roll my eyes.

Surely, she is smart enough to see right through this guy.

“Ladies,” he grins, switching his gaze between us. “You’re both coming to the Kappa Theta Nu initiation party Friday, right?”

Claire doesn’t even hesitate. “Obviously.”

I, on the other hand, shift uncomfortably, suddenly feeling the heaviness of Kieran’s presence in the room. He’s at his desk now, pretending to review his lecture notes, but I know better. I can feel his eyes flick toward me, even if briefly.

Brandon catches my hesitation. “C’mon, Ravencroft. Don’t tell me you’re skipping out.”

I force a small smile. “I…I’m not sure yet.”

He places his hand on my shoulder. “You better show. Wouldn’t be a party without you.”

I don’t know why he cares so much if I attend. The guy has barely spoken to me since class started.

Swiping his hand away, I look at him. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch me, Brandon.”

His comment makes my stomach twist. He just exudes an arrogance that is all too familiar to me. Before he can respond, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor draws my attention back to the front of the auditorium.

Kieran rises to his full, commanding height, his fingers smoothing down the cuffs of his sleeves.

“Take your seats,” he calls out, his voice cool and commanding. “Let’s begin.”

Brandon winks at us before slinking away to his chair, and I exhale in relief as Claire nudges me with her elbow, whispering, “You’re totally going.”

I ignore her. She truly is oblivious to guys like him.

Kieran paces slowly across the front of the lecture hall, his voice even but deliberate as he begins dissecting The Raven . The students hang on to every word, scribbling away in their notebooks. His presence makes even those who normally tune him out sit straighter in their seats.

“Poe’s The Raven is, at its core, a descent into madness. A relentless, obsessive grief that feeds on itself,” he says, eyes sweep over the class. “The narrator clings to his sorrow, desperate for a sign, an answer, anything to bring him solace.”

He pauses, looking down and noticing the journal. For a fleeting moment, a slight smile flashes across his face. Then he leans against his desk, crossing his arms. “And yet, what answer does he receive?”

Silence.

A student near the front mumbles hesitantly, “Nevermore.”

Kieran nods and repeats the word, “Nevermore.”

His voice dips lower, the word rolling off his tongue. “Again and again, the raven offers the same response. No matter how the narrator pleads, no matter how much he begs for relief, the answer remains… nevermore .”

He looks in my direction as he emphasizes the word, and my breath catches in my throat.

Nevermore.

My safe word. The one I chose. A single word meaning stop, I can’t do this.

I swallow hard, stealing a glance at him. His expression is uncertain, but I know him well enough to at least be able to read his body language. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl slightly as he leans against the desk.

Is he upset? Does he not want me to go to that party? Does he not trust me?

The lecture continues, but my mind is elsewhere. Every so often, our eyes lock, and we find ourselves caught in the charged space between us.

As soon as Kieran dismisses class, the usual sound of students packing up fills the room. Claire is already pulling me toward the aisle. I recognize her eagerness to grab our traditional in-between class coffee, when Brandon’s voice, loud and obnoxious as ever, cuts through the air again.

“Professor McKnight,” he drawls, sauntering up to the front. “Any room for extra credit in this class?”

Kieran barely spares him a glance as he stacks his notes. “This isn’t high school, Mr. Danforth. You’re in college. I expect you to earn your grades.”

Brandon scoffs, shaking his head. “Right, of course.”

Then, as if an afterthought, his gaze flickers toward me, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “I bet if I were one of the girls, you’d offer extra credit.”

A flush of heat surges to my cheeks.

This fucker…

Before I can even formulate a response, Kieran’s voice slices through the moment like a blade.

“That will be quite enough, Mr. Danforth.” His voice echoes off the auditorium walls, prompting a few students to turn their heads in their direction.

His tone is sharp and cold. Controlled. But there’s something dark beneath it, something that causes Brandon to take a step back.

“Relax, Professor,” Brandon mutters, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Just messing around.”

Kieran levels him with a stare so sharp it could cut through glass. “Then I suggest you keep your messing around to a minimum or you will find yourself dropping this class.”

Brandon laughs, but it’s weaker this time. He mumbles something under his breath before turning and striding out of the auditorium, leaving behind a tension so thick I can barely breathe through it.

I don’t dare look at Kieran for fear of Claire noticing the energy between us, but I can feel his gaze searing into me.

I swallow hard.

Nevermore.

It was a warning. Stay away from Brandon Danforth.

The crisp morning air bites at my cheeks as Claire and I make our way back toward the dorms, our shoes clicking against the stone pathway winding through the courtyard. The sun is high in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground and warming my skin as we walk.

Claire chatters beside me, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, so I know Brandon is sexy as fuck, but let’s be real, he’s kind of a pompous ass.”

“Kind of?” I scoff.

She scrunches her nose in distaste.

“Like, what was with today? It’s like he was trying to have a pissing contest with McKnight. Like okay, dude, we get it, you can shotgun a beer in under five seconds. Professor McKnight could read you under the table in two. Which one is more impressive?”

I let out a small laugh, shoving my hands deeper into my cardigan pockets. “I was wondering when you’d come to that realization. Frat guys just aren’t it, sis.”

She sighs dramatically. “Yeah, yeah. Consider me officially over them. Well, actually, that Tyler guy is super hot.”

“Claire…” I groan.

“But, Deirdre, seriously, the party is going to be amazing. I need a night of fun after all these assignments.” She groans, stretching her arms over her head. “I mean, it’s just one night of drinking and dancing, what could go wrong?”

So many things.

I don’t answer right away. Instead, my eyes flicker across the courtyard, and that’s when I see him.

Kieran.

He’s walking in the opposite direction, his long, deliberate strides taking him toward the parking lot. His long coat billows slightly as he moves, his sharp profile distinguished. I can’t see the details of his face, but I can tell he’s in his own head, focused and thinking. I make a mental note that he is probably on his way home.

For a moment, I consider pulling my phone out to text him. But that would be reckless with Claire standing right beside me.

Instead, I let my gaze linger just a little too long.

He must feel it, because just as he reaches the edge of the courtyard, he glances over his shoulder and our eyes meet.

Briefly, he flashes me a soft smile before turning in the other direction.

I swallow hard and force myself to look away, back to Claire, who thankfully is still going on about the party.

“Okay,” I say finally, cutting her off mid-ramble. “I’ll go.”

Claire stops dead in her tracks. “Wait. What?”

“I’ll go to the party,” I repeat, lifting a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “As long as we steer clear of Brandon.”

She gasps, then lets out an ear-piercing squeal that has passing students shooting us amused looks. She grabs my arm and shakes me. “YES! Oh my God, I’m so excited! You never want to go out willingly. What changed?”

I force a small smile.

Nothing. Everything.

“I know how much you are looking forward to it,” I say simply.

Claire claps her hands together, practically bouncing on her toes. “This is going to be so much fun. We are going to drink, dance, and completely forget about our academic suffering for one night .”

I nod, but my mind is elsewhere.

Back on the man disappearing into the distance. I need to talk to him before Friday.

The scent of greasy burgers and salty fries fills our dorm room as Claire and I settle on my bed, legs crossed beneath us, the glow of Grey’s Anatomy playing on the laptop perched on my nightstand. We’ve got our pajamas on, hair tied up in messy buns, and we have absolutely zero intention of being productive. It’s the perfect lazy night after a long day of classes.

Claire groans in satisfaction, biting into her bacon burger from Burgerway. “Oh my God,” she says around a mouthful. “Why does food taste better when you know you should be eating a salad?”

I smirk, dipping a fry into my chocolate milkshake. “Because forbidden fruit is always the sweetest.”

She nods as she chews. “Preach.” She swallows. “Even though this huge ass burger is hardly as healthy as any fruit.”

We fall into a comfortable silence, the familiar sounds of medical drama and heartbreak playing in the background. Claire sniffles as one of the characters flatlines on screen. “Ugh. This show is so emotionally abusive.”

I chuckle, taking another bite of my burger. “And yet, you keep watching.”

“Like I have a choice. It sucks you in.” She dramatically wipes an invisible tear. “So, back to the real drama, what are you wearing to the party?”

I groan. “Claire, I said I’d go. I didn’t say I’d care about what I’m wearing.”

She gasps. “Blasphemy. You’re going to a frat party, Deirdre, not an eight a.m. lecture. You have to at least look like you want to be there.”

She pauses for a beat. “And nothing black.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, my phone buzzes on my nightstand. I grab it without thinking, my stomach flipping when I see his name on the screen.

I glance at Claire and hesitate for a second before unlocking my phone.

Professor McKnight: I wanted to apologize for earlier. I hope my reaction in class wasn’t too obvious.

I bite my lip, typing back.

Deirdre: Well, if Claire didn’t say anything, I think we’re in the clear.

His reply is almost immediate.

Professor McKnight: Good.

Then another text.

Professor McKnight: About the party…

I stare at the screen, my fingers shakily hover over the keyboard. I type out a reply before he can.

Deirdre: I won’t go if it makes you uncomfortable.

My heart pounds as I watch the little typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again.

Professor McKnight: I trust you, Deirdre. You need to enjoy your college experience with your friends. Just be careful around guys like Brandon. I won’t blink twice to hurt him if he touches you.

I exhale slowly, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“Who are you texting?”

I jolt, snapping my head up to see Claire leaning over, eyes narrowed playfully.

“No one,” I reply too quickly, locking my phone and setting it face down on the bed.

Claire narrows her eyes. “Uh-huh.” She pops a fry in her mouth, chewing dramatically. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” I say, reaching for my milkshake, taking a sip.

She eyes me for another second, then giggles. “Tell Professor McDreamy I said ‘hey.’”

I choke on my shake, “Claire!” I shriek. I can feel my skin getting hot and my pulse racing.

“Oh, breathe before your eyes pop out of your head.” She waves her hand at me. “Eventually, you’ll trust me enough to tell me what’s going on between you two. I’m not that dense, D.”

“I never said that!” I say defensively.

Great, she pulled the trust card. The guilt I feel weighs down on me. I’ve connected with Clair quicker in two weeks, more than I have with anyone else in the last year, except for Gabe.

Stuffing another fry in my mouth, I resolve that I will tell her after the frat party. For now, she needs a wingman to join her in her flirty escapades.