Page 15 of Nothing to Fear (Wicked Games #1)

Asher

U nable to get Silas out of my head, I walked back over to Harrow House at two in the morning, staying hidden against the shadows of a large oak tree.

I watched the second-floor windows like a hawk, stalking and wishing for just a glimpse of him.

There’s no doubt he was long asleep by then, but that didn’t stop me from standing there until the sun started to rise, bright orange stripes of color cutting through the thick morning fog.

I walked back to my room, exhausted but feeling more awake than ever before.

I should have been studying.

I should have been reading for my assignments.

I should have been focusing on everything important.

But instead, my focus was on a pretty blond slacker that I can’t shake from my thoughts. I didn’t expect him to defend me in front of his teammates, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting that he didn’t. I don’t understand how anyone can put up with that kind of bullshit.

I fall into bed just as my phone starts to chime. I smile, grabbing it off my end table and swiping open my sister’s chat.

Allie: I miss you

Me: Why are you awake?

Allie: Cause I’m going to Salem today with some friends

Me: I forgot it takes you a gazillion hours to put yourself together

Allie: Not everyone can roll out of bed looking like a god

Me: You think I’m a god?

My phone rings a moment later with an incoming video call.

“Thought you had to get ready?”

“You’re gonna talk to me while I curl my hair. Now fill me in on what’s been goin’ on with you. It’s wicked boring here without you.”

My thoughts immediately go to Silas and how much time I’ve been spending with him lately, how I need to figure out how to get closer to him, to breach this gorge between us.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Back the frick up. What was that goofy frickin’ face you just had! Did you meet someone?”

“What are you goin’ on about? I didn’t have a face!”

“Oh, you so had a face! Who is it? Tell me about him!”

I bite my lip for a split second before deciding to spill everything to Allie. I can’t talk to Parker about it since he holds so much hate toward Silas, and my sister has no stake in the game either way.

“There’s someone. But I don’t even know if he’s gay.

I’ve got my suspicions that he is, and half his problem is that he’s in the closet.

But Al, he’s treated me like shit for years, and I’ve never understood why.

I can see this war he’s fighting behind his eyes, like he’s lost, and everything in me, everything around me, is like a neon light flashing above his head that I’m supposed to help him. ”

“Aw! Ashy! That’s so sad! Does he like you? Or is he still an ass when you’re together?”

“I’m tutoring him, and we’ve started to spend a lot of time together, and he’s mostly so different when it’s just the two of us.

But if I say or do the wrong thing, he immediately reverts right back to dickhead mode and bolts.

I think it’s a defense mechanism. I don’t know what to do to get through to him. ”

“Have you tried just talking to him about it? Putting it all on the line?”

“Communication doesn’t really seem to be his strong suit.”

“Okaaaaay. What about planning some sweet gesture? Show him that you at least want to be his friend and that you’re somewhat normal.”

That actually isn’t a bad idea.

“Well, if none of those things work, then you could always kidnap him.”

I haven’t ruled that one out either, sis.

The rest of the morning drags on, and I find myself walking aimlessly through the school grounds until I’m facing the chain-link fence that surrounds the rugby practice field.

Even though it’s Sunday, the team is out there practicing.

I’m far enough away that Silas would have to be looking for someone to notice me, but close enough that I can see the strong muscles of his legs strain as he runs.

Had I known that rugby players wore short shorts, I would have shown up to watch them practice a long time ago. They don’t leave much to the imagination. Especially because they’re white with crimson stripes on the arms and Corvus on the front. White .

My eyes easily find Silas, just as they seem to lately, his blond hair pushed back out of his face, dirt spread across his cheek.

Actually, he’s filthy. His legs are covered in dirt and grass stains, and an image of him all fours with his face in the dirt while I pound him from behind flashes behind my eyes.

Well, that’s new.

I don’t hate that idea.

In the very back of my mind, I’m reminded how much schoolwork I need to get done, how much I need to study to be prepared for the upcoming week, and that late tonight, I get to see Silas again in person.

I watch Silas practice until he leads his team into the tunnel to the locker room and out of sight. The croak of a raven from above me pulls my attention from staring longingly at the empty entrance of the locker room tunnel.

Standing outside of Harrow House in the middle of the night, hoping for a glimpse of him in his bedroom window?

Still within the realm of what’s socially acceptable.

Following him into a locker room? Probably frowned upon on so many different levels.

Don’t think it would be breaking any rules or laws, though.

Just as I take a step forward, an invisible string between us pulls taut. Silas and his team leave the locker room from the other side, packing onto a bus in front of the stadium.

It’s the bucket of cold water I needed. Was I seriously just about to peep at Silas Blackwood while he was changing in the locker room?

I’ve officially stepped into stalker territory.

Back in my room, I spend the rest of the day working on assignments for various classes and putting time into researching the whereabouts of how to get into the Corvus Cemetery.

I’ve been researching Corvus and the mystery behind the founding families for over a year now, and nothing has ever come up about how to get in.

Whose buried there? Absolutely. But not how.

Since I’m a Gothic literature major with a focus on the occult, this should be a cake walk. But as I’ve come to learn while studying here, the school will bring you what it wishes you to have, and whatever it conceals, won’t be found.

An email notification chimes, and my heart sinks into my stomach when I see his name, the devil himself.

Mr. Ambrose,

I’m disappointed in your work ethic over the last two weeks.

It seems as though President Blackwood and I are not on the same page with your academic standing.

If I don’t see an improvement in both your work and your behavior, I will be forced to rescind Professor Mortwood’s agreement to write you a recommendation for your grad school application.

There is no space for mediocrity or complacency, Mr. Ambrose. See that you remember that.

Professor Thorne

“Fuck!”

I shove my laptop across the desk in frustration. This is why I can’t have distractions. This is why I need to focus. I need to finish strong here.

Nothing else matters.