Page 35 of Trapped With You

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw Ella planted at the library threshold. Eyes wary and mouth downturned. There was a chink in her armour, but she remained stoic.

My girl was spectacular at masking her emotions in public. No one ever saw the real her. I had the privilege, once upon a time, to see what lay behind her good girl exterior. And as her beholder, Ella was nothing short of stunning. With me, she’dalways been stripped bare to her core. Artistic. Carefree. Funny. Naughty. Rebellious. And so much more. I held all those layers on a pedestal. I could fill a notebook with poetry to describe my love for her.

It was an honour to witness her in her rawest form.

I wanted to see her like that again.

Without the trace of sorrow surrounding her flesh and bones.

“You coming?” I prompted.

Ella snapped out of her trance and her gaze cut to mine. “Nice jacket. I thought you’d have thrown it by now.”

Ah, she spotted her name scrawled across the back of my leather jacket.

“I’d never throw away anything you gave to me, pretty girl.”

She froze mid-step, another fissure cracking her armour. The sincereness in my voice unbalanced her. Good. I’d kill with kindness if I had to.

It was obvious to everyone but Ella that I never stopped loving her.

She scoffed. “Can’t say the same thing about all the stuff you gave me.”

I wasn’t offended because one, I was choosing to believe that was a lie and two, I knew her bitchiness was a defence mechanism.

Together, we walked down the hallway. Our flashlights guided us as our strides ate the distance towards the underground tunnels that would lead to the abandoned dormitories.

“What about the Ducati I bought you for your birthday?” I kept my tone playful. “Did you throw that away too?”

Ella glared at me as we increased our pace.

“That’s what I thought.” I tsked.

Three years ago, I started learning how to ride a motorcycle. Not wanting to be left out, Ella took up lessons with me. Oneof our favourite things was riding together late at night. Daddy Cordova wasn’t impressed with his little girl riding a crotch rocket, but I liked to indulge all of Ella’s desires. I loved spoiling her.

As a result, I bought her a slick black motorcycle to match mine.

Tense silence brewed as we descended the stairwell at the end of the hallway.

The comfort I always associated with St. Victoria during the day evaporated at night. There was nothing sacred about these grounds in the afterhours. Allegedly, the school was built on one of the gates of hell. While I found that rumour to be laughable, it didn’t seem so far-fetched right now. On our way to the ground floor, I swore, when I blinked, the angels carved high in the ceiling moldings resembled ghouls instead. And as our thumping footsteps echoed against the floor, my mind imagined the rumbly chuckle of demons and the rough crackling of hell fire.

Just half an hour into the competition and I was beginning to lose my mind.

We passed by a lot of Initiators. They shot us scandalized expressions, gossiping right in front of our faces with no decorum.

“Omigod. I can’t believe they got paired together.”

“I heard he cheated on her. Yikes.”

“Damn, that sucks.”

We pretended to hear nothing.

Unfortunately, our breakup was publicized in front of a big chunk of St. Victoria’s populace. By the end of the competition, news that we were teammates would make the rounds in our circle. People would have a field day with this tidbit.

On our way to the tunnels, we spotted Shaun and Darla by the foyer. My best friend gave us a salute. “Good luck, lovebirds!”

Ella threw him a middle finger.