“Thanks for your concern, but this isn’t your problem,” he says, re-securing his edge. “You need to go.”
“I saw the necklace. It was on a beautiful woman.”
His expression chills further. “How much do you see about people?”
“Only flashes while I’m touching someone.”
He steps back further and tucks into himself. I’m losing him, and it kills me.
“What’s your gift, Daniel? Is that why everyone’s afraid of you? Is that why Clausen…?” I wish I could stop the questions. I know he won’t answer them. Gosh, he clearly hates them even more than I do.
Probably why he ignores them and begins piling his belongings. “Like I said, you should go.”
“I can’t. I’m not leaving you like this.”
“Like what? You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“Maybe not, but it’s not hard to tell you’re hurting, that you’re in this alone.” He doesn’t look at me, and I know he cares more than he’s letting on. I feel it. “They say you’re an addict. Is that true?”
“I don’t see how this is any of your business.”
He’s right, and the door bursts open before I can argue. We both jump at the intrusion, staring over at Laura and Ben, who squint into the light.
“Whoa. Not what I was expecting,” Ben says. “I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence. Did he wake you?” he asks me.
“No, the guard ransacking his room did.” I wish I could start this whole scene over. I had a chance with Daniel, maybe my only one, and now…
“Looking for contraband probably,” Laura mumbles. “And you were in another fight, I see. Fantastic.”
“Yeah, more bullshit for you rumor whores,” Daniel spits, pushing past them.
“Classy as always,” Ben calls after him. He exchanges a look with Laura as the main door smashes open and clatters closed in the distance.
After a terrible night’s sleep, I shuffle into a classroom for my first group session the following morning. Ben and Laura attend another class during first hour, which leaves me alone for once. After yesterday’s explosion, and today’s breakfast of continued awkwardness, I’m relieved to be free of their critiques and questions.
My first observation is that this sterile room seems out-of-place in the opulent mansion. I wonder if the administration intentionally stripped it of its beauty or simply forgot to give it the same attention as the rest of the school. My second observation: the familiar circle of openness that screams Group Support Session. I cringe, already dreading what’s coming. I’ve done my fair share of group therapy, and after my last twenty-four-hours, I don’t have many thoughts fit for public consumption.
The seats fill quickly, and the other students seem to have too many updates for their established friends to make time for new ones. One girl finally leans close—to ask if I can move my chair a tad to the left. When the instructor calls us to attention, I flash a clumsy “new girl” smile at her introduction.
“This is where we share our experiences in a safe environment, Rebecca.”
Safe environment? I nod and try not let my face display how stupid that sounds.
“Today we’re going to talk about being different,” she continues. “Should you try to hide your gifts as much as possible or—”
The door clangs open, and we shift to watch Daniel stumble through it. He turns and glares at the shadows of security fading from sight on the other side. As usual, his presence makes my blood react before my head. Violent and hot, like the visions he stirs. Of course he’s in my class too. Why wouldn’t he be?
Safe environment, my ass.
“Daniel, we’re glad you could join us. Come, sit down.”
He limps forward, eyeing us coldly. His injuries look even more suspicious in the sunlight, and I wonder how much he’s hiding behind that convincing scowl. I suspect I’ve just scratched the surface of the secrets he’s carrying. I suck in a breath when our eyes meet, but he quickly breaks the connection. Not me, though. No, I’m fixated like a flea to an alpha wolf.
He’s discarded the worn jacket from yesterday, and his simple t-shirt strains against a taut frame of muscle when he crosses his arms. My gaze traces his well-defined chest and biceps, before landing on a sleeve of tattoos covering his left arm. Only a few are scattered over his right, and my heartrate takes off again, wildly imagining hours alone with him to investigate the intricate designs. When I dare a look back at his face, I can almost see remnants of the shadows he occupied last night. Doesn’t anyone else notice he’s clearly been through Hell?
The instructor clears her throat. “We were just discussing being different and whether it’s better to blend in as much as possible or embrace the differences. What do you think, Daniel?”
He shoots her an annoyed glance. “Seriously?”
