Chapter 71 71- Never Forget He Wins Every Staring Contest
LEXI
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The next couple of days are both better and worse. They’re worse because whenever Blake isn’t around… People are cruel in ways that feel
deliberate. Calculated. It’s never anything that can be clearly pointed at or proven. Just enough to hurt. Just enough to wear me down. Every set of notes I take in classes Blake doesn’t attend somehow ends up ruined. Ink smeared across paragraphs I know were neat when I wrote them. Pages torn out entirely. Margins filled with scribbles that weren’t there before. I start rewriting everything twice, then three times, just in case. It doesn’t help. I have bumps and bruises all over me. Small, ugly ones. The kind you get when people ‘accidentally‘ slam shoulders in narrow hallways, or step back without looking, or shove past as if I’m invisible. No one ever apologises. No one ever meets my eyes. My phone goes missing four times. FOUR. Each time, there’s a horrible, panicky moment where my chest tightens and I imagine someone scrolling through it. Reading my messages. Twisting things. Posting something new on SCRI. And every single night, without fail, it reappears on my bedside table like it was never gone at all. Thanks, Academy. The messages on SCRI are worse than ever. There are photos now. Pictures of Aaron and the others, their bruises framed carefully, cropped to look dramatic. Close–ups of cuts and marks with captions about Blake’s ‘temper.‘ Long threads dissecting his behaviour, his size, his species. Speculating about what he must be like behind closed doors. And then there are the ones about me. They write about me like I’m something owned. Like I couldn’t possibly choose this. Like I must be frightened, manipulated, controlled. Some of them talk about ‘saving‘ me. Others talk about me like I’m already lost. A pet. A trophy. A victim who doesn’t know she’s one. It’s worse than being called a gold digger. At least then they were implying I had agency, that I was clever enough to use him. Now they’re writing me out of my own story entirely, and turning Blake into a monster who keeps me trapped. I read too much of it. I know I do. But it’s hard not to, when it feels like everyone else already has. It’s all just… Completely awful. But things are better too. Because when Blake is around, everything changes. People go quiet. Not the whispering kind of quiet, the kind where sound seems to drain out of a space. Conversations stop mid–sentence. Laughter cuts off abruptly. No one stares. No one even pretends not to stare. They just… Look away. Hallways thin out when he approaches, like instinct takes over before conscious thought. As promised, there’s a sign posted outside Blake’s room now. It looks like something you’d see in a carpark. Plain. Official. Enter at your own risk. The kind of sign that doesn’t actually make anything safer or more dangerous. It just makes it clear that whatever happens next isn’t management’s problem. Like Principal Istvan said, it’s there so no one can sue. I thought Blake might be offended. Or annoyed. Or at least think it was ridiculous. Instead, he looks smug. I suppose it’s a public acknowledgment of his strength. A formal declaration that his space is his own, and that anyone foolish enough to cross that boundary does so knowingly. Free rein, officially sanctioned. Because of all this, we’re spending more time together than ever. At some point overnight, a large TV appears in my room. It’s mounted neatly, like it’s always been there. It has access to basically every streaming service in existence, all logged in with accounts I definitely did not create and absolutely did not pay for. When I look closer, there’s also a small popcorn machine and a fully stocked snack station tucked carefully against the wall. I just stand there for a long moment, staring at it. Apparently, the Academy is
more than happy to support our movie date nights.
1
I decide to carry on getting ready for my day. Standing still won’t help, and neither will crawling back into bed, tempting as it is. I shower, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders, and by the time I step out I feel marginally more human. Still tired. Still sore. But upright. I head over to the closet and sigh softly, rubbing at my eyes.
“Something nice today, Academy?” I ask.
*I could really use a pick–me–up. Maybe dressing pretty will help.” I add. The closet door opens. Inside is… Well. A dress. Technically. It’s floor–length and glittering, covered in sequins and shimmering fabric that catches the light like I’m about to attend a gala instead of a lecture. Formal. Excessively formal. The kind of thing that would make me the centre of attention for entirely the wrong reasons. I blink
at it.
1/2
“Uh… Maybe a little more comfortable?” I suggest carefully. The door closes. Then opens again. This time, it’s a literal onesie. Pink. Puffy.
15:01 Tue, Mar 31
Chapter 71 71- Never Forget He Wins Every Staring Contest
Covered in little hearts and flowers. There’s even a hood. I stare at it for a second before I snort.
“Ha ha. Very funny.” I say dryly. The closet door closes. And opens. Now it’s something even worse. Frills. Layers. A skirt so wide it would make sitting down a logistical nightmare. Then something with shoulder pads. Then something that looks suspiciously like it belongs in a historical reenactment. Each outfit more ridiculous than the last, as if the Academy is escalating on purpose. By the fourth reveal, I can’t
hold it in anymore. I start laughing, real laughter, the kind that catches in my chest and makes my sides ache a little. I have to lean
against the doorframe to steady myself.
“Okay, okay.” I say, still smiling.
“You win. I DO need to get dressed though, or I’m going to be late.” I tell the Academy. I pause, squinting at the last outfit it showed me.
1
“And where did you even get that one? Was that a cosplay? It looked like an anime character I saw once…” I trail off. The closet door closes one final time. When it opens again, the outfit inside makes my breath hitch, just a little. It’s a pale pink dress, simple but elegant, soft fabric that drapes nicely and looks SO soft. A delicate gold belt cinches the waist, and a pair of gold sandals are placed neatly beneath it. Comfortable. Pretty. Familiar. It’ll go perfectly with the pink diamonds Blake gave me. I smile despite myself.
“That’s perfect. Thank you.” I say quietly.
“And… Thanks for the cheer–up.” I add after a moment’s pause. The closet door stays open, as if listening. I reach out to touch the fabric, still smiling. Turns out laughing is an even better pick–me–up than a cute outfit.
Blake is waiting for me outside my door, leaning casually against the wall like he’s been there a while. When he straightens, his expression softens immediately, and he pulls me in close as we start toward breakfast. His arm settles around my shoulders, solid and warm, his thumb brushing lightly against my arm in a way that feels protective rather than possessive. He’s been like this a lot since we became official. Affectionate. Attentive. Unapologetic about it. I don’t mind, if anything, it makes the rest of the Academy feel a little less sharp around the edges. Still, today something’s different. There’s a faint crease between his brows, a tension there that doesn’t quite ease no matter how close he holds me. He keeps glancing down at me, then away, then back again, like he’s checking for something he can’t quite see. His grip tightens just a fraction whenever someone passes too close. It’s subtle, but I notice. The attention makes me a little self–conscious. A little uncomfortable. I almost ask what’s wrong, but he doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. He just keeps watching me with that same quiet focus, as if he’s listening to something beneath the surface. I tell myself it’s nothing. He’s probably just trying to figure me out. Trying to work out what kind of shifter I am, or what I can do, or whether something’s changed. Dragons do like puzzles, after all. And if he’s worried, he’s keeping it to himself. For now.
Comments
R Rants McGee
2 Comments >
I get she is freaked out that Blake almost killed someone but if it came down to it. the wolves would have tried to kill Blake too.
7 days ago
& 20
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
