Page 5 of Crush

Thorne isn’t in his seat when I walk into Lowell’s class, either.

The sight of his empty chair must cause a hitch in my step or a twitch on my face since Aurora leans back in her chair as I pass. “Stalker, much?”

“Just upset that I have to stare at the back of your head for the next hour.” I fall into my seat, plopping my bag on the desk in hopes it’s enough to block her out until class starts.

Sadly, her airy voice makes it through the fabric. “Drop the act. I saw you fall on your knees last night after the announcement. You couldn’t handle losing to me.” She leans to the side until she’s visible. “You embarrassed yourself in front of some very important people, Ember. They value the strongest and fittest. There’s talk about kicking your ass out.”

“That’s not possible.” I inject fake confidence into my tone. “They can’t tell me they exist, then send me on my way. They wouldn’t hold Malcolm against his will like they have for decades. He would’ve been freed long ago had they just ‘kicked asses out.’”

“Shh.” Aurora’s eyes glitter with malice as she leans forward as if I’m the one who brought up the Societies in public. Then that sparkle turns to dust. “Did I say anything about freedom? There’s only one way I know of to exit the Societies.”

“You’re sick.” I pull out my textbook to hide my shakes. Why can’t this girl be happy she won and leave me the hell alone?

“I’m one of the best in a club you desperately want to belong to.” A musical lilt follows her words.

It’s at that moment Lowell saunters in, clapping his hands for attention. “If you haven’t already submitted them through the portal, assignments on my desk, please!”

But Aurora’s not done. She dips low, her chin almost hitting my desk. “If it were up to me, I’d’ve tossed you off the cliffs the day you enrolled here. Unfortunately, the peerage has a different viewpoint. They’re watching you, Ember. You may have passed the trials, but we Virtues have lots of fun with our new members. Starting tonight. Come to the rec center at nine. Don’t be late.”

My attention unwittingly pings against Thorne’s empty seat.

Aurora smiles, Cheshire and sleek. “Oh, he’ll be there. In fact, he’s one of the members who demands your continued dues.”

“Great.” I say it under my breath, but Aurora catches it nonetheless. “Aren’t you wondering where he is?” She gifts me with one last evil grin before swooping around in her seat, her long, wavy tendrils catching on my bag.

I give the backpack a yank to set it on the floor, successfully tearing out a few strands of her carefully groomed hair.

Aurora jumps, shooting me a death look before Lowell calls for her attention.

“Two can play,” I say to her back while settling in my seat.

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t have to. We’ve drawn our lines in the sand.

Lowell’s class breezes by. I answer questions and jot down equations, my shoulders relaxed, and my heart rate calmed and level. It’s never been like this before. I ease into the hour without stress, confident and sure. And it’s not difficult to understand why.

I’m able to be myself, showcase my talent, and generally have a decent time without Thorne’s electric, heated presence at my side.

3

Thorne

The temperature drop in this town at night sinks into my weary bones as I navigate the rest of the way through the crumbling stone. My sides ache for rest, the fresh bruises pulsing with collecting blood, but I forge on, determined to put my father’s latest beating behind me.

I reach the top, basking in the breathtaking silence.

Moonlight hits the jutting edge of the cliff, and I creep toward it, conscious of the jagged rocks below. When I toe the end, I glance down into the black hole. I’m standing in the one place where the ocean calms its rage. Buffered by the neighboring U-shape of crumbling rockface climbing up to the navy, star-speckled sky is a secret cove in the foliage about half a mile from Winthorpe’s rec center. Small, flickering lights rim the bottom of the forty-foot drop, the torches Jaxon and I set up illuminating tiny spheres of rippling, deceptively tame waters.

Satisfied by the view, I navigate the same makeshift trail I ascended with more confidence now that I’m descending.

Jaxon waits on the small stretch of beach, hopping on his feet to stay warm, his hands shoved deep into his varsity jacket’s pockets. “All good?”

“We’ve set it up perfectly.”

Jaxon nods. “Awesome. Can we wait them out in your car with that flask of bourbon I know you’re hiding?”

I shake my head, clapping him between the shoulders. “We have to set an example. If the new recruits roll up and see us shivering and drunk in a car—or fast asleep, in your case—what kind of intimidation tactic is that?”

“An entertaining one.”