He Knows

After volleyball on Tuesday morning, I don't risk sticking around the gym during study hall. I instead make my way towards the library, planning to look over the precalculus syllabus I completely ignored during class yesterday. But when I get there, I catch a whiff of rain-soaked lavender. I follow the scent to the back of the library where a couple of sound-proof music rooms are located… well, sound-proof to humans. Although it takes some concentration, if I focus, I can hear someone playing the guitar behind the second door. He's the only one using the practice rooms and with the silence of the library, I can fully appreciate the intricacies of his performance.

I don't know the first thing about music, but his playing is unlike anything I've heard on the guitar before. He doesn't have a modern band sound or even a country feel. I think it's because he probably isn't strumming, but rather plucking the strings. It almost reminds me of a Spanish guitar, with the fast melody line that seems to dance all on its own.

It is about thirty minutes later that I realize I haven't even pulled out my syllabus yet and I think this crush may be getting a little out of hand. Sure, I've always thought he was kind of cute, but I've hardly spoken to the guy at all and now I'm practically stalking him! Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted by my body flying backwards as the door I was comfortably leaning on opens inwards. I'm flat on my back and looming over me with a disapproving look is Alastair. Damn, when did he stop playing?

"Why are you following me?" Alastair demands.

I scramble to my feet, nervously averting my gaze. "Er… sorry. I just heard you playing and… I really didn't mean to pry again, I just wanted to thank you… for uh… yesterday."

Alastair's expression softens slightly. "Next time go for Barrett first."

"Huh?"

"Everyone thinks Deron is the biggest threat, because fire magic is terrifying, but the guy can't light more than a candle. It's Barrett you've got to watch out for. He will immobilize an enemy faster than a boy cumming during his first blowjob."

"Wha—?" I stare at him for a second, before busting up laughing. "Oh my—" I wheeze, gasping for air. "Oh my goddess! Where did that come from?" He smiles at me as I finally catch my breath. "You always look so serious! I never would have expected you to make a joke like that!"

"Boys, please keep it down over here." One of the librarians peeks around a periodical to chastise us.

"Sorry, Ms. G." Alastair says, but a shy smile tells me he isn't really sorry.

"What happened to 'no-fighting-between-allies-Alastair'?" I ask him in a quieter tone.

Alastair just shrugs. "He's on vacation and left 'those-guys-are-total-assholes-Al' in charge." I chuckle softly. "In all seriousness, I doubt even a big guy like you could take on three fully realized warlocks. Just walk away next time… or call my name."

I suppress the way him calling me "big guy" makes me feel and instead opt for teasing him. "What, just call your name and you'll come to my rescue like a knight in shining armor?" I lean against the door frame, blocking his exit. "You know, you won't always be around to hear me crying like a damsel in distress."

"I'll hear you," he whispers so quietly I think he might be talking to himself more than me. "But if I don't, hit them in the balls and run. Pain works pretty well at breaking our concentration."

I nod, remembering how long it took for Deron to recover my kneeing of the crown jewels. "Why are you helping me?" I ask curiously. "I thought those guys were your friends."

He hesitates for a minute, as if debating how to answer. "Well…" he says slowly, "maybe it's because I don't want their behavior to affect the coven's relationship with the future Luna of our allied pack."

I stiffen. Of course. Of fucking course! He is just like everyone else. "I see," I say stiffly, before turning away from him and briskly leaving the library in a huff. A minute later the bell rings and I'm surrounded by students rushing the hall.

I don't even look at him when I sit down in precalculus, trying to completely ignore his presence. This time it works and I am completely consumed by the teacher's explanation of imaginary numbers. It is not until Alastair's elbow bumps me for the fifth time that I realize it isn't on accident and I whip my head to face him.

"What?" I snarl-whisper. He is looking at me with his wide purple eyes full of so much sorrow, I instantly feel guilty for snapping at him.

He pushes a piece of paper onto my side of the desk, and I see scrawled in his neat flowing handwriting, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said in the library."

"Then why did you say it?" I whisper back, trying to contain my anger.

He takes the paper back and scribbles on it for a second. "I want to help you, because no one deserves to be made to feel inferior, but I don't think it is a good idea for us to be friends."

I'm even more upset when I see what he has written. I turn away from him, trying to refocus on the lecture. Apparently, he doesn't like that because a moment later he taps my shoulder again. "I mean I want to be your friend, because I think you're pretty cool, but I just don't think we should be," he adds.

I pull the paper closer to me and forcefully scratch out my reply, putting all my anger into my pen as if I could stab the words out. "So, you want to be my friend, but don't think it's a good idea, so your solution is… what? Purposefully say something you know will upset me and drive me away? Congratulations! It worked." I shove the paper back at him, without meeting his gaze.

I don't even know why I'm so angry about him calling me the "future Luna". It's not like I haven't been told the same thing by practically everyone I know for as long as I can remember.

"I'm sorry," I hear him mumble too quietly for human ears to pick up.

"Why?" I ask tersely. He doesn't respond, so after a moment I add, "Why isn't it a good idea?" I meet his eyes finally and the look he is giving me… so conflicted and full of hurt.

He slowly takes the paper back from my side, but his pen hovers over it for a moment, trembling, before he finally writes, "I know you like me."