Chapter 37: Chapter 37: Off-Campus Activity, Part One

Chapter 37: Off-Campus Activity, Part One

Rhea’s words settled across the bar like a drink mixed too strong.

Cyrus let a trace of surprise show on his face, but his thoughts stayed clear.

There it was. Dangerous women always knew how to wrap the hook in something soft.

For the uniform Rhea wore on duty, protecting citizens was part of the job. That was normal. That was written into the role.

When she said it here, seated in front of him at The Full Moon Lounge with her eyes fixed on him, the meaning changed.

It no longer sounded like she was saying she protected people.

It sounded like she was saying Cyrus Calder was the person she would always protect first.

If he had not built up resistance to dangerous women long ago, a few sentences like that might have been enough to drag him under. He might have started thinking she was special, started believing he owed her something, and eventually convinced himself that his whole life had to revolve around her.

Unfortunately for her, he had experience.

Rhea had skill. Cyrus could admit that much. She had timing, confidence, a good face, and a job that let her dress personal concern as public responsibility.

Even so, he had the higher ground.

A dangerous woman like this did not deserve a seat at his table.

So far, the only genuinely good woman he had met was Helena Baird.

Cyrus looked at the two women seated on either side of the bar in front of him. His expression eased back into calm, and then he let a small, carefully measured smile appear.

In Rhea’s eyes, that smile probably looked like embarrassment.

Her gaze warmed by a subtle degree.

She seemed to understand that winning him over would take time. That did not bother her. If anything, the difficulty seemed to make her more patient.

Helena sat beside her with her coffee, unable to slip naturally into the conversation. She lowered her eyes and took another quiet sip.

She had heard enough to know something dangerous had happened. For now, Cyrus was standing behind the bar, unharmed and steady. That mattered more than the details he had not offered.

Besides, his work schedule had already changed. He would no longer leave the lounge so late at night.

That alone made the whole situation a little easier to accept.

The next morning arrived clean and bright.

Cyrus woke feeling better than usual. It might have been because his rest time had increased, or it might have been because his body had finally stopped trying to collect sleep debt like a creditor with no mercy.

Either way, he respected any morning that made his bones feel less like they had been dragged through math class.

He ate his usual breakfast jelly, packed his bag, and left the apartment a few minutes earlier than normal.

The moment he opened his door, the door beside his opened too.

Daphne Whitlock stepped into the hallway in neat work clothes, her outfit crisp enough for school and her gold-rimmed glasses settled perfectly on her nose. She looked intellectual, elegant, and completely unlike someone who had once stared at his childlike fever form with alarming interest.

Before Cyrus could decide how to greet her, Daphne nodded first.

"Good morning, Cyrus."

"Good morning, Ms. Whitlock."

Their voices landed normally enough, but the hallway fell quiet for a strange breath afterward.

Cyrus adjusted the strap of his bag and chose the safest topic.

"I washed the food container from last time. Do you want me to get it for you now?"

"That is all right. I am not in a hurry to use it."

Daphne did not seem bothered by his cool tone.

They walked downstairs with no further conversation. At the building entrance, she offered him a ride to school. Cyrus declined with enough politeness to keep it from sounding deliberate.

He watched the familiar silver-white car pull away from the curb.

Inside the car, Daphne pushed her glasses higher and let a private trace of satisfaction pass through her eyes.

Food containers were not a problem.

She had prepared plenty of them.

Her plan was simple. Every so often, she would "accidentally" cook too much and ask Cyrus to help with the leftovers.

The only frustrating part was timing.

Over the past few nights, she had calculated when he should be home and gone next door with food, only to find that his apartment was empty. She had missed several chances to improve her image in front of the older brother, which was deeply unfortunate.

Still, Daphne was patient when patience served a purpose.

She did not believe Cyrus cooked for himself. His skin had an unusual pallor, and his body did not look especially sturdy. The file she had obtained at school had matched that impression too closely.

His parents were missing. He lived alone. He had no real family supervision nearby.

A poor child, really.

If he was often out at night, he might be doing some kind of part-time work. School rules would not approve, but under his circumstances, Daphne could look the other way for now.

The truly regrettable part was that the records had not mentioned the white-haired little boy.

There was no name, no school, and no family note that explained him.

That meant she still had to work through Cyrus.

By noon, St. Alder Academy had been baking under the sun long enough for the pavement to glare.

Cyrus stood a short distance from the campus store, watching the long line with tired resignation.

The afternoon activity seemed to have stirred everyone up. Students who normally spread themselves between the cafeteria, vending machines, and campus store had all gathered here, chattering and buying light food.

Since the afternoon event involved cooking in groups, most people wanted to save room for later.

They also did not want to starve before then.

The result was a line Cyrus had no desire to join.

Standing in that heat, pressed between noisy students, sounded like an efficient way to ruin his day. If he overheated enough to shrink in the middle of the crowd, everything would be over.

The rumor would probably become something ridiculous, like someone had squeezed so hard that a child popped out of the line.

Cyrus pictured that and nearly laughed.

He had not been especially sleepy during the morning, which counted as progress. Of course, math class had still defeated him for a while. Compared with his old habit of sleeping through the whole morning, though, this was already a major improvement.

Time passed, and the crowd around the campus store finally thinned.

Cyrus approached after the worst of the line had cleared.

Good luck was still willing to visit him once in a while. His usual bread sat on the shelf, and it was the last one.

He reached for it.

Another hand moved toward the same bread at the same time.

The hand was fair and slender, with neatly kept nails and a quiet kind of grace that made even the act of reaching for convenience-store bread look composed.

Cyrus followed the hand up the sleeve and found Audra Sloane standing beside him.

He had not expected her to be aiming for the same thing.

Before he could say anything, Audra spoke first.

"You take it. I can get something else."

"You can have it if you want."

Cyrus offered the words a beat later.

Audra shook her head. "That is fine. I will buy something else."

"All right, then."

Since she had said that, Cyrus stopped refusing.

He had only offered because Audra had spent time tutoring him lately. Under normal circumstances, food already within reach did not need to be surrendered.

He was not stupid.

Cyrus picked up the bread and was about to leave when a male student stepped into his path.

The boy looked vaguely familiar. His face was good-looking in a clean, school-polished way, the kind of appearance that drew attention without making too much noise.

Before he could speak, Audra’s voice cooled beside them.

"Miles Sutton, what are you doing?"

Miles shifted half a step aside, his expression smooth enough to seem innocent.

"I was just wondering whether this classmate was from our class. He looked familiar."

Cyrus did not feel like staying for whatever this was.

He took his bread and left.

The brief interruption did not turn into anything larger. Miles watched him go, then glanced at Audra’s unreadable face and fell silent.

Audra came out of the campus store a little later with a different kind of bread in her hand. She stopped in a patch of shade and looked down at the packaging.

For some reason, the whole thing left her feeling faintly defeated.

She had yielded twice.

He had accepted both times as naturally as breathing.

Was the tutoring they had done lately still not enough to make him yield a little more for her?

Or was she simply not worth that kind of concession to him?

Audra’s fingers tightened slightly around the bread.

Fine.

Once the afternoon activity began, she would see whether he could still act this unaffected.