I'm about to say yes when the sound of someone knocking on the open door of our classroom cuts me off.
"Do you have a minute?"
The voice is silkily familiar, and the other girls in class erupt with the usual babble of excited whispers and giggles while I fight against the urge to bolt. My heart races in heightened awareness as Professor Lucious comes to a stop next to me, and I can't help thinking that the last time we've been this close to each other was the night he kissed me rescued me from certain death.
I know I shouldn't take a peek at him, but I still end up doing so. A mass of black curls and equally dark eyes makes him seem like a fallen angel, and his clothes only add to the effect: it's a perfect marriage of exquisitely preppy and sinfully sexy; black sweater vest over gray button-up and tie, and rounding this off is a grungy-looking pair of jeans and boots.
A part of me is already dreading and half-expecting him to say something mortifyingly sly in front of Professor Mayumi, but I realize I've made myself anxious over nothing when the two start talking like I don't even exist. Worst of all, they're speaking in Latin, a language that's remained dead even in the Post-3rd world, and a twinge of unease pinches my heart when I see my Istoría teacher flash a wonderful pair of dimples. The sight is enthrallingly transformative, and I can't help blinking at the way Professor Mayumi's appearance has instantly changed from elegantly nondescript to breathtakingly charming and shit, shit, shit, did I really just think that?
Since my own looks have given me nothing but trouble, I've never been tempted to make a dig about another girl's appearance. I prefer to be a bitch without being shallow or petty, and while 'elegantly nondescript' may be a more polite version of 'classy but plain', a dig is still a dig, you know?
Guilt eats me alive for allowing myself to stoop so low, and the feeling worsens when I think about how my pettiness may have a lot to do with the seeming intimacy between the two.
How they knew each other and what they were to each other is none of my business.
They can be lovers for all I know, but it doesn't and shouldn't matter because if the tables were ever turned, and I find out that my god is even the tiniest bit affected by another woman's relationship with someone else—-
Just thinking about it makes my whole being cry out, and all thoughts about Professor Lucious disappear.
All I can suddenly think about is my god.
Eros.
I want to see him.
I need to see him.
But just as I'm hoping to slip away unnoticed, fingers curl around my wrist before I can even start to turn, and I find myself reluctantly lifting my gaze to dark eyes that are as lustrous as they are enigmatic. My lips part, but just as I'm about to ask him to let go, I hear one of the other girls call me a slut under her breath, and it's just so annoyingly childish I find myself doing the opposite.
Instead of putting distance between us like I planned to, I flutter my lashes at the professor and let my lips curve in a coquettish smile as the girls' expressions turn into one of teeth-grinding envy.
Amusement flickers in the professor's gaze. "Feisty as ever, hm?"
I start to answer, but feeling his fingers loosen its hold distracts me, and I'm left stunned by an improper sense of emptiness.
"There's no need for you to leave, Ms. Mariposa. Mayumi and I are done talking. I apologize for the interruption."
He walks away before I can say another word, and as I watch him walk out of the room, all I can think about is...
Her name.
He called the other professor by her name, and while I've heard him address other women by their first names before, this time sounded different.
This time felt different, and I hate myself for even realizing that it's so.
I love Eros with all my heart and soul, and while I know I'd rather kill myself than betray my god in any way—-
Why do I still find myself caring that things are different between them?
Why am I letting it matter that Professor Lucious has called the other woman Mayumi...all the while addressing me like I'm no different from his other students?
Chapter Two
It's the last Saturday of September, and I'm all alone as I step out of the front doors of my dorm. Getting to the first set of gates from Dark Rose House takes about twenty minutes by foot, and the only company I have left are Victorian buildings that watch over me with eyes made of stained glass.
I know I'm letting my imagination run wild as usual here, but Rosethorne's many buildings have always felt alive to me.