Recover: Book 2 of the Magic Mutations Series | ✓

9: Libraries and Lament

Shout out to JTmaru who consistently votes on every chapter, letting me know at least someone is still reading along! Hey passive readers... give me a wave here so I know how many of you are still sticking along! Love you all :)

Also... CONTENT WARNING: Depicting of rape in the following chapter. If this is a triggering topic, please do not keep reading. I have more PG stories with milder themes... look for the colourful covers.

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"Which question do you want to do?" Olivia asked as we sat in the library after classes on Friday afternoon.

"I haven't really thought about it. You can pick," I replied.

Grimacing, she turned to look back at the various presentation topics the lecturer had given us on the works of Shakespeare. And while a small crease worried its way between her brows as she concentrated on the words, I couldn't stop my eyes trailing over her.

Today, she was wearing a green knitted sweater paired with black jeans. A simple outfit, but it complimented her fair complexion and vibrant hair brilliantly. What was really striking was that she had tied her locks into a loose bun, not sporting her usual worn-out hair look. With her hair styled like this, I could see her neck and the gentle pulsing of her blood through the delicate skin.

What really surprised me though was, while a part of me found my mouth watering at the idea of tasting her fruit-scented blood, I was more curious about how it would feel to just brush my lips over the hollow behind her ear. To hold her close to my body. To—

"Lukas?" a voice echoed out loud, bringing me fully out of my head.

Gaze snapping to her awaiting eyes, I uttered a, "Huh?"

"Seriously, mate... did you sleep last night?" she asked. "You're always drifting off to a world that doesn't seem here."

"Sorry," I mumbled, turning my head to the desk. For once I wasn't actually going to memory land though... It was just her on my mind.

"It's okay," she said, tone a little softer, hand resting on my wrist. Her touch pulled on the bond invitation, making my heart glow with delight and begging me to move closer. But I  somehow managed to resist. "What I said before you exited this conversation was that I think we should do Romeo and Juliet."

"But you hate it," I responded.

Laughing, she said, "Yes. But I also think we both have a lot to dissect on it. I'm certainly familiar with it and various debates, so it could be really easy."

"If that's what you want to do..."

"Is it what you want to do?"

"Anything works for me," I said, throwing her a small smile. Because anything she wanted to do, I would do too.

But she frowned, lips pressing together.

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. Let's research."

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We worked a little on our assignment every day over the following week (except Saturday and Sunday, of course). I grew used to talking to her—to her gentle voice, her banter, her minor jokes here and there about me drifting off.

By the following Friday, as I watched Olivia in the midst of her setup routine, placing her pencil case to the right, book in the middle, pens to the left, and laptop to the front, I couldn't help but wonder what she'd do if things did go askew. Because the reality was, if she were to ever get involved with me, her life would be far from normal. I was curious to know if she could handle that...