Grace's Bookstore

Chapter 6

Coward. Coward. Coward. His inner voice echoed in his head as he ran. Well, he wasn't really running. That's embarrassing. He was speed walking, really walking quick, with occasional glances over his shoulder. He expected to see Damien looming like the long shadows of night, shapes twisted into monsters by the imagination, but there was no one to be seen. Damien wasn't following him, and he felt a deep relief at the thought of safety.

He yanked open the door to the cafeteria and glanced quickly around, swift steps stalling briefly as he looked for Damien as if he had somehow beat him here, before he made his way through the long lines and crowds and sat at their usual table, slumping into his seat and setting his head against cold wood to calm his racing heart.

"Every time I see you, you're on the run." Mare said, watching him inquisitively. He nodded slightly, forehead still flat on the table, and she glanced at Caro. The table was nearly full, missing only two now that Noah was here, and Copper nibbled on a strawberry, watching Noah slump beside them with increasing concern.

"Are you ok?" They asked, tilting their head. They always packed their lunch, but the meals changed daily. Today there was a bottle of water, ravioli in a multi-thermos, strawberries in a container, and a pair of chocolate chip cookies. The ravioli was steaming, reheated in the thermos, and they had left it briefly to cool, sampling the fresh strawberries, gift from Mare, instead.

"No." Noah mumbled. He picked his head up, eyes sliding to a door, and his brown gaze met Damien's black one. His eyes were infinitely deep, like the void, and nothing seemed to escape from them, even Noah. The brunette couldn't bring himself to look away as they held eyes over the cafeteria.

Damien blinked, broke the trance, and disappeared into the crowds, leaving Noah to bring himself back to reality. That moment had stretched into dozens, laying over itself a million times and burning away hours in his head, so it came as a shock when he brought himself back to the table and found only seconds had ticked by. All eyes were on him, and he gulped, throat suddenly dry. "Um..." he swallowed a lump in his throat, tried for a smile. "What? Sorry."

The three shared glances before Caro spoke. "Ok." Was all he said. "Come get lunch with me."

Noah sighed and rose to his feet, pushing back his chair and crossing to stand beside Caro. His friend led him into one of the lines, this one short as people wandered to their seats, and Noah stood quietly, lost in his thoughts, as Caro's eyes flipped over the room and all the people inside it. They had divided lunch, seven different lunch periods as each floor went to lunch at staggered intervals.

When they got to the end of the line, Noah requested lasagna. His voice was quiet, but he offered a smile, said please and thank you, and grabbed a tube of water and an apple with dew on its crisp red skin. The lunch lady, a portly young woman with blue eyes, smiled in return. Caro got a warm slice of pepperoni pizza, greasy, with crunchy pepperoni, sauce that was still piping hot, and stretching cheese.

Unable to help himself, Noah let his gaze slide to Damien's table. His gaze caught as Caro walked away, unaware of the stalling of his friend, and Noah watched Damien hold court. He sat with his spine straight, blizzard white teeth flashing in a laugh, eyes crinkling in a grin as his dimples curved over his mocha skin. His black outfit clung to him, clung to his muscular frame and sharp and rigid lines, and he wore the simple jeans and t-shirt like a king wore a crown or a priest wore robes. He looked regal, warm and chiseled from marble and so flawlessly perfect Noah could scream in frustration. There was no way this could be considered fair, when Damien looked like that, all sharp and disastrously beautiful, surrounded by fawning fans and lined with muscles as sharp as daggers and smooth as pebbles on the beach. Noah stared, slack-jawed, at Damien, unable to stop or control himself. He looked so calm and at ease, food already set before him, probably by someone seeking to curry his favor. Pristine as a young god surrounded by his staggering throngs of worshippers, Damien reigned over the cafeteria.