Exceptional (On Hold)

Chapter Eight

     I tugged absently at the sleeve of my dress, standing rod-straight near the Atrium’s revolving glass door. The wind picked up strands of my light brown hair, tossing it around and creating several knots. I sighed and glanced around; surely, it was far later than quarter past five? I had deigned to meet Oliver. The least he could do was actually show up.

     “Ready?”

     I rolled my eyes. “Nice try,” I said, “but you will have to do much better than that to catch me off guard.” I didn’t startle easily. I never have, although I don’t know why. I suppose I had a feeling when someone was approaching me that prevented others from surprising me.

     With a cheerful smile, Oliver replied, “Oh well. Shall we?” He offered me his arm in a rather formal fashion, and after a quick thought of why not, I complied. I had already submitted myself to a half-hour of questions, confusion, and frustration, so I may as well go through with it whole-heartedly.

     “Lydia is ever so disappointed, you know,” I commented.

     Oliver shrugged. “What matter is she to my, fair maiden?” he asked with wide-eyed innocence.

     I was not fooled. “She is my friend,” I frowned disapprovingly.

     Oliver scoffed. “Friend. You hardly know her!”

     “I hardly know you, either,” I pointed out. We entered the dining hall.

     With a sly smile, he murmured, “We should fix that.” Before I had any time to dwell on his statement, we had unlinked arms and reached the food line.

     After meandering through the line, I settled in a chair at the far end of the dining hall in a corner where I could keep an eye on everyone and avoid being a center of activity or attention. “Odd choice of place,” remarked Oliver as he joined me. I shrugged without replying and simply filled my mouth with food, hoping to avoid any conversation. If only I should be so lucky.

     An awkward, empty silence fell between us until Oliver burst out, “Oh, stop it with the silence already!”

     I looked up at his abrupt outburst and quirked an eyebrow at him. “I beg your pardon?” I said, hiding my amusement behind a cold mask.

     Curling his lip, Oliver replied, “The least you could do is speak.”

     I pointedly avoided looking in his direction, focusing instead on my meal. “I am not under any obligations to do anything.”

     “You will do exactly as I please.”

     Ordinarily, I had a very good handle on my emotions—in fact, my mother once informed me rather angrily that she suspected I was inhuman and had no emotions. Now, however, I couldn’t help but become angry. I set my fork down with unnecessary care before turning to face Oliver. His brown eyes looked at me arrogantly, a furious expression on his face. “And why,” I said slowly, deliberately, “would I ever do that?”

     With a sly smile, he replied, “Secrets are currency, love, and I have plenty.”

     There he goes again with his damn cryptic remarks, I thought crossly. “None on me, though,”

     He trailed his fingers lightly up my arm as I reached for my glass of water, sending a shiver up my spine again that I managed to suppress. “I will fix that.” The slight change in the echo of his words from earlier seemed ominous to me, though I couldn’t explain how.