It had been a hard few months.
Instead of heading home to Canada for Christmas, I attended a conference in downtown San Francisco alongside other classmates from Silicon Valley Prep. The brightest minds from all over North America gathered to show off their latest innovations, and you had to be dead inside to not be inspired. During the sleepless nights between the conference days, I laid awake and tried to deduce how each invention actually worked. I loved puzzles, but I preferred answers. Failure to understand frustrated me to no end.
When our next semester started in January, my mind was still abuzz with everything I saw at the conference. I jumped into our specialized curriculum with renewed vigor. Unlike the kids at my old school, I loved learning. It helped me understand our world and the rules that govern it. And at Silicon Valley Prep, I wasn’t alone in that sentiment. I was surrounded by brilliance, and I knew I had to work hard to keep up.
I barely remember the early months of the year. Between soccer starting back up, independent study projects, student council, and my normal class schedule, I barely had a single moment to myself. While I didn’t think much of it at the time, I barely saw my father during those months. Our differing schedules usually meant that he’d leave early and come home late, but his hours seemed to get longer and longer.
Just a new semester, I told myself, Must be a big adjustment for him. He was a professor and a researcher across the Bay-- his job soaked up a ton of his time.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was avoiding me. Thankfully, he still kept the meal and grocery deliveries coming so neither of us went hungry, but I was basically on my own for weeks on end. I do my best work solo, so I ended up being very productive on school projects. But I missed my dad-- I missed my whole family. My twin brother and I hadn’t talked in forever, and I worried that skipping Christmas again damaged our relationship beyond repair. It wasn’t unusual to go months without hearing from him, but something felt different this time.
Then everything changed; I found out my brother was dead.
And my dad had known for months.
My mental stability capsized.
I started to hate being at the apartment, so I spent more time at school. It was the only place I felt comfortable enough to think, and it helped me focus on the problems right in front of me instead of wallowing. Still, I couldn’t fully escape the intrusive thoughts. Grayson’s death weighed on me, but it wasn’t a normal type of grieving. It was how he died, and why. The world around me felt unfamiliar and dangerous.
It made me question everything I’d been learning about math and science, but it stoked the embers of curiosity. I had so many questions, but no one seemed to have the answers. At least none they were willing to give me.
Despite spending more time on campus, my grades started to slip. I stopped participating in the student council. I zoned out on the soccer field and earned myself an injury along with a spot on the bench. And I just couldn’t bring myself to dedicate serious time to my assignments. They seemed… frivolous, in the face of everything I’d learned. But I needed my diploma. I went from an ‘A’ average to a ‘B Minus.’ I might have been crashing out, but I couldn’t stomach anything lower than that.
When I wasn’t studying, I’d try to map out my thoughts-- make sense of everything I’d learned about Grayson’s death. But every time I started to wrap my head around something, the overall picture became more confounding. It was like trying to count the stars; deceptively simple at first, but the longer you stare, the more you see, and the more you realize your insignificance in this uncaring universe.
It was the last day of school when I met a fellow stargazer, though I didn’t know it at the time.
My last exam, English, was in four hours and I was absolutely dreading it. English was always my least favourite subject, but even more so since coming to Silicon Valley Prep. We were here to redefine the cutting-edge of math, science, and tech, not argue back and forth about what a dead author meant in a book published decades ago. Solving a problem and having a provable right answer scratched an itch in my brain that the subjectivity of English didn’t allow for. It was frustrating, and it forced me to grapple with things I didn’t-- couldn’t-- understand.
But I had to pass the class.
The few friends I still had already completed their terms and were enjoying summer vacation. Even when I was done here, I knew I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the break like the rest of them. In fact, I’d have preferred to stay exactly where I was the entire summer; at my quiet study table in our expansive library with the sun beaming through the wall of windows. This was my happy place, and I dreaded having to leave it behind.
Realizing I needed a quote from a book I skimmed through at the beginning of term, I peeled myself off my seat. Sighing, already exhausted from this exam, I plodded over to the shelves.
I was deep in the bottom shelves, when an unfamiliar voice commanded my attention.
“Need some help?” a male’s voice said from the left.
Oh no, I worried to myself. Unplanned interaction. And with a guy no less. That was something I did not prepare for.
I steeled myself while I got to my feet before turning to assess the situation. Unfortunately, it was worse than I initially thought; he was hot.
His skin was the shade of sand, but unlike the beach, it was beautifully smooth. He stood a good six inches taller than me, but we found ourselves at eye-level, as he was casually resting part of his broad frame on the shelf. His hair was dark and voluminous, but not in an unruly way. It fell easily over his ears, and I suspected the few strands that fell in front of his gleaming, hazel eyes, were purposeful. He had well-maintained eyebrows that were clearly plucked not long ago. They helped accentuate his striking facial features. The smile, stretched across his sharp jaw, turned from curious to mischievous as I sized him up and picked what words would next come from my mouth.
“You don’t even know what I’m looking for.” I’d never seen him in the halls, but that was a secondary concern.
“Do you know what you’re looking for?” he shot back. Quick on his feet, this one. I found it frustrating.
“Yes,” I said simply, nodding to emphasize my point. I immediately turned back to the shelf, staring directly forward. But I could feel his eyes still on me. His lingering gaze made my face burn and activated my fight or flight instinct. A classic combination.
I pretended to browse the shelf, hoping he would get the message that I wasn’t looking to chat. Seconds later, he said, “I know what you’re looking for. And I’m right here.”
Of course that’s what this was. This guy couldn’t be older than eighteen-- which is old enough to know not to bother a girl in public with a terrible pickup line. One could get lost in his honeyed voice, but not me.
While keeping my eyes glued forward, I spoke quickly and firmly, “I’m not interested, but thank you.” Just like I practiced.
“It’s not like that,” he said, leaning into a half-step forward in my direction. My entire body was sounding the alarm. “I have information.” As if he knew that would catch my attention, he leaned in closer so I could feel the warmth of his breath on my neck. He was so close, his nose grazed my outer ear as he whispered, “About Redrania.”
A spark ignited inside of me. My eyes might as well have been popping out of their sockets. I wheeled around to face him, and his smile told me that he got the reaction he was expecting. “Talk,” I ordered, before my mouth continued speaking. “Who are you?”
“My name is Dominic.” I liked how he said his name, which pissed me off. “And you are?”
There was no way in hell I was giving him my real name. Considering he was trespassing on school grounds, I figured I could get away with my usual alias. “Grace,” I said.
He smirked. I couldn’t tell if that was because he thought he got what he wanted, or if he knew I was lying. “Well Grace, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Wish I could say the same, was what I wanted to say. But the words didn’t bubble to the surface quick enough, and my mouth moved on to its next question. “Why are you here?”
The glint in his eye brightened as I realized there was only a few inches between us. Our noses were basically touching. “To see you,” he said.
I took a step backwards to take the breathing room I needed. “Why are you actually here?”
He eyed the new space in between us, silently calculating if he should close it. But he stayed in place and returned his eyes to mine. “That is why I’m actually here,” he told me. “I’m here to ask you about a book.”
My entire body went cold. Dominic already knew more than I could have expected, there was no way he knew about the book too. He couldn’t.
“There’s plenty around. We have the biggest library in the state,” I said, motioning to the sea of shelves.
He chuckled, telling me he was not going to let me distract from his line of questioning. “Not the kind you find in a library. I doubt it would fit on a shelf. This is a special book-- larger.” Intent flickered behind his eyes, but I was too distracted by their colour to analyze their motives. That being said, if he was after the book I thought he was, I didn’t need analysis-- I needed an escape. But I was rooted in place, and he was leaning forward again. “This book is… powerful. Ancient.” His sweet voice turned stale as he made deliberate and piercing eye contact with me. “And I think you might know where I can find it.”
I was grateful he wasn’t standing any closer, else he would have been able to feel my heart beating faster than a hummingbird’s wings. It wasn’t just because of the smell of surf wafting off his clothes; I was a bad liar, and my heart rate gave it away.
“I can’t help you,” I said, forcing as much firmness into my voice as I could. Technically not a lie, but not the full truth either. But I didn’t owe this guy anything.
He tilted his chin upwards, ever so slightly. Goosebumps sprang up as he gave me a once over, seemingly trying to decide if he wanted to believe me or not. For what felt like hours, his eyes danced over my figure. In response, my heart threatened to explode out of stress. This kind of intense attention, from guys especially, freaked me out. Still, a part of me wondered if he liked what he saw. Not that I cared.
“That’s a shame,” he said after several, long, painful, seconds. He turned on his heels and started to make his way to the exit. Before he walked off, he looked over his shoulder and flashed me a practiced smile. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around… Grace.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, I deeply exhaled. The tension in my body started to ease, but I had to remind myself, He could still be around here.
I returned to my study table, but it no longer felt safe. His scent lingered in my nose and his words echoed in my ear, making it impossible to focus on studying. It didn’t help that I completely forgot to grab the book I was looking for from the shelf.
When I left school a few hours later, I didn’t feel any relief. Not only did I definitely bomb the exam, but I now had to go home and face reality. I tried to drown out my worries with music while the tram slowly carried me back to my apartment.
I lived in one of those multiple-unit, colonial-style buildings that lined the Bay Area streets. Dad found it for a good price once I got into school, and it had been our home for the past few years. The lobby had enough room for a few chairs and a reception desk, though no one was ever behind it. The orange glow of the overhead lighting reminded me of the sunset, making it relatively cozy to come back to.
Relatively. The past few months, crossing the lobby just filled me with dread. I knew what waited for me on the third floor. I made my way to the end of the lobby and turned the corner to climb the tucked-away stairs. I ascended, each step feeling heavier than the last.
I made it to the top and faced my doorway. I reached for the knob, but as my fingers grazed the brass, I pulled my hand away. I couldn’t go in there and see him. Not yet. I chewed at my lip and did a 180-degree pivot to the door opposite to ours.
They’ll be a step up from dad, anyway, I told myself, And I should tell them about Dominic.
I sighed, not wanting to relive the library conversation, but I knew it was inevitable.
After a quick series of knocks, I heard some muffled movement, and within seconds, the door creaked open. I was greeted by a warm, though strained, smile.
“Hey,” Mac Parnell said as he moved clear of the entryway. “Come on in. Violet’s almost done floating above the couch.”
