She had been achingly aware of where Craeg had chosen to sit the entire class, to the point that it was almost like she had a compact open and had angled the mirror just so she could watch him watch the teacher. Which was nuts. She was pretty sure, given his Not You, Not Now speech from the night before, that he wasn’t giving her a second thought—so it seemed particularly ridiculous to waste even a nanosecond on the guy that wasn’t related to training.
Besides, it wasn’t like he’d done anything to bring notice to himself.
Not so with the other trainees. Boone had asked a lot of questions—starting with, “Why can’t I use my laptop to take notes?” To which the Brother Tohrment had replied, “Because the tap-tapping of a keyboard makes me want to get my shotgun. Do you feel like having a cranial leak tonight?” And culminating about two seconds ago with another inquiry that, frankly, helped the class.
Boone was the smart one.
Axe just sat by himself, hands steepled, brows down, not writing a thing—but the guy’s dark aura meant that even if he didn’t say much, you couldn’t help knowing he was in the room. Novo didn’t talk much either, but when she did, everyone listened. And Peyton, yes, Peyton cracked the occasional joke.
Yet it was Craeg, silent, brooding Craeg, who was the one she was tuned in to.
And p.s., she couldn’t figure out why in the hell he wasn’t getting up.
It was more than a lack of verticality, actually. He was sitting there like a deer in the headlights, staring at the blackboard like he’d forgotten how to rise out of a chair.
“Craeg?” Tohr prompted. “Have you separated from reality? Having a little vacay on me?”
Peyton got to his feet. “Lemme give it a shot,” he said, scooting out and heading around behind the counter of chemicals to the blackboard. As he picked up a piece of chalk like it was a dead spider, he glanced at the Brother. “I thought this stuff was outlawed after the turn of the century?”
“You want me to write using your face instead?” Tohr drawled.
“Are you allowed to say that to students?”
“You a good enough fighter to get me to stop?”
Peyton shook his head. “Nope. Not even close.”
“Smart answer, son. You’re going to do well.” Tohr clapped him on the back. “Why don’t you save your shy little buddy back there and show us what you know.”
Paradise looked down again at what she’d written in her notebook. Back at the beginning of the night, it had been hard to walk into the break room where everyone gathered and try to act natural around Craeg. He, on the other hand, had seemed totally nonplussed by her appearance or anyone else’s—he’d made little eye contact with anyone, and said three words tops.
It had been about what she’d expected. And yet considering the amount of energy she needed to put in to just breathing normally around him, it had seemed unfair.
Back online, she told herself. She needed to concentrate on the training stuff. It was not only appropriate, more productive, and the reason she was in the room—it was also less likely to make her go insane.
She mostly succeeded at the goal.
Two hours later, they were allowed to get up, stretch their legs, and hit the loo. She had intended to walk down to the ladies’ locker room by herself, but Novo fell into step with her.
“Mind if I ask you something?” the female said as she pushed the door open and held it for Paradise to go in first. “It’s personal.”
“Ah … sure.” She picked one of the five stalls, de-pants’d it and hit the seat—and tried not to focus on the fact that she and a relative stranger were about to pee in the same place. “What is it?”
You got this, she told her bladder.
Novo naturally had no problem. The female probably had no problem with anything.
“You ever do females?”
Paradise whipped her head toward the stall wall. Her first thought? Crap, might as well do up my pants. We’re going nowhere after that one.
“Did I shock you?” the female said with a laugh before she flushed.
There was the sound of a metal panel opening and then the running of water.
“Hello?” Novo prompted.
“Ah…” Paradise looked around as if maybe the peach metal stall walls or the white ceiling or the pale gray floor would help her out.
“So that would be a no.” There was another laugh. “I’m not surprised.”
For a moment, Paradise thought about trying to front just to keep up with the coolness Novo seemed to have in spades. But similar to getting distracted in class, that was not why she was here.
“Actually, I haven’t done anyone.”
“Yeah, I figured that, too.”
Paradise frowned. “So why did you ask?”
“I like being right.”
Staring at the gray tile at her feet, Paradise thought, What the hell. “But you do? Females, that is.”
“In the past. And males. I love who I love. The bits don’t matter to me.”
“Wow.”
Novo’s voice got sharp. “There’s nothing wrong with that, you know.”
“No, I’m not … I’m not criticizing or judging. I just think…”
“That’s dirty and wrong, right.”
Paradise thought about all the restrictions on her because she was an aristocrat. And then imagined what it would be like to simply be who and what she was, without excuses or compromises.