Feral: Book One (3 page)

“Damn! You
are
in a bad mood today.”

“Sorry,” I said through a heavy sigh. “She just rubs me the wrong way. I was really hoping people would’ve forgotten, but I should’ve known better, at least when it comes to Mads. Of course, I did bait her, so in the end, I deserved it. Then again, she’d probably have found a way to bring it up again anyway. She enjoys being a bitch like that.”

Brie looped her arm through mine. “Well, don’t think about it for right now. Let’s just go get lunch, and you can tell me all about Simon Treviso, since you seem to know him.”

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling and shook my head. “There’s nothing to tell, Brie. I just met him today, and I’ll probably never lay eyes on the man ever again. I’m guessing he teaches here, probably philosophy or something. That’s all I can say, because I don’t actually know.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

“Yes, utterly,” I deadpanned. “Now, let’s go. I’m starving, and I need to keep my mind off S-Mads.”

“Smads? Who’s Smads?”

“Oh, shut up.”

TWO

We had lunch at Olive Garden, not that I would tell my father, because he and my
nonna
scoffed at the “pseudo-Italian” cuisine. I had their lobster cannelloni with shrimp and a moscato aperol, the tang of the ginger ale and orange peel a delightful contrast to the creamy pasta, and regaled Brie with what very little I knew of the attractive Simon Treviso and what theories I had about what he could potentially be teaching were he an instructor.

Afterward, we went on a little shopping spree because dealing with Madison always put me in an ill mood, and shoe shopping always cheered me up.

I found two pairs of strappy sandals I liked, one without heels and one with, and a delicious pair of knee-high boots. Thankfully, there was a sale going on, otherwise I would have never been able to afford the sexy footwear. In reality, I probably shouldn’t have purchased them, given how much money the bookstore got from me, but I could never resist shoes. All in all, though, I was having a great afternoon.

At least, until I got
his
text after arriving home.

Hey. Thnkng about u lot l8ly. Miss u. Ive changed a lot in last few mnths. U wont believe that, but its true. Wish could see u right now, but im away. Probly 4 while. Just want u 2 know i think about u. X-cole

“Oh, you have
got
to be kidding me,” I groaned into the silence of my bedroom. “Really? Ugh…I bet Mads called you, didn’t she?” I wasn’t entirely sure why I was asking these questions aloud. Yeah, I sometimes talked to myself aloud, but it was usually a stream of consciousness to work out a problem or something. This was different. It wasn’t like he could hear me and respond. “I really dislike you both, y’know that?”

I took a moment to ponder whether or not I should send a scathing reply, but in the end, I decided it would only make the situation worse. I simply deleted the text and sent one to Brie, who couldn’t believe he would have the gall to contact me after everything that had happened. She also agreed this probably had something to do with running into Madison at the bookstore.

After a short moment of contemplation, I grabbed both my
Math for Meds
book and its accompanying work manual and carried them with me to my bathroom. I had a very nice bath table to set them on, so I could read and jot down notes and fill in the answers to things I knew. Since classes started next Monday, I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Two chapters, eight different quizzes, and one refill of hot water to my cooling bath later, I was exhausted. My eyes burned, and I was yawning from sheer mental fatigue—I had forgotten how tiring studying actually was.

I refilled the tub once more with hot water, the splashing stream tickling and warming my skin, and sank down to relax. I could actually feel my muscles loosen, and I hummed in contentment as the sound of the spray and the heat seemed to rinse away the stress of the afternoon.

As I reclined, the details in the wall caught my attention and brought back so many memories. My bathroom was my favorite room, and as always, it reflected the same tone as my bedroom. When I was a child, both had been done in light pinks and lavenders, giving it a Disney princess feel. As an adolescent, they had been made over with bright colors of blues, purples, and pinks. Everything had always been hand designed and painted by my father – an artist – and worked on jointly with my mom, who also had an eye for minute details and the surgeon’s hands to carry out dad’s designs with utter grace and beauty.

Needless to say, it was with a lot of sadness that I decided to change both the semester before I left for England, but after a lot of discussion with my father, we came up with designs that we thought my mom might have enjoyed if she were alive.

Both the carpet of my bedroom and the tile of my bathroom were in similar camel shades, but where my bedroom walls were a light sandy-mauve with sponge-stippled patterns of gold and chamoisee, the small shower tiles were various and muted shades of brown, cream, mauve, gold, and ochre with the rest of the walls painted a lighter shade than the floor tile. I had then taken a creamy eggshell color and carefully brushed it in a precise direction just above the floor, making it look like waves crashing onto the beach.

But as much as I loved my bathroom, I was turning into a prune and had to get out before my skin shriveled up like the dried plums—funny how one had to be wet and the other had to have its life sucked out of it to accomplish the same effect. 

I managed to drag myself out of the tub and downstairs for some of the leftover pasta. As I sat curled up in the leather recliner, I took in the tiny changes my father had made to the living room while I was gone, all the while thinking about the beautiful Simon Treviso.

The dark wood floors had not changed and neither had the strategically placed Persian rugs. The muted walls were still the same unusual shade of orange, but a couple of old paintings were gone, substituted for some new ones that I assumed he’d painted while I was gone.  The sofa, love seat and chairs hadn’t been replaced, but they had been moved, and he’d also replaced the wood coffee tables with new ones. He’d mentioned that he was planning to try mosaic work, and I supposed they were the fruits of his labors. Their tops were made of haphazardly-cut, randomly-placed sections of variously colored stone, but they were unexpectedly attractive.

The small splashes of dark color around the furnishings brought to mind the gentleman’s hair, and the faux purple calla lilies scattered around the room in their ivory vases reminded me of his curious eyes. That particularly unusual feature was still a surprise in my mind, and if it were not for his head of dark hair, I’d wonder if he had some form of albinism.

I wasn’t entirely sure why I was still thinking of Simon Treviso after such a brief encounter. It was very likely he was a professor at the university, and to be thinking so intensely about someone in that position of power was probably unhealthy. Of course, the likelihood of him being
my
instructor was slim, but the principle still applied. And he was probably married to a modelesque beauty with two perfect children.

With a frustrated groan, I shoved a small shrimp into my mouth.

I was a relatively-grown woman, I thought, so I should not have a crush on a married man who was probably twice my age. It was ridiculous and a little bit pathetic. I mean, sure he was undeniably attractive, but that was the extent of it. I should let it go at that and not think about the beautiful human anymore.

Unfortunately, all I saw in my dreams that night were eyes the color of violets.

The rest of my week was not much better. Between stressing out about my upcoming biology course and pointlessly fantasizing about the elf-like Simon Treviso, I continued getting random texts from Cole. All of them were filled with sappy drivel about how much he missed me, how sorry he was and about how much he had changed. I staunchly disregarded every single one, but that didn’t keep my blood pressure from rising each time.

“I should have stayed in England,” I muttered.

“No, you shouldn’t’ve.” Brie’s voice was firm, allowing no room for argument as she spoke between sips of her caramel macchiato. Her green eyes flashed. “And don’t think about telling him to leave you the hell alone. If you text him back, even if it’s to tell him to get lost, he’ll still see that as you reaching out to him.”

“I know, but it’s really starting to wear on me.” I stood, tugging on my jeans where they had twisted slightly as I had squirmed, then flopped back down into the coffee shop’s plush chair. “I just don’t understand why all of a sudden he’s decided to bother me. Why now? Why didn’t he bother me with emails or something while I was in England? It just doesn’t make sense, and it’s friggin’ obnoxious.”

“I understand. I get it,” Brie said sympathetically. “Just give it a couple more weeks, and if he’s still bothering you, we can think of something else. If worse comes to worst, you can always change your number, y’know?”

“Yeah, but that’s a pain in the ass.” I shrugged and gulped down a swallow of white chocolate mocha, savoring the rich flavor. “But if I have to, I have to.”

“Good girl.”

I barely restrained myself from rolling my eyes like a teenager. “I’m not a dog, Brie.”

“I know.” Her lips twitched. “You’re more like a sulking kitten that lost its string.”

“You can be traded for a new best friend, y’know,” I retorted smugly.

“I could, but I won’t.”

“You seem very sure of yourself.”

“I’m always sure of myself when it comes to you.”

The red-head grinned and winked about the time I went to take another sip of my coffee, causing me to laugh and nearly choke on my drink. “Thanks. I appreciate your subtle attempts at homicide.”

“As always, you’re welcome.”

We continued talking and joking with each other for about half an hour, when my phone started blaring the Statler Brothers’
Atlanta Blue
, the deep voice of Don Reid soothing to my ears.

I lifted the gadget to glance at the name and number, and frowned. “Oh good Lord,” I mumbled before sliding my phone for my friend to view. “I don’t even want to read it. It might make me ill.” I waited until her eyes went wide for a split moment before narrowing. “What does he want this time?”

She snorted on her coffee. “Well apparently, he’s been doing some bird watching,” she managed in a deceptively flat tone. “Something about wings and you flying free.” She pushed a couple of buttons before sliding it back to me. “It looked like he was trying to rip off some naturist poetry or something.”

I glanced back at the screen, finding it devoid of any messages. “Thanks.”

“What’re friends for?”

I received several texts before the weekend was through, and to my horror, I received one while I was in the shower early Monday morning. I was getting more and more, my silence not putting Cole off in the slightest it seemed. “Honestly,” I mumbled to myself, “take a hint.” I dropped the phone back onto the marble counter top, then quickly blew my hair dry before pulling it up into a messy bun and applying tinted moisturizer and some lip gloss.

I stared into the depths of my closet trying to decide what to wear, before giving up in frustration and selecting a billowy toffee-colored top. With its splashes of chestnut, terra cotta and wine, it would hopefully compliment my eyes. I threw on a pair of white shorts – a concession to the Southern summer heat – and checked myself out in the mirror.

Deciding I looked as good as I was possibly going to, I grabbed my keys and dragged my rolling bag with me down the hall to snatch a cereal bar from the counter. “I’ll see you later tonight,” I called back to my father before striding out the door to my old, blue Focus.

I should’ve realized by the no-longer-random texts from Cole during my morning routine that my day was going to turn out to be one giant mess.

After calculating I had enough time to swing through Starbucks and get an iced caffè

mocha, I ended up stomping on my brakes to let a cat finish crossing the road—what could I say? I was an animal lover—and the icy drink splashed from its open top onto the side of my thigh, making me flinch at the sudden chill and the quickly setting stain on the hem of my shorts. I grabbed for some napkins I’d shoved in the console.

Maybe it was what I deserved for taking the lid off to suck out the whipped cream out in the first place. If that wasn’t bad enough, I got stuck behind the slowest train in America and a three-car wreck.

I was going to be late, and the colorful expletives pouring from my mouth seemed to be the only relief I had available from my current situation, especially since I had Bahr. I’d heard rumors that he was a pretty big hard-ass, and even though it was the first day of class, usually a time when most instructors just went over their syllabi and expectations, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be thrilled to see a student coming in even a few minutes late, much less ten or fifteen.

Thankfully, when I rushed, I found the room devoid of anyone who looked like they might be in charge of the growing congregation. On the downside, there was Madison, front and center, ready to take notes and kiss ass as best she could.