Chapter 3 #3

Chapter 3

~ Jade ~

The eye contact went on about three seconds longer than was strictly socially acceptable.

Arthur and I stood there in the canteen doorway, our conversation technically finished, but neither of us quite moving. Then he cleared his throat, glanced at the chaos of the room behind me, and gave me one more of those effortless smiles.

"It was really nice to meet you, Jade," he said.

"You too," I managed.

"If you need someone to show you the ropes, I’m usually pretty easy to find."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said, trying to sound cool and not like a girl who was mentally drafting a frantic text to her best friend.

"Good." One last easy grin. "I’ll see you around."

"See you around," I echoed.

And then he was gone, threading through the crowd with the grace of someone who knew exactly where he belonged. I watched him for exactly two seconds. Every instinct I had screamed follow him! Figure out where he sits, who his friends are, what he eats—everything Ashley demanded.

But I had to be smart. If I was going to be a temporary stalker, I had to be a professional one. Following a guy thirty seconds after meeting him wasn't "intelligence gathering." It was just creepy.

I turned back toward the food line, feeling pretty good about my self-control, and walked directly into a pair of eyes that were already pinned on me.

Extremely, unsettlingly, impossibly blue eyes.

I actually flinched. The intensity of his gaze felt like he was analyzing my entire DNA sequence. He was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, and he stood out in that crowded canteen the way a lit match stands out in a pitch-black room. Dark hair, slightly messy. Lips a shade too red against his pale skin. He was tall enough to have a clear line of sight over the sea of students, and he was using every inch of that height to stare directly at me.

Lancelot.

First the airport terminal. Then English class. Now this.

He was standing across the room with an expression I couldn't read—and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to.

I looked away immediately. I grabbed a tray and gave the mystery meat at the food counter my full, undivided attention. Do not look back, I told myself. He is not your concern. He is just a strange boy with a personal space issue. Get your food. Find a seat. Focus.

But I couldn't help it. My head turned like it was on a spring.

He was still staring. Unblinking. It wasn't the hostile look from the airport or this morning; it was harder to dismiss. It was like he was trying to solve a complicated math equation and I was the missing variable.

I turned back to the counter so fast I nearly sent my tray flying. Okay, that was creepy. Objectively, clinically, non-negotiably creepy.

I paid for my lunch, found a lonely table near the window, and opened my book. I started eating with the aggressive energy of someone who was definitely not thinking about blue eyes. I had managed about three bites before a burst of annoying, mocking laughter caught my ear.

A group of boys had gathered near the side wall, forming one of those tight circles that usually means something bad is happening in the middle. I scanned the group automatically, looking for the target—and then I saw the jacket.

Navy blue. Fraying cuff on the left sleeve.

I’d watched Obed put that jacket on this morning.

I was on my feet before I even finished the thought. I sprinted across the canteen, shoving through the edge of the circle, and arrived just as one of the boys pulled back a fist and drove it hard into my brother’s jaw.

"Hey!" The scream tore out of my throat. I shoved the nearest guy hard enough to send him stumbling. "What is wrong with you? Get away from him!"

Obed’s head had snapped to the side from the impact. He straightened slowly, pressing the back of his hand to his face, looking at me with a mix of relief and total mortification.

The boys turned on me. The one who had thrown the punch gave me a slow, greasy smile as he scanned me from head to toe. "Well, well. Feisty." He looked back at Obed. "Who’s this? Your girlfriend?"

"His sister," I snapped. My voice was steady, which was a miracle considering my hands were shaking like leaves. "And if you touch him again…"

"You'll what?" He took a step toward me, looming over us.

I held my ground, genuinely prepared to go down swinging and make this a catastrophe for everyone, when the air in the room suddenly shifted. It was like the temperature dropped ten degrees.

One second the boys were closing in; the next, they were stumbling backward. Two of them were literally lifted off their feet before hitting the floor with a heavy, graceless thud. The others scrambled back, their "tough guy" acts evaporating instantly. The leader wasn't smiling anymore.

Nobody said a word. They just grabbed their friends and bolted.

Just like that, it was over.

I stood there, heart hammering against my ribs, as Obed gingerly tested his jaw. I looked up to see who had intervened.

Lancelot.

He wasn't even out of breath. He stood with his hands loose at his sides, watching the retreating bullies with an expression somewhere between bored and satisfied. Then his gaze shifted to me. Just for a split second, something flickered across his face before it went back to a blank mask.

"Thank you," I said. Regardless of his weirdness, it was the truth.

He didn't answer. He just held my gaze for one long, unreadable second. Then he looked at Obed. "You alright?"

Obed blinked, looking as stunned as I felt. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, I'm good. You're so cool, man!"

Lancelot gave a short nod, as if that settled the matter, and looked back at me. That same unnameable look from this morning returned to his eyes. I was about to properly introduce myself when I caught sight of the name on his shirt.

LANCELOT FLETCHER.

What the… Lancelot Fletcher. Arthur Fletcher. They were brothers?

My life was officially a cosmic joke. Arthur was the dream; Lancelot was the nightmare. And I was stuck right in the middle of the Fletcher family tree.

He turned and walked away and I would have sworn that he disappeared right in my face the moment I blinked because I couldn't find him anymore.

"Jade?" Obed’s voice pulled me back to reality. "You okay?"

"Yeah." I shook my head, trying to clear the fog. "Yeah, I'm fine. Are you okay?"

He touched his jaw. "I've had worse."

The flat, casual way he said it made my heart ache. He was only sixteen. He shouldn't be used to "worse."

"Come on," I said, putting a hand on his arm. "Let's go to the nurse."

"I'm fine, Jade."

"You’re not fine. You just got punched in the face." I looked him in the eye. "Please. Just let me help."

Something in his expression cracked. Just for a second, he looked like my little brother again. "Okay," he whispered.

As we walked out, I tried to ignore the nagging thought that Lancelot had just scattered those boys like they were made of paper. My brain—which is apparently a bit of a brat—tried to suggest he did it because he liked me.

Get it together, Jade, I scolded myself. I had to focus. I had a mission for Ashley. I had to deliver the "gift" of Arthur Fletcher, and I wasn't going to let a pair of hauntingly blue eyes distract me from that.

Even if they were the most intense eyes I’d ever seen.