Chapter 118: one night without complications

Chapter 118 — One Night Without Complications

"Everyone at Moonstone has become boring," Tessa announced, flopping backwards onto Roxanne’s bed. "Isla is buried in paperwork, you are buried in Lucien, and I am buried in nothing, which is the worst of the three."

"I am not buried in Lucien," Roxanne said.

"Then you are very nicely sitting on top of him."

Roxanne threw a sock at her. Across the room, Isla lifted her head from a mountain of forms, hair stuck up where she had been pushing her fingers through it. "Please say we’re doing something. I will lose my mind if I read the word ’dependent’ once more."

"Movie night," Tessa said. "Tonight. Snacks, blankets, no studying."

"Fine," Roxanne said. "On one condition. Nobody picks a tragic romance."

"Agreed," said Isla, far too quickly. "I know the perfect film."

That should have warned her. An hour later, with blankets heaped over their knees and a bowl of popcorn balanced between them, Roxanne watched the title appear on Tessa’s small screen and sighed. It was an old werewolf melodrama, so old the colours had faded to brown, with a heroine in a nightdress who ran across a moor at every opportunity.

"This is not a romance," Isla said.

"A man just grabbed her hand and declared his soul was cursed."

"That’s a werewolf film. They all do that."

By the tenth minute, Roxanne was talking back to the screen. "She’s known him for three days. Why is she willing to die for him?"

Tessa reached for the popcorn. "Maybe she has a better personality than you."

"Then she should use it to find someone sensible."

"You’re taking fictional relationships very personally," Tessa said.

"I’m taking bad decisions personally."

"Roxanne, you demanded a romance-free evening and you’re now arguing with the television," Isla pointed out. She laughed so hard she missed the next line entirely and had to ask for it to be repeated, which only made it worse.

The knock came just as the hero, in a torn shirt, howled at the moon.

Liam leaned in without waiting, holding a battered notebook. "Isla, I’m returning this. I’m sorry it took so long. It has a coffee stain, but it’s a noble stain." He stopped. His eyes went to the screen, where the heroine was now fainting gracefully into a bush. "Is this what you are watching?"

"It’s a classic," Isla said.

"It’s a crime. I cannot allow you to suffer through such terrible entertainment without expert commentary."

"Nobody invited you," Roxanne said.

"Are you afraid I’ll improve the evening?"

"I’m afraid you’ll narrate it."

"I would never."

"Let him stay," Tessa said. "I want someone else to argue with Roxanne."

"Traitor," said Roxanne.

Liam took the most comfortable seat in the room, the armchair by the window, and the girls regretted their decision within four minutes. "Look at his face," he said, as the hero gazed tragically into a mirror. "That is the expression of a man who has just remembered he left the oven on. And now she’ll forgive him, watch. She forgives everyone. It is her only talent."

"Liam."

"And there, the dramatic pause. Count it. One, two, three. He’s thinking about his hair."

A cushion hit him squarely in the chest. He accepted it with dignity and tucked it behind his head.

He stayed until the credits, offering ever more outrageous commentary, until a message buzzed on his phone and he read it with a sigh. "Lucien requires me. Something about a form. Terrible people, my brothers." He rose, bowed to the room, and took a handful of popcorn on his way out. "Thank you for the evening. The film was dreadful. I loved every minute."

The door closed behind him, and the room felt quieter and warmer all at once.

They tidied slowly, folding blankets and tipping crumbs into the bin. Then Tessa sat cross-legged on the floor with her back against the bed and said, "What do you actually want, after Moonstone?"

"Where did that come from?" Isla asked.

"The werewolf woman wanted a cottage. It made me think."

"I want to fight," Tessa said, before anyone could answer. "Advanced pack combat. Proper tournaments. And then I’d like to be an instructor. Someone should teach it who isn’t terrible at explaining things."

"You’d be good at that," Roxanne said, and meant it.

Isla pulled a pillow into her lap. "I used to imagine working somewhere I could meet people from all the packs. Something with travel. Something with conversations." She picked at a thread. "Now I don’t even know whether I’ll finish my studies."

Nobody told her it would be fine. Roxanne reached over and squeezed her ankle through the blanket, and Isla smiled at it.

"What about you?" Tessa asked.

Roxanne considered. "I haven’t thought very far. For a long time, I was only trying to get into Moonstone and survive what happened with Dorian. That was the whole plan."

"Surviving isn’t the only thing you get to do," Isla said gently.

"I’m starting to understand that." Roxanne looked at her hands. "I think I want to find out what I’m good at. When nobody is comparing me to someone else."

"You’re good at insulting princes," said Tessa.

"It’s a start."

Tessa turned to Isla. "Have you decided what you’ll say at your family meeting?"

"I’m preparing a plan." Isla straightened. "A realistic one. Financial assistance, a campus job, a revised budget. I just can’t make myself believe they’ll say yes."

"I could look over the numbers with you," Tessa offered.

"Thank you. But I’ll ask if I need help."

Roxanne nodded and kept her mouth shut. Last week she would have already opened the folder.

"Whatever happens," Tessa said, "you don’t have to pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Not with us."

"Agreed," said Roxanne.

Isla blinked hard and nodded. "Agreed."

Roxanne picked up the last glass and started for the kitchenette at the end of the hall. She was halfway to the doorway when, somewhere far down the corridor, a metal tray hit the floor.

She had turned before the clang reached the room. Her whole body had swung toward the door, glass still held in her hand, her weight balanced on the balls of her feet as though she had been expecting it.

"What?" Tessa said, looking up, confused.

Neither of the others had so much as flinched. The sound had only just arrived for them, a faint, tinny echo through the wall. Roxanne stood very still and understood that she had moved first.

"Nothing," she said. "Quick reflexes."

"You’ve been practising," Isla said sleepily.

"Must have been the training."

She carried the glass into the kitchenette and rinsed it, and kept rinsing it for longer than necessary. Her pulse was slightly too fast. She told herself she was tired, that people sometimes anticipated things, and she did not look at it any further.

Before bed, Tessa found a sheet of paper and a marker. "We need a list. Things we want to do before graduation."

"That’s very organised of you."

"Shut up and suggest something ridiculous."

"Sneak into a royal banquet," said Roxanne.

"Win a Moonball rematch," said Tessa, writing it down. "I will not be explaining that to the Headmaster."

"Make a professor laugh during class," said Isla. "A real laugh. Not a polite one."

"Professor Wren will never laugh."

"Then we’ll find the one who will."

Isla added her own line in a smaller hand. *Finish my education on my own terms.* Nobody commented on it. Roxanne took the marker last, thought for a long moment, and wrote: *Try something I’ve never tried before, just because I want to.*

They taped the list to the wall between the beds, slightly crooked, and stood back to look at it. It was a ridiculous list. Roxanne felt a quiet, steady contentment settle in her chest. Not because every problem had gone away, but because she had a life that was bigger than the hurt Dorian had left behind.

Tessa went back to her own room, yawning. Roxanne turned off the lamp and lay down.

"Roxanne?" Isla whispered from the dark.

"Yes?"

"Promise me something?"

"What?"

"If I have to go home, don’t let me become one of those people who says ’I’ll do it someday’ until someday never comes."

Roxanne turned on her side toward the sound of her voice. "I won’t. But you have to promise me you’ll fight for the life you want before you decide you can’t have it."

There was a pause, and then, very softly, "Deal."