A Sit With Ryan Blackwoods

Elena's POV 

“No, Cara. I’m not doing it.”

I stand in front of my sister with arms crossed trying to make my voice sound firm. She’s leaning against her dresser flipping her hair like this is nothing serious.

“Elena please,” she whines, dragging out the word like it’ll help. “It’s just one class. One tiny class. You’ll be in and out before anyone notices.”

“You’re in the senior class, Cara. I’m not even close to that level. What if someone figures it out?”

She rolls her eyes. 

“No one’s going to notice. The lecture hall is huge and half the students are barely attentive anyway.”

“Cara…” I rub my forehead. “I can’t. This is your mess.”

“Oh really?” she says, tilting her head. “Because I don’t remember you saying that when I covered for you last semester after you missed your curfew. Or when I helped you finish your art project. Or when I...”

“Okay, okay, stop,” I interrupt before she lists her entire resume of good deeds.

She smiles smugly. 

“Thought so.”

“That’s not fair,” I mutter.

She shrugs. 

“Life’s not fair, baby sister. Now do me this one favor, yeah?”

I sigh. 

“What’s even the reason?”

“Professor Crane said attendance today is compulsory,” she says, pacing the room. “If I miss it, I fail the module. You know how Dad gets when I fail something.”

I blink at her. 

“So you want me to get caught instead?”

“Elena, don’t be so dramatic. You won’t get caught. All you have to do is sit in class, write my name on the attendance sheet and leave quietly.”

I shake my head. 

“No. I have my own classes. If I skip, I’ll get in trouble too.”

She stops and turns to me with that familiar manipulative glint in her eyes. 

“Remember when I lied to mom for you last month?”

“Oh my God, you’re using that against me again?”

She smirks. 

“I’m reminding you that I’m a great sister who deserves a little help in return.”

Cara is always like that. The girl can actually manipulate her way out of anything or get whatever she wants out of anybody and today she's decided to use her skills on me of all people.

I groan. 

“Cara, this is insane.”

“Elena please,” she says softly with her tone switching to guilt mode now. “I’d do it for you.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. But you’ll still do it.”

I stare at her for a long second. Her eyes are big and pleading with her lips forming that annoying pout that somehow always works. I hate that I’m the soft one.

“Fine,” I mumble. “But this is the last time, Cara.”

She beams instantly like a switch just flipped. 

“You’re the best! Seriously, I owe you.”

“Yeah, sure you do,” I say dryly.

She claps her hands once. 

“Okay, listen. Just wear something casual...like blend in. Hoodies work. No one pays attention to faces in that class, trust me.”

“Trust you?” I scoff. “That’s how people die in movies.”

She ignores me completely, tossing me her student ID. 

“You’ll be fine. Just go, sign my name and leave.”

The way she puts it makes it seem and sound so easy but to be honest it feels like I'm prepping to rob a damn bank!

I watch her walk out with that satisfied little smirk and mutter under my breath, “This is a damn mistake.”

***

Ten minutes later, I’m walking through the long halls of Blackwood University with my hoodie pulled low and Cara’s ID card hanging around my neck.

Every step feels heavier than it should and I keep imagining all the ways this could go wrong with the professor recognizing me, someone calling me out or worse… Mom finding out.

By the time I reach the senior lecture hall my nerves are everywhere and the moment I push the door open, noise bursts out from there to greet me.

Students are laughing, shouting and throwing paper balls. Someone’s even eating chips in the middle of class and I blink in surprise. 

“And these are supposed to be seniors?” I mutter to myself.

I scan the room for a quiet spot. Most seats are taken by loud groups. I just need somewhere I can sit, keep my head down and leave unnoticed.

Then I see him at the far corner near the window.

He's just a guy sitting alone with his head bent slightly as he writes in a notebook. He’s got messy black hair that falls just over his blue eyes and he’s wearing a dark hoodie. There’s something calm about him.. quiet but not weak.

Perfect.

I hurry toward the seat beside him and sit down quickly pulling my hoodie tighter around my face and for about two seconds, it feels fine then I notice the room goes quiet.. way too quiet.

I frown and glance up. Every single person in that class is staring. Some are whispering and some are flat-out gawking.

“What?” I whisper under my breath.

I look at the guy next to me. He hasn’t even looked up. He’s just tapping his pen slowly like he doesn’t notice the silence around us. Then I hear someone whisper from behind, 

“She’s sitting next to him.”

Another person gasps softly and my heartbeat picks up. What’s going on?

I glance sideways again...and that’s when I notice it.

The tattoos peeking from under his long sleeves and wrapping around his wrist like dark vines colorfully and dangerously.

My breath catches. Wait. No. It can’t be but the more I look, the more certain I am.

The hair.. the eyes and the tattoos. It’s him! It's Ryan fucking Blackwood!

The infamous tattoo boy. The name every student at Blackwood University whispers about. The trouble everyone warns you to stay away from and I just sat next to him.

“Oh my God,” I whisper with panic rising.

I start to get up, ready to bolt for the door before anyone can notice but before I can even move an inch his hand shoots out and wraps around mine.

His grip is firm, warm and steady. He doesn’t even look up at first then in a low and calm voice he mutters…

“Stay.”