LOGINEveryone at Saint Aurelius Academy knows Lucien Vale. That’s why when the scholarship student, Eli Thorne started chasing him with handmade desserts and zero shame, the whole school waited for the disaster. But it didn't come. What nobody knew was the bet. And when the truth comes out and Eli realizes that all of it was built on something he was never supposed to find out, one question remains, What hurts more? Loving the boy who never chose you. Or leaving the only place that ever felt like home.
View More“You’re going to get eaten alive.”
“Good morning to you too.” Eli Thorne dropped his bag onto the bed nearest to the window and looked around the room. Two beds, two desks, one wardrobe that was clearly already claimed, and a view of a beautiful courtyard. He loved it at Saint Aurelius from the start.
“I’m serious.” His new roommate, Noah Beckett, according to the name card on the door, watched him unpack.
“Saint Aurelius eats transfers alive, especially scholarship kids, especially the ones who show up looking like” he gestured at all of Eli, “that.”
Eli looked down at himself, his plain white shirt, track pants, and one shoe slightly untied.
“Like what?” He said, curious.
“Like you don’t know yet,” Noah replied, with the same look on his face.
“Know what?”
Noah opened his mouth and closed it, shook his head slowly, deciding that the truth would be unkind.
“Orientation is in twenty minutes. Try not to smile at anyone too directly.” He said after a moment, raising his head to see Eli smiling at him very directly.
Noah looked pained. “Yeah. You’re going to get eaten alive.”
Saint Aurelius College sat on a hill outside the city with old buildings made of stone, with ancient architecture and everything that screamed old money.
Eli had earned his place in Saint Aurelius on a track scholarship, a full ride and a conditional performance to be reviewed every semester. So he paid attention at orientation, and he tried very hard not to get distracted.
Then Lucien Vale walked into the assembly and Eli’s plans on being careful fell apart. Lucien Vale simply walked into the assembly hall and the room rearranged itself around him all pretending not to be doing so.
He was tall, with silver cuff bracelets on both wrists, a dark blazer that perfectly fitted his slim build, and the Saint Aurelius crest on the breast pocket. He sat near the front and he didn’t look around the room the way everyone else did.
Eli stared at him for the entire forty-minute assembly, and Noah noticed around the fifteen-minute mark. He followed Eli’s gaze, and it landed on Lucien Vale.
“Lord, give me strength,” he said, pinching the space between his eyes.
“What?” Eli said, not taking his eyes off Lucien Vale.
“No,” Noah said, under his breath.
“Who is he?” Eli whispered.
“No.”
“Noah…?”
“Eli. I have known you for approximately three hours and I am already begging you. No.” Noah said hurriedly, not wanting to have the conversation further.
By lunch, Eli had a full profile, and it had not been difficult to compile. Lucien Vale was, apparently, not a secret, he was the student council vice president in his second year and heir to a family whose name appeared on several Saint Aurelis buildings.
‘He is untouchable’ those were the words three separate people used, when Eli asked about him at lunch.
“Has anyone ever actually tried to approach him?”
“Yes,” said a girl who introduced herself as Dara. “It goes badly.”
“Badly how?”
She gave him a look of genuine pity. “You’re the new track kid, right? Scholarship?”
“Yeah.”
“Then take the advice for free.” She picked up her tray. “Don’t.”
Eli ate the rest of his lunch thinking about what everyone had just said, then he went back to the dorm, found the box of baking supplies, and got to work. He was gonna make a lemon tart for Lucien Vale.
After four hours of baking, he wrapped it carefully, wrote nothing on the box because he felt a note would be either too much or too little, and went to find Lucien Vale.
It turned out to be easier than expected, Lucien stood outside the main hall at half past five, speaking to someone on his phone. He looked even better outdoors, which made Eli’s heart do a backflip.
He waited until the call ended, then he walked over, held out the box, and said;
“Hi. I made you a lemon tart.”
Lucien Vale looked at him, an assessing kind of look, like he was trying to decide if it was dangerous or simply strange. It lasted long enough that a small crowd of passing students had slowed down to watch the drama unfold.
“You made this?” Lucien said, his voice exactly as Eli had imagined from across the assembly hall.
“Yes, from scratch, I would have done a full spread, but I only had four hours and I didn’t know your preferences yet,” Eli kept his voice easy.
‘Yet’ He watched Lucien catch that word, and he was glad he didn’t stutter when he said it.
He took the box from Eli’s hands;
“You’re the new track recruit,” he said.
“Eli Thorne.” Eli extended his hand.
Lucien opened the box, glanced at the tart, and then closed it again.
“You’re aware,” Lucien said pleasantly, “that this means nothing.”
“I know.”
“That I’m not interested.”
“Okay.”
“That you’re going to be deeply embarrassed about this in approximately one week,” Lucien added.
“I really don’t think I will be.” Eli retrieved his hand, unbothered, and tucked it in his pocket.
“But I guess we’ll see.”
There was a pause, and around them, at least a dozen people had stopped pretending not to watch.
“You’re very strange,” Lucien said, squinting his eyes like he was trying to see something else.
“I’ve been told.” Eli grinned at him.
Lucien looked at him for one more moment then tucked the box under his arm.
“You’ll get bored,” he said and walked away.
Eli watched him go with a delighted expression on his face.
Behind him, Noah appeared from wherever he’d been pretending not to follow.
“He took the tart,” Eli said.
“He..” Noah stopped. “He took the tart?”
“Tucked it right under his arm.” Eli turned around, still grinning.
Noah stared at him. Then he looked in the direction Lucien had gone, then back at Eli.
“Okay,” Noah said slowly. “That’s…that is actually slightly unusual.”
“Right?”
“I’m still telling you this ends badly.”
“It’s going to end great.” Eli picked up his bag. “Is the track still open after six?”
***
“You lost,” Cassian said, sitting across from Lucien in their shared living area.
“Damn it” Lucien groaned in frustration.
“Hmm…let’s see, what should be your punishment” Cassian said, with a cocky smile across his face.
“Tomorrow morning, the first person you see when you arrive on campus.” He finally said after thinking for a while.
“You’ll date them for thirty days”
The room was quiet, Lucien seemed to be thinking for more than a moment.
“That’s absurd,” he said.
“Yes.”
“It’s childish.”
“Completely.”
Noah took the stairs two at a time, his breath rattling in his throat, the rubber soles of his trainers squeaking sharply against the cold floor. He knew exactly where he was going. He needed Cassian, which meant walking back into the room Cassian shared with Lucien. The corridor here was different from the Eastern Barracks. The carpet was thick, swallowing the sound of his frantic pace, and the air smelled faintly of expensive woodsmoke and cologne. When Noah reached the door, his hand went to the brass knob, but he froze."...I'm just saying, the blue knit suits you better," she was saying, her tone low and easy, l "The black one makes you look like you're attending a funeral.""It's a classic look," Cassian’s voice replied. It had that familiar, smooth, lazy cadence that usually made Noah’s chest ache in the dark, but right now, it sounded entirely too distant. "Besides, funerals require an effort I'm simply not willing to make on a Monday evening."Noah didn't knock. He didn't
The Council’s private archive room smelled likeb old floor wax. The room sat at the very top of the Western Wing, far away from the noisy common areas where the rest of the student body lived.Eli stood by the tall, narrow window, his hands tucked deep into the sleeves of Lucien’s blue cashmere sweater he still wore even if they left Wyoming hours ago.The cuffs were still rolled back, but the fabric was warm against his skin, a stark contrast to the draft coming off the stone casing. He turned his head slightly to look at the massive oil painting hanging above the stone fireplace. Five young men from 1898 stood in a rigid row, their wool coats buttoned to their chins, staring down at the room with a cold, absolute certainty.“The Syndicate,” Eli said, his voice flat in the quiet space. “That’s what they called themselves, right?”Lucien didn't look up from the dark oak desk in the corner. He was sitting with his shoulders slightly hunched, his long fingers carefully sorting throug
Eli stood on the wide stone porch, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of Lucien’s oversized blue sweater. Next to him, Lucien was in a rigid line, his eyes locked on the sleek black SUV as it rolled to a stop.The rear door clicked open. Daniel stepped out first, Eli noticed he was wearing a plain, faded denim jacket and dark jeans. He stood with his shoulders thrown back, seemed similar to the posture Lucien always used when he was defensive, but his eyes darted nervously across the massive facade of the estate.From the passenger side, protective eyes stepped out. This was Daniel's mother, his sole guardian, her posture sharp and alert as she reached back to touch her son's shoulder.Seraphine climbed out of the driver's seat, offering a tight, weary nod to the porch.“He looks like you,” Eli murmured, his voice low enough only for Lucien to hear. “When you’re trying to look terrifying and failing.”“I don’t fail,” Lucien muttered, though his fingers twitched against his thig
The blue cashmere sweater Lucien had pulled from his wardrobe smelled faintly of cedar.It swallowed Eli completely, the soft hem brushing his mid-thigh and the long sleeves falling well past his knuckles.“You’re swimming in it,” Lucien said, a rare, light chuckle escaping him as he watched Eli roll the cuffs back twice so his hands could actually function.“It’s a design choice,” Eli replied, flashing a grin as he smoothed down the front of the knit. “Besides, it’s warm.”They moved down the long timber hallway together, the silence of the house beginning to change as the morning sun hit the tall glass panels. Lucien didn't put on his usual stiff school wear, he remained in his simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his steps unhurried. They didn’t hold hands as they approached the common areas, but their shoulders brushed with every step.The kitchen was massive, dominated by local stone and a heavy island made of dark oak. It looked like a room that had once been the beating
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