Chapter 74: Who Is Prettier?
Chapter 74: Chapter 74: Who Is Prettier?
Chapter 74: Who Is Prettier?
A small ice-cream cake sat inside Audra Sloane’s desk.
By the time she noticed it again, the frosting had begun to soften around the edges.
That was the part that bothered her.
When Cyrus had pressed the box into her hands that morning, the cake had been perfectly intact. The little cream rosettes had held their shape, the surface had been firm, and not a drop of melt had stained the cardboard. Yet the bakery was not close to St. Alder. He would have had to walk a noticeable distance from there to campus.
October had cooled slightly, but the mornings still carried enough warmth to ruin a frozen dessert if someone carried it around without thinking.
Had he brought an insulated bag and taken it away before giving her the cake?
Audra considered the possibility, then frowned.
Cyrus could be unexpectedly thoughtful in certain directions. He had remembered that she liked sweets, bought the cake, and kept it cold until he handed it over. At the same time, he seemed to believe a girl could finish an ice-cream cake immediately after breakfast.
The inconsistency suited him.
He was considerate in ways that made no sense, then inattentive in ways that made her wonder whether he did any thinking at all.
Audra looked over her shoulder.
Cyrus was speaking quietly with Faye Larkin near the back corner of the classroom. They kept their voices low enough that no one else could follow the conversation. Both of them had built themselves into the background so completely that the crowded room seemed to pass around them without noticing.
Faye leaned slightly toward him.
Cyrus answered with his head lowered, the dark fringe of his hair hiding most of his expression.
The sight annoyed Audra with sudden force.
He had acted as though she was inconveniencing him when he gave her the cake. He had dropped it into her hands, muttered that it was for the tutoring, and left before she could say anything useful.
Now he had time to stand in a corner talking to Faye.
Audra’s fingers tightened around the edge of her desk.
Perhaps the punishment she had given him before had been too gentle.
Cyrus lifted his head at that moment.
Their attention met across the room.
Audra looked away first, more sharply than she meant to, and returned her focus to the cake box inside the desk. She would find an opportunity later. Cyrus owed her an explanation for the strange mood he had been in all morning.
The bell rang before she could decide what form that explanation should take.
Between classes, Cyrus bought a bottle of water from the vending machine outside the classroom wing.
He did not drink it right away.
Instead, he stood along the corridor railing and looked out over the school grounds. The breeze moved through the trees beyond the quad, carrying the dry rustle of leaves that had started changing color but had not yet committed to fall.
Cyrus barely noticed any of it.
His next class was Daphne Whitlock’s.
The thought sat badly in his stomach.
He had spent the night trying not to think about her, which had only guaranteed that he thought about her every few minutes. The locked door. The phone in her hand. The way she had used his rent, the cameras, and every excuse available to corner him.
Seeing her in a classroom while she acted like a normal teacher sounded unbearable.
His humanities grades were already decent. Missing one class would not destroy his future.
That was good enough reasoning.
Cyrus turned away from the corridor and headed toward the rooftop stairwell.
He did not go all the way outside. The sun was still warm enough to make the exposed roof unpleasant, and he had no interest in sitting under direct light when the stairwell landing offered shade and privacy.
Students occasionally hid there when they wanted to skip class. Someone in his advisory had once mentioned that the nurse was easygoing about writing passes if a student showed up looking tired enough, which Cyrus had filed away as useful information.
The landing was empty when he arrived.
Cyrus sat halfway up the stairs, twisted the cap off the water bottle, and lifted it toward his mouth.
The bottle tilted.
Water missed his mouth entirely and splashed across the front of his shirt.
Cyrus lowered it and stared at the wet patch.
He had not moved that much.
With more care, he raised the bottle again. His hand was steady. The opening was right in front of his mouth. He tipped it slightly, watched the water rise, and somehow managed to spill another line of it down his chin and collar.
Cyrus froze.
The bottle remained in his hand.
His fingers were not trembling. His vision was fine. Nothing felt wrong with his balance. Yet he had failed to drink from a bottle twice in a row, which should not have been possible for someone old enough to operate a refrigerator, hold down a job, and avoid walking into doors.
Was he developing a tremor?
That seemed unlikely.
He checked his hand again, then checked the bottle as if it might have developed personal hostility toward him.
A muffled laugh drifted from the turn in the stairwell.
Cyrus looked up.
Only a pair of pale hands appeared around the corner at first. One rested against the wall. The other wore a ring with a small pink stone.
The stone caught the light.
A faint pink glimmer moved across it.
Cyrus’s thoughts broke apart.
His hand loosened around the bottle. The stairwell, the warm concrete beneath him, and the sound of distant voices through the building all slid away from immediate reach. He remained upright, but his mind had become a room filled with fog.
Audra stepped around the corner.
Watching him miss his mouth had been funnier than she expected.
The instruction she had planted the day before had worked perfectly. Cyrus had been able to see the bottle, hold it steadily, and bring it close enough to drink. His mind simply refused to judge the final distance correctly.
The Glamourkin Ring was far more useful than Audra had first understood.
It did not only make people answer questions. It could interfere with the small assumptions a person relied on without noticing. Nora’s view of Cyrus had changed. Cyrus himself had spent several minutes wondering whether he had suddenly lost the ability to drink water.
The feeling of having that kind of influence unsettled Audra.
It also made her want to test the ring again.
Cyrus had left the classroom just before Daphne’s class began. Audra had noticed the direction he took, followed at a distance, and found him in the stairwell before anyone else arrived.
His choice of hiding place made the situation easier.
No classmates were nearby. No teacher would come looking unless someone noticed his empty seat. She had enough time.
Audra approached him slowly.
Before asking anything, she removed the suggestion that had been disrupting his coordination. Cyrus’s attention did not return completely, but his hand steadied around the bottle.
Then she stopped one step below him.
"Why do you hide your face?"
Cyrus answered without lifting his head.
"Because being noticed would be inconvenient."
Audra considered that.
She understood the logic more than she wanted to admit. Being noticed followed her everywhere. People stared in the halls, approached her between classes, and found reasons to linger nearby. Attention could be flattering in small doses, but it was exhausting when it became part of every room she entered.
Cyrus’s solution was extreme.
It was also sensible.
Audra reached down and swept the loose strands of hair away from his face.
Cyrus did not react.
He sat there with the vacant stillness of a doll, water bottle in hand, while the sunlight from the stairwell window found the features he normally kept hidden.
Audra had already seen his face once.
It did not make the sight less startling.
His appearance was too precise for the image he built around himself. The lowered shoulders, black hair, plain glasses, and constant effort to look tired all worked together to make people overlook him. Without them, the disguise collapsed.
Audra’s mind supplied an unwelcome thought.
At least Nora no longer believed she had seen anything special.
The thought made her shift her attention away from his face.
She cleared her throat.
"Why are you skipping class?"
"Because of Ms. Whitlock."
Audra’s brows drew together.
"Why are you avoiding her?"
"She has become annoying."
That answer made Audra pause.
Cyrus had always been guarded around teachers, but he had not acted openly irritated by Daphne before. Whatever had happened between them, it had happened fast enough that Audra had missed it entirely.
The answer was useful.
It was also, for reasons she did not want to examine, satisfying.
Audra adjusted the cuff of her sleeve and asked the next question with deliberate calm.
"Between Ms. Whitlock and me, who bothers you more?"
"Ms. Whitlock bothers me more."
The wording caught at her.
More.
That meant Audra still bothered him.
Her expression stayed composed, but the small satisfaction from his answer thinned.
Cyrus Calder had the remarkable ability to irritate her even while answering exactly what she wanted to hear.
Audra looked at him for another moment.
Then she asked, "Between Faye and me, who bothers you more?"
"You bother me more."
Audra’s fingers curled.
She made herself breathe once before responding.
Apparently, the tutoring had not inspired enough gratitude. The cake had not improved anything. The fact that she had spent time helping him study, watching him make progress, and trying to understand what he hid behind all those lies had not bought her a place above Faye Larkin in his private ranking of annoying people.
Fine.
If he was going to be honest, she would make him be honest in a useful direction.
Audra tilted her head slightly.
"Then answer one more question."
Cyrus remained still.
Audra’s voice stayed even, though the question came out with more certainty than she intended.
"Between Faye and me, who is prettier?"