Home > Love Bleeds (Blood and Snow #9)(8)

Love Bleeds (Blood and Snow #9)(8)
Author: RaShelle Workman

"Trust me, it'll be easy. I'm sure you noticed a difference at school." Professor Pops slid back in his seat, and crossed his legs.

That was true. The classes were easier, which would make it worse if I failed the test. "I don't know. What if I flunk?"

Dorian said, "You won't, Snow." All of the guys voiced their agreement.

I studied them, feeling warmth spread through my veins, my heart, my soul. "I'm so lucky to have you guys." I'd meant to only think the words.

Daniel said, "We're lucky to have you, Snow. And you can do this."

I nodded. "Alright, I'll give it a try."

"Good. We'll get it taken care of right away. Then it's party time," Professor Pops said, shaking his jazz hands above his head.

The guys and I burst out laughing. But his excitement did bring up a question.

"What did you tell everyone was wrong with me?" I doubted too many people from school noticed I was gone. And now most of them were graduated and probably moved on with their lives.

"We told them you had a severe case of mononucleosis," Daniel said, trying really hard not to laugh.

"You saw more lip action asleep then any of us," Dorian added.

I glared through my blush. That was highly unlikely. To Professor Pops, I said, "And they believed that?"

"Of course. When the Professor of Religions from Harvard University says something, everyone listens," Sebastian chimed in.

Professor Pops cleared his throat, flicking a piece of lint on his pants. Had he used his powers of persuasion on the doctors, nurses, the people of Salem who may have noticed I'd gone missing? That would've been a lot of work.

"Everything is taken care of," Professor Pops said.

I shrugged. "Okay."

"I have a meeting with the chayot council members. They'll want to know what's going on." Gabe rose, and left the room without a glance, or a good-bye.

Chapter 10

After Gabe left, I looked at the clock. It was late, after midnight. I wondered if Christopher waited in the darkness. "I'm going to go to bed," I said, glancing at Professor Pops. It's been a long day."

"Agreed."

I stood. The brothers and Professor Pops followed.

"Um, did you want me to go back to my place?" For some reason tears sprang into my eyes at the idea. I was comfortable here. Home. My house would be lonely.

"Pish. Posh," Salvatore said.

"If you'd like, we'd love to have you stay. Your dad's house has been empty for several months. I have a service keep it clean. Thankfully, your stepmother took all of her Disney stuff, so it's quite empty."

"I'd love to stay. I hoped you'd ask," I said, wishing my hair could cover my face, hide the tears.

"You better. My room is all girly now. It even stinks like girl. I can't go back. A man needs his man smells," Dorian said, hugging me.

I laughed. "But where are you sleeping?" I hadn't considered where his stuff was moved.

"In the upstairs library." His eyes gleamed with mischief. I knew why. The inner library wall, which looked unassuming enough, hid a secret passageway. I'd forgotten all about it. Professor Pops had a large tube-slide installed. It took us into a hidden room in the basement. The brothers and I played in there for hours on cold, winter days.

"Is the room big enough for you?" I asked.

"Plenty big."

"You sure?"

"It's the perfect size."

"Okay. Well, goodnight."

Each brother (except Gabe, who'd left-again) hugged me. As they did, I focused on the words they spoke while my body lay motionless. I blushed at the memories of their kisses, their secret confessions.

When it was Daniel's turn, I whispered, "You're in love? I want to hear all about her sometime."

He moved back, his complexion turned the color of red roses. "Sounds like a plan."

I gave Dorian one more look. "Positive?"

"Yes. Now go. Get some rest." He gave me a little shove toward the door.

"Fine. I'm going."

I walked slowly, admiring the pictures hanging on the walls in the hall. Each boy had five framed pictures. I watched them grow, their faces aging with each new picture. I reached the stairs, and climbed. Gatsby's padded behind, rubbing his body against my calves.

"Thanks, boy," I said softly, happy he hadn't forgotten me.

When I reached the room that used to be Dorian's, I went in, locking the door.

The bathroom was perfectly cleaned, and my white nightgown was gone. I hadn't seen a drawer with pajamas, but then I hadn't looked in them all.

On my way to the closet I noticed the dresser Dorian pulled my clothes from. After opening several drawers, it became apparent they were empty, except the outfit he'd so dramatically grabbed for me. In the closet, and after several tries, I found PJ's.

With all the red everywhere, I kind of missed purple. My mother's favorite color. I put on silky purple bottoms, and a matching tank. In the bathroom I took out my braid, and brushed my teeth, rinsing my mouth with Scope.

Gatsby was curled in a ball on the love seat, eyeing me curiously. The cake stain near my bed was completely gone. "Impressive," I said, turning on the bedside lamp, and then shutting off the lights. I moved the pillows, and climbed under the covers.

My fingers trembled, and I knew why. I hoped Christopher showed.

Would he, I wondered.

I didn't have to wait long for my answer. He was at my window, and tapped once before pushing it opened.

Gatsby arched his back, and hissed.

"Hush," I scolded him.

In answer, he stuck his nose in the air, and moved to the other side of the loveseat.

"Hey," Christopher said.

I pushed myself into a sitting position, tucking my hair behind my ears, and organizing the bedding. "Hi."

He wore the clothes I'd seen him in earlier, and I felt very underdressed. "I shouldn't have changed," I said, pulling the covers to my neck.

He sat on the bed next to me, and gently pushed the covers away. "You look perfect," he said, his eyes shining with appreciation.

I forced myself not to blush. "Thank you."

He slid off his boots, and pulled his shirt from his jeans. "Better?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered, nervously running my hands through my hair.

   
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