Chapter 2 - The Keychain

I curse under my breath and close my eyes, attempting to calm my erratically beating heart that threatens to burst out of my ribcage. I huff, fixating my eyes on the lean figure of my teacher, pacing back and forth along the length of the classroom. The words coming out of her mouth fail to register in my mind, despite all my efforts to comprehend her simple speech.

I can feel Jordan's eyes burning into my back. If only I knew what was going on inside his mind.

Does he think of me as a creep? Oh, no.

As I begin thinking it's impossible not to dwell on what just happened, my mind eases, finally absorbing Mrs. Robinson's words and starting to numb. I let out a yawn and lean forward, resting my lower arms on the cool surface of the desk. I'm ready—any second—to sleep right there. But then the bell rings, and Mrs. Robinson finally seals her lips, leaving the class after one disapproving glance at me.

Riley snickers, gathering her bushy hair into a large ponytail. "How long are you going to exploit her tolerance limit?" she asks with a tight-lipped smile.

I narrow my eyes. "I don't like Biology." I can't think of any other response. Half of my mind is still resting.

"I don't either. But I don't openly yawn and stretch my arms so the whole class notices."

"Oh, shut up, Riley."

The smile fades away, but she continues, "Study session at my house. Niall's in. You?"

"Pass. But you and Niall can do it without me. I have to take some tourists around. I promised my mum I'd help her."

"Are you planning on getting good grades or not?" Riley questions, her brows furrowed as if she's genuinely concerned about me. "You barely passed last semester."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," I reply, swinging my arm onto her shoulders, "This semester will be the one where I shine the brightest."

"By surfboarding the days away until finals arrive, and you're helpless and panicked, and touch my feet praying to somehow learn it all in a day?" Riley raises her brow, watching me with ridicule.

I decide I can't keep up the pretense anymore. "Okay, Riley. For real, shut up now."

Not only does she stop talking, but she also leaves the classroom immediately, pushing through a crowd of people. I roll my eyes and begin making my own way out.

I halt, however, when I hear someone call my name from behind. I turn leisurely and find Jordan walking towards me.

"Vanessa? Hey?"

I freeze, my feet glued to the ground, and my arms stop mid-air as I recollect what happened a while ago. I want to turn back and run—as fast as my feet could take me—but I know it's too late to do so. I don't want to appear rude to him.

"Hey, Jordan?" My voice comes out breathy. I close my eyes and clear my throat, but before I can say something in defense for my actions earlier, he cuts me off.

"Umm, you dropped this," he says, lowering his eyes to my tiny keychain resting on his open palm. It's a mini surfboard—a gift from Niall.

The ghost of a frown still graces his lips, his broad shoulders dropping as he leans against the wall. But there's no evidence on his face that he saw something.

It takes me some seconds to regain myself. Did he really not notice me staring at him?

"Oh, that. Thank you," I reply with a nervous grin and pull the object from his palm, tucking it quickly into my jean pocket. "Good, you saw it. It's kinda important to me."

"Looked like," he replies, his eyes going around the room, looking at everyone but me.

I take the opportunity to admire his face. He had been crying; I knew that. Even with his rheumy, amber eyes, he looks handsome as ever. His square jaw displays a little stubble, and I take a moment to appreciate that slit in his left eyebrow—it wasn't purposefully done, no. He had once picked a fight with an older guy and received that scar above his left eye.

"Okay, then. Thanks again," I tell him. His eyes sweep back to my face, and for the brief moment that our eyes meet, I feel a flutter in my chest. A smile crawls its way to my face, but I put it away before he can catch it.

"Fine," he replies and starts pacing away from me, but I catch his arm, and he halts, turning back to me.

"Jordan, I'm so sorry for your loss. Mr. Hale was a good man," I say, slowly letting go of my grip. His eyes hover over my face, confusion evident in them, but then they lower to the chain around my neck—a silver one with a crescent moon as the pendant.

Reflexively, he takes a step back. I realize what that means. I sigh, my own eyes briefly glancing at the little blood moon hanging around his exposed neck.

The confusion on his face multiplies. He keeps staring at me, and then without another word, turns and leaves.

I'm disappointed. I feel a tiny stream of rage coursing through my veins.

That was really rude of him—to leave without saying anything. Just because our packs are rivals. Not for a single moment in my life had I ever thought ill of any blood moons. I hadn't expected such behavior from him. But there's nothing I can do—my heart doesn't allow me to be angry at him, so I lock the rage I feel deep inside me and plod out of the empty classroom.