Chapter 28 28- Never Admit How Much You Like Him
LEXI
The words land in the sudden silence. My arm still hangs uselessly at my side, numb and dripping, but at least I’ve said it. At least it’s out there. Professor Matthews looks between the three of us, his gaze sharp and assessing.
“Why would she-” He begins, then stops himself mid-sentence. He exhales through his nose, clearly shelving the question rather than abandoning it.
“Look. That’s a matter for another time. Right now, we need to get you to the infirmary. Immediately.” He says firmly. My stomach drops.
“B- but this is just numbing salve. It shouldn’t hurt me… Right?” I say, my voice wobbling despite my attempt to keep it steady. He hesitates. Just for half a second. That half second is too long. My heart slams into overdrive. My chest tightens like something invisible is cinching it closed, and suddenly breathing feels… Difficult. Not impossible, But shallow. Incomplete. Like I can’t quite get enough air no matter how hard I try. I’m suddenly painfully aware of the room. Of the students staring. Of the whispers starting up again. Of how exposed I feel, standing there with potion still dripping down my sleeve, my skin numb and useless, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“Shh, shh.” Professor Matthews says quickly, stepping closer. His voice softens, grounding, authoritative in the way only someone very used to emergencies can manage.
“It’s okay. It’s not, well. Okay. Breathe, and I’ll explain.” He continues. He carefully slips an arm around my good side and helps me to my feet. I wobble immediately. My legs technically work, but the disconnect between my brain and my body is unsettling enough that every step feels uncertain, like I’m walking on a moving floor. My knees shake, and I have to cling to him to keep from tipping over entirely. Thank every possible deity that Professor Matthews is built like a brick wall. He practically carries me toward the door as he speaks.
“The reason you need the infirmary, is because the potion was still very hot when it spilled on you. That’s why you felt the burn at first.” He explains carefully. My throat tightens.
“It was quickly numbed, but the burns themselves are still there. They just don’t hurt right now. And they need to be treated properly.” He continues. Oh. That… Makes sense.
“And, walking around with this much of your body numbed is unsafe. You could injure yourself without realising it. Fall. Tear skin. Worsen the burns.” He adds, adjusting his grip as I stumble again. My scalp prickles at that, at least the parts of it that can still feel.
“This salve is normally used in very small quantities. Out of an abundance of caution, the infirmary will likely keep you until it’s mostly worn off. Just to be safe.” He goes on. I swallow hard and nod faintly. Okay. Okay, that’s… Logical. Controlled. Not catastrophic. He pats my shoulder reassuringly. I don’t feel it. That realisation hits harder than I expect.
“You’ll be okay. This is frightening, but incidents like this do happen.” He says gently. I frown, even through the haze of adrenaline and shock.
“Wasn’t an accident.” I say again, quietly but firmly. He sighs, a deep, weary sound that tells me he believes me even if he can’t say it out loud yet.
“Yes. I know.” He says. His tone is steady now. Certain.
“I will look into it.” He promises.
“But before anything else, I need to make sure you’re taken care of.” He concludes. And with that, he guides me through the door and toward the infirmary, the echoes of the classroom, and Mallory’s wide-eyed performance, left behind.
The infirmary smells clean in a sharp, herbal way, like crushed leaves and antiseptic mixed together. It’s quieter than the rest of the Academy, the air heavy. I can immediately tell this isn’t an area that students get to just freely access like the rest of the place. A woman who is absolutely tiny greets me the moment we step inside. She can’t be much taller than my shoulder, with bright red hair pulled back into a messy braid and eyes that crinkle warmly when she smiles. There’s something instantly reassuring about her, like a favourite aunt or a childhood nurse who always knew how to make things feel less terrifying.
“Hello, dear. I’m Annie. Looks like you’ve had a bit of a mishap. Go on, sit down on the bed and I’ll take a look.” She says kindly. Her voice is gentle but efficient, the kind that doesn’t invite argument. Professor Matthews gives her a quick, clipped explanation of what happened while she listens, already moving, pulling out a bowl, a clean cloth, setting things up with practiced ease. She tuts softly the whole time, clicking her tongue in a way that makes it very clear she is not impressed. The moment Professor Matthews finishes, he gives me an apologetic look and hurries back out.
“Can’t leave a room full of unsupervised students alone with that mess.” He mutters before disappearing. The door shuts behind him. Annie exhales sharply.
“Idiots.” She declares bluntly.
“Pardon?” I ask, startled. She pauses, then sighs heavily, clearly reconsidering her wording.
“Nothing, dear, I was just… Frustrated on your behalf.” She says, a little more gently. She helps me carefully out of my potion-soaked clothes, moving with surprising strength for someone so small. Her hands are steady and warm as she begins wiping the salve from my arm and shoulder, meticulous about not spreading it further. I wince even though I can’t really feel much. Something about knowing that someone is touching me but not actually feeling it.
“Why are you so frustrated for me?” I ask quietly.
“You heard Professor Matthews. He said it was an accident.” I add flatly. Annie snorts softly.
“Nonsense.” She answers. She doesn’t even look up.
“I can feel your distress. No one gets that frustrated over a simple accident.” She says, completely certain. I blink.
“You can… Feel it?” I ask. She laughs.
“Oh! Sorry, dear. I forgot you wouldn’t know. I’m a witch.” She glances up at me, eyes sparkling. That… Explains a lot.
“Most witches have a sort of natural talent. A latent skill that shows up alongside our magic. Something that comes easily. For me, it’s emotions.” She continues as she works. She gestures vaguely toward my chest.
“I don’t get details. No thoughts, no memories. Just… Strong feelings. Frustration. Fear. Anger. Pain. Things like that.” She adds. Her mouth quirks.
“Very useful in a place like this.” She comments. I nod slowly, trying not to stare. That does sound useful. Incredibly useful. But also… Exhausting. I open my mouth to ask if she can turn it off-
“It doesn’t shut off completely.” She says casually, answering the unspoken question.
“But I learned how to tune it out. Like background noise. Otherwise I would probably go mad.” She concludes. I huff out a small breath of relief at that. She finishes cleaning my arm and shoulder, inspecting the skin closely. She moves onto cleaning my back.
“It also seems like you aren’t getting along too well with your classmates. Is there someone you’re close to? I could send a message for you if you like.” She adds gently. My stomach drops. Blake. Oh damn. Blake is going to be furious.
“I… Uh… Thanks. But I think I’ll text him myself.” I say quickly. I hesitate.
“Don’t really want him barbecuing the messenger.” I mutter under my breath. Annie pauses. Slowly looks up at me. Then snorts.
“Oh. One of THOSE friends.” She says dryly. I manage a weak smile.
“Yeah. One of those.” I agree.
Annie pauses mid-movement, frowning faintly. Then her expression shifts, eyes widening slightly as understanding clicks into place.
“Ohhh. You’re THAT girl.” She says slowly. I groan internally.
“Which girl?” I ask, already dreading the answer.
“The one the dragon has been following around everywhere.” She says lightly, like she’s commenting on the weather. I frown, crossing my good arm over my chest.
“First of all, rude.” I say.
“Second, what makes you think he’s the one following me?” I ask. There’s something about the way she said it. Not accusatory. Certain. Annie laughs, warm and knowing.
“Oh, honey. He’s a dragon.” She says it like that alone explains everything.
“They don’t hover undecidedly around people they don’t care about. They hunt down what they want and keep it close. If he didn’t want you near him, you wouldn’t be.” She says confidently. I open my mouth to argue, then stop. She isn’t wrong. Blake hasn’t once told me to leave. Hasn’t discouraged me. If anything, he keeps showing up first.
“So, even if you were the one who walked up to him first, I’d still say it counts as him following you.” Annie adds cheerfully, wiping her hands on a cloth. She tilts her head, eyes bright.
“I’d even bet that if you stopped approaching him entirely, he’d just start showing up anyway.” She says teasingly. I choke out a surprised laugh.
“That’s… Unsettlingly specific.” I respond. She leans closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
“And I’d also bet, that he shows up here before the end of the day.” She murmurs. I snort.
“Honestly? Probably.” I agree. Then I hesitate, the humour fading a little.
“Can I ask you something? Aren’t you scared of him? Everyone else seems to be.” I say quietly. Annie straightens, considering.
“Scared? Hmm.” She repeats thoughtfully. Then she shrugs.
“Would I want to be alone with him? No. I’m not foolish.” She admits honestly. Then she smiles again, softer this time.
“BUT I can feel that you aren’t afraid. It’s easier to be brave when the person standing next to you already is.” She explains, her gaze steady. I don’t quite know what to say to that.
“And, I’ll also admit I enjoy a little gossip. It’s much easier to be bold when there isn’t a dragon breathing down my neck.” She adds with a playful huff. She smirks.
“I suspect I’d be considerably quieter if the gentleman in question were standing in this room right now.” She jokes. I laugh, the tension finally easing from my chest.
“I think I like you.” I comment. She grins.
“I get that a lot.” She says smugly. While we’ve been talking, she’s apparently finished treating my burns. I hadn’t even noticed, too distracted by the conversation. She opens a nearby wardrobe and pulls out a loose, flowing dress made of soft fabric, easy to slip on without jostling my numb arm.
“Here you go, dear. Much better than potion-soaked clothes.” She says. I take it, surprised to find it’s actually kind of cute.
“Thanks.” I say sincerely. She shrugs.
“All I did is open the closet door.” She answers. The Academy really does have opinions about my wardrobe. And honestly? I’m not mad about it.