Chapter 45 45- Never Sit Beside Him When You’re Tired
LEXI
We make it to dinner fairly quickly and settle in to eat. For a while, I assume we must have missed the announcement about the dance. But the longer we sit there, the more it starts to feel like something is… Waiting. There are a lot of people still hanging around, even though they’re clearly done eating. Some are leaning against tables, others are standing in loose clusters, not talking much, just lingering. Like they’re afraid to leave and miss something. Maybe we didn’t miss it after all. Sure enough, when there’s about thirty minutes left before they stop serving dinner, Principal Istvan walks straight into the centre of the cafeteria. She doesn’t announce herself. She doesn’t clear her throat. She doesn’t raise her voice or gesture for attention. She just… Stands there. One by one, students notice her. Conversations falter. Someone elbows a friend. Another person hisses a quiet ‘shh.’ The sound drains out of the room in ripples, spreading faster than I would have thought possible. In less than thirty seconds, the entire cafeteria is silent. She still hasn’t said a word. That is… Honestly impressive. I stare at her, a little in awe. No shouting. No authority flexing. Just presence. The kind of power that comes from being listened to because people choose to listen, not because they’re afraid of consequences, but because they respect the person standing in front of them. I think, not for the first time, that I kind of want to be her when I grow up. Not because I want to be in charge, exactly. I don’t crave leadership or control. But the idea that when I speak, people would stop and actually hear me? That’s appealing in a way I don’t quite know how to explain. Principal Istvan waits until the silence is absolute. Then she begins.
“As you all know, there is the Academy welcome dance tomorrow evening.” She reminds us. Her voice carries easily, calm and measured.
“As this dance occurs at the beginning of each year, it is intended to help build friendships, relationships, and partnerships while you study here.” She speaks slowly and clearly. I can feel a ripple of quiet curiosity pass through the room.
“In order to encourage that, the theme of this year’s dance is opposites.” She pauses, just long enough for that word to sink in. Around me, I hear soft murmurs, barely above breath. Speculation. Confusion. A little excitement.
“As I am sure you have all discovered by now, your clothing is provided by the Academy. The same rule applies for the dance.” She goes on. I glance sideways at Blake. His expression hasn’t changed, but his attention is fully locked on her.
“In order to encourage communication, you will each be matched with another student for the event based on the outfit you are given. Your task will be to identify your assigned ‘opposite.’” She continues. My stomach gives a strange little flip.
“For some of you, this will be obvious. For others, it may be surprising. The intention is to encourage you to speak with someone you might otherwise never have spent time with.” She adds smoothly. There’s a beat.
“Before anyone panics, you will still have ample opportunity to spend time with your friends. However, there will be a game. For that game, you are expected to work with your assigned partner.” She says, clearly anticipating it. A few people groan quietly.
“You will receive the details tomorrow evening. I look forward to seeing you all dressed for the occasion. Good night.” She finishes. And just like that, she turns and walks straight out of the cafeteria. No questions. No follow-ups. No chance for anyone to object.
The silence lingers for half a second longer, then the room explodes into noise. Conversation crashes back in all at once, overlapping voices, laughter, complaints, excited speculation. It’s almost overwhelming after how quiet it had been. I just sit there for a moment, fork forgotten in my hand, staring vaguely at my plate while my thoughts sprint in a dozen different directions at once.
“Well…” I finally say, blinking and glancing at Blake.
“That was… Something?” I comment. Blake makes a face immediately, the kind that says absolutely not impressed.
“Pairing us off with random people?” He says flatly.
“Not random.” I point out, turning slightly toward him.
“Opposites. And besides, she said we still get to spend the night together. We just have to work with our assigned partners for the game.” I remind him. He still looks unconvinced, jaw tight, eyes flicking briefly across the room like he’s already assessing threats.
“For all we know, we could be partners.” I add, trying to inject a little optimism into the situation. That gets a reaction. His expression shifts, just a little, but I catch it. A subtle brightening, like something easing in his chest.
“We had better be.” He mutters. I smile and nudge him lightly with my elbow.
“Why? You don’t want to make another friend?” I tease. He gives me a look. Not annoyed. Not offended. Just… Bleakly amused. The kind of look that says ‘as if anyone else here would want to be friends with me.’ My smile softens, and I return a look that’s half sympathetic, half frustrated on his behalf. Because honestly? That shouldn’t be true. There has to be at least ONE other person here who doesn’t completely hate dragons. Doesn’t there? The more I think about it, the more it bothers me. The way everyone reacts to him. The way they flinch, whisper, avoid, glare. It feels so absolute. So unquestioned. Like the verdict was decided long before Blake ever opened his mouth. It’s… Very species-ist. That’s really the only word for it. I know they’re scared. I get that fear doesn’t always come from logic. But this? This is extreme. I’ve been with Blake all week. I walk with him. Eat with him. Laugh with him. I’ve fallen asleep on him in the library. And nothing awful has happened to me. Not once. I find myself wishing, again, that I knew more about dragons. Not just the rumours. Not just the whispered horror stories and warnings. I want facts. History. Something concrete that explains why everyone seems so convinced that all dragons are inherently dangerous. Irredeemable. Too risky to even associate with. Because clearly, they’re still allowed in society. They can enrol at the Academy. They’re not locked away or outlawed. Then again… I think grimly. If a dragon shows up and says they want to attend your school, what exactly are you going to do? Tell them no? I glance back at Blake, who is still scowling faintly at the concept of being paired with anyone else, and I feel a strange mix of protectiveness and unease settle in my chest. Whatever the dance brings… Tomorrow night is going to be interesting.
Even though we planned to watch a movie together, Blake doesn’t have to try hard to convince me that I should be resting since I just fell asleep in the library. Actually… He doesn’t try at all. He just walks me back to my room, calm and steady at my side, like the decision has already been made and there’s no need to debate it. At my door, he leans down and kisses me on the top of the head again, gentle, familiar now in a way that makes my chest feel warm, and then he tells me goodnight and heads into his own room. That’s it. We don’t discuss it. There’s no awkward hesitation, no bargaining, no ‘are you sure?’ or ‘just one episode.’ And honestly? I’m grateful for that. Because if he had suggested still watching a movie, I would’ve had to turn him down. I really AM tired. The kind of tired that sits behind your eyes and in your bones, the kind you can’t power through without paying for it later. Still… I can’t help wondering. I hope it isn’t like this every time I use magic. Because if it is, that would make magic basically useless for me. I can’t exactly pass out every time I heal a bruise. Maybe it’s like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. Less exhausting over time. That has to be how it works… Right? I get ready for bed, moving slowly, carefully, like my body is reminding me not to push it. Then I crawl under the covers and settle in, expecting to fall asleep almost instantly. I don’t. Instead, my brain decides now is the perfect time to spiral. I might have brushed it off earlier, but lying here in the quiet, it’s impossible not to think about the dance tomorrow. About what it’ll be like if Blake and I aren’t assigned to each other. If we really are paired off with random ‘opposites.’ Would anyone even accept being assigned to him? Would anyone accept ME? People have been avoiding me more and more. Whispering. Staring. Pretending I don’t exist. And Blake… Well, Blake has always existed on the edge of everyone’s fear. I can’t imagine anyone eagerly stepping forward to partner with him for a game, no matter what the Academy intends. All I can really do is hope for the best. And because apparently I enjoy torturing myself, I open the SCRI app one last time before sleeping. Right at the top of the feed is a picture of me asleep on Blake’s lap. My stomach flips. I don’t even want to read the comments. I already know they’ll be awful. Cruel. Twisted into something ugly by people who don’t know either of us. But… I can’t deny it. The picture itself is kind of cute. I look peaceful. Safe. Blake’s posture is relaxed but protective, his attention angled subtly toward me even though he’s reading. It doesn’t look scandalous or dangerous or wrong. It just looks… Soft. So I save it to my phone. Just because the people who took it intended it to be cruel doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate it for what it really is. Honestly, most of the photos they’ve been posting of us are actually kind of adorable, even when framed with the worst possible intentions. With a small, satisfied smile, I look at the photo one more time. Then I set my phone aside, curl a little deeper into my pillow, and finally, finally, fall asleep.