Chapter 47 Aslan
Aslan
I hated leaving the studio that night.
I kissed my wolf on the forehead before I walked out, and it took everything in me not to climb back onto that small couch and curl around him somehow. Hell, all I wanted to do was bury my face in his neck and hold on to that weirdly vulnerable, beautiful, unusually peaceful version of Garrett. The one who didn’t bite. The one who didn’t flinch. The one that needed me.
But I left.
Not because I wanted to. Because he would’ve freaked the hell out if someone found us there in the morning.
I wouldn’t have cared. Let them look. Let them talk. Let them choke on it. But he would’ve cared.
And even though I still didn’t know the full story behind his family and that man from the meeting, I knew enough to know it wasn’t simple.
Maybe they only approved of elite girls with last names printed on buildings. Maybe they were in the mafia and required background checks before you could hold hands. Maybe they were running some high-class cult, and dating outside the circle got you sacrificed at sunrise.
Honestly? The way those two stood there yesterday, they could absolutely pass as cult leaders.
That thought was supposed to be funny.
It wasn’t.
It actually sent this weird chill down my spine.
I shook it off. I was overthinking it. This wasn’t the 1800s. Nobody got exiled for liking the wrong person. Most likely, Garrett wasn’t allowed to even think about dating until he got his act together. Or maybe there were “issues” they were still handling. He clearly had history. I just didn’t know how much of it.
Whatever the reason, he had warned me.
And he meant it.
By morning, it was like the night before had been a fever dream.
At breakfast, he didn’t stare at me. Not even once. No intense eye contact. No silent challenge.
James didn’t even let me sit down before he leaned across the cafeteria table and narrowed his eyes at me.
“You came in late last night,” he said, stealing a grape off my tray. “Like, really late. And you looked like you’d either committed a crime or fallen in love. So which was it?”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re dramatic.”
“I’m observant,” he corrected smoothly. “Soooo… Did you stay with Aitor? Music, wine, kissing…”
“Jeez, dude, no!” I looked around with concern.
“Oh, God … Don't tell me you ran into our favorite sociopath, then—and if so, what crawled up his ass this morning? Because he hasn’t looked at you once.”
That part hit.
I glanced across the room without meaning to.
Garrett was sitting with the Constellations, laughing at something, completely normal. Completely unaffected. Not a single glance in my direction.
Which was new.
“He’s not staring,” James added, following my line of sight. “That alone tells me something unholy happened.”
I exhaled slowly. “I saw him.”
James froze mid-bite. “You saw him?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And we… had something again.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Define ‘something.’”
“Not in public,” I muttered.
The teasing drained out of his face almost instantly.
“And this morning?” he pressed.
“I don't know… The usual cold shoulders, I guess. He warned me, though,” I admitted quietly. “Said he's not allowed. That whatever this is, we can’t keep it. That by morning he’d push me away.”
James’ expression shifted.
“Oh,” he said.
That wasn’t teasing-oh. That was serious-oh.
“They’re still fucking with him then.”
I frowned, remembering the story he'd told me before. “You really think his family controls him like that?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I told you they pulled him out of school once just for hanging out with the wrong people.”
“You?” I said.
“Yes, me,” he replied dryly. “Apparently I was corrupting the youth.”
I snorted. “James, he’s a grown man. He can’t be getting grounded anymore. Besides, what the hell do they think is wrong with you? You're like them!”
James didn’t smile.
“I’m gay,” he said simply. “So is he. And I don’t think they accept that.”
The words sat heavy between us.
I shook my head almost immediately. “You’ve suggested that before. That’s a big accusation, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “It’s the only explanation that fits.”
I looked across the cafeteria again, trying to replay everything he'd said the night before. The conflict, the need, the fear.
My chest tightened.
“You really think it’s that?” I asked quietly.
James shrugged again, but softer this time. “I don’t know. I just know something’s off. And whatever it is, it’s bigger than high school drama.”
I didn’t answer, lost in my thoughts.
I couldn't believe it, but somehow I couldn't dismiss it either.
The rest of the day was kinda the same.
Nothing from him.
In the hallways, he walked past me like I was a locker. In class, he paired up with someone else before I could even grab my bag. In self-defense, he avoided me like I was contagious.
And that… stung.
I guess a part of me had still hoped I could break through it. That once he calmed down, once the panic faded, he’d trust me enough to let me in.
Apparently not.
By the end of the day, I was done pretending it didn’t bother me.
I caught up to him outside the academic wing. “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual and failing. “You okay? I just wanted to—”
He didn’t even slow down.
“Garrett,” I tried again, stepping in front of him.
He stopped.
The look on his face wasn’t cruel or smug. It wasn’t even angry.
It was shut down.
“Please,” he said quietly. “Stay away from me.”
That hurt more than if he’d insulted me.
I reached for his arm without thinking.
Big mistake.
He went rigid instantly, voice low and sharp. “Let go of me, Narnia. I don’t wanna hurt you.”
His cold eyes dug into mine, and I dropped my hand.
He held my gaze for a second, something flickering there—regret, maybe, or fear—but it vanished just as fast.
“Why are you doing this? There’s no one here to watch.” I tried getting through to him—my voice a little more desperate than I wanted it to be. “Look, I know you feel something for me. You told me—”
“I know what I fucking told you! I told you I would do exactly this!” he cut me off, furrowing his brow as if I were delusional. “And if you agreed to it, that was on you. Not on me.”
He was technically right, but I had to play all of my cards if I wanted to get his attention. “You did tell me that, sure… But you also said I made you feel safe…”
His expression cracked a little before he looked away. “Don’t walk from me, Garr. Whatever the problem is, we can work it out. Let me help you—”
“You can’t help me!” He threw his hands up in frustration. “Are you fucking blind? You are the problem!”
I opened my mouth to continue, but he grabbed me by my shirt, leaning forward until he was an inch from my face. “Don’t talk to me. Don’t fucking follow me. I won’t warn you again.”
This was my chance.
“Or what?” I played our usual sick game.
He didn’t answer this time, and without thinking twice, I cut the distance between us and kissed him. He could hate me all he wanted, but he fucking kissed me back—and it wasn’t a peck on the lips. It was passionate, hungry, and real.
That’s it, please give in to me…
We kissed hard, almost desperately, until we ran out of breath. Then we pulled apart slowly, panting and looking into each other’s eyes.
When he finally spoke again, it was calm—almost gentle—and filled with that sadness I’d come to know well.
“Oh, Aslan…” He called me by my name, probably for the first time. “I wish you wouldn’t have done that.”
His fingers rose to brush against my cheek for a second, then he pulled them away as if my skin burned him and walked off.
And I stood there, wondering how the same guy who’d begged me not to leave him twelve hours ago could look at me like I was poison.