Page 30 of Written In Flesh

I nod and place the t-shirt on top of the bar. “I just wanted to ask first if it’s okay if I take one of Oliver’s t-shirts for meet days? Topper said you’re his girlfriend, and I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“You don’t want one with the fierce four across your tits?” she questions, looking me up and down.

“There’s a history I’m not going to get into, but no. You seem decent, and if this guy is your boyfriend, I’d rather support him than the other four,” I tell her, shrugging my shoulders.

I can practically feel Topper and the other servers’ eyes on us, drilling holes in my back with their curiosity. Stassia’s head tilts, contemplating me, and for a few seconds I worry that this plan isn’t going to go in my favor. Then her lips twitch, and she shoves the t-shirt into my arms.

“Oliver will love that the new hot chick is wearing his face.” She laughs when the smile on my lips dims. “I swear it’s fine. I actually think it’s impressive you came over to ask me. My man can use all the support he can get.”

I exhale and gently fold the fabric up, shoving it into my backpack. “Thank you. I never would want to disrespect the woman the guy was seeing.”

“I can tell you’re a girl’s girl,” Stassia says, her lips tilting into a smile. “Go put your stuff in the lockers, then meet me back here. I’ll show you how to stock the bar and get ready for the evening.”

Turning on my heel, I walk back to Topper, who is watching with part amazement and disbelief on his face. “She’s letting you wear an Oliver?”

“I asked nicely,” I tell him, giving a small shrug of my shoulders.

He laughs and motions for me to follow him. “I’ll show you your locker.”

We walk to the back, and I stash my stuff before grabbing an apron and a bar towel. Topper gives me a quick rundown of the back area, where the tips go, where extra pens and paper are if I ever need to help serve food, and lastly, where the schedule is that shows which sections or bar I’m assigned to. After that, I meet up with Stassia again, and the real work begins. By the end of my shift, my arms are burning, and I can barely feel my feet. It isn’t until Stassia hands me a small portion of her tips from the night that I feel this as being progress.

The lights inside the bar flick off as soon as we all head out the front door. The sky is completely dark, the moon hidden behind clouds, when I start walking back to campus. Each step I take, my magic tingles beneath my skin, and I fight the urge to look behind me. Warmth fills my stomach, and my fingertips spark as I walk faster. The hair on my neck catches a breeze, and chills run down my spine. I’m being watched, followed. I swear I can feel their heartbeat alongside mine. My legs move faster until I’m almost running down the path that leads to the road where my apartment is. Each of my breaths are deep as I fight to keep the fear at bay, while holding my magic back instead of letting it out for protection. The worry about humans seeing is the only thing keeping me from reacting. This path is too open, and anyone could see. There’s a thud behind me, the sound of a twig snapping, and I sprint forward. Every time my feet hit the pavement, I swear there’s an echo that sounds behind me. My eyes glance over my shoulder, but there’s only shadows and darkness. Shit. My arms propel me faster ahead, and my backpack bounces against my shoulders painfully with every motion. The apartment comes into view, and I force myself to move faster. My lungs squeeze painfully, fear choking my throat. Right as my hand touches the door handle, my body is shoved against the glass, and a cold force crashes into me. My ears ring, and I almost drop to my knees from the way my sight turns blurry, and it feels like my energy escapes me. Falling to my knees, my hands catch on the cement. The electric purple of my magic zaps at my fingertips.

I force my head up, looking around, only to find the parking lot and surrounding area empty. I need to breathe, to fight through it. My chest heaves while I worry about taking a deep breath in and out. Slowly, my sight comes back into focus. My hearing returns, and the sound of my blood pumping furiously in my veins fades.

“What the hell,” I mutter to myself, placing my hand on my chest, willing the rapid thumping of my heart to slow. My magic pushes and pulls at me. Without any other options, I glance around once more before opening my palm up to the sky. Purple swirls leech out, circling around me before shooting across the dark sky. I wait and breath in, feeling the wind. Breathe out, hearing the rustle of the trees in the breeze. My eyes open, and my magic returns, pouring itself back into my palm and leaving a loving caress in its wake. There’s no threat nearby. Whatever just happened is gone. It’s done. I’m not sure if it’s a warning or something darker, but right now I can’t bring myself to care. My body aches, and I’m unwilling to let the success of my day be overshadowed by whatever this was. Resolve sets in as I open the front door and head for the stairs to my floor. The place is quiet when I get in, and I turn off the lamp that Baylee left on for me before tucking myself into my room. Flicking on my bedside lamp, I set my bag down, and my eyes drift toward the window. My magic hums again, but I’m already on my feet, walking over. My eyes glance out the window and down the abandoned streets. Nothing moves in the shadows. “I’m losing it already,” I murmur to myself, reaching for the curtain. My fingertips touch the material, and just as I close it, the shadows move.