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We have to stand outside for about fifteen minutes whilst every student is ticked off on the register. Teachers go in and out of the buildings in high-vis vests, checking for students or fires.

It takes another ten minutes for the coast to be cleared. After each tutor has made sure that we are all accounted for, we are allowed back into the school. Everyone is happy that they have missed part of their lesson, except me.

I go back to the alchemy building, keen to get my prophecy. When I get there, Madame Dechaume isn't in her room. I wait outside. Five minutes later, she comes down the hallway with a group of lower year students behind her.

"I'm really sorry, Emery. I have a class now; we will have to reschedule your prophecy. Do you have a free on Wednesday?"

My shoulders drop at her apology. Another day to wait.

"Yes, last thing, period 5."

'Great. Come to my room then."

"Okay."

That means I'll get my prophecy after my eighteenth birthday.

Disappointed, I walk back to the common room for the rest of my free. I take my time walking to it, there is nothing for me to do when I get there.

I pass the window and a flash of black catches my eye. I stop suddenly and look out. Salvador Whitlock is climbing up a fire escape on the building opposite. He gets to the top and lifts himself onto the roof. I watch him brush the dust off of his clothes, take a seat on one of the raised skylights and pull out a cigarette.

What is he doing?

Better question: what was he doing in that empty classroom in the alchemy building? Like me, he had a free that period. He should have been in the common room, study room or library. There was no reason for him to be in an empty classroom.

With twenty-five minutes left of my break and nothing interesting to do, I make my way downstairs and across to the other building.

Once at the bottom of the fire escape, I jump up and grab the first rung. I lift myself up and steady myself before climbing the steps. I poke my head over the wall and see Sal with his back to me, enjoying his cigarette.

I creep over the top and sneak up behind him.

"What do you think you're doing?" I ask him loudly.

"Fuck!" He shouts and drops his cigarette butt. He curses and gingerly picks it up from the ground. He blows on it and puts the end back between his teeth. "You scared the shit out of me, Emery. What the fuck are you doing up here?"

I cross my arms over my chest and pop my hip out. He turns around to face me properly and I narrow my eyes at him.

"I asked you first."

He glares at me. "Getting some fucking privacy. Why does no one respect that?"

"Why were you in that classroom?" I ask bluntly.

He feigns innocence. "What classroom?"

"Don't play coy. The classroom in the alchemy building. I saw you coming out of it right after the fire alarm went off."

"Oh, yeah. I don't know. Got lost."

"You've gone to this school for over a year."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I was exploring."

"Bullshit," I snap. "You set the fire alarm off."

He raises his eyebrows, shrugs and takes the final drag before snubbing the smoke out. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know," I reply and throw my hands up in exasperation. "Boredom? A dare? To piss me off?"

"Why would it piss you off?"

"I was about to get my prophecy! You ruined it."

His eyes soften. "I'm sorry, Emmie."

I sigh and budge him along so that I can sit down next to him. "Gross. You stink."

"Love you too, Emmie."

It's quiet for a while between us as we both enjoy the cool breeze.

"I am sorry about ruining your prophecy."

"It's fine. I'm getting it on Wednesday instead."

"You excited?"

I look down at my hands. "Yeah, and nervous."

"Why nervous?"

"I don't know who it is, I'm scared to find out. What if they've already seen me around and they're not interested?"

"It's not possible to reject mates, Emmie. It'll be fine."

"I guess."

'Have you had any dreams about them?"

"Them? Who said anything about them?" I reply defensively.

Sal snorts. "I meant them as in your mate. Why? Do you think you have more than one?"

My cheeks burn red as I think of my dream last night.

"Emery St. Cloud, what are you not telling me?" He asks, laughter in his voice.

I don't dare meet his eyes, so I keep looking down at my hands.

"Nothing! Jeez. No, I haven't had any dreams about him."

"That's weird. Every Amores has dreams before they get their prophecy."

"Well, not me. Maybe I just don't remember them."

"Them as in..."

"The dreams, not plural mates. Drop it, Sal."

"Whatever you say, Emmie."

"It's my birthday tomorrow," I tell Sal.

"What? Really?"

"Yeah."

"You're going to be eighteen tomorrow? Emery, why didn't you tell me sooner? You've left me like no time to get you a present."

"You don't have to get me a present."

"Ugh, but I want to. This is shit."

The bell ringing can be heard even from the top of the building. Sal and I make our way down for lunch.

"Do you want to sit with us today?" I offer.

He scoffs. "I know you think that it's a nice suggestion, but it's really not. I'm good, thanks. I'll see you in Skills."

I say goodbye to Sal and meet up with the girls at our table in the middle of the cafeteria.

"That fire alarm going off was the best part about my morning, totally screwed up Professor Blake's test."

"Nice. I got to miss a pop quiz."

I listen to the girls chat about the fire alarm whilst watching Sal in the queue.

Why did he set it off?

It's so random. Sure, he's a bit of a bad boy who doesn't care about rules, but it seems so...pointless. He wasn't even missing any lessons from it.

Why mess up your free period? So strange. There's definitely something he's not telling me.

"When is your prophecy rescheduled to, Emery?"

I snap out of my trance to answer Irene. "Last thing on Wednesday."

"Aw, okay. That sucks that you have to wait."

"Yeah. Do you know what we're doing in Skills later?" I ask, attempting to change the subject.

The more I think about it, the more impatient I'll get.

"Not a clue. But I think I saw them setting out the archery equipment."

"Oh, archery sounds fun!' Esme comments.

To be fair, archery does sound quite fun.

After lunch, I have philosophy. Malvolio comes in late and scowling. He slinks into his chair and sits back with an IDGAF attitude.

When the teacher puts some questions on the board, he reaches forward and picks up his pen. He jots down the answers to all five questions, drops the pen and leans back again. I stare at him in shock. He smiles back at me, stunning me even more.

"Right, let's go through those answers," the teacher says, drawing my attention back to class.

After the teacher has put up the answers (Malvolio got them all correct, shocker), he puts up another three questions. This time, we have to discuss the ideas in pairs.

I turn towards Malvolio. He looks at me, clearly amused by something. It makes me uncomfortable, like he knows something that I don't.

"The first question, Emery," he speaks, startling me. "What do you think?"

I lost all ability to speak, let alone think, after he said my name. His deep, husky voice is everything. It makes my thighs clench and my underwear wet. I can even feel my nipples go hard and press against my bra.

"Emery?" He repeats my name, smirking as though he knows the effect he has on me. "What do you think?"

He gestures to the board with his eyes, breaking eye contact. That gives me a chance. I take a steady breath and try to get my mind to work. I stare at the first question.

What do you think the original tales of werewolves originated from? What might have made people think to describe them as shapeshifters who are slaves to the moon?

I swallow, my tongue feeling thick, and lick my lips. "Isn't there a link to Greek Mythology?" I ask and then clear my throat to carry on with a stronger voice. "I swear there is something about a legend of Lycan or something."

Malvolio smiles proudly. "The Legend of Lycaon, yes, well done. Werewolves were mentioned in Greek mythology. In lots of folklores, actually. This is a trick question, there is no one right, definitive answer. What about question two?"

Together, Malvolio and I go through the questions, discussing them in great detail. When the teacher goes through them, he calls on us for our opinions. He's unbelievably pleased with our insights and praises us both. Malvolio isn't fussed about the praise from the teacher but looks proudly at me.

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