(ON HOLD) Spellbound (BxB)

Chapter 11 | Tangled Webs

That night was the first that Asher dreamt of him, tucked into the side of his neck, craned against his shoulder bone, whispering Latin against his skin. He felt the silken hair on his back and the swell of words in his ear—then he awoke, breathless and hot, with every bone in his body pulsating. And long after he'd forgotten about his dream, Ash was haunted by the thought of his missing journal entry.

Jackal was the only one he knew of with access to his room, but he'd stayed in Asher's dorm several times and never snooped around before. He didn't know much about Jackal Riley, but Asher was certain he wasn't the type to care about things like that. It was someone else. It had to be someone else.

Still, he hadn't heard from Jackal. Still, he felt like an idiot for catering to his every whim while he was ignored and forgotten in return. God, he was tired of being forgotten. Even his own father left him here to rot with the ghosts.

"Woah, Ash—I think you're good!" shouted Aspen.

Asher was hammering away at a nail that had already flattened into the wall. A small circle was impressed into the paint from the excessive pounding. He climbed down from the ladder to take a look at the banner he'd crookedly applied to the ballroom wall. Like everything else he attempted, it was fucking terrible.

"What's up with you?" Ryan was asking. He laid upon the polished floor, eating from a bag of chips he'd purchased from a vending machine—which Asher was surprised to hear had been installed despite the student body's strict diet of gourmet cuisine. In the distance, a small group of ballerinas stretched and galloped and frowned, unhappy to sacrifice their practice room for the sake of dance preparations. One slipped on a stream of crepe paper and went down in a flurry of pink silk with a furious cry.

"Spoiled brats," grumbled Aspen. "Not like we chose to have the dance in here."

"It's the ballroom,"  Ryan said, raising his voice to the ballerinas: "Not like you can't tiptoe around in the hallway!"

"Leave them alone." Asher took a seat beside them on the floor and gave his sore arms a stretch. "The school could've rented a venue if they gave a shit."

Aspen allowed him to collapse on her, his head coming to rest on her thigh. She pet at his unruly locks. "What's wrong, Ash?"

Asher groaned.

"You feeling sick again?"

Asher groaned slightly lower.

"Did Jack do something?" she asked.

He flung up at first invitation of the name. "Where the hell is he anyway? He's part of the committee. The dance is tomorrow, he should be here."

"He and Josie are having one of their on-agains," said Ryan. "Probably fucking in some grape vineyard in France right now."

"Oh shut up, Ryan," Aspen said. "I saw him like four minutes ago in the court yard."

Asher felt a terrible cord inside him plucked. It wriggled its ugly vibrations down into his chest, and as the terrible tremor took hold, he clamored to his feet.

Aspen watched him rise with a frown. "Ash, what are you—"

"I'm gonna go see what his fucking problem is," Asher replied. He crossed the ballroom, ducking under an unspooled roll of silver crepe paper and curly ribbons, and out into the hallway. He spotted Jackal, not in the courtyard, but slouched against some lockers, chatting with one of the twins and a few unfamiliar faces who were deeply enthralled in his colloquy.

Asher shoved his way to the front of the circle and stopped short of Jackal, standing furious in his wake. "Are you coming to committee or not?"

Jackal peered down at him, an inflection of confusion in his brow.