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actionreactionPart Four of Pembroke Academy. Torrance is starting to make his move. They're amusing.
Lying in Wait
Torrance Storm had a following. It was more than obvious the students who flocked to him damn near worshipped the ground hewalked sauntered on.
Wyatt Eckart had a following as well. His had been growing over the years at Pembroke. Despite his cold behavior, his holier-than-thou attitude and his disinterest in anyone he considered too far beneath him, he was worshipped. That had taken a couple of years.
Torrance had only been at Pembroke about a month.
Wyatt wasn't jealous. Of course not. Just because he was king of Pembroke and his position, his authority, was being challenged by a newcomer. One who made his very skin itch in irritation. And yet Wyatt couldn't ignore him. Torrance was everywhere Wyatt was, especially since that day Wyatt confronted Torrance for ignoring him. Wyatt wondered now if that had been a mistake.
It was amusing to watch them both at intervals, younger students gazing after them in almost awe, the bulk of the population female. Girls speculated and whispered when either of them passed. Torrance and Wyatt's reactions in that respect were alike.
Complete and utter disinterest.
Torrance was already in the locker room when Wyatt showed up, unaccompanied this time. Larsen and Reis did not have gym class with him. Torrance was barefoot, dressed in swimming trunks, white towel over one shoulder. He had a tan. An impressive golden tan made all the more gold but the whiteness of the towel. Wyatt did not have a tan. His skin was paler than pale, flawless and fair, as was perfectly evidenced when he changed into his swimming trunks. His skin was perfect.
Torrance hated perfection.
Something flickered in those gold eyes. Wyatt didn't catch it. Not until he looked up and Torrance was right there, arm against the lockers, looking down at Wyatt that same something flickering.
Wyatt started up at him, briefly lost in that molten gaze. Then he straightened, eyes narrowed, ice in his voice. "The hell are you doing? Have you forgotten something called personal space, Storm?"
Torrance didn’t say anything in reply. He merely held that gaze, Torrance’s gold boring into Wyatt’s hazel that darkened to a mossy brown. Wyatt swallowed. Hard. “M-move out of my way,” he said, his voice slightly less icy than before. He couldn’t look away, why couldn’t he look away.
“You want me to move, Eckart?” Torrance’s voice was far calmer that Wyatt’s and he seemed to exude a sort of amused confidence that had Wyatt’s blood burning. Not in anger. It took a long, long moment before Wyatt answered, “We’re going to be late.” His tone seemed incredibly unconvincing.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Wyatt’s eyes finally broke contact darted to either door, the one to the hallway or to the pool. Silence from either end. No one coming in. Finally with an effort it should not have taken, he choked out an even less convincing, “Yes,” and ducked out from under Torrance’s arms, towel wrapped around himself tight. He could feel Torrance’s eyes boring through him and he refused to look back. Because if he did… he’d turn back. To him.
Inside the pool area now he leaned against the wall a moment, hand over his mouth, unable to speak, barely able to think. He dropped his towel and dove into the water, making sure to keep eyes away from Torrance when he entered the pool.
Torrance’s eyes had gone dark and nearly unreadable. If Wyatt had dared to look, he’d have recognized the calculating look.
He’d have continued to see it even as he began feigning an interest in Daphne Pfeiffer, if only he’d lift those hazel eyes to see the gold constantly watching. Plotting. Waiting.
Till the next time Torrance cornered Wyatt.
Lying in Wait
Torrance Storm had a following. It was more than obvious the students who flocked to him damn near worshipped the ground he
Wyatt Eckart had a following as well. His had been growing over the years at Pembroke. Despite his cold behavior, his holier-than-thou attitude and his disinterest in anyone he considered too far beneath him, he was worshipped. That had taken a couple of years.
Torrance had only been at Pembroke about a month.
Wyatt wasn't jealous. Of course not. Just because he was king of Pembroke and his position, his authority, was being challenged by a newcomer. One who made his very skin itch in irritation. And yet Wyatt couldn't ignore him. Torrance was everywhere Wyatt was, especially since that day Wyatt confronted Torrance for ignoring him. Wyatt wondered now if that had been a mistake.
It was amusing to watch them both at intervals, younger students gazing after them in almost awe, the bulk of the population female. Girls speculated and whispered when either of them passed. Torrance and Wyatt's reactions in that respect were alike.
Complete and utter disinterest.
Torrance was already in the locker room when Wyatt showed up, unaccompanied this time. Larsen and Reis did not have gym class with him. Torrance was barefoot, dressed in swimming trunks, white towel over one shoulder. He had a tan. An impressive golden tan made all the more gold but the whiteness of the towel. Wyatt did not have a tan. His skin was paler than pale, flawless and fair, as was perfectly evidenced when he changed into his swimming trunks. His skin was perfect.
Torrance hated perfection.
Something flickered in those gold eyes. Wyatt didn't catch it. Not until he looked up and Torrance was right there, arm against the lockers, looking down at Wyatt that same something flickering.
Wyatt started up at him, briefly lost in that molten gaze. Then he straightened, eyes narrowed, ice in his voice. "The hell are you doing? Have you forgotten something called personal space, Storm?"
Torrance didn’t say anything in reply. He merely held that gaze, Torrance’s gold boring into Wyatt’s hazel that darkened to a mossy brown. Wyatt swallowed. Hard. “M-move out of my way,” he said, his voice slightly less icy than before. He couldn’t look away, why couldn’t he look away.
“You want me to move, Eckart?” Torrance’s voice was far calmer that Wyatt’s and he seemed to exude a sort of amused confidence that had Wyatt’s blood burning. Not in anger. It took a long, long moment before Wyatt answered, “We’re going to be late.” His tone seemed incredibly unconvincing.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Wyatt’s eyes finally broke contact darted to either door, the one to the hallway or to the pool. Silence from either end. No one coming in. Finally with an effort it should not have taken, he choked out an even less convincing, “Yes,” and ducked out from under Torrance’s arms, towel wrapped around himself tight. He could feel Torrance’s eyes boring through him and he refused to look back. Because if he did… he’d turn back. To him.
Inside the pool area now he leaned against the wall a moment, hand over his mouth, unable to speak, barely able to think. He dropped his towel and dove into the water, making sure to keep eyes away from Torrance when he entered the pool.
Torrance’s eyes had gone dark and nearly unreadable. If Wyatt had dared to look, he’d have recognized the calculating look.
He’d have continued to see it even as he began feigning an interest in Daphne Pfeiffer, if only he’d lift those hazel eyes to see the gold constantly watching. Plotting. Waiting.
Till the next time Torrance cornered Wyatt.