Spellbound

25

SOLEIL

Brice takes his seat shortly followed by the five others around the table. He pulls me down onto his lap when I'm the only one left standing.

I feel awkward, nonetheless I try get comfortable on his muscular thighs.

"Je t'ai toujours pensé dramatique mais romantique?" says Didier. I always pegged you as dramatic but a romantic?

I haven't seen him around in years since he transferred from Milton.

"Please don't start. He's had her in his dorm room and he wasn't even trying to hide it," adds Hidde.

My ears heat in embarrassment as I think back to the first tutoring session we had at the Eagles Row dorms.

"Has she been upstairs the whole time?" asks Olivier looking a little flushed.

He's older than I remember and is going to be a heart breaker at the rate he's going. I wouldn't have guessed he was younger than the others if I hadn't met him as a pigeon back in Grade 8.

"She's quite alluring but couldn't you give her time to get dressed after you..." Didier leaves the sentence hanging.

"I think she's being held against her will. Soleil, if you need help just blink," prompts Baptiste.

I stare back wanting the ground to open up and swallow me. I can't help it but after a beat with all eyes on me, I blink.

The table erupts into laughter.

"Enough!" Brice slams his hand on the table. "She was bound to blink it's only natural,"

"Brice, are you blushing?" pokes Louis which sends the table into another round of laughter.

Even Hidde who never seems to be amused by anything chuckles silently while shaking his head.

"I think they're drunk," Brice says to me in explanation.

I look around the table and everyone seems to have a glass of something dark. This may not even be their first round.

Brice waves his hand in a come forward motion. The doors behind us open. Soon after a couple of servants enter wheeling in serving carts. One takes the left side of the table, and the other takes the right. Starting with Brice, filled plates are sat down in front of each man as they move.

"I'm the guest of honour and I don't even get my own chair?" I mumble to Brice.

"You have the best seat in the house."

"You said I like to eat so where's my plate," I add to my list of grievances.

"You'll be eating with me."

"For someone so rich you're acting really stingy right now."

Brice cuts into the plate and the meat is on the rare side.

"Here," he offers.

I rear my head back like a petulant child. "The meat isn't cooked."

"Of course, it is. The chef simply didn't nuke all the nutrients out of it."

"Doesn't matter. I prefer my meat well done and nuked. This one's bleeding all over the plate."

"Fine try the veggies."

He pokes a few onto his fork. It's less than a spoonful of carrots and peas. Not wanting to embarrass him by being even more disagreeable, I open my mouth and chew.

They're hard and bland.

"What now?" Brice asks after chewing on a piece of his bloody steak.

His eyes haven't left my profile while mine have been looking over people's heads and all around in an effort not to look down.