"Cassandra and Roman."
The girl jerked in her seat, wide eyes flitting from the other teen to her teacher. She chewed on her lip; Roman Godfrey was paying absolutely no attention. She doubted he had even heard that they were paired for the academic-year-long project. He was instead blatantly staring at his phone, which was hardly hidden by the textbook on his desk, long legs spread around him.
This would not go well for her.
Cassandra raised her hand. At the teacher's gesture, she said, "Doctor Jessup, can we switch partners?"
"No, Cassandra. You don't always get to work with your friends; that's just how life is."
"But-"
"If you have read your syllabus, you'll see that the first presentation is next month." Jessup went on, easily drowning the student's voice.
Cass wrung her hands, worry churning in her stomach as she calculated what the worst-case scenario might do for her GPA, all the while keeping an eye on her new project partner. He seemed unconcerned, though he should. Cassandra was in the running for valedictorian even if she wasn't the most likely of the bunch. In countless group projects past, she was the organizer and did the bulk of the work. However, the smaller the group, the harder it was to hide when one party was not pulling their weight. And Dr. Jessup had ensured no one person could do everything.
She opened up her planner and jotted down the key dates, presentations and when they had to turn in specific parts. Around every two weeks, with a presentation every quarter. This wasn't even an AP course, but Dr. Jessup was notoriously hard on her upper class students, especially those in her honors and above. Several graduates had told her that most college classes were easier.
The last five minutes were given for planning, and Cass hesitantly packed her bag, planner held to her chest as she approached the lounging youth. He was flicking a silver lighter opened and closed, though thankfully not lighting it in the classroom. He did not acknowledge her as she stood beside his desk, shifting the weight of her feet back and forth.
"Um, hi," she finally said. His intensely green eyes flitted to her, then back to his lighter. "I'm your partner on the project. Cassandra Everard."
"Yeah?" It was less agreement and more a question as to what she wanted.
Cass slid into the vacant desk beside him and laid down her planner, smoothing her hands over the pages. "So… Um, I was thinking we should meet maybe twice a week minimum? Since it's so intensive-"
"Yeah, not doing that."
"Oh-Kay." She drummed her fingers against the faux-wood of the desk. "Um, this is a pretty big chunk of our grade, so we should really-"
"Can't we, I don't know, do this over email or text?"
She was getting frustrated now. "It's really more of a collaborative project. The presentations are all done with both of us."
Roman finally gave her the brunt of his Godfrey-green eyes, and she faltered under the intense scrutiny. "We can meet the night before presentations and you can prep me."
There was a certain weight to Roman Godfrey's presence that she had never been subject of before. How someone roughly a month younger than she was had such a powerful aura, she didn't know. Maybe it came from having enough money to buy whatever he wanted, or the knowledge that he would eventually inherit the bulk of his dead father's empire. Either way, she found herself fidgeting far more than she would like.
The bell rang, jarring her out of momentary inaction.
"Could we meet after school this week to discuss it?" As he slung his own bag over his shoulder, towering over her, Cass added, "Please?"
The pleading tone made her wince, but it seemed to impress upon him the importance of the project to her. "Whatever. Yeah, I guess. Tomorrow."
Cass nodded, relief rushing in a breath out of her chest. "Thanks."
He studied her from his superior height, gaze roving her features and darting almost imperceptibly over the rest of her, then nodded before taking his leave.
Cass was almost late to her AP Bio class, a fizzing warmth having weakened her body in his wake.
She sat outside the student parking area, at a little picnic table that had seen better days, contemplating how stupid it was of her that she hadn't set a place to meet with Roman after school. Cassandra had seen the showy beast of a vehicle he boasted often enough. An older Jaguar she was sure cost more than her parents' cars combined in maintenance alone.
The roar of the engine prefaced his arrival as he pulled up to the stop sign (stopping only because of the vehicle in front of him). Cass stood and dusted off her jeans, and he looked at her at the movement, then leaned over to open the passenger side door.
"Get in before I change my mind."
She sidled into the vehicle and strapped her seatbelt, eyeing him. He was still wearing a navy blazer over his fitted tee, a strange affectation for a teenage boy that oddly suited him, and one arm hung outside the window, cigarette in-hand. Cass rolled down her own window to relieve herself of the scent.
"Smoking is bad for you," she said, immediately regretting the words.
"No shit?" Roman took a long drag, slowly breathing out the cool grey smoke. "Can't be worse than the cocaine and booze, though."
"Cocaine!" Her hands pressed against the leather seat as his speeding gained new context.
"Relax, I haven't had any today." He grinned, raising his eyebrows as though he'd made a wonderful joke. While Cassandra didn't fully sit back into her seat, she folded her hands in her lap.
"Are you always this reckless?"
"Are you always this uptight?"
She rolled her eyes and stared out the window petulantly, watching the town scroll by.
She'd never seen the Godfrey house before. Mansion, Cass corrected herself as they pulled up. It was hidden away in a copse of trees, the lawn surrounding manicured and beautifully green (the green of imported grass, she was sure). There was something vaguely gothic about the spired, stone building, or maybe Victorian. She'd never been good at architectural periods.
"C'mon." He stalked off on long legs before she'd even gotten out of the vehicle, scurrying to catch up. Roman frowned when she appeared at his side again, her cheeks red. "You okay there?"
"You're more than a foot taller than I am," she huffed.
He laughed, holding the door open for her. "No fuckin' way."
"I'm barely five feet."
He stared down at her for a second. "Huh, I guess you are." Roman smirked, then abruptly turned to the spiral staircase, passing over two for every one step, while Cassandra pattered up the stairs one at time, like a normal mortal. Upon entering a room as extravagant as the rest of his home, he cast the blazer onto a high chair at a bar (what kind of teenager had a bar in his bedroom?) and his school bag on the floor beside it before flopping onto his bed, kicking off shoes that looked like they belonged to a CEO, not a high school student.
All of the furniture looked antique and solid wood, and there were two doors other than the entrance, which she assumed were closet and ensuite bathroom. She stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling much too small and plain amid the gratuitous show of wealth.
"Well?" He was already immersed in his phone. "Do you need an invitation?"
Cassandra shuffled into the room, shutting it at his imperious gesture, and surreptitiously sat on the edge of the large bed (as the nearest chair was occupied by his jacket, dragging out her planner, the history textbook, and the notebook she devoted to the subject. She paged open to the current month and tapped her pen against the edge of the paper. "So, like I said before, we should probably meet at least twice a week-"
"Holy fuck, we just got out of school, take a minute to breathe." He pulled out a cigarette case and extracted a filter-free length of white. The spicy scent was not the same as what she'd smelled in the car, and Cassandra frowned at him.
When he held it out for her, she said, "Is that weed?"
"No, it's candy. Yeah, it's weed. Go on."
"No thanks." Cass scrunched her nose. "I don't, um, partake."
He chuckled and drew in another toke. "Of course not. Miss priss like you probably always crosses her legs at the ankle too." He blew out a ring and she watched curiously as it seemed to spin in the air before dissipating. "Might do you some good. At this rate, you'll have a stroke by twenty."
"We need to get this project figured out," she said evenly. "Can you do that high?"
Roman eyed her, gaze sharpening on the rapid tapping of her pen and the jogging of her knee beside the bed. "I'll make you a deal. You take a hit and we'll set a schedule."
"I'm not smoking pot to get you to do schoolwork," she argued.
"You're not; you're doing it to take the stick out of your ass." Cassandra froze, mouth agape as she blinked at him. He held out the joint again, pinched between his long forefinger and thumb. "You'll still be able to think; one hit won't make you high, I promise." He lifted his other hand in imitation of a scout.
"O-okay," she said slowly, taking it from him and fiddling with it uncertainly before putting it to her mouth.
"Draw in some, then pull the air into your lungs and let it out slowly." His green eyes glittered mischievously as he instructed her in the art of smoking pot. "Good girl.
Cassandra was halfway through blowing out the smoke when a coughing fit hit her and she began spluttering.
His arm was propped on his knee, cheek against his hand as he smirked at her again. "Easy, it's okay. That happens sometimes when you're new to it."
"I think it burned my throat," she said, hand rubbing her neck.
"That can happen too." His obvious interest was heady, though she tried to shake that off.
As the subtle nudge of the pot kicked in, Cassandra's eyes widened and she licked her lips. "Oh."
Roman watched the motion of her tongue, smile still on his face as he took in her dilated pupils and took back the joint. He stretched back, one knee cocked, the other spread across the bed. "So, schedule?"
"Right, um." She pulled her planner along with her as she sprawled across the bed on her stomach, now relaxed. Fidgeting, she tugged her hair out of her ponytail, sliding the band around her wrist. "Hm. Wednesdays and Fridays are good with me-"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, princess. I said no to twice a week. I have a life outside of school."
Cass pushed back her hair where it had fallen in her face. "So we'll meet one more time before our first assignment is due? If it's all at this pace, that definitely won't be enough."
He held the joint out to her again, dancing it in front of her when she shook her head. "We're looking at a dead empire, how hard can making a timeline be? Come on, take another hit, it wasn't so bad, was it?" When she finally accepted, he leaned closer to better observe how she did the second time around.
When Roman took back the weed, he continued staring at her face, lips against his knuckles as he contemplated. "I have an idea." Cass waited, running her hands through her hair. She'd always enjoyed having her hair played with, but doing it herself usually didn't feel this good. "We will meet every Wednesday, and the Friday before something is due Monday. In return, you will let me work on getting that stick outta your ass, to include Fridays we aren't doing school shit."
Cass had braided her hair during that short little speech, and he reached out, dragging his fingers through it. She distantly thought the color looked prettier in his hand, shinier, more golden. "Why do you care?"
He inched closer, now massaging her scalp, long fingers tangling in her hair. "I'm gonna have a heart attack just watching you freak out this year unless you learn to chill the fuck out."
She hummed. "Why does this feel so good?"
"Weed is like that. If you think this is good, you should try fucking high."
Cass's eyes batted open, though she didn't remember having closed them in the first place, and pulled away, trying to detangle him from her hair. "I'll take your word for it." Eager to change the subject, she added, "Where's your planner? To put in the due dates and meetings…"
"Get the fuck outta here, you're a virgin?" Roman rolled onto his back, laughing uproariously. "No wonder you're wound up. You," he said, pointing firmly at her, "need to get laid."
"I'm fine." She wanted to be angry, but felt the tickle of amusement at his behavior.
"What's the problem, afraid of cooties?"
"No. I've kissed before. I just… I don't want to, like, get pregnant or something," she muttered into her lap. "There's no reason to have sex now, and there are reasons to wait."
"Except sex is fucking awesome," he said. "Use birth control. You're sixteen years old, for fuck's sake, act like it."
"Whatever." Cass closed her planner. "How am I going to get home?"
"This isn't nearly enough to get me high." Roman snubbed out the joint. "C'mon. I'll drive you, miss priss."