Page 16 of Havenfall Harbor
The first time she made it obvious she didn’t care for me being here, I thought I could change her mind. I thought that maybe she had some experiences with humans that colored her view of me, but I honestly think it’s just me she doesn’t like. I gave up trying to change her mind when she outright told me to stop playing nice, as if my effort to be kind to her was a ruse or I was being fake.
I find Noah jogging up the hall, approaching the dining room. “Hey.” He’s slightly winded. “You already eat?” His eyes roam over me, but not in the same way Letty’s did.
“I did. You’re up early.” I take a quick peek at my watch.
“I was hoping to catch you.” Noah’s shoulders lift as he slides his hand into his front pocket.
“You were?” I can’t keep the slight surprise from my voice. His dark eyes hold mine without an ounce of self-doubt. I’ve had dinner with him and Alice and her other friends a few times.
“I was,” he confirms, and a small grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “What time do you usually come down? That way I won’t miss my opportunity tomorrow.”
I have to say, I’m liking his direct approach. Noah turns so he’s now by my side, and I resume walking with him next to me. I steal a glance at him again. His hair is a soft brown that my mother would call something fancy like sable or chestnut, but it looks really nice with his rich, brown eyes. “I usually come down around eight,” I answer.
“Damn, that early?”
“Changing your mind?” I press my keycard against the box to open up the middle wing, where my office is located.
Noah rocks back on his heels slightly, still confident, and gives me a lazy, “Nah, I’ll be there.” His dips his chin as the lock disengages. I turn the knob and push my weight against it, I still haven’t gotten used to how heavy the doors in this place are.
“Where will you be?” The voice startles me. I was watching Noah and not the other side of the door. Griffin is standing in the entryway.
“Breakfast tomorrow,” Noah answers, before I even remember there was a question posed. I haven’t seen much of Griffin over the last several days. I’d assumed his job of keeping an eye on me had been abandoned.
Griffin looks past me, his eyes firmly on Noah, who is still standing behind me. I take in Griffin’s loose linen shirt and pants. There’s a slight wrinkle in the fabric, but whether it’s by design or because he slept in them, I don’t know, but something tells me this man doesn’t sleep in clothes.
“Breakfast?” Griffin says the word like it’s a foreign concept. His eyes finally dart down to me. “Together, is that where you were coming from?” He crosses his arms over his chest and the rings on his fingers twinkle when the light hits the metal.
I’m still leaning against the heavy door to keep it propped open—Griffin on one side, Noah on the other, and me in the middle. I have the ridiculous urge to distance myself from Noah.
“Yes,Iwas. I think Noah was going to join me tomorrow?” It comes out like a question. I turn so I can see Noah. But his eyes are looking past me to stare up at Griffin. I feel the weight of the door ease and glance back to see Griffin has moved closer, his palm above my head taking the weight of the door off me.
Both men are staring at each other without a word being spoken. There are no glares or narrowed eyes, but I still feel like I’m missing some silent conversation. It’s all but confirmed when Noah jerks his chin at Griffin and focuses back on me, finally adding, “If I can wake up.” He gives a small chuckle, but all the confidence of a few short moments ago is gone.
Is he embarrassed that Griffin found out he was going to eat breakfast with me? “Oh yeah, either way.” I shrug my shoulders. Without the need to hold the door anymore, I take a few steps past Griffin and wave. “I have a few things to take care of. See you.” I don’t bother to wait around for Noah’s reply, and I hear the door close rather quickly after. I use the excuse of turning toward the staircase to look back at the entryway. Griffin is no longer standing there, he’s gone. Just like him, appearing and disappearing without much of an explanation.
If I stomp up the stairs with a little more effort, it’s only because I’m in a hurry, not because I was actually looking forward to breakfast with Noah. But then I remind myself that I don’t want to become friends with someone who is embarrassed to be seen with me.
My steps slow then. As much as I’m telling myself that things are falling into place and I’m getting more comfortable here, it’s just not the complete truth.
Most nights when I return to my rooms it’s with a sense of unease. I keep waiting for another incident like the first night. I knew being the only human here wouldn’t be easy, but I wasn’t expecting to feel so alone. “Not very smart, Quinn,” I mutter, as I unlock the door to my office.
I leave the door open, as usual, unless I have an appointment, and glide over to my desk, hitting the button to turn my computer on before lifting the lanyard from around my neck to place it into my top drawer. A few of my pens are strewn about, and the small container of vibrant colored paperclips is tipped over, spilling the little metal pieces all over the bottom of the drawer.
The pens I could chalk up to closing the drawer too hard, but the paperclips tell me someone was rooting through my drawers, and they didn’t even care to try and hide it.
I plop myself into my chair and search through the other drawers. I find much the same—little things out of place—but I don’t keep anything of value in here, nor do I keep any important paperwork here either, that’s all on my computer. On the rare occasion I need to print something out, I file it away immediately. Not that anything I do is secret, or even in confidence as of yet.
Which makes me think they were either letting me know they could get in here whenever they wanted, or they were looking for something personal. I snort at the thought. I don’t even have a personal life at this point.
I take my time rearranging everything before I shake my computer mouse to log in. I notice the moment a shadow darkens my doorway. Griffin leans his shoulder against the frame and crosses his arms.
“Good morning,again,” I say without looking away from my monitor. He takes that as an invitation and steps into my office, closing the door softly behind him. I do look up then.
“Not again,” he clarifies, while lowering himself into one of my chairs. He makes a face as if he’s only now remembering that he’s a bit too large for the seat.
“What do you mean, not again?” I tilt my head and examine him. I decide the wrinkle of the soft fabric is intentional and force my eyes to stay on his face, not that his good looks are any less arresting, but at least it’s more polite than ogling his chest.
“There’s no need to say again, because that was the first time you greeted me.”
