Stone Crest: Rise of a Raven

2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

Raven

I pop a piece of popcorn in my mouth, then slide to the next picture on my camera screen.

With a deep sigh, I fall back against my pillows and stare up at the ceiling. I can’t shake this feeling. This unsettled weight in my chest.

A knock sounds at my door. There’s only one person it could be and although I’ve spent the last week avoiding almost any human interactions besides the ones I’m forced to; new my roommate seems to be oblivious to the barrier I’m trying to build.

The door bursts open, and Presley bounces through the threshold wearing an Edward Cullen t-shirt and neon yellow leggings. I don’t think the girl owns anything black. Which is a tragedy.

“Random question,” she says as she takes a seat on the edge of my bed.

I still haven’t responded, and as much as I’ve tried to not engage, I can’t help but let a small smile tilt at my lips. She reminds me of Bethany in a way. It hurts, but it’s soothing at the same time. An odd combination of emotions swirl in my stomach as she continues.

“What is your take on edible underwear?”

I push up from the bed, staring at her expression to see if this is a joke. She’s dead serious.

I attempt to keep my face neutral. “Can’t say I’ve indulged in a good thong lately. I may not be the person to ask.”

She tips her head back on a laugh, her hand coming to her chest. “I didn’t mean have you actually eaten any. I meant like wearing some, you know, for sexy time.” She wags her eyebrows.

I haven’t indulged in that in a long time either. Another tragedy.

“Again, I’m probably not the person to ask.” I reach for my phone.

“Fine. I’ll just have to gather input from the internet.” She swings her legs off of my comforter. “You want Chinese?”

I blink, as she smiles, waiting for my response like a puppy waiting to fetch a frisbee. It’s obviously moot to try to isolate myself in this condo. And even though it’s the last thing I want to do, I concede.

What do they say? If you can’t beat em, join em?

“Sounds great.”

Fifteen minutes later we are shoved into a small corner booth at Chang’s, a little Chinese restaurant just down from campus. We’ve already ordered and are sipping on drinks when I get a text from my father.

Arthur: I’ve spoken with the Dean. Know he’s watching.

I exit out of the thread and place my phone on the table as a bowl of noodles are sat in front of me.

“Enjoy.” The waitress nods.

“Parental unit?” She asks.

“How could you tell?”

She shrugs. “It was the eye roll. The tight shoulders. The silent murmur of asshole you just did.”

Did I?

I snicker. “What’s your major? Behavioral science?”

“Accounting," she says flippantly.

Not expecting that.

“Obviously not by choice," she adds, stabbing her fork in her plethora of noodles a little too hard. “Are you lucky like me? Are your parent’s forcing you into a career you hate?”

“Not exactly. But I was forced here against my will, so same thing.”

“Forced, why?” She asks.

“My best friend died.”

Presley spews her drink from her mouth, coughing into her palm. “Jesus, Raven.”

“You asked.” I shrug.

“I’m sorry. Your best friend? When did she pass?” She picks up a napkin, dabbing her lips.

“Three months ago,” I answer.

She stares at me for only a second before she shakes her head. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Raven. Why here?”

“My aunt Gemma lives here. Pulled some strings. You know…the change of scenery, get my shit together intervention.”

“Gemma Cunningham, right?” Presley asks.

“The one and only.” I stick a fork full of noodles into my mouth.

“Well…. if you ever need to talk or anything, I’m always here," she offers with a sad smile.

“Thanks.” I give one back, that unsettling feeling washing over me again.

I’ve been sad that she’s gone, but it’s like I’m numb. I haven’t felt that gut wrenching grief, and it makes me think something is wrong with me. Am I still in shock? Denial? All I feel

is anger. Pure rage.

We both grow silent as we finish inhaling our meal. A public restaurant isn’t the place to do a deep dive into our recent childhood trauma, which is clear she has some as well from her earlier statement.

When our waitress takes our empty bowls, she tosses down two fortune cookies.

“I basically come here for these alone," Presley says as she unwraps the cookie.

“Doesn’t everyone?” I quip.

I unwrap mine slowly, then pull out the tiny white piece of paper. I never really put any faith in these “fortunes.” I’ve learned to be prepared for anything.

My fingers roll out the paper and I read the black ink.

The one you love is closer than you think.

Highly doubt it. If that holds any truth, then Jax Teller should be waltzing through that door momentarily.

“I need to pee.” I crumble up the paper and toss it to the side.

“Hey! You have to keep this!” She chides.

“Be my guest.” I wave a hand and scoot from the booth. “Be right back.”

I shuffle through the hall, past a woman with a screaming toddler attached to her hip, then past the chaos of the kitchen. Before I make it to the door, my phone rings.

Gemma.