Chapter 19 Tobias

I tapped my pencil against my desk in English class Monday morning. Mrs. Sharp was reading a lengthy passage of The Great Gatsby to prove a point, but my thoughts were trailing. I doubted Gatsby would have any importance in my life past my grade.

Instead, my thoughts kept circling back to the flight I'd had with Arya over the weekend. That day had been…magical. After I caught her during our little game of chase, I tackled her into the snow, bursting back to my human form and taking her right there. I had been so absorbed in the chase, my primal dragon urges taking hold, and I just couldn't hold back anymore.

Sex in the snow had been incredible, our bodies heating so much that the blanket of powder beneath us had vanished into steam around us. And there was no one but the forest critters to hear her sweet cries of passion as I fucked her.

But what had me concerned about that rendezvous wasn't just that I'd felt so connected to her, so intoxicated by her. It was her smell. It was still the same overpowering, delicious scent that had always held me captive, but there was something else mingled with it. Something distinctly darker, muskier.

Was that what rejection smelled like? Was this some precursor to the curse being triggered? I was so dizzied and jaded by my feelings for her that I couldn't be sure just how deep they were. Was this the beginning of the end?

I'd spent the day with Arya yesterday and had seen her briefly this morning. Fortunately, she still smiled whenever she saw me, still welcomed my affection, so that told me one thing—I wasn't in love with her yet, and therefore, the curse hadn't been triggered. But I knew I was dangerously close.

"Tobias," Mrs. Sharp called, snapping me back to the present moment. "Will you read the next few lines?"

A naga sitting next to me pointed at the place in the book, and I quickly flipped to it without missing a beat.

I cleared my throat and began reading the lines where Gatsby was insisting to Nick Carroway that he could change the past.

"‘I wouldn't ask too much of her,' I ventured.

"‘I'm going to fix everything just the way it was before,' he said, nodding determinedly. ‘She'll see.'"

"Thank you, Tobias," Mrs. Sharp said. "This passage is probably Gatsby's most famous quote. Why do you think that's so?"

Adina raised her hand and was called on.

"Well, it shows the contrast between Nick's worldview and Gatsby's," she said.

Mrs. Sharp smiled the way she always did whenever a student seemed to get it . I was the usual recipient, but my daydreaming wasn't conducive to literature dissection.

"Exactly, and what is Gatsby's worldview?" Mrs. Sharp asked.

"He's na?ve," Adina continued, this time without raising her hand. "He thinks that he can recreate everything as it was back in Louisville, like it will somehow be the key to winning Daisy back. Gatsby is delusional in thinking it's possible if he wants it enough."

"Precisely," Mrs. Sharp said, then flicked her tablet to project an image on the screen behind her.

I was no longer paying attention. Something Adina said caused me to lean forward in my seat. Panic ignited and grew.

I raised my hand but was instantly impatient and asked my question without waiting for Mrs. Sharp to look in my direction.

"Does Gatsby ever win her back?" I ignored the stares around me that quickly snapped away. "By recreating the past, or whatever. Does it work?"

Mrs. Sharp didn't look irritated for being interrupted mid-sentence. "Has anyone read to the end yet?" she asked the class.

A hand must have shot up in the back, but I didn't turn and waited for whoever it was to speak.

"I've finished." It sounded like Ashlyn, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. "Is everyone okay with a tiny spoiler to answer Tobias's question?"

Everyone nodded or hummed their agreement. It wasn't like she was spoiling the ending to the latest superhero movie or anything.

"Alright, Ashlyn," Mrs. Sharp said. "Go ahead. After all of Gatsby's antics in buying a mansion across the bay from Daisy and attempting to recreate the past, believing that he could somehow win her back... Does it work? Does he win her back?"

"No, he doesn't," Ashlyn said. "She never intended to leave Tom."

"Thank y—"

"So what's the point?" I blurted. "What's the point of him doing all of that? What's the point if he doesn't get her back?"

Mrs. Sharp looked at me, seeming unsure of the answer.

"Sorry," I muttered, sinking against my chair as I felt the eyes of everyone in class on me again.

She paused for another brief moment before moving on, but I didn't move on. I couldn't move on. I was acting so stupid. I was being so careless with my feelings, first with Christmas and then taking Arya on that flight...

I didn't even know if breaking the curse would work— if Shea could pull it off.

I tuned out the rest of the class and was the first one out the door as soon as it was over. I wasn't sure why Gatsby had gotten to me so badly. Our situations were worlds different, yet they felt tragically parallel.

Besides the facts that the characters in Fitzgerald's novel were human and that I wasn't trying to win an ex-girlfriend back who happened to be married, Gatsby's situation actually seemed possible.

It wasn't a happy ending. The real world had precious little of those.

And curses? Centuries-long curses, no less. How could that possibly end well?

I checked my tablet as I strode through the halls. I'd been waiting to hear from Shea far longer than I would have liked. Unfortunately, the only new message was from Arthur.

It was a vague question about how I was doing or something about school, but before thinking, I responded with a quick: Gatsby is stupid, but I'm fine.

I realized too late that it was not the response I should've given Arthur because my tablet immediately rang with a video call.

I groaned but quickly found an empty classroom and called him back. There was no sending my father's calls to video mail without repercussion, and school wasn't an excuse. So, to avoid the consequences, I always called him back within minutes. My teachers—annoyingly—didn't seem to mind, even if I had to slip out in the middle of an exam.

But when the familiar pose of my father—the beginning of the general's video mail—popped up, I ended the call and sat for a moment. Arthur was sure to call me back in a few minutes, so there was no point in heading to my next class.

Ping. My instant messenger alerted.

I pulled up the app.

Arya: "Hey, are you alright?"

I racked my brain for a reason why I wouldn't be. But another message pinged before I could respond.

Arya: "In English, Ashlyn said you were acting like you were upset."

Ah, I should've suspected the phoenix would go blabbing about my strange behavior over Gatsby.

Me: "It's nothing. Gatsby is drama."

Arya: "Like Gatsby, the character? Or is an assignment giving you drama? Because I can help with that (study buddy) *winky face* *kissy face*"

I laughed. I wasn't one to use emojis, but they did have a nice way of conveying context and tone that typed words didn't have alone.

The inference in her message had me getting hard, and I couldn't help but think of our romp in the snow.

Me: "How about another flight instead?"

My tablet rang with Arthur calling again right as Arya's last ping came through.

Arya: "Deal *blushing smile*"

I hastily answered the call before my face was ready, and I knew I had an uncharacteristically, almost goofy smile on it.

So I said the first thing that came to mind, as if that would cover my dreamy look. "Did my insult of a great American literary character prompt an immediate call to set me straight? Or are you also of the opinion that Gatsby is maddening?"

Arthur's face flashed brief confusion, then shifted into an expression I wasn't used to seeing. It almost looked like concern.

"Is everything alright, Tobias?" he asked.

"Everything's fine," I replied quickly, plastering on my mask immediately. "I'm fine."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Meet me in three hours. At the tree. "

No obscure restaurant in Chicago. No teacher's or director's office. I knew exactly where Arthur was talking about. It meant we were meeting alone.

"Three hours." I nodded, my stomach knotting. If we were meeting alone, something must be wrong, but I didn't think I was in trouble.

Maybe Arthur knew something. Perhaps a certain something I'd made a point to keep secret from him about a certain siren girl.

I ended the call and shoved the tablet into my bag before rushing out the door. Three hours meant I had to leave right then. The flight was a long one.

* * *

Shifting and flying was different this time than it had been with Arya. There would be no shifting mid-flight, no daredevil antics to impress, no exhilarating kisses or gigantic hearts melted into the ice and snow.

Instead, I pumped my wings hard over Lake Michigan, the Dome far behind me as the fire churned within. At least flying this time cleared my head. I was able to sink into the dragon part of my brain, avoiding all the complications behind and in front of me.

It felt good, flying for so long. I might've enjoyed it if the human side of me didn't insist on reminding me who I was meeting.

I circled, then landed in the familiar spot in the middle of Hiawatha National Forest—right by the tree . It was a dead northern hardwood, a massive one that, despite the paleness and lack of greenery, remained standing like a skeleton amid the living.

I only waited a few moments, still in dragon form and wearing my usual dark gray scales, when the silhouette of my father descended through the canopy. With jet-black scales and hulking size, Arthur was even more intimidating in shifted form, but he began his transformation the instant his claws touched ground.

I followed suit, hoping our meeting would be quick since deep snow covered every inch of the ground, and I hadn't had the forethought to wear my smart suit.

Neither had Arthur, and being naked in the freezing woods with my father was its own version of hell.

"How are things?" Arthur asked, standing stiff with his arms behind his back. He didn't look the slightest bit chilled, and it took all of my willpower to keep my eyes focused on his face.

"Things are fine," I said, resisting the urge to lift an eyebrow and comment that this wasn't the sort of conversation that needed the secrecy of a three-hour flight to the middle of a forest.

"How are things with the girl...?" Arthur squeezed his eyes tight for a moment as if searching for her name. "Arya?"

My stomach lurched. Did he know I'd disobeyed orders and was now, in fact, dating her?

"Arya?" I asked, injecting an aloof tone into my voice. I wasn't sure if it was convincing, but my father looked distracted enough by his own thoughts that I hoped it was.

"Yes." Arthur waved a hand like he wanted the conversation to move quicker. "How are her abilities coming? Do you know if she's been able to use her siren voice yet?"

He seemed impatient, and I wondered why I was being asked these questions and why Arthur wanted to know. It worried me more than I could let on.

"I'm not seeing her anymore," I said, suddenly speculating if it was just a trap to find out if I had followed orders. "Remember?"

Arthur took several steps forward until we were only a foot apart. "Don't be ridiculous, Tobias. You must know something . I find it hard to believe that you haven't seen the girl or had any interaction with her for one second."

"Wha–why?" I stammered, wanting to step back but not wanting to show weakness.

"You don't just cut ties like that, especially as a teenager in a shifter high school ." The words sounded like a scolding, but Arthur's voice didn't match it. "I know you didn't follow orders exactly . You must have some relationship with her."

Heat rose up my face, and I looked down at the untouched snow near my feet in an attempt to hide it. "I don't—"

"You don't want to tell me, that's fine," Arthur interrupted, and I could feel his eyes boring into me. "But I know more than you think, Tobias."

I swallowed and nodded, meeting his eyes again.

Arthur's face softened as he looked at me, and I wondered what he saw.

But I didn't really wonder. I knew what Arthur saw on my face. The same expression he'd seen on my mother's face for decades. The expression that meant I was very nearly—if not already—in love with Arya.

I didn't affirm or deny any of it.

After an awkward moment of silence, he closed the distance between us and put a hand on my shoulder. The expression on his gruff face was no longer soft but in full general mode, and I felt small.

"Don't be a fool," he warned in a soft tone that was somehow even more frightening than his yell.

Then he erupted into his massive black dragon and thrust through the canopy with a mighty swoop of his wings that knocked me flat on my bare ass onto the ice.

I climbed to my feet with a tremble that had nothing to do with the cold. Arthur had done this on purpose. Brought me out here, hundreds of miles from all safety and comfort, so that I would be vulnerable to his interrogation. He knew about Arya and at least suspected my feelings for her.

But what was he going to do with that knowledge? The question scared me more deeply than the curse did.

I really didn't have any more time to lose. Shea had to fix this ASAP.

I shot into my dragon and whizzed back toward the Dome, desperate to contact her as soon as I dragonly could. The clock was ticking, and I had to beat the cruel hand of fate.