We knocked on Prof and Adrian's door, waiting cautiously for any unsavoury and perhaps scarring sounds to emanate from inside. Hearing none—and thank god for that—we stepped through the entrance.

And immediately recoiled.

"Oh my—" I gasped, covering my eyes in horror. "Prof! Adrian! Control yourselves!"

Rian blinked, paused for a moment, then turned around and walked straight back out of the room. 

I longed to follow in his footsteps, but Adrian's voice rooted me to the spot.

"Hanna!" he said cheerily, getting up from where he'd been . . . servicing . . . Prof. "Glad you're back. I see you've made the necessary wardrobe adjustments," he continued knowingly, easily taking notice of my attachment to Rian's jacket.

Prof's face was bright red, a look I'd never seen on him before and that I never wanted to see again. Along with a few other things. 

Seeing my affronted expression, Adrian responded with a guiltless blink. "What?" he asked innocently. "A man can't sign his husband's cast?"

It was my turn to blink in surprise. "Huh?" I leaned over to where I'd seen Adrian bent across Prof's prone figure, and let out a shaky laugh of relief when I saw Adrian's signature scrawled on the cast haphazardly.

"Oh," I breathed happily. "Oh thank god." 

I did not need that image in my head, thank you very much.

Adrian nodded sagely, ignoring his beet-red husband when he covered his face with his hands in embarrassment. "You knew what it looked like, Adrian," Prof mumbled in shame. 

I let out a genuine laugh this time; it was fun to see Prof like this, with his cool-and-collected vibe completely turned on its head. Adrian certainly had a way with people.

Adrian patted Prof's arm. "Alright, Damien," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I forgot how delicate you can be. Like a lovely little flower." His resigned expression morphed into an evil smirk. "With a not so little—"

"Okay!" Prof interjected, cutting him off. "Let's move on, shall we?" I stood frozen, my mirth from before completely evaporated.

You know that feeling you get when you hear about your parents' romantic lives? That uncomfortable, oh-dear-lord-please-get-me-out-of-here feeling? 

Yeah.

And yes, I was fully aware that Prof was a perfectly healthy 30-year-old guy, and Adrian was even younger than him, but come on. I imprinted easily, and these guys had been around practically my whole adult life.

Prof's voice interrupted my cringeworthy train of thought. "Hanna," he said gently, sounding a little strained. "I'm very sorry you had to hear that. Now if you'll be so kind as to call Rian back into the room, I have something to tell the both of you."

That sobered me up. Prof sounded serious, so I removed my hands from where they'd been about to clamp across my ears and headed to the entrance to find Rian. 

I swung open the door and marched out, turning the corner immediately. I began to call out his name. 

"Ria—"

Smack!

My face smashed into a hard, cloth covered wall. It was weirdly warm, but my eyes had closed on impact when I hit the thing face-first. 

Even with my eyes closed though, I could tell that it was not a pretty little dainty run-in at all, like some spineless heroine of a badly-written romance novel. Oh no. 

My guess was when I made contact I must have looked like a turtle on acid: deranged and victim to agonizingly slow reflexes. 

Real life, kids. It hits ya where it hurts.

Aaaaand here we go.

I felt myself begin to rebound. Gravity was pulling me down to the ground fast, and it was at this lovely moment that my body decided to get it together and open my eyes.

And let me tell you: there was no freaking wall in sight. 

Just before landing on my ass gracelessly, a pair of toned and irritatingly familiar arms shot out to grab me. And grab they did—they immediately pulled me forward, reversing my momentum so I had no choice but to smack into what I now recognized as a well-muscled chest. Again.

"You called?" Rian said drily from above me. 

I squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment and irritation, my face still pressed against his chest and hands splayed out on either side. Even with his smug remark still hanging in the air, all I could think was hot damn the boy had some abs on him. 

I was tempted to let my hands explore, but reason finally decided to pay me a visit and give me a well-deserved slap in the boob.

"Very funny," I said, jerking away from him. I almost lamented the feeling of his callused hands slipping from my body, but promptly reminded myself that it was for the better—a thought which instantly reigned in my fiery attitude. 

"Thanks," I muttered quietly, my shoulders sagging in resignation. It was hard to accept, but at this point I figured that my return from France was a waste. My chances of getting what I wanted from him were pathetically slim.

My withdrawal into myself put that frown back on Rian's face. My eyes flicked up momentarily to his, just long enough to catch the displeasure in those dark orbs. I shivered, not entirely sure why.

"Come on," I said, straightening. "Prof has something to tell us."

Without a word, we both reentered Prof's hospital room. The silence between us had grown tense. And judging from the glare I could feel on my back, a reckoning would be coming all too soon.

"Ah, that was quick," Prof said with a genial smile. Rokim and Lisa were also back with trays full of dubious-looking hospital food. Adrian was sniffing at it, poking a beef pocket hesitantly. 

The poking gesture reminded me of Vanessa prodding her food with her fork, and I stilled as I realized I hadn't seen her since then. Had no one bothered to call her?

"Oh man," I said, tangling a hand in my hair. I locked eyes with Lisa. "Vanessa. We didn't call her. She doesn't know Prof's in the hospital."

Lisa's eyes widened to match my own. "Shit." She hurried up out of her seat and pulled out her phone, dragging a clearly dread-filled Rokim with her. They exited the room, the door clicking shut behind them.

I cursed internally. Maybe I shouldn't have reminded them so early—they'd been a buffer between me and Rian, and now they were gone.

"Anyways," Prof said, too exasperated to protest calling yet another person to the scene, "there's a bit of a problem."

I frowned in confusion. "What kind of problem?"

His eyes darted to Adrian, who gave me a cheerful smile. Alarm bells began ringing in my head, but I forced them away. "As you know," Prof said, glancing between Rian and I, "the Evaluation Competition is a very big deal."

We both nodded in assent. Big deal didn't even cover it.

Prof shifted in discomfort. I narrowed my eyes. Something told me I wasn't going to like this. "Since it's a globally recognized event, there are certain . . . formalities, let's say, that need to be observed before the real thing."  

"Okay," I said slowly, not seeing where he was going with this.

Prof fidgeted again. He took a deep breath, and my suspicion came to its peak. It was unlike Prof to be so nervous, and the alarm bells in my mind were getting louder than ever. What was so bad that even Prof grew anxious at the mere thought of it?

"And it just so happens that one of those things is the Evaluators' Ball," Prof said finally in a rush of breath.

Oh hell no.

I breathed in deeply through my nose, trying to stay calm. "Prof," I said in a deceptively even voice, "if what I think is happening is happening—"

"It better not be," Rian finished, arms crossed. I glanced over at Rian surprisedly—that was one of my favourite quotes from a certain animated movie—but he'd completed my sentence for me. For a moment I could picture myself with a snowman sidekick named Olaf.

But then Rian's eyes flitted to mine and I remembered myself, quickly turning back to the conversation. 

Prof smiled sheepishly at the both of us. With a look of apology, he said the words that I'd been dreading. "I'm afraid I need the two of you to attend as my replacements."

I closed my eyes and groaned. "Prof—"

He interrupted me. "I know, I know—it's not what anyone of us had planned." He grimaced. "The fact of the matter is we can't afford not to have a representative. It could hurt your chances at the ecomp before you even go. It's a bit unorthodox for students to attend, but at this point we really don't have a choice."

Adrian and I shared an exasperated look as Prof kept on rambling. "Standard procedure is to have the Assistant Chef go instead. I'd normally ask Leo, but he quit." 

He took a deep breath before continuing, giving us an apologetic smile. "That leaves Rian, and he can't go by himself."

"And why is that?" Rian practically growled.

Adrian took this opportunity to chime in. "Well, because it's a ball, for one. Who on earth goes to a ball stag?" he chirped, combing his fingers through Prof's hair. Prof patted his hand absentmindedly. To my horror, I found myself feeling a twinge of envy at their obvious closeness. 

I want that. 

I nearly flinched when the thought burst through my mind, unwarranted and abrupt. 

Family was something I'd been starved of for a very long time, and I missed it. After the incident, it had taken me forever to even form friendships without nearly crying from sheer self-loathing. Yeah, I had Rokim and the others now, but there was still a distance—a wall, really—that I couldn't help but maintain. It was a little something to keep people away, for fear that I would ruin them too. I figured it was common courtesy.

And yet no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get rid of my stupid, desperate desire for genuine human affection—for family. It gnawed at me in the dark and filled me with guilt after every nightmare. So yeah, I wanted what Prof and Adrian had very, very much.

The only problem was that they were, you know. Good people. People who deserved it.

I was not. 

Prof continued, pulling me out of my self-deprecating thoughts. "Besides, it would make sense for the two of you to go together. You're entering the ecomp as partners anyway. Why wouldn't you attend as a pair?"

I sighed and dug my hands into my hair. This was an extra worry that I really didn't need. I'd already given up on getting Rian to crack. I definitely didn't feel like torturing myself with his gloriously beautiful, amazingly aggravating, I-woke-up-like-this-now-deal-with-it presence when I knew it would only come to nothing. 

In short, being around him hurt like a bitch.

Then again, we couldn't skip the ball altogether. I shuddered to imagine what some of those snot-nosed Evaluators would say. I'd say it would be like shooting ourselves in the foot, but the truth was it'd be much more dire than that. It was more like shooting ourselves in a major artery. 

I gave Rian a sidelong glance, scanning his appearance. We'd both have to wear pretty formal attire. His arms were crossed and he was staring hard at the ground, a muscle in his jaw ticking. The sleeves of his dark grey shirt were rolled up, exposing his firmly toned forearms. That same finger was tapping, slow and steady. 

And then I did something bad: I pictured him in a suit.

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I watched that long finger tap slowly and deliberately. I was already way too affected. And if I saw him—this insane, perfect specimen of a human being called Rian Aronhalt—in a suit, I had no doubt that I'd spontaneously combust.

"See something you like?" 

A deep voice broke me out of my dread-soaked musings. Rian's eyes had snapped to mine, holding me unflinchingly. My cheeks burned after having been caught staring, but I didn't look elsewhere. Instead, I met his ice-cold gaze head on.

"Not a thing," I replied quietly, feeling bitter resignation well up inside me. "Sorry to disappoint."

Right before I turned away, I saw Rian's expression twist in frustration. Half-conscious of my actions, I tugged his jacket around me tighter and savoured the artificial embrace it provided. Prof and Adrian were watching our exchange curiously, but I wasn't really paying attention to them. I was too caught up in imagining what it would be like if Rian embraced me for real.

I wasn't obsessing. Really. 

It was just . . . if he were to do something like that—not a kiss or anything, even a simple hug—wouldn't that mean at least a part of him forgave me? If Rian, the person I owed most in the world, were to deign to hold someone like me . . . maybe I could finally move on. Maybe I could heal.

He was never going to admit he knew me. I still didn't know why he was so adamant about that, but just because I was denied the release of a true apology didn't mean I couldn't find release elsewhere. If I just stuck around him a little longer, maybe I could manufacture a release of my own.

Hm. I feel like I could have phrased that differently.

"Hanna?" Prof asked patiently. My eyes refocused on him from where they'd been blankly staring into space. "What do you think?" he questioned. "Will you?"

The million-dollar question, aka will you go to the ball with this lithops to your right?

The ever-present pit in my gut seemed to widen. A pang shot through my side, almost as if in punishment for daring to imagine Rian actually forgiving me. Go to the ball, huh? I thought wryly, through a mist of anxiety and despair. Where's my prince? 

I didn't look at him—lord knew I'd done enough staring for one day—but I was still hyper-sensitive of Rian's presence a few feet away. I wasn't really a fan of cinderella stories, but I wasn't clueless. I knew enough to realize there was no prince charming in sight. 

And please, as if I'd wear a shoe so loose it'd actually fall off. Our competitors would have a field day.

So that was that. It was decided. I clenched my jaw, steeling myself for the words I was about to say. 

"Sure thing, Prof," I answered lightly. In my peripheral vision, I saw Rian's fingers go still. The abyss in my stomach felt like it was splitting deeper than ever, and I briefly wondered what I was getting myself into. But it was too late—the words had already passed my lips.

I forced a smile, looking into Prof's genial eyes and tasting bitterness in my mouth. Adrian was beaming at me. Rian was glaring. I was hurting. The very thought of spending any more time with him despite my own hopelessness made my fingernails dig into my palms, but I kept smiling. It was nobody's fault but my own.

Lisa and Rokim popped back into the room. They were both frowning, but I didn't really notice. I glanced at both of them, masking my turmoil with meaningless pleasantries. 

"Hey, guys!" I chirped, my voice empty and robotic. "So it turns out we have some shopping to do."