“I need some freaking food and water.”

“Sorry about that, Beatrice. Sometimes I can be insensitive.” Professor Pops stood in the opening to the weapons room. “You must be starving.”

I nodded, swiftly wiping at the tears.

Troy shut the door. He studied the dragon body. For the tiniest second Troy’s body seemed to change from tanned skin to dragon scales that matched that of the destroyed one in front of him. I blinked, not sure I’d seen what I thought I saw. His skin was back to normal.

“Next time, there’ll be a feast before the fight so you can keep up your energy,” Troy said, patting me on the shoulder.

“Where’s Cole?” I asked. Professor Pops said he was the only one with the key.

Professor Pops glanced around the room. “Did you check the bathroom?”

I hadn’t.

Professor Pops took the key from around his neck and handed it to Troy. “Take Beatrice upstairs and cook her some breakfast.”

Troy opened his mouth, probably ready to complain, but Professor Pops’ eyes flashed red.

“Fine.” Troy unlocked the door. I followed him as he stomped up the stairs, his shoulders tense. He didn’t speak until we reached the kitchen. “I’m like the maid. Sure, I’m the hottest damn maid you’ve ever seen, but still a maid.” He put on a masculine brown apron, went to the refrigerator, and pulled out a steak wrapped in paper. He tossed it on the counter. Next he got a pan out of the drawer under the oven and slammed it on the stove burner.

I sat on one of the barstools and watched, working hard not to smile. He had no idea how difficult actually being a maid could be. “Totally hot,” I said, working to keep a straight face.

He swore and kept working, but took the time to flash me a heart-stopping smile.

I decided to give him a minute to calm down. The kitchen was homey. The appliances were stainless steel. White curtains hung in the windows. Climbing ivy grew all along the wall near the back door. There was a bowl of fruit in the center of the counter. The granite was tan with flecks in brown, pearl, red, and black. The cupboards were painted an off white, making the room appear huge and bright.

“At least Professor Pops is nice to you,” I said when he’d stopped slamming cupboards and drawers.

“You call this nice?” Troy took a butter knife, sliced some butter, and plopped it into the pan. He opened the paper around the steak. Between the smell of melting butter and the steak, my mouth started watering. Troy sprinkled salt and pepper on the steak, rubbed it in and then slapped it into the pan. The meat immediately began to sizzle.

“You seem like a pro and it smells delicious.” I crossed my arms, wondering if I should tell him that I liked the meat almost raw.

After a minute, Troy picked up a pair of tongs and flipped the steak over. “Yeah, well I have to be the pro because I’m the only one who cooks. If I didn’t no one would eat anything but peanut butter and jelly.” He removed a plate from the cupboard next to the refrigerator, placed it on the counter then grabbed a bottle of what I guessed was olive oil and drizzled a little over the plate. When he finished, he took some fresh basil, gave it a rough chop, sprinkled it over the olive oil and finished by slapping the meat on it. “There you go, Steak a’ la Raw.”

I couldn’t hold the laugh in any longer, but I covered my mouth to stifle it.

He glared, his hands on his hips. Then he laughed too. “I really like cooking, but it’s fun to be mad at Grand Pops.” He gave me a fork and a steak knife. “Try it, see how it tastes.”

I cut into the meat and stuck it into my mouth. “Mmmmm,” I said, chewing. Then swallowed. “It’s delicious.” I cut another bite.

“Good.” Troy went about cleaning the utensils and pan. In between bites I watched. He was tall and lean. He had muscle though. His biceps flexed as he scrubbed the counters. His hair was cut close to his head and nearly the same color as mine, maybe a little blonder. His eyes were brown and he was tan. I knew Ashley, Eva, and Cassidy would fight for his attention. Every once in a while he brushed his forehead and I wondered why. He caught me staring, so I asked.

“I just got my hair cut and I can still feel phantom strands of it hanging in my face.” He smiled big and I noticed there was a dimple in one cheek. He whipped the dishtowel over his shoulder. Basically, Troy was adorable.

“The haircut looks nice on you.”

“Thanks.” He leaned over the counter and watched me take a bite. “So what was it like to fight Rocky? You were awesome, by the way. I didn’t think anyone could take him. Some of us want Snow to fight him. I think she could beat anyone, but of course, she won’t even hear of it.”

“Snow?” I asked, cutting another piece.

“You haven’t heard of her?”

I shook my head, intrigued. It seemed Troy had a serious crush on her.

“She’s seriously kick a—s”

“You are so whipped, Troy Boy,” Cole said as he walked in. He’d changed and was wearing a white tank top and another pair of loose fitting jeans. His black hair shone, wet. I guessed he showered.

“Dude, she’s awesome,” Troy said, standing straight.

Cole chuckled. “She seems nice,” he said.

Troy made a strange noise. “I suppose you want me to fix you something too?” Troy asked, feigning irritation.

Cole shrugged. “Nah.” He glanced at me. I froze mid-bite, waiting to see if he was still angry. “I need to speak to Beatrice alone, if that’s okay.”

“Kicking me out?” Troy tossed the dishtowel on the counter and walked out. “No respect,” he mumbled.

I smiled after him.

Cole sat on the barstool next to mine. He clasped his hands together and was staring at them like he expected them to do a trick or fall off. I took another bite, waiting. Apparently he had anger issues and I didn’t want to set him off.

“Sorry, Beatrice,” Cole said, his words tight.

I placed my fork on the empty plate and walked it over to the sink. It was more than I’d ever done in the kitchen. Then I turned back to him. Part of me wanted to hold a grudge. He’d hurt my feelings. But he seemed to be beating himself up more than I ever could. And I really did like him. “I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

Cole shook his head. “I let down my guard.” He blew out a harsh breath. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever felt comfortable talking to.” He crushed his hands together. “You can imagine how this—” he slapped his chest, “went over with the ladies.”

I thought about it. If he’d been a student at my school prior to the curse, or the reverse curse, I would’ve been horrible to him. Just awful. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy,” I admitted softly.

“So I stayed away from people. I never let anyone touch me. But in the space of an hour, we touched, laughed together, and you didn’t run away or look at me with disgust . . . or turn to stone.” His eyes were alight with wonder. “You’re a special person, Beatrice.”

I felt my face get hot. It was a compliment I hadn’t believed I ever wanted to hear. Cole needed to understand I’d been the meanest person ever. “I was a total bitch in high school. I treated everyone with distain, but especially those who were different. I was truly beastly to them. And I never felt anything.” I glanced away, ashamed.

“So this curse has allowed you become all of who you are?”

“I guess so.” I moved closer to him. “If you’d met me a week ago, you would’ve been sickened by my behavior.”

He reached out and put a hand over mine. It was cool and hard. Certainly not repulsive. “When I’m around people I tend to bring out the worst in them. Over the years I’ve developed a really short temper.”

I tried to imagine him in high school. Had he turned someone to stone?

“Luckily,” he went on, “my abilities didn’t start to manifest until I turned sixteen.” He tugged his ear. “The first time I touched someone and she started turning to stone, I ran away. Professor Pops found me in California. He went through all the channels to legally adopt me.” He shrugged. “That’s pretty much it.”